Liverpool; Trophy-less Again

I have waited a while to write this post because frankly, I'm speechless.

Last Wednesday, with an aggregate even score (though behind on a devastating last-second away goal) coming out of their first meeting at Anfield, Liverpool crashed out of the Champions League one goal away from reaching their 3 final in 4 years.  Chelsea put forth an inspired performance that has been seldom seen from the soulless side this season.  A variety of results would have been acceptable; only a loss or a scoreless draw would end our run after 90 minutes.  We were able to finish regular time at 1-1 on another clutch Fernando Torres goal, but extra time saw Chelski score twice on a Frank Lampard penalty kick and another slick Didier Drogba goal.  We pulled within a goal on a wonder-strike by Dutchman Ryan Babel, but with Torres on the bench it was too little, too late.

Reds will inevitably look back at John Arne Riise's own-goal in the closing seconds of the first game which not only proved to be the difference but also put LFC manager Rafa Benitez at a tactical disadvantage going into the away leg.

I had not expected the extent of the disappointment that I have felt the past week.  After all, Liverpool was basically out of the league race by mid-March, lost to pub side Barnsley in the FA Cup and dropped out of the Carling Cup to none other than Chelsea.  Since the other cups are essentially meaningless and everyone in the top flight fields reserve sides until the semis, I wasn't really that worried.  Failing again to even be in contention in the league is another story, but I still wasn't as gutted over this failure as I was last week. I think the differences between failing the in Premiership and the Champions League are two-fold:

1.  The Premier League is like the proverbial frog in a pot of hot water.  The results come in slowly and the gap gradually widens; the hit is spread over a month or 6 weeks as you see the chances for a title slipping away.  Add to that the fact that until about 3 weeks ago, we were really just fighting for the 4th spot that would qualify us for next year's CL.  The loss to Chelsea was immediate, hitting like hammer when Drogba's second hit the back of the net.

2.  Here in Ukraine I only get to see English football under one condition...European competition.  This loss means that my season of watching the Reds play is over.  The shock of that was as bad as the loss itself.

The consolation, if you can call it that, lies in the backstory.  Frank Lampard, scorer of the Blue's second goal, was playing for the first time since losing his mother (to cancer, I believe) the week before.  Upon scoring the go-ahead goal, he pulled a black memorial armband from his upper arm and clearly emotional, ran to the corner flag kissing it and pointing to the sky.  Even as a Red and one who generally despises all things Chelski, I was touched by the raw tenderness of the moment.  If we had to lose, I would have preferred it to be to Frank on that day than to that whining brat Drogba; which unfortunately ended up being the case.