Jamie Carragher- The last of the bellowing voice from a genuine football legend.

Often we see days of celebration at Anfield. Players and their families walk around holding the trophies and medals of games and competitions they have won that season. A lap of honour to show the people what the support has given them. Liverpool’s last home game of the 2012/13 season wasn’t a day of celebration so much. It was a day of appreciation. An appreciation for a player that has optimised his position, a dying breed of a defender that the next generation may only see on ‘Premier League Years’ in the future, Jamie Carragher.

Tika Taka Football is revered around the world as THE best way to play the game as we know it today. Beautiful Barcelona are a team to admire, so stunning in their conviction with which they grace the game of football. The channels of play with which the Catalans create a moment, a movement and deft touch of brilliance is a special happening.

Modern day football determines that teams and players like the ones Barcelona churn through their unrelenting academy system, La Masia, like a large scale factory production line is the future. These are the new breed of footballer, slick, lean, quick footed and a master of ball control. We’ve embraced these times, these glorious days of exquisite football, of 21st century heroes whose exploits on the pitch are unfortunately followed as much off the pitch.

I deliberately digress.

What we often don’t appreciate anymore is the player I like to define as the ‘just clear the ball, and we’ll discuss the rest later’ type of professional, and the type of player the boy turned legend from Bootle was. Bob Paisley once famously said, "If you're in the penalty area and don't know what to do with the ball, put it in the net and we'll discuss the options later” whilst at Liverpool. These words seem to have rang true for Carragher since he set off on his Liverpool journey on the 8th January 1997 as a substitute in the League Cup at Middlesbrough.

What has gone before Carragher and what will come after is an astronomical gap in terms of style of play, mind set and arguably, passion. In all that’s changed in football, Carragher has kept his head throughout. He has stayed true to himself, and stuck to his guns. A one man army of red faced defence. He has told the people who needed to be told what they needed to hear and instilled passion and belief into the many that played beside him. His character has oozed grit, determination and fight for a real cause, even at times when it felt lost, even at times when change was too much.

Many players only serve an ounce of a fans expected efforts when on a football field. Most pass us by in only a brief conversation in the local pub, down the park having a kick-a-round. In today’s world of playing contracts, agent so say, flash cars and model girlfriends. Carragher’s presence seemed to always to be one of working class, a grafter who wouldn’t have looked out of place sitting in a plasterers van at lunchtime.
His devotion and tactical know-how for the game were second to none, characteristics which may not have catapulted him to the pinnacle of Europe had he not possessed them. He’d be the first to tell you his talents on the ball weren’t as good as other top defenders in Europe. But his awareness of his surroundings and traits as a leader stood him out from the rest.

His voice could be heard from the farthest echelons of the Spion Kop, a foghorn to warn ships of an incoming mist, a bellow to his comrades that the opposition were on the attack, a scream to organise the teams shape, like a roman shield formation in battle.

The words ‘transition’ and ‘progress’ have hung over the steel beams of Anfield since Brendan Rodgers made the offices of Melwood his own last summer. Liverpool are re-growing, rebranding, trying to click through the gears to steady a ship and move it onwards. Carragher has been through many a transition as well as a glorious period of unbelievable European domination, when he arguably stood among the best in the world. It’s just a shame 737 games couldn’t have ended with a shining, Barclays sponsored, gold tinted Premier League Medal. Still, the other haul of medals weigh enough to see him with a satisfactory memory of it all.

So thank you, Carra. Thank you for believing when all seemed lost, thank you for clattering into players we all dreamed of taking a whack at over the years, thank you for guarding the famous red line at the back, thanks for Istanbul, for Cardiff, for all the other cups you so brilliantly won. Thank you for showing others players the right direction, thank you for clapping the fans every single game, thank you for THAT clearance in extra time on a steaming hot night in Turkey, thank you for defining passion, thank you for defining a generation, for defining a city and making the people happy. Thank you for everything.

Happy retirement.