When King Kenny left.

When King Kenny left I cried and cried and cried. And then I cried some more. I cried tears of sadness. Real salt filled tears of despondency. I was also scared. Scared that I was alone.

Yes, I walked alone. And then I cried some more. I was truly in a storm and I just couldn't hold my head up high - because I was disconsolate. I feared that my love for our great club - Liverpool Football Club - would waver without our messiah, MY messiah, to lead us through the winding roads of the first division and up the unforgiving mountains of Europe to the holy grail of the European Cup Final.

I wept and wept and I sobbed until I could sob no more. Somewhere, a light had gone out. A light so bright that even the most opaque substance known to man could not blot it out. A brightness so blinding that even the gravitational forces of a black hole could not drag it in. It would have taken a million gushing hoses to make an impression on a fire that had burned so brightly.

And yet He was gone. I felt like my heart had been ripped out. It was worse than your whole family having face cancer. It was worse than being injected with AIDS on Christmas day. I would rather have had boiling hot maple syrup poured into my eyes than go through what I went through. What we all went through - together. Of course, then I wouldn't have been able to cry real genuine savoury tears of dejection. But I would have done anyway. Because that's what this great club - Liverpool Football Club - OUR Liverpool Football Club - means to me.