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Authors: Steven Gerrard
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I had worn the armband before. The first time I was captain was in a League Cup tie against Southampton in November 2002 that we won 3–1 at Anfield. But this was different. This was for keeps. It was only after I left Gerard’s room that a new emotion washed over me: worry.
This was something I desperately wanted, but questions instantly popped into my head. Would I be any good as a captain? How would the lads react? It wasn’t as if my form had been sparkling around that time and there were other senior players who might have deserved that honour.
More importantly, how would Sami Hyypia, who was the current captain, react? From what I could see Sami was doing a good job. Ideally, you don’t want to receive the captaincy on account of it being taken off someone else. It is better if a player leaves a club or someone retires after a distinguished career. But Sami still had years ahead of him at Anfield and he had developed into a key player for us since arriving from Dutch club Willem II in 1999.
My respect for him, therefore, only increased as a result of the hand-over of the armband. I knew he was a top guy, but he went up in my estimation afterwards. Not once did he sulk, not once did he make life difficult for me and not once did he let the disappointment he must have felt show. Sami made a decision just to get on with things and he can rightly be described as an Anfield legend.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I walked out for the first time as Liverpool’s permanent skipper in a UEFA Cup tie against Olympic Ljubljana on October 15, 2003. It wasn’t a bad start either: we won 3–0. My life changed again with the armband on. I went from being a normal player to Liverpool captain at the age of 23.
Looking back, maybe it came too soon and I was too young. Usually captains are aged 25 and over, and coming into their peak years. But one of Gerard’s motives for giving it to me at such a young age was that he wanted me to mature that bit quicker because he wanted me to reach my potential. He wanted me to realise the opportunity I had in front of me.
When you are 23 and a Liverpool player, you can still get away with going to certain places and doing certain things. You are under the microscope, but it is not as intense. When you are 23 and you are the Liverpool captain, the responsibility is greater again. You can’t do the things some of your team-mates are doing. Yes, I had to make more sacrifices, but any sacrifice in the world is worth it when you are the captain of Liverpool Football Club, the club you love. I learnt an awful lot by being made captain so young. I grew up.
People think I am a quiet captain, but I don’t see it like that. It is just that I would never ever stitch one of my team-mates up in front of the media or the public. What image is it going to create if I start shouting at a young kid in front of 40,000 fans or in front of 25 members of the press, who are then going to write about it?
Of course, there are times in matches when the cameras or the fans will catch me shouting at someone. And my team-mates shout at me, believe me. That is all acceptable. Sometimes the player next to you needs shouting at to tell them they have done something brilliant. Sometimes you need to shout at them to tell them not to make that mistake again. But if you are on someone’s back and verbally bullying them, then that is not the right way to lead a team. I won’t do that, but have you ever known a Liverpool player to come out and say that I am quiet in the dressing room? That just isn’t the case. I prefer to say the right things at the right times. In football, there are plenty of players who make a lot of noise but not much sense comes out of their mouth.
But the most important aspect of being a captain, for me, and I don’t care what anyone says, is how you play yourself. It is not how noisy you are or what you say. It is about what you do. If you are a senior player in the dressing
This was something I desperately wanted, but questions instantly popped into my head. Would I be any good as a captain? How would the lads react? It wasn’t as if my form had been sparkling around that time and there were other senior players who might have deserved that honour.
More importantly, how would Sami Hyypia, who was the current captain, react? From what I could see Sami was doing a good job. Ideally, you don’t want to receive the captaincy on account of it being taken off someone else. It is better if a player leaves a club or someone retires after a distinguished career. But Sami still had years ahead of him at Anfield and he had developed into a key player for us since arriving from Dutch club Willem II in 1999.
My respect for him, therefore, only increased as a result of the hand-over of the armband. I knew he was a top guy, but he went up in my estimation afterwards. Not once did he sulk, not once did he make life difficult for me and not once did he let the disappointment he must have felt show. Sami made a decision just to get on with things and he can rightly be described as an Anfield legend.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I walked out for the first time as Liverpool’s permanent skipper in a UEFA Cup tie against Olympic Ljubljana on October 15, 2003. It wasn’t a bad start either: we won 3–0. My life changed again with the armband on. I went from being a normal player to Liverpool captain at the age of 23.
Looking back, maybe it came too soon and I was too young. Usually captains are aged 25 and over, and coming into their peak years. But one of Gerard’s motives for giving it to me at such a young age was that he wanted me to mature that bit quicker because he wanted me to reach my potential. He wanted me to realise the opportunity I had in front of me.
When you are 23 and a Liverpool player, you can still get away with going to certain places and doing certain things. You are under the microscope, but it is not as intense. When you are 23 and you are the Liverpool captain, the responsibility is greater again. You can’t do the things some of your team-mates are doing. Yes, I had to make more sacrifices, but any sacrifice in the world is worth it when you are the captain of Liverpool Football Club, the club you love. I learnt an awful lot by being made captain so young. I grew up.
People think I am a quiet captain, but I don’t see it like that. It is just that I would never ever stitch one of my team-mates up in front of the media or the public. What image is it going to create if I start shouting at a young kid in front of 40,000 fans or in front of 25 members of the press, who are then going to write about it?
Of course, there are times in matches when the cameras or the fans will catch me shouting at someone. And my team-mates shout at me, believe me. That is all acceptable. Sometimes the player next to you needs shouting at to tell them they have done something brilliant. Sometimes you need to shout at them to tell them not to make that mistake again. But if you are on someone’s back and verbally bullying them, then that is not the right way to lead a team. I won’t do that, but have you ever known a Liverpool player to come out and say that I am quiet in the dressing room? That just isn’t the case. I prefer to say the right things at the right times. In football, there are plenty of players who make a lot of noise but not much sense comes out of their mouth.
But the most important aspect of being a captain, for me, and I don’t care what anyone says, is how you play yourself. It is not how noisy you are or what you say. It is about what you do. If you are a senior player in the dressing
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