A European Night at Anfield

Just like my first Premier League game at Anfield, my first European Night at Anfield was everything it should be. I realize not everyone would agree with me, but they are jaded supporters with memories of brilliance that will never die for them, and possibly will never be repeated. I am happy to take what I get.

Standing on the street, waiting for my taxi, I saw three young men come racing around the corner. Reacting much faster that I would have thought possible I threw myself into the way of the one nearest me and stopped him with "Neil!". There are more than a few LFC podcasts but The Anfield Wrap is far and away my favorite and surely the most successful. I've been a subscriber forever and I spend much too much of my time listening to virtually all the hours they provide. Having secured approval to visit the office I let Neil go on his way.

My taxi was late and I was getting anxious. When he finally arrived he turned out to be another of the brilliant, chatty drivers I had come to expect in Liverpool - asking lots of questions and carefully feeling out my opinion about Trump before jumping into 'that' conversation. I wear a button on my coat which reads "Trump is Batshit Crazy." Sadly, I think the writing is too small to be of much use, but I'm always happy to read it out for anyone who asks.

By the time we got to Anfield, the roads had been blocked out farther than on Saturday and I was left with a long and eventually painful walk to my bench. It was another one of those things that once survived I was grateful for. Being carried along by the crowd, passing long lines of people out the chippy doors, the smell of vinegar coming and going...worth it.

Eventually I reached my bench, luckily empty, and sat down at one end to catch my breath. Before long a rather roly-poly man walked up to me and said "You're in my seat." He then threw back his head and laughed like crazy. I laughed along with him, as he was clearly proud of his little joke.

"What's your name Luv?"
"Tere"
"Where are you from then?"
"Seattle, America."
"I'm Michael, I'm Liverpool Irish and you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!"

Yes, of course he had been drinking! At which point he took me by the shoulders and kissed me on both cheeks. If you know me, you are as surprised by all that as I was. By now, his friends had come back for him and were dragging him off just as my friends with my ticket arrived. Good timing.

As we reached the crush waiting to go thru the turnstiles we could hear the game was set to begin and as the strains of You'll Never Walk Alone rose inside Anfield, the voices of all of us outside rose to meet them. I didn't actually cry this time, but I did fog my glasses up.

Once again Derek gave up his seat so that I could be in the Kop, and on his birthday yet! Both the Kop and the Mirabor fans stood through the entire game. Yikes! I managed to perch on the edge of my folded up seat and see most of the game. It would have been worth it even to sit down and just listen to the songs and chants and cheers. Another 3 - nil win puts us in good position for the next round so the fans all left happy. Except of course for the misery guts that are never happy - LFC seems to have plenty of them.

Waiting for the roads to open up and the taxis to get through was bitterly cold but every one was cheery, even the Maribor fans. After their 0-7 loss to us in the first leg, I don't think they really expected a win. They were just happy to be there. And so was I.