Power cut or not, no one’s switching this feeling off.

I was planning to write this yesterday, but two things happened that I wasn’t anticipating.

Firstly, someone from the LFC Lisboa family suggested it might be a good idea to buy a bottle of Tequila. The reasoning being we didn’t want to jinx the result and sully our tradition of drinking a shot of Jameson’s post-match by buying a bottle of that and drinking it during the match. Football is full of superstitions, and even though in our heart of hearts we know wearing the right shirt or drinking the wrong drink isn’t going to affect the fortunes of 22 men kicking a ball over 1000 miles away, we still cling to them in hope. Maybe a nod back to our tribal days in the tundra - who knows? And of course we won, so post-match saw the champagne flowing, and the traditional whisky shots. You can’t mess with tradition.

The second thing that happened, which prevented me even if I’d been willing and able to put virtual pen to paper, was that when I was sat at my desk regretting all my life choices up to that very moment, suddenly and without warning, the world was plunged into darkness. No PC, no laptop, no Wi-Fi. It was as though God flicked a switch and said, “Go ‘ed Dave, you had a big day yesterday, get some kip, you need it.” And he wasn’t wrong.

I’m honestly not sure what would’ve happened if I hadn’t got that divine reprieve of a blackout. Maybe I’d have soldiered on, or maybe I’d have reached the point of my own personal blackout. Thankfully, that’s not a situation I had to face. I spent the rest of the day in bed, waking up just gone teatime.

The issue, it turns out, didn’t affect just me or my apartment. It affected Portugal, Spain, and the South of France. A news story was doing the rounds - supposedly from CNN - saying it was a coordinated cyberattack by China and Russia. My first utterly selfish thought was, “They just won’t let us have one bloody title, will they?” I’m not sure who I thought “they” were. Maybe I had suspicions Putin was a Manc. I mean, he does look like one, doesn’t he? Prick.

Anyway, it turned out that was fake news, and it was something much more mundane. So all my usual next-day rituals, like consuming every bit of LFC content available on YouTube, were postponed. The scenes at Anfield were historic, both before, during, and after the match.

Our little (but growing nicely) gang watched it in the Kick Off Sports Bar in Marquês de Pombal, as per usual. If you’re ever in Lisbon and need to watch the game, join us. We almost always get the big screen, and we’re always sorted with sound.

I’d curated a playlist for pre and post-match, based on the original songs used as the basis for some of our most famous chants, and the bar kindly played it for us. After a cringey start (Baha Men’s “Who Let the Dogs Out?”) the atmosphere built nicely. The post-match playlist consisted mostly of Ragamuffins, Marc Kenny, and Jamie Webster renditions of our chants, which nicely orchestrated the post-match carnage.

I had nerves pre-match. Not because I thought we’d lose, but because if we did (which can always happen in football), then I’d have to go through another seven days of that nervous excitement I’d been in since Arsenal dropped points to Palace the previous Wednesday. But when Tottenham went a goal up through Dominic Solanke, my thoughts weren’t of doom. A voice in my head, which sounded a lot like Gwen Taylor reacting to Jesus gifting the earth to the meek, said, “Aww, Dom Solanke. Ex-Red. He deserves something.”

At no point in that game did I feel like Liverpool were going to lose. I mean, they didn’t give us a chance to. Diaz equalised within five minutes. It seemed like everything that could go our way, did go our way. Not something that’s happened often over recent seasons, and at times, not even this season.

There’s no substitute for being around the ground, but being with my LFC Lisboa family (with some sadly marked absences, but we’ll make up for it at the parade, Evan lad!) was the next best thing. We’re not an OLSC yet, but we’re growing, and hail from all four corners of the globe. (Hang on, a globe doesn’t have corners... we’ve been lied to... arghhhh.)

It’s a lot harder to build a fan club in a city that has two great football institutions of its own, but we’ll get there. We know where will and perseverance can take us - through the lessons given by this great football team.

Undisputed most successful club, and current Champions of England. Gerrin!

*Thank you to everyone who took the photos shown here.