The European Cup returned to Anfield last night by its most tortuous and nerve-wracked route yet, Liverpool defeating Roma 4-2 on penalties after the teams had fought out a 1-1 draw over two exhausting hours in the Stadio Olimpico in the Italian capital. Liverpool's fourth triumph in the competition - now only Real Madrid have won the European Cup more times - was thoroughly deserved despite the closeness of the finish. Indeed, so superior was much of their teamwork and so obviously greater was their resilience that when the game went into extra-time the likely identity of the winners did not take too much guessing. However, the additional half-hour seemed to be an equal drain on Liverpool's stamina, the inexhaustible Souness apart. A spent Dalglish was soon replaced by Robinson but a decisive goal for either team appeared less and less imminent as the 1984 Final completed its absorbing, if seldom compelling, course. The onset of penalties did not fill Liverpool's supporters with fresh optimism, far from It. Liverpool's record from the spot is erratic to say the least and when Nicol, who had replaced Johnston 19 minutes from the end of normal time, put the opening kick wildly over the bar the Roman hordes shrieked with joy. Di Bartolomei, the Roma captain, took the ball off Graziani, who was marching up to the penalty spot, and calmly beat Grobbelaar off just two paces. Neal, the scorer of Liverpool's goal in the game proper, kept them in the tie-break with a modicum of hope - which soared when Conti sent the most casual of kicks over the top. Souness gave Liverpool the lead, Righetti and Rush made it 3-2 and now, at last, came Graziani's turn. With Grobbelaar on his knees and starting to go the wrong way the unfortunate Graziani saw his shot graze the upper side of the bar on its way over. Alan Kennedy, whose goal against Real Madrid won the European Cup for Liverpool in 1981, sent Tancredi the wrong way, the Liverpool players went as barmy as their supporters and the rest of Rome went into mourning. When everything had calmed down it seemed a wretched way to have to decide a competition of this importance. However, unlike Tottenham's victory on penalties over Anderlecht in the UEFA Cup Final - hard won and dramatic though it was - Liverpool's success did not leave one with the feeling that the better side had lost. To be fair, Roma displayed something of the excellent technique with which Italian football, not to mention Brazilian, is readily associated. But for large parts of the game this quality was not matched by their organisation and on its own was not enough to enable them to challenge Liverpool's teamwork and experience to any lasting effect. Once again Souness was the dominant figure. His authority had been the prime force behind the successes Liverpool had achieved in the earlier rounds against the hostile backgrounds of Bilbao, Lisbon and Bucharest. Last night he responded to the flags and fireworks, drums and claxons of a fiercely partisan, but often sporting, Rome crowd with a deliciously phlegmatic performance. While Liverpool were often able to control the pace and rhythm of the game, they were not allowed to assert themselves in all the usual positions. For example, Rush was well contained by Righetti for much of the evening and Dalglish was unable to find the spark and speed of reaction which earlier this season had still made him such a marvellous player to watch.

However, Lawrenson and Hansen were rarely disturbed in the middle of the defence and even less so after Pruzzo, having brought the scores level at the end of the first half, limped off around the hour to be replaced by the energetic but less accomplished Chierico. From the start, the game went according to the plan Liverpool had laid for it. They had to reduce the tempo to the sort of pace that would prey on the already taut nerves of the Roma players. Grobbelaar had to hold a couple of crosses from Graziani early on but this proved to be merely the prelude to Liverpool taking the lead on the quarter-hour. Souness and Lee combined to send Johnston away on the right, his high centre found Tancredi strongly challenged by Whelan at the far post and the rest was a succession of Roman catastrophes. Tancredi dropped the ball, Bonetti tried in vain to head it behind and Nappi's attempt at a clearance bounced off the goalkeeper's back to Neal, the only survivor of Liverpool's successful 1977 team, and he scored simply. At that moment the mind was full of 1977 and Liverpool's first European Cup triumph in which Neal had scored one of the goals from the penalty spot. Soon, however, it became obvious that the right back's lack of pace on the turn might prevent Liverpool's success being repeated in the same stadium. Conti switched wings to be able to use his speed to maximum advantage and he was often well supported by Nela's powerful runs from left back. Neal completed a momentous 15 minutes by being cautioned for bringing down Conti but Liverpool seemed to have survived the first bout of sustained pressure by Roma. Two minutes before half-time, however, the scores were level. Almost inevitably the goal stemmed from a movement on the left. Nela gave Conti the chance to run at Neal once more but the right back, with Lawrenson covering him, appeared to be about to avert the danger. Then Conti's first attempt at a centre came back to him off Lawrenson and Pruzzo met his cross with glancing header which sailed out of Grobbelaar's reach and in under the bar. The goal could hardly have come at a better time for Roma. They began the second half with the air of a team who had just discovered that Liverpool were mortal after all and it was during this period that the omnipotent of Lawrenson became crucial to the English champions' cause. His was the tackle that prevented Nela getting a clear run at goal. For 10 minutes or so the night was heavy with the combined beat of Italian and Brazilian rhythms as Falcao, with one shot rammed into Grobbelaar's hands from 25 yards, and Cerezo began to look as though they might achieve some kind of parity with Souness and the Liverpool midfield. However, Roma's attacks quickly subsided and for the last 25 minutes of normal time Liverpool steadily reasserted their earlier grip on the game. The onset of Nicol gave them a fresh pair of legs and, four minutes from the end, Dalglish appeared to have sent him in for the winning goal but Tancredi blocked the shot. Ideally and justifiably, the Final could have been settled in that moment. Until the penalty competition the rest tended to be a little weary and anti-climactic. If any player could have won the game for Roma in extra time it had to be Conti as he resumed the teasing of Neal which for some unaccountable reason Roma had abandoned in the second half. How ironical that two of their more effective players should have missed the penalties that cost Roma the Final.

The nerves held. It was a stupendous triumph for Kennedy's cool. Each penalty was taken towards the goal at the end below the vast banked swirl of flags and the passionate chorus of adoration and presumption from the Roman supporters. With cruel irony it was that which did for the home side, for having snatched their signs-of-the-cross after placing the ball and preparing their run-up, the partisans' pressure got to Conti and Graziani who snatched their kicks, ballooning them high into the very gales of noise. If anyone muddles through when they have to, champions do. Kennedy's stroke was as if he had pulled out the plug on a full-volume recording of the very last triumphant notes of an opera directed with full cast by Zeffirelli, Suddenly, complete and utter silence as Kennedy turned, momentarily almost astonished with himself, and 11 flattened men in red on the centre circle were running towards him now, turning cartwheels through tears. The ageing, grey-haired quartet from the Anfield boot room stood up unable to take it in until you realised their cool is confident too. Afterwards Kennedy said: "Actually, I was quite confident when I walked forward, but the lads were not, I'm telling you."

"Do you know, I never even looked at the goalie. I was determined not to catch his eye. I just plonked the ball down saying to myself 'I know where I'm going to put it, that's what really matters at a time like this.' I was really confident you know. I took a penalty at training on Monday and put it in the same spot, just like that." Just like that. In all it was a four-hour marathon, for a good two hours before the kick-off, three-quarters of the dramatic old stadium, with the hills on one side and the city on the other, were filled with the scarlet and gold favours of the Romans. It had been ordained they would win, surely? The back of St Peter's Square at the Pope's public mass in the morning was full of rooting, tooting local supporters, smiles on their faces with anticipation, and an unceasing ripple of confidence in their flags. At the end under the hills, a comparative handful of Merseyside supporters were both lost and drowned by the noise in the great curve of their segregated terracing. But whenever there was a moment of silence for the Roman chorus to take a breath the chirpy sounds of Liverpool could be heard for a second. You'll Never Walk Alone. This time, Kennedy really had to.

Two months before the Olympic Games are due to start in Los Angeles, Liverpool last night completed the greatest marathon in modern times. Their fourth European Cup victory, achieved after the most dramatic of penalty shoot-outs, proved a fitting climax to what has been a quite astonishing season. They now hold the European Cup, the league championship, the Milk Cup and the Central League title, all achieved by the sterling British qualities of guts and sheer hard labour rather than by any individual genius. No team has ever won so much in one season, or is every likely to again. No team has ever earned its success in such a hard way. And it is fitting that last night's victory, the greatest triumph of them all, was achieved not so much by individual brilliance as by unflagging teamwork and the refusal to give in when faced with adversity. As in the previous rounds, when they won away four times in a row, Liverpool had to battle all the way. They had to beat Roma on their own ground, where the Italians had not lost all season, in front of a violently partisan crowd and a small army of police. And what's more, they had to do it after surrendering an early lead and in the most unlikely manner conceivable. Nobody who has watched Liverpool regularly over the last few years can have given much for their chances when extra time ended with the scores still level. And when Steve Nicol, unexpectedly asked to shoot first, put his kick high over the crossbar the Liverpool cause seemed hopeless. Fortunately, those two European veterans, full backs Phil Neal and Alan Kennedy, again rose to the occasion in the grand manner. It was Neal, hero of three previous Finals, who put Liverpool in front after 15 minutes and it was the same player who got them back into the penalty race by netting confidently after Nicol's failure. Then after Souness and Rush had netted their kicks and Roma's two Italian World Cup stars Conti and Graziani had both failed, it was Barney Rubble who sent Tancredi the wrong way to put the issue beyond doubt. The match itself never quite lived up to expectations in terms of sheer entertainment, though that was hardly surprising in view of all that was at stake.

However, it lacked nothing in incident or excitement, fluctuating first one way then the other, with neither team able to establish any clear advantage. In the early stages it was Liverpool who looked the more impressive, and when they took the lead after 15 minutes it seemed the Italians were doomed to defeat. It was a very good goal, created by Johnston's accurate cross which was never cleared, the ball rebounding off the hapless goalkeeper to Neal who banged the ball into the net in the manner born. Liverpool could have increased their lead when a Johnston header was helped into the net by Souness only for the apparent ‘score’ to be disallowed for offside and Rush might well have scored on two other occasions but for Tancredi's agility, as might Nicol in the closing minutes. However, towards the end of the first half and again early in the second, Roma more than held their own. Though neither of their Brazilians were able to shake off the shackles imposed by Liverpool's tight midfield marking, their captain Di Bartolomei exploited Conti's speed and skill with some lovely diagonal passes. Roma had twice created havoc down Liverpool's right flank, and Graziani had forced Grobbelaar to a fine near post save, when Roma got their equaliser almost immediately before the interval. Neal and Lee seemed to have blocked Conti's way to goal out on the left but Conti collected a rebound and hit a perfect centre which found Pruzzo unmarked and perfectly placed to head past Grobbelaar. In the second half, and again in extra time, there were plenty of half chances at both ends but somehow one rarely felt there would be further goals. Liverpool seemed over-dependent on Rush to do their scoring while Roma seemed to lack confidence in their own ability to finish off the game. Both sides were clearly exhausted going into extra time and it was no surprise when the match became the first European Cup Final to be settled by penalties. Even Liverpudlians must have felt sympathy for Roma on being beaten in such an unsatisfactory manner but for all that it was marvellous performance by Liverpool.

Nice guys do not, after all, finish last. And there was Joe Fagan, at the Olympic Stadium last week, to prove it. WE WERE BORN HERE AND WE SHALL TRIUMPH HERE, the Roman banners said, before last Wednesday's European Cup Final, but it was the Liverpool manager now who sat in modest, self-deprecatory triumph, his weatherbeaten old pro's face at once belied and lit by those extraordinary satyr eyes. "You see," he said, "we are rather coming to the stage where I'm talking simple, and it's a simple game. We closed the space down on them." A simple man, a simple game, but let two things be noted. First, it was precisely under the title, ‘The Simplest Game’, that the rules of football were first drawn up. Second, that to achieve simplicity in football as in art, is often a matter of the greatest difficulty. Liverpool's fine performance in Rome, a game which was wonderfully dramatic rather that distinguished, was a tacit reproof to the fanatics of the long ball game, with their welter of statistics and their curiously banal conclusions. Roma, themselves, paid tribute to the way Liverpool approached the game; and beat them. "Liverpool," said Di Bartolomei, the dark and taciturn Roma captain (a Roman who will soon, reluctantly, be leaving Rome), "are a great team and we'd seen a lot of tapes of them. We knew they play with two men wide and a centre-forward. We knew that they were always very able in the way they freed Souness. They were good at holding the ball - better than us, though we’re usually the better at doing it.” Nils Liedholm, Roma's Swedish manager, said: "They knew how to keep the ball, which we usually do." Liverpool, in other words, had beaten Roma, beaten the Continent if you wish, at their own game. Their network of sustained short passes had kept the ball away from the Italians, wearied and disheartened them, taken the edge off the tremendous advantage of playing at home and laid the basis for Liverpool's eventual success by 4-2 on penalties after the 1-1 deadlock. For a moral victory it surely was, whatever the irrelevance of the shoot-out. To go to the Olympic Stadium, where Roma are so fanatically supported, and where they play so much better than they do away; to go there and not to lose, was a superb achievement in itself. Roma's players have been complaining plangently of their bad luck. Neal's goal, they all say, was an irregular one, brought about by Whelan's foul on Tancredi (they may well be right), and stomach ache which afflicted Pruzzo at half-time was crucial. The fact remains that they had, and failed to use, the colossal advantage of playing at home, that Liverpool once more showed their astonishing morale, their supreme composure, and that Souness utterly surpassed the two Brazilians, Falcao and Cerezo.

Cerezo, indeed, wept afterwards. He admitted: "The English showed themselves to be a great team, an almost unbeatable team. When they passed the ball to one another, which is undoubtedly their speciality, I seemed to go mad. There was a moment when I felt like the bull in the arena; I couldn't do anything to block their style of play, their passing." Can Liverpool remotely afford now to let Souness go? If they do, they will take the heart and mind out of the team. The only possible substitute one can see is Liam Brady, star of Sampdoria, who now want Souness. He is a real captain. It was left to him to decide who should take the penalties. What a rare breed! Di Bartolomei, like all Italian captains, must turn to the bench before he blows his nose. It was Grobbelaar's night as well. "Histrionic and formidable," one Roman paper called him. "That crazy Grobbelaar, the monkey goalkeeper," said Pruzzo. "He's mad," said Conti "I shot right-footed, the ball hit the line in front of him and he got it." Inevitably, Roma's players spoke darkly of Eriksson, the. Swedish referee, and of Neal's goal, but Eriksson deserves fervent praise for his exceptional courage. To award so controversial a goal to the visiting side in so important a game, right in front of the bedlam of the Curva Sud - the South Bank - was something many a referee might have feared to do. Afterwards, when hundreds of young thugs chased Liverpool supporters through the streets beating, stabbing and kicking, one saw why Roma's wilder fans are among the most feared in Italy. It seems, thank goodness, that UEFA have learned something from the contradictions and controversies of the European Cup Final; that in future its venue will be chosen only after the finalists are known, so there will be no more "home" games, and that the practice of replaying in case of a draw will be resumed. High time. If UEFA don't take their own competitions seriously, then why should anybody else? But the problem is greater than that, subsumed by the problem of too much football which is taken so lightly, above all in England. After 65 years - years of revolution and expansion - the First Division still has 22 clubs, and there's the Milk Cup besides. In a physical sense, Liverpool are truly and surely supermen. It's sad that Falcao, who wouldn't take a penalty, and who was so firmly if fiercely contained by Liverpool, should now be made the scapegoat of Roma's defeat, savaged by those who idolised him. But Rome, and Roman football, never change. It was Giordano, centre-forward of the hated rivals, Lazio, who said, from New York, that he saw nothing wrong with Liverpool's goal.