...read this extract from the highly over-rated cry-baby, Jamie Carragher's new book.
Sitting on the England coach as it prepared to drive us away from the World Cup in Germany, I received a text message.
"F*** it! It's only England". I'd just missed a penalty in the quarter-final shoot-out against Portugal. Around me were the tear-stained faces of under-performing superstars.
England's so-called golden generation had failed. Again.
An eerie depression escorted us on the short trip back to the hotel, but as I stared at my phone and considered the implications of the comforting note, I didn't feel the same emptiness I sensed in others.
There's no such concept as 'only England' to most footballers, including many of my best friends.
Representing your country is the ultimate honour, especially in the World Cup.
Not to me. Did I care we'd gone out of the tournament? Of course I did. Passionately.
Did I feel upset about my part in the defeat? Yes. I was devastated to miss a penalty of such importance. Had I really given my all for my country? Without question.
I've never given less than 100 per cent in any game.
Despite this, whenever I returned home from disappointing England experiences one unshakeable, overriding thought pushed itself to the forefront of my mind, no matter how much the rest of the nation mourned. "At least it wasn't Liverpool," I'd repeat to myself, over and over.
The text messages of consolation I received on the coach included one from Kenny Dalglish. "I would rather miss for England than LFC," I wrote back.
I confess: defeats wearing an England shirt never hurt me in the same way as losing with my club. I wasn't uncaring or indifferent, I simply didn't put England's fortunes at the top of my priority list. Losing felt like a disappointment rather than a calamity.
The Liver Bird mauled the Three Lions in the fight for my loyalties. I'm not saying that's right or wrong, it's just how it is. You can't make yourself feel more passionate if the feelings aren't there. That doesn't make me feel guilty.
If people want to condemn me and say I'm unpatriotic, so be it.
Playing for Liverpool has been a full-time commitment. What followed with England was an extra honour, but not the be-all and end all of my purpose in the game.
We all hear about the importance of 1966 to the country, but for my family the most important event at Wembley that year was Everton winning the FA Cup. Liverpudlians feel the same way about the season as Bill Shankly won his second league title at Anfield.
Our nation is divided, not only in terms of prosperity, but by different regional outlooks. For some of us, civic pride overpowers nationality.
When Diego Maradona knocked England out of the 1986 World Cup in Mexico, 10 minutes later I was outside playing with my mates copying the handball goal.
If it had been Everton losing an FA Cup quarter-final, I wouldn't have wanted to speak to anyone for the rest of the day.
I assume this is a misprint as he is a Liverpool fan. If its correct, he is saying that he would prefer England to lose than Liverpool's arch-rivals
Wembley might have been the stadium we went to for cup finals, but it still seemed a distant, foreign place, inhabited by a different type of supporter. I discovered this to be correct when I started playing for England.
There's always a slightly sinister edge and you know the mood can shift from euphoric to vicious in the space of a few minutes.
England internationals are a magnet for fans who are a bit inexperienced, dare I say clueless, when it comes to top class football.
The Liverpool crowd has been credited with dragging us across the winning line.
I've never heard the same said of England fans at Wembley, who are more likely to help the opposition by turning on their own.
A superiority complex has also developed. It's presumed England should go close to winning every World Cup and European Championship. Failure to live up to this inevitably generates more criticism. But there's no historical justification for this and our overall record places England in the third tier of world football.
I was never in love with playing for England in the first place. By the time I stopped, I felt a huge weight lifting.
I took criticism for my decision, but when I look over my international record, I believe I was more sinned against than sinner. I never ducked out of a call-up and never pulled out with a slight twinge. For a while, I held the record for Under-21 caps.
Despite being continually seen as a deputy for others, I never complained.
Whenever Sven Goran Eriksson or Steve McClaren asked me to play, I stepped up with no fuss.
I was never sure if Eriksson was an international manager or international playboy. I know what he was best at. The longer he spent in the job, the worse his status became as a football coach and the better he became a Casanova.
Before one of his early World Cup qualifiers, a story broke about girls finding their way into the team hotel to provide some of the players with pre-match 'entertainment'.
Eriksson summoned us for what we expected to be a stern warning. Instead we received some fatherly advice.
"There's no need to have girls in the team hotel," Sven told us. "If you see someone you like, just get her phone number and arrange to go to her house after the game. Then we will have no problems."
Eriksson took the blame when we lost to Portugal in the World Cup, but for a while the investigation even focused on me. Eriksson's assistant Tord Grip highlighted my penalty miss as a chief factor in our demise.
When asked why I was one of those involved in the shootout, he explained that I took one really well in the Champions League Final.
I've watched our penalty shoot-out win in Istanbul a thousand times since 2005 and I still can't recall taking a penalty.
It's frightening to think England's assistant manager could be so ill-informed.