Probably the best footballing book I have read (and I have read more than a few!). Written in a completely undiplomatic manner, Jamie Carragher tells it exactly as he sees it, without worrying about upsetting the people (managers, players alike) he talks about.
Required reading for anyone who calls himself a Liverpool fan and highly recommended for anyone interested in football. (And all this coming from a lifelong Man U fan). Now if only there were such a book coming out of the Man U dressing room ... probably not while SAF is still in charge.
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On Liverpool's Cup treble in 2001 (yes - they did win the FA, Carling and UEFA under Houllier).
"Did we deserve victory on the day? No. But sometimes you win trophies for a season's work, not just ninety minutes' worth. We were always hearing how lucky we were as we scrapped our way to one win after another. I defy any side to play sixty-three games in a season, win three cups, and not have the run of the ball once or twice. Look at United's treble in 1999. They deserved everything they got, but they saw everything bounce their way, beating us and Arsenal on the path to winning the FA Cup, and Bayern Munich in the Champions League Final, on each occasion scoring the winner in the last minute. I've never begrudged that. Just like United in 1999, we had to make our good fortune on plenty of occasions, playing some robust, uncompromising and class football to put ourselves into a position to benefit from our breaks. Had we not won all three cups, I'd have been arguing how unlucky we'd been to concede two last minute equalizers in two major cup finals"
On Arsenal :=
Under Wenger, Arsenal have consistently been the most complete football side I've faced. You can talk about Barcelona, AC Milan, Chelsea and Manchester United all you like, but the Arsenal team that featured Thierry Henry and Patrick Vierra at their peak was the most daunting of all. They had skill, pace, stamina and flair. Some of the times I faced them I came off certain I'd played against the best team in the world. Henry was the one player who persistently gave me problems. Every defender has one rival like this, and he was mine, simply because there's no response to raw pace. When it's allied to the close ball control he possessed, it's virtually unstoppable. There were times he ran past me with the ball seemingly glued to his boots. Their only weakness was a frequent inability to finish teams off. This happened once or twice at Anfield when they played us off the park but we somehow nicked a draw. In Cardiff, Michael made them pay the ultimate price for their wastefulness, breaking their hearts with a classic smash and grab.
On Sander Westerveld, who JC clearly does not like :=
Westerveld's missus wasn't shy to express her opinions when they weren't wanted, either. Shortly after my two own-goals against United, the players and our wives and girlfriends organized a meal at the Blue Bar on Liverpool's Albert Dock. Westerveld's wife suddenly decided she was some kind of spokesman for the Kop.
"You're a disgrace," she said to me. "The way you're playing I'm surprised you're happy to be seen out in public. You shouldn't be in the team."
I gave her my sternest Bootle boy scowl and snarled, "Fuck off back to Holland."
On Houllier vs Paul Ince
Ince had some issues of his own he wanted to raise, and as club captain he decided it was time to take on Houllier.
"We're not training properly," he said. "The strikers haven't been doing enough finishing practice."
Houllier's response was furiously impressive. In an instant he reeled off the dates and times the strikers had been called in for shooting exercises. Michael Owen and Robbie Fowler confirmed the accuracy of Houllier's memory. Then he turned to Ince.
"Since the day I arrived, how many five-a-sides have you won?" he asked. "I'll tell you. It's four in six months."
Ince was bewildered, as we all were, by Houllier's memory and grasp of detail. Most players wouldn't remember how many five-a-sides they'd palyed in training in a season, let alone how many they'd won or lost. And the manager wasn't finished.
"Now, maybe you'd like to explain to all the lads what happened to you at Manchester United last week?"
If you think the atmosphere at Anfield on a European night is electric, you could have lit the stadium floodlights with the vibes in that team meeting.
"When my Liverpool team is 1-0 up at Old Trafford in a cup tie, I don't expect my captain to limp off with an injury," Houllier continued. "If he has to come off the pitch, I expect it to be on a stretcher because he needs to go to hospital in an ambulance."
Ince had no response.
As Mo and I left the room, he turned to me and said what I was thinking: "What a manager we've got here." We were both in a state of shock.
On Sven :=
Originally, we had this image of a rather dull, methodical, ultra-professional Swede who'd bring some stability to the job and demand everyone's respect. This didn't quite match the reality. No sooner had Sven arrived than we realized out preconceptions were ill-founded. We were given an early clue about his colourful lifestyle. Before one of his early World Cup qualifiers, a story broke about girls finding their way into the team hotel to provide some of the players with pre-match "entertainment". Eriksson summoned us for what we expected to be a stern warning. Instead we received some fatherly advice.
"There's no need to have girls in the team hotel," Sven told us. "If you see someone you like, just get her phone number and arrange to go to her house after the game. Then we will have no problems."
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