6 months later.

In the spring, I wrote a series of blogs addressing the anxiety, tension and excitement of Liverpools quest to win the premier league title. It was about the only outlet I had to manage the array of emotions swimming through my body at the time. I didn't sleep a lot around that time. The title race swayed this way and that. First it looked Chelsea's. Then it looked like City were in the boxseat. And then as we entered the homestretch...suddenly, it was going to be ours. Man City were dispatched with 4 games of the season to play - 10 points from 12 and the league is ours. This does not fucking slip.

You all know what happened next.

I have tremendous coping skills. If there are any benefits to watching your parents relationship disintegrate when you're 9, and burying your father 5 weeks after you turn 17, it's that you gain perspective, and the ability to knuckle down, face life head on and move forward. So that's what I did. We go again. Right? 

Wrong. 

And that's why I'm writing this. Football gives you highs and lows. The birth of my daughter was the greatest moment of my life, and when MT said 'Yes' to me while I was on bended knee is right up there too. But the drama of Istanbul provided a natural high that I doubt I will ever experience again. That's sport. Life and death inside 90 minutes. Nothing like it. But this...this is the lowest low. I can't pretend that it was as dramatic or as momentarily miserable as what Manchester United fans must have experienced when Sergio 'Agueerrroooooooo' won City the 2011/12 title - but what I can say is those fans knew they'd won the previous title, and 12 months later they were celebrating another. Their blow was cushioned.

For me, there has been no cushion. Reality has been brutal. Contrary to revisionist history, Liverpool last season were not a one man team - take out all of Luis Suarez' goals and assists, and we still outscore all but 3 teams in the division. But the little Uruguayan was the inspiration, the stardust that kickstarted the challenge and got us motoring toward the title. Without that, and without Daniel Sturridge's goals, a bunch of 6 out of 10 players who were hitting regular 8's have been putting in a series of 4's, and suddenly scoring against Hull or Villa looks like climbing mount everest. Unlike Man United fans in 2012, I can't comfort myself with the idea that we will challenge for this league again soon. The Chelsea Machine is back. Man United have the most expensive premier league team in history and they're only getting started. City will get a new manager, spend again and rebuild. Arsenal...ah, who am I kidding, they'll just finish fourth.

And so, every time I watch Liverpool this year, my mind goes back in time. It's not the Chelsea game. It's Palace. Really, the Chelsea game was what cost us the league, but it was against Palace that the nail went in the coffin. 6 months ago this week. Monday May 5th. I see it all so clearly. 

The urgency on Luis Suarez' face as he pulls the ball out of the net and urges the lads to press for more goals - 'we can catch City'. The nerves beginning when Damien Delaney makes it 1 - 3. The horror at 2 - 3. The impending sense of doom. Pacing my living room with MT and Carra sitting in the corner, watching nervously. 'No no no no no no no no no' streaming from my mouth, desperately rejecting the goal I was sure was coming. Glenn Murray's chestdown. Dwight Gayle. Mignolet beaten. The net rustling. My knees buckling. Face on the floor. Sobbing. Sobbing. Sobbing. Sobbing. Luis Suarez' shirt over his face. Stevie G comforting him. 

It fucking haunts me. In the way no sporting event should. There are nights when it's on my mind, when I get that pang or hurt and pain in my stomach and I lay awake a little while longer. I go through the 'what if's. I think about poor Stevie G, who'll never get that league winners medal now. 

Football is a game. I am an intelligent, mature, well adjusted adult. I understand it is just sport. I understand that everything you've just read is irrational. Crazy even. But it's true. It fucking hurts me. It kills me. It breaks my fucking heart. Why couldn't we just get over the line? Just this once? Let us have our pride, thump our chests. Why did it have to be all for nought?

The truth is that it's changed the entire way I view football and sport in general. I am a voracious reader on the topic. I'd have Sky, the BBC, Guardian, Times & Football365 bookmarked. Every day I'd visit them and read the latest tactical breakdowns & opinion pieces. It would get me through the day. And I followed about 100 people on twitter, about 50 of them various LFC related accounts or journos giving their opinions on the game. 

In the past month, I've deleted every single twitter account related to football. All those sites I had bookmarked have been deleted. I'm a 30 year old man with a wife and baby. I can't justify the emotional, mental and physical energy I expend on my beloved Liverpool anymore. This isn't to say I would ever stop supporting the club. I don't think I could if I tried. I wanted to skip the games while I was on holiday recently. But it's in my DNA. I have to watch.

But I have made a very conscious choice. I am going to do my best to compartmentalise it. For those 90 minutes, I'm all in. The same person who spat at the TV to put Andriy Schevchenko off in 2005 (it worked you know). The same person who roars so loud at our games that my neighbours in Holywell once wrote me a letter complaining that I made the place 'sound like Darndale'. The same bloke who once smashed an entire bag of golf clubs over a result.

But after that 90 minutes is done, so am I. I want to be happy. I want to be energetic, lively, fun. I don't want to be saddled with fear about Daniel Sturridge's injury. I don't want to lose sleep feeling anxious about not so Super Mario. I don't want to spend entire weekends moping because Newcastle do us on a Saturday morning. My girls deserve the best husband and father I can be, and I can't be that if I'm spending 50% of my time fixated on my club.

So, will the highs be lower and the lows be higher from now on? Somehow I doubt it, but jeez, it might be nice.