So July in Dublin ended on an evening of friendly glamour, a gala show for the star struck. The most diminutive idol glittered the brightest. This was Michael Owen's evening. Whispered revolt spread through the teenage ranks of Lansdowne Road when it became apparent that the darling of Merseyside wouldn't start. Patrick Berger and Karl Heinz Reidle obligingly fashioned strikes for the fans, but nothing would do but an Owen goal. After 20 minutes, he wandered up along the touchline, stretching those £60 million pegs. He observed proceedings from the corner flag, stretching with Steve McManaman, who looked unnervingly like Scooby Doo's buddy Shaggy, with his shapeless tracksuit and trademark mop-top.
On the field, St Patrick's once again forgot themselves, breathing easily against opponents who live at a higher altitude. After their escapades in Glasgow, it wasn't surprising to see them match Liverpool for audacity, Colin Hawkins chesting a lobbed ball and turning on a dime to beat James after half an hour.
Before the break, Phil Babb tried to whack a pass through Martin Reilly's ribcage; the St Patrick's player happened on the rebound and Babb hacked him down. David James was left rooted by Eddie Gormley's penalty. 2-3 at the break.
Lazio arrived at half-time, looking so money, all Italian tan and style. Leeds just looked like the English north-east. A few Scousers hung around to welcome them.
"Where's George Graham? Me tax forms need sortin," shouted one. Ian Harte and Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink threw a blank stare, but after the squad filed through there was no still sign of George. Maybe he was at pitchside, checking out the most expensive legs in the business.
Liverpool co-managers Gerard Houllier and Roy Evans sparked off virtual Beatlemania by throwing the boy Owen in after the break. He loitered around the St Patrick's back line, all neat strides and electric runs. When the ball came his way, hearts soared and youngsters pleaded with him to do that thing he did against Argentina. St Patrick's kept the pin-up all tied down. Still, when Owen ran with the ball, he did all but leave a trail of stardust in his wake. Did all but score. The second half was more muted, though, and things concluded in an ordered manner. St Patrick's enhanced their considerable credibility, the superstars smiled winsomely and waved to the Liverpool section of the fans, who sat gathered around a massive `Victims of Hillsborough' banner.
"Growing up with my background in football, listening to my father talk about Bill Shankly and what Liverpool football club meant to him, a club who brought so many good things to the game, well, they are obviously carrying that tradition on today," said an eloquent Pat Dolan afterwards.
Mostly, though, he wanted to talk about St Patrick's Athletic. "That was our first game against Liverpool and it wasn't ideal preparation because we were a little bit tired, mentally and physically. I was disappointed in the first half that our shape in midfield and defensively was very poor. We don't normally give goals like that, that was a hangover from the European experience. But we are very pleased to have the opportunity to learn from playing clubs like Liverpool," he said.
While Dolan spoke on with that low-key passion of his, Houllier sat by his side and looked a little perplexed by what he had seen. He was troubled by Liverpool's tendency to concede "silly goals" by their lapses.
"We know we've got to work, we know what our problems are anyway. But some of our players came only a week ago and it will take time."
And these are early days. No one was too worried. When the final whistle ended, the Liverpool players lingered to applaud the travelling Reds. The striker they all wanted to see, now tracksuited and slouching, offered a half wave. They responded as though to a composer's flourish.
"Fowler, Fowler," they chanted.
