One Glorious Day - Part One

I do know, that at the age of 71, saying that Saturday was one of the most wonderful days of my life sounds a bit much. To compound your skepticism, it was because of a footie game, a song, a cab driver, and a genuinely warm handshake. Let me explain...

My first game at Anfield was courtesy of two lovely men from Wigan (you know who you are). Sadly I was too travel-weary to share in the pre-game festivities and the long walk to the stadium. So taking into account the crowds and traffic around Anfield I caught a taxi to the stadium and had the first of two brilliant rides on this day. The driver was a Red, who wanted to know all about Seattle and what I was doing during my six weeks stay. He actually asked me where he would be able to buy my book! Oh the innocence!

As the conversation moved on to LFC, he told me he hadn't been to a game for several years. His father had worked at Anfield and brought home 4 free tickets for every home game...until Hicks and Gillett when that perk came to an end. I told him I had done my homework, would not be buying a half and half scarf, and that I knew the lyrics to most songs except 'Poor Scouser Tommy'. At which point he broke into a rousing rendition of it from beginning to end. He got me very close to the Kop End and in very good time then insisted on parking the cab and walking me to the corner.

Fortuitously, there was a bench right on the Walton Breck Boad where I could settle in and watch the Red world go by. It was bone-chilling cold but still a wonderful experience. At one point there were five young men standing right in front of me taking phone pics of each other in their newly purchased half and half scarves, and I could hear they were American. So I asked one of them "Where are you from?"  His straight faced response was "Here." I looked straight back at him and said "Yeah right, me too!". He then confessed they were from Sacramento. I took a long look at their scarves and decided it was not my place to tell them they were wools.

The view from my bench. Half the fun was watching guys trying to shove just one more empty chip container into the trash can.

Just before the frost on my nose became an icicle my new friend Derek came down the street, swept me up, and escorted me to my seat in row 18 of The Kop. Let me repeat: ROW 18 OF THE KOP! I suspect I looked like a kid in a candy store trying to take it all in. Now I am the kind of person who gets a bit misty eyed when in the presence of a full choir or a marching band. My first 'You'll Never Walk Alone' reduced me to actual tears-running-down-face. The first half of the game very nearly did the same.

I didn't see a single one of the 3 LFC goals at the Kop End. As the attack neared the goal I stood with everyone else but at my height it was useless. It was a matter of waiting for the crowd to erupt, then cheering along. I did get an up close view of Milner taking a corner and Wijnaldum's goal celebration so I'm not complaining. The crowd, the songs, the view across the pitch was everything I had hoped.

When the game was over, my big challenge was to get to the Hilton near the docks for the Ronnie Moran Tribute Dinner. More than one person said I wouldn't make it. The bus stop was too far down the road so I found a perch and waited for the road to open. I wound up in conversation with one of the security people stationed on Walton Breck Road. She was from Chester, had lived in Liverpool for 17 years, loved working the games, had a 2 month old grandson and a granddaughter with a 7th birthday in 2 weeks. Yes, we had quite a chat and she was determined to get me a taxi as soon as they began coming through.

My new best friend

Before long she was recruiting other security to find me a taxi. When a young man and his wife asked her how long before his Uber would be able to get through, she asked him where he was headed, explained my situation, and then asked him if he would mind if I piggy-backed with them! I would never have had the nerve to do that on my own. He welcomed me aboard and soon I was on my way across Liverpool. During the ensuing 30 minute ride he shared all his best supporter stories. They live in Wales and at the recent international game he had sat in front of Ian Rush and next to Ray Kennedy. He'd seen Suarez and family on holiday in Wales.  We then rushed through our opinions on Klopp, Lovren, Mignolet, the kids coming up, Gerrard's future...we were in total agreement on everything.

The car pulled up at The Hilton at 6:15 and they wouldn't even let me pay my share. Of course, he has my card, hopes to come to Seattle next year and is well aware that pot is legal in Washington. I hopped out and Amy met me in the lobby with a change of clothes. Up to this point my day had been just one delightful experience after another...and there was so much more to come.