Liverpool winning the Carling Cup

Last season a mate of mine, a day before the league cup final, posted how Arsenal & Monsieur Wenger were still in line for a quadruple. And then the inevitable happened. Even Wes Craven couldn’t imagine the horror that was to follow, and it’s taken a good whole year for them to reach some sort of joy after that display with Tottenham.

Hence I had to refrain myself from posting anything even if my heart was jumping with sheer expectation of a scene of Stevie on that terrace with the cup of joy.

But I was thankful that I didn’t. Even though the start by the Reds was good, when Johnson hit the post, one wondered if it was going to be one of those days. And then the Bluebirds scored. And to me it seemed the writing was on the wall. Other than Downing everyone remained devoid of ideas. The. The lifeline. Then Kuyt the unlikely hero in extra time. But it was not to be. They call it the lottery of penalties. But I call it the moment of truth. Mixed with luck and a whole lotta gut.

And when Gerrard missed and then Adam followed en suite, the most dependable of the spot kick takers.


He calls himself an expressionist. He also suffers from chronic palpitations owing to the repeated ingestion of double esspressos.

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