Opening Day Fireworks and Super Cup Triumph!
Finally, the season had arrived—the one I'd been dying to see! Everything was perfectly prepared, and this year, our team would charge toward victory. The 2001 FA Charity Shield pitted Manchester United, the league champions, against Liverpool, the FA Cup winners, at the Millennium Stadium in Wales. Liverpool won 2-1, and Alice had been down in the dumps for days afterward. No matter how I thought about it, the team she supported was...
[Woooah— Wooooaaahhh!]
Blackburn fans waved flags wildly at Ewood Park, welcoming the opening match in grand style. Today's capacity was 20,000. With ongoing stand construction filling in the corners, the stadium could only hold 50-70% of its eventual 40,000 seats this season. It was a shame, but building a massive arena meant starting piece by piece from now.
The whistle blew for kickoff, and the players making their debuts against Derby County came into view. Henrik Larsson, partnering up top with James Beattie. Liliane Thuram, solidly planted at right-back after Keown's transfer, rotating previously with Yoo Sung-chul and Hollands. The center midfield was a ticking time bomb with Gattuso and Van Bommel clashing explosively.
Thud!
"Oof!"
Gattuso's body charge into the opponent sent shivers down spines just watching. Not American football, but a shoulder barge that sent the guy tumbling off the pitch. Soon after, Van Bommel got in on the action too.
Crack— Beep— Beeeep!
When the opponent danced around in midfield, he charged in with a low tackle that floored him, stole the ball, and earned a foul call. Both were firecrackers with tempers, and their midfield was brutally rough.
Heynckes was right— to win this season, we have to watch the cards no matter what.
Hollands, Gattuso, Van Bommel. Especially those three were the ones to keep an eye on. Still, Blackburn ravaged the midfield far faster and fiercer than under Tom Ince. When the ball went to the side, Figo burst in with high-speed dribbling and whipped in a cross. Beattie leaped for a header, but Derby's keeper punched it away. Larsson popped up between defenders, poked it home, and this time the keeper couldn't stop it.
"Goal!!!"
Larsson celebrated his opening-day debut goal with airplane arms spread wide for the fans.
Larsson was a steal!
The fireworks didn't stop there. After Figo, Duff tore up the left flank with dribbles, laying it off to Larsson near the penalty line. Instead of shooting, Larsson controlled it, spun around the charging defender, and passed to Beattie. In a one-on-one with the keeper, Beattie calmly slotted it home.
2-0 at halftime. In the second half, Bento came on for the carded Van Bommel, stepping onto his first Premier League pitch. Slower than Van Bommel but a textbook defensive midfielder, he cut out attacks right in front of the backline. Protecting Southgate and Melberg like a fortress, he blocked the third line and sent cut balls rightward.
"Thuram, Thuram!"
The guy who'd sung he wanted to play center-back shone even brighter at right-back—a cosmic king-god-general-world-class ultimate defender! He overlapped faster than Figo, bombing up to the opponent's flank and crossing. That let Figo tangle centrally with Derby's defense, and amid the chaos, Larsson snatched the ball first again. In position to score himself, he chipped past the keeper to Figo instead. Figo just toed it in for the goal, then hugged Larsson amid the cheers.
3-0 thrashing of Derby County. Larsson's 1 goal and 2 assists earned him Man of the Match, announcing his presence to the Ewood Park faithful.
But it wasn't just our headlines.
"At least Seol Ki-hyun debuted in the EPL."
He'd scored double digits in his first European stint in Belgium, so no heartbreaking six-month loan loomed.
Ahead of our round 2 Manchester United clash, the league rescheduled, sending us to Monaco for the UEFA Super Cup. The FA had arranged it, and we trained at Stade Louis II, awaiting Munich.
Bayern Munich. The 2001 UEFA Champions League winners.
'Please win!'
"We will."
'Especially give that blond gorilla in goal three hammers.'
"I'd love that."
Oliver Kahn, the rugged blond giant guarding Bayern's net. Rated among the world's top keepers, Blackburn steeled itself against him. Pre-match, German titans Ottmar Hitzfeld and Yupp Heynckes shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.
"Kahn, Lizarazu, Sagnol, Linke, Kovac, Salihamidzic, Effenberg, Hargreaves, Sporl, Kupfer..."
A lineup of names true fans knew, with Lizarazu-Sagnol fullbacks and Oliver Kahn making the defense untouchable.
The game kicked off, Munich pressing with bold, powerful German soccer. We matched their full-strength lineup, trading heavy hammer blows and mace-like physicality instead of sharp spears.
"Oh dear, we're late!"
The VIP box door swung open to a rowdy German entourage. A hefty, balding old man in a Bayern scarf, beside a sharp-featured, bespectacled intellectual senior.
"Good day. Korean, perhaps?"
"Yes."
"You must be Blackburn's Mr. Lee. Pleased to meet you. Uli Hoeneß."
"Karl-Heinz Rummenigge."
Bayern's top two had come together. Sitting side by side in VIP, Hoeneß asked,
"Smoke?"
"Yes."
"Perfect."
Like he'd been waiting, Hoeneß pulled out a cigar box, cut one, lit it with a match, and puffed deeply. I took one too. Amazing— how come smoking's so free in French and German stadiums? Hoeneß and Rummenigge clapped for Munich. Halftime saw mutual bombardments repelled by Kahn and Brad Friedel. A defensive battle, they lounged relaxed while I tensed for Munich's lurking attacks.
"Not good."
"It's a transition phase."
"?"
They tsked at their own team's play. It looked precarious to me, but not to Munich eyes. Halftime ended; Hoeneß bolted off, Rummenigge puffing away. Second half, Hoeneß returned beet-red—booze or shouting?
"Did you let them have it?"
"Chewed 'em out to wake 'em up."
Was that allowed? Looked like the club president had stormed the locker room himself. Munich subbed wing Sporl for defender Roberto Kovac, shifting to 3-5-2 with Lizarazu and Sagnol as wing-backs. Fast soccer replaced the first half's grind, culminating in Effenberg's opener.
"There we go!"
"Hitzfeld's finally got 'em focused."
Sweat beaded post-Effenberg's celebration. Unlike last year's Charity Shield, this Super Cup felt tough. 71st minute: Beattie off, Baggio on, building slowly from midfield. Against the solid back three, Larsson charged first, signaling Baggio to advance while he tangled. Baggio spotted Figo through the pass lane and sent it. Lizarazu blocked Figo, who flicked to trailing Thuram. The super wing-back cut centrally, passed to opposite winger Duff, whose dragged cross met Larsson's acrobatic leap...
"Oof!"
"Goal!"
Our turn to pump fists. Furious Kahn roared at his defense like a gorilla on the pitch. Munich's kickoff: Effenberg passed as the line pushed up; Van Bommel tackled it away clean. Effenberg, enraged, charged. Van Bommel dribbled, passed to Gattuso left to Duff. Duff advanced the line, crossed into a aerial duel between Van Bommel and Larsson. Jumping for it, Van Bommel's elbow flew back.
Beep— Beeeeep!
"Ouch!"
"Stefan did it again!"
Retaliation for the earlier tackle. Ref brandished red without hesitation; Effenberg raged harder, shrugging teammates to storm off bench-bound. Free kick: Roberto Baggio lined up, curling a beauty past even Kahn. The Fantasista wasn't done yet—that sealed the win.
Final whistle. 2-1 Super Cup victory.
"Yes!"
Clapping as I stood, sour-faced Hoeneß extended a hand.
"Congrats. If we meet in Champs League, it'll be a hell of a match."
"Munich's still Germany's best. Great game."
"If not for that lunatic ruining it."
Effenberg was marked by Hoeneß and Rummenigge. Champs League hero, but his temper tripped him up. Anyway, Super Cup champs. A stellar season start. As they left, I called England.
"Hello?"
"Sorry, couldn't hit three. Settled for two."
"Watched the game. Oliver Kahn looked gutted."
Laughter erupted through the receiver—Alice thrilled at Liverpool and now Munich's misfortune.
"I'll call when I visit Blackburn later."
"Yeah, study hard."
Hanging up, I clenched both fists. This season, Blackburn was set to make waves.