Well, about ten minutes before k.o., I wandered down to the local pub. Looked through the window, saw that there were billions of plastics who've never set foot in the north-west of England, let alone Liverpool, and just thought “Nah, can't be doing with this.” I would have watched it, had it not been for the plastic element.
So I stayed at home, quietly read a book, with one eye on on the BBC feed. Sounds as though it was a truly awful match, in footballing terms. But no matter. How many truly great CL or European Cup finals have you seen?
But I am genuinely surprised to find how little I care, or how philosophical, I am this morning. Let them have their day in the sun. Truly, I mean that. Let them have it.
I would like to win that cup, one day. Yes, I would, and I have no problem in saying so. But I swear calmly that this is the truth: if we never win it, I will die a happy man. Because I have seen my team — first, in a period of the 2013-14 season — now in the last two seasons, play what is arguably the best football seen in the PL, and possibly even the old First Division. I am absolutely certain that there is more to come (with, probably, a CL win), but if there were no more, now, I would accept it. Because already it's more than I hoped to see in my lifetime.
Anybody at work with dippers tomorrow morning, giving it the big one. Just smile serenely and congratulate them. It'll take the wind right out of their sails.