Well, Eric is back, and thus so am I. And with Eric zooming into the lead with his mass of "favorite baseball player" lists, I suddenly, at one stroke, find myself at a disadvantage, superior Top 1 lists or no. So I too shall dip a toe into the sweat-scented pool of sport, and write for some considered length about footballers who have played for Liverpool.
There is a caveat to this, however, since I have only been an ardent Liverpool fan since round about 2002, when my love affair with The Beautiful Game* really began. That in itself is a story, mostly involving all-nighters, college, and a World Cup particularly suited to winning the heart of a Korean/American hybrid, but I won't get into that now. Suffice to say that England's strike partnership that summer consisted of Big Bad Emile Heskey and Speedy Little Runt Michael Owen, and when I found out they both happened to play for the same club team (Liverpool), my allegiance was decided.
The thing about Liverpool is that they, like most other European football** clubs, are a team steeped in history and tradition, of which for most of my life I was blissfully and completely ignorant. My life was consumed with thoughts of baseball and basketball and ice hockey and yes even American football, as strange as that may seem now. And then soccer-football--like an elegant and brilliant and beautiful young woman who comes swooping into your life when you're already settled with a wife and three lovely children and charms you with her grace, glamor, and glorious bazongas--came and swept me off my feet.
But I was still largely ignorant of the game's past and it's various storied histories, from the glories of World Cups gone by to the rich cast of characters who had helped shape and define the game in decades previous. Thus, strong as my ardor for Liverpool may have been, I had no first-hand knowledge of such greats as the goal machine Ian Rush, or the mercurial Emlyn Hughes, or stalwart mustachioed defender Alan Hansen, or rappin' John Barnes, or hard-charging Graeme Souness, or clever wide-man Steve Nicol, or even the great King Kenny Dalglish himself. I would learn their names and hear of their exploits, but I couldn't rightly claim them as favorites of my own; they simply lived on through the nostalgic cooing of Liverpool fans past and present.
Instead, my fandom began at a time when the aforementioned Heskey and Owen were leading the line, a tandem that these days seems hard to believe given the fall in fortunes of both those players. It was a time of expensive overseas flops like the much-reviled-yet-Eric-beloved El-Hadji Diouf, and the less-reviled but even more ineffective Salif Diao. In the years since there have been British flops as well, from Craig Bellamy's unfortunate disruption-to-goals ratio and Robbie Keane's disastrous short spell***. In short, it looks like I've hopped onto the Liverpool bandwagon just in time for it to go careening into the River Mersey.
Such complaints are relative, however, and despite what a lifelong Liverpool fan might consider a fallow period in their club's history, I'm rather content at what I've been offered over the last decade. While the Premier League title seems ever out of reach, two Champions League final appearances and one incredible, unforgettable victory in that competition is a lot more than fans of most clubs will ever see in their lifetimes. And while the cast of characters that has paraded through Anfield in those years might not approach the levels of Liverpool's former legends, there's enough to love about them that I've never felt short of people to root for.
It starts at number one and it starts at the back: Jerzy Dudek may never have been the most reliable of goalkeepers, but then again a consistent and reliable goalkeeper isn't exactly a common find. Even in a position known for its eccentrics, Dudek holds his own; he's given a goalkeeper shirt to the Pope, claimed his manager treated him "like a slave," has produced numerous comedy errors in the goalmouth; but most of all, he was gleefully, weirdly effective in that Champions League victory over Milan, wobbling his legs like Bruce Grobbelaar and hopping around the goal-line like a maniac in an effort to psyche out the Milan penalty-takers. And of course there's my favorite moment from that match: his double-save against Andriy Shevchenko in extra-time that prompted my all-time favorite cocky grin. Jerzy Dudek, 99 times out of 100, has no right to smirk like that; this time, I'll allow it.
Then there's the big Finnish center back, Sami Hyypia, who might well have been my favorite Red of all time were it not for the fact that he's likely Eric Walkingshaw's favorite, and I cannot bring myself to align with my enemy so. The definitive quiet, consistent defender, my favorite memories of Sami Hyypia have more to do with his offensive prowess. And less so the goals he scored from set-piece headers, but more the buildup; how the camera would cut to him as he labored up the pitch, like a loyal old hound dog being summoned by its master, and insinuated his tall frame in amongst the crowd of anxious defenders.
On the left side of defense there was John Arne Riise, really remarkable for one thing: his rocket left foot. Enjoy. Oh, and then I guess there was that time Craig Bellamy bashed his legs with a golf club following an argument about karaoke. But I'm not sure who the real winner is in that one.
Of course, Jamie Carragher will go down in Liverpool history as one of its finest center backs, his dogged defensive heroics a large part of their 2005 Champions League success and a huge part of the limited successes they've had otherwise. It's been enough to inspire the charmingly repetitive song "Team of Carraghers," set to the tune of "Yellow Submarine." But I'll always remember Jamie Carragher for the impenetrable thickness of his Scouse accent. Watch this video and close your eyes to avoid the subtitles, and see how many words you can actually understand.
There's not a lot that has to be said about Steven Gerrard, although I will say that I find the funny side in him being accused of assault after getting into a fight with a DJ who refused to play his request for Phil Collins in a club. And I can overlook his hypocrisy when it comes to diving because when a guy scores goals like these a few flops here and there aren't enough to sully my enthusiasm.
I briefly mentioned Emile Heskey and Michael Owen before, but I'll briefly mention them again. In his day, Michael Owen was a sublime finisher, and his blistering pace only added to his goal-scoring threat. It's hard to believe the man who scored this goal against Argentina is the same man who's been rotting on the Real Madrid, Newcastle United, and Manchester United benches over the past few years. But that's what chronic leg injuries will do to you, I guess. As for Heskey, I've always got a soft spot for forwards who routinely fail to find the back of the net. And Emile is no different. Fight on, Heskey, fight on.
Xabi Alonso is close to my favorite Liverpool player, but not quite there. It's true that the team has yet to find a suitable replacement for him in the midfield (also Javier Mascherano), and he's an underrated part of that Spain team that seemed so unbeatable and proved it to be the case. He put away the tying goal back in the '05 final, and then, of course, there was this.
People always mention his hard work and his never-ending running, but to me Dirk Kuyt's legacy will be this description of him: "like someone poured a pot noodle over Rutger Hauer's sister." Look.
More so than Emile Heskey, Peter Crouch is my favorite seldom-scoring Liverpool forward. His seemingly interminable, 19-game, four-month scoreless streak at the start of his Liverpool career--after a 7-million-pound transfer--made him a cult hero; his lanky, stick-like 6-foot-7-inch frame only helped matters. And of course, who can forget him doing the robot after scoring for England? Mock those robots, Peter, mock away! He's got a bit of skill, as well.
I'm still hurt over Fernando Torres leaving Liverpool, but I do hope that for his sake, and for lovers of the game itself, that he finds his best form soon. I'd hate to think that such a bright talent has flamed out so early, though if he has, that 50 million pounds Liverpool received from Chelsea for him will look like the steal of the century. Still, for ditching the team in the middle of troubled times, I can't look back too fondly on his time at Anfield.
But I can and do with my actual #1 favorite Liverpool player: Dietmar "Didi" Hamann, German defensive midfielder extraordinaire. In that magical Champions League final in 2005, Gerrard gets the credit for inspiring his team to victory, but what goes overlooked far too often is Hamann's introduction at half-time; it was his steady, disciplined work that laid the foundations for Liverpool to push forward, while keeping the Milan attack that had so thoroughly cut Liverpool apart in the first half at bay--and did so with a broken toe. A stalwart for seven years with the club, he was no mere side-to-side passer either; he had a propensity for getting forward at opportune times, and oh, yeah, he also had a cracker of a shot. He's the kind of unassuming, quietly consistent player that I admire, and thus earns top spot on this one-man list.
Honorable mention video goes to the Anfield Rap. Oh, the '80s....
And a final post-script: Dudek!
*This is the preferred way to describe soccer, if you want to sound like an insufferable prick.
**I refer to European soccer as "football" and North American soccer as "soccer," partly to reflect the regional differences in nomenclature, but mostly just to be an insufferable prick.
***I realize that technically speaking Robbie Keane is Irish and therefore not British, but I'm too lazy to re-word this paragraph and quite frankly, it's not as if anyone reading this really gives a damn. Besides, as the proud holder of the most incongruously Irish name in mixed-race heritage history, I feel I have the right to not really give a shit about this distinction. End footnote.
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