I wasn't there, much to my chagrin at the time, but my parents were - much to my chagrin at the time! They told me it wasn't possible to get any more tickets and they were lucky to get the two they got, which I didn't accept with grace being 9 at the time but I understand now.
So I had to watch the game at home on the TV, with my grandma, auntie and uncle. I remember feeling like it was all destined to be as we went 1 up and Manure went 1 down. Then of course things changed, with both games drawing level. We kept hearing about all the chances Manure were having, knowing their uncanny propensity for scoring late winners and the refs giving them as much time to do so as needed, so things were getting edgy. Then we conceded that second goal and you knew we weren't getting the points we needed. It was all down to Upton Park and due to that aforementioned knack for late goals the red scum had, it felt like the earlier elation was just the fates fucking with us in order to deliver the cruelest blow at the death. Now the inevitability was that we had tossed it all away.
Then the surreal scenes began of fans celebrating at Anfield, as the final score at Upton Park came through. My grandma, auntie and uncle (not as footy mad as the rest of us) were confused as I started celebrating, and it took me a good ten seconds of frantic shouting to get them to realise that despite losing the battle we had won the war.
I went to bed a very happy lad, and woke up to see my parents had left me a souvenir scarf in my room, from the day, proclaiming us champions.
With the greatest striker in world football (I'd heard about that Ronaldo chap but I really didn't get at the time how good he truly was) and with Uncle Jack's support, it seemed like the world was our oyster and we were only going to go on to more titles, maybe even European ones. We couldn't have known how quickly things were going to collapse after Kenny went upstairs and Jack stopped funding reinforcements thinking the job was done. A real crossroads moment, as serious money was on the way into the game that could have established us as a real force (especially if we'd gone for that Zidane fella) and likely meant we wouldn't one day end up in the hands of these pricks in India.
Nearly every player we built that squad with was sold on for profit down the line because of the way the money trended. Serious investment back then would have made us brilliant on the pitch and future sales could have made the club wash its own face like Jack always wanted. Ah well, you can't be too beat up about it. Jack Walker gave us all our dream, and all dreams end.