That evening, suddenly there was a sudden multiple influx of tweets from journalists from different media confirming that Liverpool had a deal with Ajax over the transfer of Luis Suarez. I was overjoyed, as I am sure most of you were too. We had a striker who would complement Torres' style of play, who has great skills and pace, can hold up the ball well in tight areas and equally good at finishing too.
With the sense of euphoria that nothing else could go wrong, I went to bed. We had been hearing about Torres' transfer rumours all the time that we just laughed it off. Everybody went to bed happily, me included.
How wrong we were. How wrong we could be.
I woke up Saturday morning not bothering to switch on my computer and read the news. I took off to work as usual. After finishing work at 1 p.m., I felt uneasy on my stomach so I decided against lunch. I walked to the parking lot, found my scooter, put the key in the ignition, and rode back home. Little did I know what awaited me in the cyber world.
I switched on my computer, walked to the fridge to get some ice cream and opened the official Liverpool website. Torres had submitted a transfer request which was rejected by the club. At that moment, the whole world seemed to have sunken to the deepest pit of the ocean. A dark mist engulfed me, eating away at me until I felt the hollowness inside of me. That's when the funk began.
I barely slept that night, and the following night, and the night after that. I stayed up all night keeping track of the Torres saga. His every movement was being tweeted. Torres just arrived at Melwood. Torres just left Melwood. Torres was in a discussion with the board. Every single thing Torres did was being tweeted. Everyone posted links about him on Facebook. At one point, I got really sick of the whole thing. All I wanted was that the whole thing to be ended as soon as possible.
These past 4 days had been an ultimate emotional torture. In the end I just gave in every hope of us clinging to Torres. He wanted to go. His mind was made up. There was nothing we could do about him. As King Kenny put it succinctly, the most important people at the club are those who want to be here. Let him go. Let this thing end.
Liverpool fans all over the world had mixed feelings about Torres. Some issued emotional pleas for Torres to stay. Some called him Judas. Some called him ungrateful twat. But none of it made any difference. After all, we're just fans, we're just a bunch of pathetic people who used to gape in adoration whenever Torres scored at the Kop end. We're not the one paying his paychecks. We're just a bunch of lame abusing fans who used to bounce uselessly to his name in every game even if he wasn't playing.
So long story short, he left. Off he went. From Red to Blue. Easy as that. Smiling in the photos of him holding the disgusting blue Chelsea shirt, saying he's glad to be at a top-level club. Oh Fernando. Monday, January 31st was the most dramatic day in the history of Liverpool Football Club ever.
So many questions are left unanswered. Why, Fernando, why? Why now? Why Chelsea? Couldn't you have waited till the summer when you can go abroad? Chelsea aren't exactly setting the world alight with their ageing squad. You said you loved us, why didn't you give us a chance to say goodbye? We knew the day would come when you would finally leave us but couldn't you do it with a bit more class like how Alonso did? Alonso submitted the transfer request too and he did it with grace. He gave an interview to the club, acknowledging the club's contributions and thanking the fans for our support. We are very disappointed with you Fernando. The first interview you gave after days of deafening silence is to Chelsea TV. How inappropriate. And why 3 days before the transfer window closed? Why? The questions that would go unanswered for the rest of the eternity.
We loved you, Fernando, perhaps some of us still do. We loved you even before you put on the Red shirt. We loved you the moment that hawk-eye camera captured an image of "You'll never walk alone" inscribed at the inside of your captain's armband while you were at Atletico Madrid. You were already a Kop hero when you first signed. Anfield bounced in utter delight when you scored your first goal, ironically, against Chelsea on your Anfield debut. You were our darling, Fernando.
We loved that you stood up to Terry in that game. We loved that you spooked Vidic and scored at Old Trafford, then you took off celebrating with your right arm held high, your fingers stretched, a reminder to the United fans that we, Liverpool, have won the European Cups 5 times. Those were the good times, Fernando.
We cherished our relationship with you. And like any other relationships, someone might end up cheating on their partner. That's you, Fernando. You told us you loved us two weeks ago, then all of a sudden, out of the BLUE you said you're leaving us and never wanted to talk to us again. We wish we had a clean break-up, Fernando. And like any other broken relationships, we fantasize that you would be miserable in the arms of your new partner and you would come running back to us, begging us to take you back. But after a while, when it finally sinks in, like any other relationships, we wish you all the best for your future and please, pretty please, do not do a Mascherano.