Looking back at Madrid and why the memories created became so important during times of isolation

It’s been one whole year since Jordan Henderson raised the European Cup above his head, high into Madrid’s skyline.

The night Liverpool fans completed their transition from ‘doubters to believers’.

The night Liverpool Football Club reclaimed their seat at Europe’s top table, with some of the finest diners around, something that would’ve seen a mere dream only years prior.

The month of May is a glorious one, every day feels like an anniversary of a great Liverpool victory from yesteryear, whether it be one of the many Champions League semi-final classics against Chelsea or a fresh-faced Michael Owen winning the FA Cup in Cardiff, quite literally all by himself.

May is always generous for the social media timeline.

As each piece of nostalgia has passed during the last three weeks or so, the upcoming first anniversary of Madrid excited me. I wanted to write something to do that night justice. After a few hours, I realised no words could ever fulfil the justice, to describe seeing your team lift the European Cup, live in the flesh.

For me personally, it was the greatest night of my life.

During the prolonged build-up to the final, I had allowed myself to dream, just as I had done twelve months prior and the thought of Europe’s most prestige asset not relocating to Anfield wasn’t an option.

This game was different, in the space of twelve months, Liverpool had evolved from the ‘new kids on the block’ to a group of experienced winners.

In the words of the great Bill Shankly ‘’If you are second you are nothing’’, there could be no more near misses for this side. Losing wasn’t an option.

And just like that, with a single swing of his left boot, Divock Origi had cemented his name into pub quiz folklore. Liverpool had unearthed an unforeseen hero in the penultimate weeks of the season. The Kop’s newest cult hero had ended Jurgen Klopp’s worrying final record in arguably, the biggest game in the club’s modern era.

The let-off of emotion once the final whistle ringed around the Wanda Metropolitano is something I’ll never forget. Grown men and women embracing one another like family, the wiping of tears as thousands shared this great moment side by side, as they came to terms with the history that was unfolding before their eyes.

That’s the beauty of football. Football itself isn’t a difficult concept, it’s simply twenty-two people kicking a ball around for 90 minutes’. It’s everything that goes with it which is so beautiful and breath-taking.

It sometimes the external stories that set the scene and provide the most enjoyable moments. The clip of Liverpool’s newly-crowned European Cup-winning captain and his old man embracing. No matter your thoughts on Henderson, love him or loathe him, we all had tears as that video did the rounds.

Quite simply a Dad looking on, watching his son cement a legacy.

That night, Henderson attached himself to an elite list of greats that had reigned before him as he held aloft Europe’s most sought-after silverware.

It completed the full circle of one of modern footballs most romantic sagas, from rags to riches. No one deserved that night in Madrid more than the skipper, the lad who works harder than anyone was finally getting the recognition he deserved.

There have been so many decisive points of Henderson’s Liverpool pilgrimage, the one that gets mentioned often is his cameo at Southampton in April 2019. That night he looked like a man possessed, he had something to prove. He resembled a man fighting for a living. That exuberance in his celebration towards our end.

The most immeasurable moment of the lot would come as he debuted his podium dance. Henderson and THAT dance have been on display as he has lifted two more trophies and another is imminent too, but the moment he did it for the first time as he got his hands on the European Cup, he was a free man.

The burden had been lifted.

We idolise individuals like Henderson and subsequently place them on a pedestal but they are just like us. They just collectively lived all of our dreams. Like us, they would’ve looked at the Zidane’s, Ronaldo’s and Gerrard’s and dared to dream.

Our lads lived the dream on that midsummer’s night and allowed us to be part of it too.

It’s been a strange time recently. I thought the first anniversary of Madrid would be celebrated simultaneously with these boys ending the club’s thirty-year league title drought.

As the Champagne is placed on hold momentarily, this period has given everyone the ability to reflect on what has been a crazy couple of years.

Football never really stops, but those two months from March up to the Bundesliga’s resumption last month allowed fans to switch off from a sport that often dictates the best part of their lives but did anyone really switch off or did they just start looking back at times gone by?

That’s exactly what I found myself doing, reminiscing. Reminiscing about the journey of Klopp’s Liverpool.

Three European finals in four years, 97-point seasons, seemingly winning every single week. It’s absolutely ludicrous what this side has achieved.

At this time, we are ever so close to the return of England’s top flight but in a time where the world has ground to an abrupt halt, the memories of Madrid become more vivid than ever. The memories we’ve been able to create with those we care about became so important during times of isolation.

We don’t know how football plans to get back to what was formally known as normal but whatever challenges are thrown at us during the coming months, it won’t be long until we are back, celebrating many more nights like Madrid and creating more stories for our grandchildren to reminisce upon.