Mark Madden: Liverpool FC's Carabao Cup victory will remain my most vivid sports memory

I’ve attended Super Bowl XXX, two World Series, five Stanley Cup finals, Mario Lemieux’s comeback game in 2000, Pitt-Penn State football and several Pittsburgh Condors games. I’ve seen Neil O’Donnell disappoint, Roberto Clemente dazzle, Lemieux score with 13 seconds left, Jaromir Jagr perform heroically on one leg and John Brisker punch somebody, probably everybody.

But my most vivid sports memory might be watching the gang from Archie Comics win the Carabao Cup at London’s Wembley Stadium on Sunday.

That’s football. The real football.

There’s a big shot of recency bias in there, to be sure. I’m certainly delighted that my beloved Liverpool FC got a trophy, albeit the least of those they’re pursuing.

But Wembley provided a welcome reminder that sports are about a lot more than the result. It’s about the setting and whatever emotion that setting drags out of you. It’s above live, not TV.

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Liverpool fans singing during the English Carabao League Cup Final soccer match between Liverpool and Chelsea on Sunday, at Wembley Stadium in London, England.

I’m 63. An old, fat 63. My reaction at games long since has been neutered by decades of sitting in press boxes, sports’ perceived equivalent of Switzerland.

But at Wembley, I wasn’t in the press box. I was in the Liverpool end.

So for 120 minutes plus stoppage time, I was kicking every ball, hugging strangers, bouncing up and down, singing Dua Lipa. (I had to Google the words.) I was cursing the video official and taunting Chelsea’s Enzo Fernandez, neither of whom could hear me. (Not for lack of volume.) I held my breath when Liverpool manager Jurgen Klopp gave his injury-riddled squad fresh legs by subbing on a bunch of teenagers.

It worked, triggering the outdated nod to Archie Comics a few paragraphs back. It was, however, up to Mr. Weatherbee to head home the game’s only goal in the 118th minute. Liverpool captain Virgil van Dijk is 32 and would not get that reference.

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Liverpool’s Virgil van Dijk holds the trophy after winning the English League Cup final soccer match between Chelsea and Liverpool on Sunday, at Wembley Stadium in London, England.

I needn’t have worried. Klopp never puts a foot wrong. Liverpool’s kids rewarded Klopp’s faith. Coaching is just as much trust as it is tactics and training.

Klopp is amazing. He’s constantly got his finger on the pulse, Herb Brooks dipped in Chuck Noll. It’s sad that he’s moving on from Liverpool at season’s end.

For me, Sunday was a celebration of faith, communion with 44,000 family members. America’s constant barrage of in-game, Jumbotron-propelled entertainment wasn’t indulged. No T-shirt guns, no smarmy contests. The match entertains. Those in attendance embellish organically.

Every fan base thinks it’s special. But Liverpool supporters truly are.

Acrisure Stadium’s parking lot on a Steelers Sunday is the dark. The Liverpool end at Wembley was the light.

I don’t believe that crowds often influence a game’s result. But Sunday at Wembley seemed an exception. It was like “Renegade,” only nonstop for 120 minutes plus stoppage time. No negativity, no let-up. A red wall of noise and passion. We dragged those kids across the finish line.

Or maybe they dragged us. Really, it was mutual.

Yes, I used the words “we” and “us.” I’m honored to have been part of it. This means more.

I wasn’t wearing a jersey with another grown man’s name and number on the back, however. That’s where I forever will draw the line, not unlike Aerosmith.

Liverpool’s kids were great. You can’t get your teenager to mow the lawn. Bobby Clark, Jayden Danns and James McConnell have Carabao Cup winner’s medals. Liverpool used seven players that are 21 or younger. Harvey Elliott, 20, played the whole match: 120 hard minutes.

Later that Sunday, Sidney Crosby got four points and the Penguins beat Philadelphia, 7-6. IT’S THE DAILY DOUBLE!