Three - Nil for the Third Time

Here we are on the eve of the Chelsea Match and I haven't yet covered the Southampton game! I tell people I am here in Liverpool alone, but for the last week I have been anything but alone. My cousin Judy, who lives in Bozeman, Montana, arrived here by way of Dublin last Friday night. Saturday morning I abandoned her at the hotel and headed once more for Anfield.

My ticket for Southampton was in the Main Stand in the nosebleed levels. I'm not complaining, mind you, From that height I could see every corner of the stands, every corner of the field, and every play of the game,

The view from my seat

I understand there was a failure of steward/supporter relations at this game. While I believe what I have read, once again I was treated with nothing but respect. With my mobility issues, I was a little apprehensive about getting to my seat. After approaching a steward about using the lift, I was handed off from one steward to the next from one end of the main stand to the other, up to the top level, through to the seats, and then literally walked to my seat.

The view across to the Kenny Dalglish Stand

Because I was early, the last steward had the time to stand and chat for a few minutes. He pointed out certain bits of Liverpool we could see over the Annie Road Stand and explained what the plans were for developing that area. Then he talked about some of the games he had seen in his 18 years of service at Anfield and yes, he had been at Istanbul. It is as though these people have an invisible button on their chest that say "I Was There". A strange reverence seems to affect their tone of voice, a slightly far-away look in their eyes. I know how corny that sounds, maybe it's just me.

The view over the Annie Road Stand

As the stands filled up I was joined by a fellow LFC Seattle supporter on my left. It was really great to have Brian there, someone to discuss the game with that didn't have a lot of questions about Seattle & Trump. That only lasted until the half when Brian went for a pie and the man to my right began a conversation. He was from Wales, and had some very specific questions about politics in general, politics on the West Coast, gun control, immigration in Seattle. It was quite a grilling.

The view of Brian's pie

Years ago, when I was sucked in by the Premier League, I went through the process of eliminating certain teams one by one until I was left with a group of about six teams that I felt might be a good fit for me. I knew it was a decision for life, so I didn't rush it. At that point I considered some pretty silly things. For example, Newcastle made the first cut because I love Magpies. A lot of teams were eliminated because I couldn't imagine singing a version of 'When the Saints go Marching In' more than once a game. It appears Southampton have only one song. Seriously, it was well into the second half before anything other than that awful song was sung and then whatever it was, was barely audible. I definitely dodged a bullet on that one.

After the game I walked past the newly developed area with all the plaques on the ground, past the shop, and perched on a piece of concrete waiting for the crowd to clear, Walton Breck Road to open, and my Uber to get through. I was approached by two men asking if the queue across the street was for the busses into the City Center. As is often the case as soon as I say anything, I was asked where I was from. These two lovely men from Plymouth (Reds) had had just enough to drink to be amazed at finding a woman of my years, on her own, from the US, at Anfield. They actually stopped a passerby to take their picture with me! Ladies, if you want to meet men, stand on your own outside Anfield. I've had very good luck there.

I have not commented here on the game itself, or any of the players, there are far better qualified people who have written about it. By the time anyone reads this it is history. I'll just say that I have been to Anfield for three games and we have won them all by three of our goals to none of their goals (my homage to Neil Atco). I may just have to stay.

The view when I go to Anfield

Anfield, the Tour

I felt quite cocky getting into the taxi. "Anfield please, the Paisley Gates." You know, like it was a regular thing. Once there, like all new visitors I stood in front of Shankly and savored the moment. Let me take this opportunity to recommend the book 'Red or Dead' by David Peace. It is a long hard slog of a read, but worth it. By the end you can actually hear Shankly's voice in your head.

I couldn't begin to do justice to the tour in writing, you'll just have to make the pilgrimage for yourself. The staff are brilliant, knowledgeable, funny, helpful...I could go on and on. They actually seemed to be having as much fun as we were. The tour was serving two purposes for me: the obvious Anfield experience, and to research a major character in my novel - a dedicated tour guide, co-conspirator, and love interest. Well, I was spoiled for choice; Terry...Gordy...I could add 30 years to adorable  young Jack...

PIRLO! PELE! Pretty cool.
The others...meh.

This old KOP turnstile might have been my favorite thing in the museum.

Sitting in the Kop singing 'Der der, der der der der,  Gini Wijnaldum' is a much different experience than sitting on the bench where Mo sits. One is living in the moment, the other is a bit of history.

I wanted to sit on every bench all around the room. I know that would have been silly, but I have a list of seats that I have shared with famous folk (like the ancient wooden bench that was sat in by Samuel Johnson.) and this was a massive opportunity. For the record, I didn't.

At the end of the tour, we gathered at the foot of the Kop.

My first reading was 'an irresistible offence'. Notice the black plastic bin at the top of the pic. It contained newly mowed clippings. We all dug the little plastic bag from our headphones out of our pockets and filled them with grass - the kind that we can get through customs.

Next week I'll be back at Anfield for the Southampton game. For this game I'll be in the main stand way up in the sixth level. At least now I'll be able to find my way to my seat.

"Liverpool Football Club exists to win trophies." And drink beer!

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.