Robertson posted selfie of him wearing Chelsea shirt to Liverpool WhatsApp group

Andy Robertson has revealed how he sent a selfie of himself wearing a Chelsea shirt to the Liverpool players’ WhatsApp group on the eve of their title celebrations.

The Scottish left-back played a big hand in leading Liverpool to Premier League title glory but his choice of shirt certainly didn’t go down well.

Of course, the 26-year-old only sent the image in jest to get a reaction from his team-mates – and it certainly worked.

Robertson received a flurry of abuse and emojis immediately after sending the snap.

As much as Robertson was on the wind up there can be no mistaking that every Liverpool player and supporter was a Chelsea fan on the night they won the league.

Chelsea played Man City and a win from the Blues would confirm the Reds as Champions. Frank Lampard’s side won 2-1 and the wild celebrations ensued.

“What should you wear if you are a Liverpool player preparing for what could turn out to be the greatest day of your football career so far? Easy – a Chelsea shirt,” pens Robertson in his new book.

“As the rest of the lads were getting ready for a barbecue that we all hoped would turn into a title winners party, I went into my wardrobe and pulled out the shirt that Billy Gilmour had given me a few months earlier.

“Putting it on, it felt a bit snug but I was going for the colour, not the fit. A quick selfie followed and I posted the picture on our group chat straight away.

“‘Lads, what’s the dress code for tonight?’ I asked and a series of uncomplimentary responses and emojis sent my phone into overdrive. ‘Shorts and t-shirt it is then,’ I thought.

“Not that I’d been serious anyway. I just wanted to give the lads the chance to have a pop but there was no doubt that for one night and one night only, everyone of a Liverpool persuasion would be supporting Chelsea. All they needed was a draw and we would be champions.

“By this point it was only a matter of time anyway. Even if City won at Stamford Bridge, it was still a question of when rather than if we would finish the job. But having waited for thirty years to win the league, no-one associated with Liverpool wanted the delay to go on any longer.

“Yes, we were in a luxury position and if all we had taken from the night was some decent food and drink, none of us would have complained but when a trophy is so close that you can almost reach out and touch it, you just want someone to thrust it into your arms.

“I didn’t say this to anyone else, but I was in no doubt that this would be the night. It felt fated and it felt that way from the moment we came off the pitch after beating Palace.

“The hope had been that we would win the league at Anfield or, if that didn’t work out, then the fans were letting us know that it would be nice to be crowned champions at the home of one of our rivals. But from the moment we gathered at Formby Hall, the expectation grew that it would happen there.

“We are used to watching games as a group but usually it’s in a professional setting and there’s definitely no booze on offer, so for once it felt like we were just a group of lads enjoying a match in the pub.

“We were all sat in rows, watching intently, and there was a bit of conservative celebrating when Chelsea took the lead towards the end of the first half. We were all Chelsea supporters for the night but it was still far too earlyfor getting carried away.

“Things got a bit more interesting when De Bruyne equalised because that just added to the tension and we were all shouting at the television whenever a decision didn’t go our way or a Chelsea player made a mistake or missed a chance. We got really involved in it all – you would never hear forty blokes go as silent as we did whenever City went forward, especially when Sterling hit the post.

“For the first time, I realised what I put my family through whenever I’m playing a big game. God help them. Being a player can be stressful, particularly when there is so much at stake, but at least you are master of your own destiny to a large extent.

“As a fan, all you can do is hope that others will deliver on your behalf which is why we spent the second half urging Chelsea on as if our shouts from Formby could be heard two hundred miles away at Stamford Bridge.

“I actually owe Tammy Abraham an apology because I was cursing him when he missed a couple of chances to give Chelsea the lead. The ball was bouncing around in City’s six yard box and big Tammy had to score but the ball somehow didn’t go in. It was only when a replay was showed that I realised Fernandinho had used a hand to deny him.

“It hadn’t even entered my head that anything untoward had happened. “Penalty,” I shouted. “You’ve got to give that.” As VAR got involved we saw another couple of angles that showed how blatant it was. “He’s got to go!”

“At that moment, we were like everyone in the red half of Liverpool, screaming at the television and trying to shape events by sheer willpower. There shouldn’t have been that much tension, it was totally illogical.

“No matter what happened, we would still have seven fixtures from which to glean the single point that we would need in the event of City winning. Football isn’t rational, though. We feel it and when it really matters emotions take over.

“That’s why we were all hollering at a broadcast of a game that we could not affect on a night when history could only be delayed, not denied. It’s also why we celebrated like we were on the Kop itself when Willian scored the penalty after it had finally been given.

“Not only were Chelsea 2-1 up, City were down to ten men due to Fernandinho’s sending off. All that remained was for the minutes to tick down and we would be champions.

“I headed straight for the toilet. This wasn’t nerves, it was a tactical decision. I knew if Chelsea hung on, the celebrations would be massive and I didn’t want to miss a second.

“I had been sat at the front next to Hendo and up until Willian scored I’d been having a bit of fun at his expense, telling him to start getting his shuffling feet ready – until he put me back in my box. “Will you shut up Robbo,” he said. “Aye, no problem.

“That’s me told.” If City had gone ahead I reckon he might have killed me there and then, so I didn’t do it again. There was no way I was taking any chances. I wasn’t feeling any tension but, understandably, others were.

“Ali went inside for the last ten minutes because he couldn’t bear to watch. Probably the only person in the world who would have been more nervous than him at that stage was my dad.

“I was texting him, my mum, Rachel and a few of my pals throughout the game but as the seconds ticked away I was too focused on what was happening on the screen to bother with my phone.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one . . . . . . . .

“. . . . . . . . “Campeones. Campeones. Olé, olé, olé! ‘Campeones.

“Campeones. Olé, olé, olé …’.”

Robbo: Now You’re Gonna Believe Us is on sale Thursday September 17 from reachsportshop.com for 25% off. ebook also available, audiobook coming soon.