It is a sad fact that during a period in my life where my fascination with football and everything in it, playing, watching and obsessing alike, has gone from strength to strength, only a tiny proportion of the players I have really admired have played for my own team.
It's difficult to put a finger on what really appeals to me about the players who have reached hero status in my eyes. I first started following Liverpool in 1995 and yet the players considered the stars for the Reds at that time, the Fowlers and McManamans of this world simply didn't capture my interest as much as Ian Rush and John Barnes, two players who were by then obviously past their mercurial best, which I was never fortunate enough to witness.
Maybe it was the way my Dad spoke about them as he guided a young and always rather nervous son through the swarms of giants around the ground. Maybe it was the video tapes he gave me to watch, a window into the glory days I was born a fraction too late to see. Maybe on some level I acknowledged that these 2 players were, now at the back end of their careers, able to stand for achievement, rather than the exciting but nevertheless intangible potential of the newest breed of Liverpool stars. (Although I doubt little Tom would have put it quite like that!)
So it is fair to say that my favourite players for the Reds probably wouldn't be the same as the most popular choices of people my age. The next players along the line I had real admiration for were Gary McAllister and Didi Hamann, and neither ever reached the level of praise that a Fowler, an Owen or a Gerrard might have reached at their peaks. Again though, these players had tasted success in the past.
How many other modern Reds have a league winner's medal?
It almost feels like a betrayal to say this, but between about 97 and 2000 I really had no Liverpool heroes and looked for players to admire elsewhere. I was particularly fond of AC Milan and George Weah especially. It was him and players like Ronaldo I really wanted to be in the park. This time was one of the heights of my football obsession but sadly Liverpool weren't quite as accessible to such an obsession as I'd have liked.
This isn't to say I wasn't still mad about Liverpool, I still went to the games whenever Dad got us tickets and loved every second. I met a couple of the players, Riedle and McAteer stick out in the memory, on a couple of occasions and it was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me. There were players I admired, even loved. There was just no one I really idolised. I think its fair to say that I realised early you love the club first and everything else about it comes second.
This cycle repeated during the dubious post-treble years (or perhaps we should call them the Cheyrou years). In 2004 I got my new home shirt, and on the back a solitary number 7. Although this was mainly meant to represent Kenny Dalglish and the days before names on shirts, it was telling that there were no players in the current side I wanted to show on my back. Even after Istanbul I loved the club as much as ever but still lacked faith in the players. I really did love Baros, Cisse, Riise and Garcia but, as I'm sure was the case with many Reds my age, I knew they didn't measure up to the real legends I'd only heard about..
At this stage I just put it down to growing up and being too old to be adoring fully grown men. Getting a replica shirt past a certain age is bad enough, so I'm told. Getting your favourite player on the back as if you were somehow pretending to be them was even worse.
But something utterly brilliant has happened. The days of my football obsession has returned, but this time there is absolutely no question where the objects of my idolisation lie. I'm 21 but I feel like I'm 10 years old again. I look at some of the players we have and it really makes me giddy.
I wear Javier Mascherano's Argentina shirt all the time. Fernando Torres adorns my computer desktop, and not only do I want a shirt with his name on, I even want it in long sleeves, just like he wears. It doesn't stop there. I bought a pair of boots like the ones he has, and you can guess what my phone ring tone is.
In all my time spent rooting for the underdogs among our players now it is impossible for me to deny the quality of the players that all the other Liverpool fans are raving about, and alongside the likes of Torres and Gerrard who every fan in the country will acknowldge, the Babels, the Aggers and the Skrtels have taken the place of the Dioufs, the Kvarmes and the Bjørnebyes.
If you've managed to get this far you'll probably still be wondering what the hell my point is, but hopefully you'll have spotted that I think this year should be one of incredible optimism for Liverpool. If this team can give a fairly sceptical 21 year old more idols that he had as a 10 year old kid, they must be doing something right. Maybe I see the same quality of "achievement" in them as I did in Rushie and Barnes way back when, only this time they've got time to turn that quality into what we've all been waiting for.
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