Steven gerrard autobiography free pdf download

Search icon An illustration of a magnifying glass. Metropolitan Museum Cleveland Museum of Art. Internet Arcade Console Living Room. Open Library American Libraries. Search the Wayback Machine Search icon An illustration of a magnifying glass. Sign up for free Log in. Gerrard : my autobiography Bookreader Item Preview. David Beckham is another captain I hold in high regard.

He never said too much in the England dressing room, but when he spoke it was sensible and constructive and, best of all, he went out and performed at a consistent level for the vast majority of his career. It was a proud, proud day. From that moment on, the way I was viewed and the responsibility I had altered. Team-mates, managers and fans look to the captain to get results and to pull the team through when times are tough.

I always prided myself on doing that even without the armband, but now I realised I had to step up another level. I was even more of a role model. It remains one of the best days of my life. Fully Committed It is easy to see just how much winning means to players. Louis Saha is the Fulham player nearest to me and my Liverpool team-mates Emile Heskey and Igor Biscan are looking to get on the end of any ricochets in and around the penalty area.

But you have to keep on going and eventually it will turn for you. Pass Percentage I often take risks with my passing. That is just how I play. Nowadays you get statistical analysis of how many passes players attempt, how many are completed and a pass completion percentage. Sheer Joy My face says it all. There is no better feeling than scoring for your boyhood team and I have been lucky enough to do it quite a bit over the seasons.

I think you can see the passion I have for Liverpool here and just what it means to me to score for them. Usually I find myself drawn instinctively towards where the fans are when I find the back of the net. I possess a decent range in my finishing now. Whether it is shooting from distance, more delicate efforts from close range or scoring with my head, I fancy myself in and around the penalty area.

That confidence just comes over time. When you are a kid, you find it tough to stamp your personality on matches because you are worried about making a mistake. Now I am not afraid to miss. Sharing the Moment With Someone Special Gerard did so much for Liverpool in a short space of time that maintaining those high standards becomes more difficult.

Nobody takes into account that other teams improve as well and that the competition to win trophies becomes fiercer. After a left-foot volley at Anfield, I ran over to embrace him by the dug-out. It was a show of support to him to put all the nonsense to bed, which was the least I could do given everything he did for me. His longevity has apparently been helped by yoga, something I have taken up in recent seasons.

To think there was a time in his career when his own supporters were booing him, thinking he had come to the end, is just unbelievable. He is playing for Middlesbrough here, but it was while he was at Aston Villa that I was guilty of probably the worst tackle I have ever made in a game. It was a horrible challenge, right by the dug-out. Afterwards, I called him on his mobile to apologise.

I absolutely shot up in size. Without a doubt my entire career has benefited from me having such long legs. Athleticism is a huge part of the modern-day game and it is becoming more and more important. Look at someone like Cristiano Ronaldo. He is so skilful, but athletic too. In the Spotlight My profile has increased over the years as I have achieved more in my career.

It is not something that I am totally comfortable with. I know that as captain of Liverpool and now England, I have a responsibility to project myself as a role model and always say and do the right things. Of course that can be hard at times, but the career of a footballer is short and if you are prepared to try to do the right things and make sacrifices the rewards will come.

When I was young, Gerard Houllier used to say to all the lads at Liverpool that if we stayed out of nightclubs during our careers, we could own one after we had finished playing. The financial rewards for a Premier League footballer are great, but it has never been about money for me. The mobile phone of my agent, Struan Marshall, was on fire that summer with clubs calling him and asking would I be interested in what I always thought would be the unthinkable: leaving Liverpool.

But there was foreign interest as well from the likes of Real Madrid, who were also trying to tempt me away from Anfield. When you receive those kind of phone calls out of the blue, they are flattering in many respects. It is confirmation that you are doing your job properly and that you are making the most of the talent that you have. He can make us better.

But when you finish fourth and there is a sense of uncertainty, the vultures circle and look to feast on your insecurities and make the most of the opportunity that is before them. I like to be able to concentrate solely on playing football when I am away with England without any outside interference, but everywhere I went someone wanted to ask me about my future.

In my mind, it was simple. I wanted to stay at Liverpool, but questions needed to be asked. For example, would there be funds available for team strengthening? It was clear that we needed some new blood if we were going to get back to being competitive again. As much as I love Liverpool, I want to win. I am a footballer and I want to do well in my career and savour as many highs as I can cram in.

Of course, I want that to be at Liverpool, but if they could not offer me the reassurances that I was looking for then you naturally think about the future. Thankfully, the answers I wanted were forthcoming and in order to clarify my future I held a press conference at Anfield saying that I would be staying and leading the quest for new trophies.

It was a weight off my mind. I was 24 at the time, my first daughter, Lilly-Ella, had been born in the February of that year and I had moved to the outskirts of Liverpool. I was settled off the pitch and to uproot everyone, and everything, would have been a huge commitment. There was also the fact that I had only been the captain of Liverpool for one year to take into consideration.

Why throw all that away? Being honest, there have been times since when I thought harder about leaving. Chelsea renewed their interest in me a year later, while the prospect of playing abroad has crossed my mind on a few occasions, more so at the ages of 28— I watch the La Liga games on television when I can and there is something about the football there that appeals to me.

Barcelona have made contact in the past. There have been a few phone calls to check what the situation is with me, whether I am happy or not at Liverpool, but there has never been any concrete interest from them. When Malaga were taken over by backers from Qatar a couple of years ago, they also sounded me out. They wanted to know whether I would be willing to sign up for their project and offered me all sorts of riches.

More recently Bayern Munich and Paris St Germain have also made it known that they were interested in signing me. Yet the strongest interest from Spain has always come from Real Madrid, who were keen to take me to the Bernabeu. When you see the stands in that stadium towering towards the heavens it is awe-inspiring and Real are one of the biggest, if not the biggest, clubs in the world.

Back in , they did raid Liverpool. It was for Michael Owen rather than me. Losing Michael was a huge blow for the club and also on a personel level. He was someone I had played alongside since we were kids at the Vernon Sangster Sports Centre just setting out on our careers. I knew his runs, exactly where he wanted the ball and I knew he was a player we would find hard to replace.

Michael had one year on his contract and was more impatient than me for change. He wanted to get on in his career and found the lure of Real too hard to turn down. As it was, I was starting to see things from a Spanish perspective as well. It was all about the man who had taken over at Anfield and who I hoped was going to take us to the next level.

That man was Rafa Benitez. Gerard Houllier is a man-manager. Someone who loves his players, supports his players, embraces them and wants them to be close to him. Rafa was the opposite. After being appointed by Liverpool, he requested a meeting with myself, Jamie Carragher and Michael Owen when we were out at Euro in Portugal. We met him one Friday night at the team hotel and straight away you could notice the difference.

He was hands-off and there was going to be a bit of distance between the players and the manager. Everyone had to pull in the same direction. Perhaps that approach is exactly what I needed at that stage of my career, but when you are used to the love and a bit of TLC the change in emphasis was hard for me to accept at first. I wondered what he thought of me and, as a result of that, it drove me on to impress in every training session and in every game.

I wanted him to turn round and embrace me and I thought the breakthrough would come and we would grow close — that a close relationship between the manager and the captain would develop over time. If the manager is distant and does things a different way from the manager before, but we are successful, then bring it on. It is about results.

And I was sure we could get them under Rafa. Liverpool had played his former club Valencia a couple of times in the Champions League and I liked their style. They were well organised, but played good football at the same time. I also liked the way Rafa looked on the sidelines. I like managers in suits and when they are out in the technical area trying to give instructions and influence the game.

Antonio Nunez came as part of the deal that took Michael to Real Madrid. Straight away I could see that Xabi had a touch of class about him. His passing range was great, but he was tough as well. He would have no problems settling into English football. Luis was someone who could inspire one minute and frustrate the next, but he scored some important goals for us.

Given the amount of changes that took a hold in the first months of the season — Cisse also broke his leg — it was perhaps no wonder that our form in the Premier League was inconsistent. In a one-off game we were a match for anyone and that revealed itself in the cup competitions. We reached the Carling Cup Final against Chelsea in Cardiff and while it is an occasion I would rather forget it is one that will live with me forever.

For all the wrong reasons. Given that Chelsea had tried to sign me the previous summer, this was a game that had an extra edge to it even without the fact there was a trophy at stake as well. It was a final that none of us wanted to lose. We had started well with Fernando Morientes scoring early on and were minutes from getting our hands on the Cup when I looked to clear a freekick that had been pumped into our penalty area.

Instead of heading the ball away, it skimmed the top of my head and flew into the back of our net. Total numbness. In that split-second the momentum of the match changed. Chelsea forged ahead in extra time and to compound my misery I was millimetres from getting an equaliser. The ball was played across the box and it just passed by in front of my toe.

I held my hand up in the dressing room straight away afterwards and my teammates rallied round, but it was a long journey home and a long, long night. The disappointment will never vanish and it still hurts talking about that moment all these years on. When I think of myself going up for that header and slightly mistiming my jump, a shiver goes down my spine.

I was gutted for a long time after that game, but you cannot hide away. We lost on a Sunday, but by Monday night I knew I had to start fighting again. But there were also Liverpool fans in the ground who, given the link with Chelsea, saw my own goal as some sort of grand conspiracy and gave me the height of abuse. I know because members of my family were in the crowd and were forced to listen to the vitriol.

Redemption proved to be around the corner. This is a variation I have tried once or twice. On this occasion it was after scoring a free-kick against Everton. John Arne Riise looks like he is about to smother me. He is a great friend and was a really good player for Liverpool. I think we found it difficult to replace him when he left in Power Play The fact that I am so off-balance demonstrates the power that I have tried to put into this free-kick.

Fortunately, it found the back of the net. Unfortunately, we lost the game 3—1 and it proved no more than a consolation strike. Applauding the Twelfth Man Win, lose or draw, I always clap the fans after every game. Every player should do that as a matter of course. It is a mark of respect for the effort they have made to follow the team.

The Liverpool fans are the best around and that is not just me being biased. Look at some of the people who have said nice things about our supporters, people who have no ties with the club. They have just felt the power of Liverpool fans in full cry and it is an amazing experience. Anfield has a capacity of half of some of those venues, but its power remains untouchable.

If the truth is told, we were maybe only the 10th or 11th best team in Europe that season. But in a game played over two legs, we were up there, and that was overwhelmingly due to the force Anfield exudes. On a big European night, when the stakes are high, there is something in the air in the stadium. It is hard to describe what it is. It makes the team walking out of the home dressing room feel 10 feet tall and our opponents shrink in size.

The tidal wave of momentum the Kop and the other stands generate was first seen against Olympiakos in the group stage when we were cornered and, at half-time, staring elimination full in the face. When you get a taste for the Champions League, you want to play in it again and again. I hate sitting at home on a Tuesday or Wednesday evening watching the best teams in Europe go at it hammer and tongs, knowing that I am just a helpless spectator.

Our league form had been patchy which meant Europe took on even greater importance for us and I remember doing the press conference the day before the game. We knew we had to beat Olympiakos by two clear goals to progress and I was asked what would happen if we went out of the competition. I answered the question honestly and said I would look at where I felt the club was going, that I would assess things.

I was probably a bit rash in what I said and that is one of the press conferences I have learnt the most from. The next morning, the morning of the game, it was headline news. Seeing my name across the back pages comes with the territory of playing for Liverpool and England. Most interviews I do end up being strongly projected. But I was concerned that the fans would read the headlines and think that if we were beaten I would be definitely leaving.

The pressure had been turned up a notch. The best way of clearing everything up was to make sure we won, but when Rivaldo scored a free-kick midway through the first half we were up against it. That was to be a scenario that brought the best out of us that season and Anfield came alive when we jogged back out for the second-half, needing to score three goals.

Take nothing away from the substitutions Rafa made at the break for getting us over the line though. Neil Mellor and Florent Sinama Pongolle came on at half-time and without their intervention Istanbul would have forever remained a pipe-dream. Make no mistake about that. Yet within minutes Pongolle scored and then Mellor scrambled a second with nine minutes left to set up a grandstand finish.

One goal. We needed one more goal. I knew the moment would come. All the hours you spend on the training pitch, the times you stay behind and practise after the main session is finished, are for moments like the one that fell to me in the 86th minute that night. The shot was going away from the goalkeeper and it found the back of the net.

Then Exhilaration. Then relief. It is one of my best goals and the funny thing about that is that I never actually felt it. The ball came off my boot so sweetly that it belied the power that I managed to get into the finish. We were through, but it was only later in the competition that the players started to get a feeling that this was going to be our year.

We had cleared a hurdle, played well, it had been a great night, but at the same time I thought how did we get in that much trouble in the first place? Beating Juventus over two legs in the quarter-final fuelled the belief in the dressing room and then came Chelsea. Three months after the lowest point of my career, here was a chance to try and make amends by reaching the Champions League Final.

Chelsea had all the power and strength. No one gave us a chance. Drawing 0—0 at Stamford Bridge in the first-leg was a good result, but offered Chelsea as much encouragement as us given away goals counted double. It was imperative we got off to a good start. Usually when you come out to warm up at Anfield 45 minutes before kick-off, the stands are still quite empty.

That night it seemed every Liverpool supporter realised what was at stake and turned up early on purpose. The noise was deafening. Inspiring every player in red, but intimidating everyone in blue. How could we let them down? Chelsea can debate whether the ball crossed the line or not, but consistently overlook that Petr Cech clattered Milan Baros before the rebound fell to Luis and he could have given away a penalty and been sent off.

The fact that Luis was in the right place at the right time was no accident. Rafa always worked on the wide players running into the space between opposing full-backs and central defenders and so many goals originate from that move. Over the two legs, I actually thought Chelsea were a stronger team than us. But we pulled through because we were all in it together.

We had our brilliant fans, who created a wall of noise the like of which I had never heard before, and we had some majestic performances. Sometimes you can win a big game by not necessarily playing great football and playing teams off the park. When it is not going well, you can get through by hanging in there, believing and grabbing the little bits of luck when they come.

We did that against Chelsea and were soon to call upon that blueprint once again. Then exhilaration. Everything was against us when Rivaldo curled home a free-kick for the Greek side in the first half, leaving us needing to find three goals in order to progress. Florent Sinama Pongolle and Neil Mellor reduced the arrears before I struck from distance with time running out.

I caught the shot so sweetly that as soon as it left my right boot I knew there was a good chance of it hitting the back of the net. I was showered with plaudits afterwards, but without the efforts of Pongolle and Mellor and the rest of the team, the game would have gone long before I got involved. The very mention of the word makes me smile and brings memories, glorious, surreal memories, flooding back.

The pressure to win silverware at Liverpool is massive. From the moment you sign for the club, you are aware of the history and when you play for the first team that pressure intensifies. So to deliver the biggest trophy in club football when no one expected it was huge. I get really excited about big games and finals and I was constantly tossing and turning.

As a result, I found myself yawning and feeling drained when we were doing all our pre-match stuff.

Steven gerrard autobiography free pdf download

It took a while for the adrenaline to kick back in and in many ways that was the same for everyone. We were caught napping as a team when the game started. Instead of realising our dreams, we found ourselves initially plunged into a nightmare. AC Milan were a strong team with outstanding players, but we made them look exceptional as well. Paolo Maldini scored inside a minute and, with Kaka running the midfield, the Italians added a second and then a third through goals from Hernan Crespo.

Walking off at half-time, I felt embarrassed. We were being humiliated on our big night. We had been played off the park. It was men against boys. He spoke about playing for pride, he mentioned the fans, who had forked out such enormous sums of money to take over Istanbul and the stadium itself, and he urged us to keep believing.

Steven Finnan was struggling with an injury and Didi Hamann came on. Rafa wanted me to play a little further forward as a result. I tried to gee the lads up as well, but at that stage I was simply trying to be positive. Privately, I thought the game was over and I was praying that we would not slip any further behind. I cannot fully explain what happened next.

Why a game that was beyond us was turned on its head. Why for six minutes at the start of the second half they were so open, so weak and seemed physically tired when they had been like lions before that. We were different as well. It offered us a foothold and more importantly gave us a slither of hope. It was sung in open defiance. Now the noise from the stands carried more belief.

Could we do it? When Vladimir Smicer scored from distance moments later, the Ataturk erupted. The great escape was on. Milan Baros was often criticised for not having a great sense of awareness for what was happening on the pitch, but the little touch he played into my path as we sought the equaliser was exquisite. An arm in my back from Gennaro Gattuso and I was sent sprawling.

Xabi Alonso stepped up to take the spot-kick and although Dida saved his effort, he smashed home the rebound into the roof of the net. We had all been scooped up and swept along in a whirlwind, but there was no chance to consider what we had just done. They poured forward again. We dug in, putting our bodies on the line and then relying on a bit of luck as well.

Jamie Carragher was immense in defence — defying Milan time after time as well as the cramp that was shooting up his legs — and then there was Jerzy Dudek. Talk to him today and he still does not know how he managed to save a header from Andrei Shevchenko that looked goal-bound. In that split second, Milan had it confirmed to them that this was not going to be their night and their lack of confidence was evident in the penalty shoot-out that followed.

Didi, Vladi and Djibril Cisse scored for us and even though Riise was wayward, Milan could not afford another miss from 12 yards. Rafa had put me down to take the fifth penalty that night which, given the misses before from Milan, had the potential to be the crucial spot-kick. No problem. I was up for it. What I say to those people is straightforward.

Could you handle the pressure of knowing that you are five seconds away from taking a penalty in the Champions League Final? And not only that, but you are five seconds away from taking the penalty that could win the Champions League for Liverpool? Do you fancy that? Could you cope with that, knowing that if you miss you could be remembered for that for the rest of your life?

So when Shevchenko was walking up to take the penalty that Milan needed to score to ensure I would have to step into the spotlight, that is what I was thinking. I was preparing myself rather than watching what was happening. I was confident of scoring and I was going to place my effort rather than going for power. Popular Authors K.

Paul A. Greenberger Leslie C. Quicke A. Rasnitsyn Bulte J. De Cuyper M. Goldsmith T. Koeppe Richard I. GumportFrank H. Deis J. Better World Books. Uploaded by station Hamburger icon An icon used to represent a menu that can be toggled by interacting with this icon. Web icon An illustration of a computer application window Wayback Machine Texts icon An illustration of an open book.

Texts Video icon An illustration of two cells of a film strip. Video Audio icon An illustration of an audio speaker.