Anyone has the link? its blocked in my country
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Anyone has the link? its blocked in my country
That's awesome, thanks for postingEddie Braben's widow sent me this. He was a great friend. One of the funniest men ever to come out of Liverpool. Wrote for Morecambe & Wise, Ken Dodd and loads more and one of the sweetest people you'd ever meet. Joe Fagan on the left, then Eddie, then his best mate Billy Liddell, then Ronnie Moran. All gone, but I hope they're enjoying this moment.
Use Opera, it has inbuilt vpn
It’s such a shame there isn’t more footage of Liddell. He lived at the top of our street when I was a kid and my Dad and his mates would tell me how great he was but I never quite believed them. Then a few years later I got to know a bloke who’d been born the same day as Shankly (he liked to mention that} who held a season ticket for 70-odd years. He told me in all that time he never saw a better player, home or away, than Billy Liddell. Lovely bloke too.Eddie Braben's widow sent me this. He was a great friend. One of the funniest men ever to come out of Liverpool. Wrote for Morecambe & Wise, Ken Dodd and loads more and one of the sweetest people you'd ever meet. Joe Fagan on the left, then Eddie, then his best mate Billy Liddell, then Ronnie Moran. All gone, but I hope they're enjoying this moment.
Mate - you forgot the S on your shirt ... ;-)
Use a VPN mate.
I am unable to watch the youtube video here but the twitter video is accessible.
Check if you can watch this:
I know dude,
Mates got me that shirt for my 30th so felt apt finally to have a profile pic?-. Oncy once had a go for being a member since 2007 and not having a profile pic, only took 13 yrs for me to finally get one up, bless him.
Maybe he'll return due to this kind gesture?
Its good a reason as any till Lucas returns.
We do need to groom a replacement for Klopp ...
Unfortunately, and I quote him, "Naah mate. I have nothing to say. Those days are gone"
I tried ... he'll never return! :-(
At least you tried, pity. Good to see so many original faces here though, I think this place was up a year before I migrated from Koptalk and that’s despite multiple bans on that by Dj Sydney. At least finally won the league since then, did begin to think never was gonna happen.
Thanks for posting that - everyone going on about it and I couldn't see it either (VPNs don't help unless you can control the server country being used).
Bit disappointed though - the clips are far too fast, 0.25 - 1.0 secs per clip (some not even finishing the action) makes it a mish-mash of barely recognisable scenes.
Lovely piece here by David Walsh:
Got a text message from Western Australia the other day. We’ll return to it later.
It got me thinking about our boy, John, who was killed while cycling home from a Gaelic football game. Thursday last was the 25th anniversary of his death. It was also the day Liverpool Football Club won their first English title for 30 years. John was a Liverpool nut. As much as any kid could fall in love with a football club, his heart and soul were Liverpool’s.
He was 12 when he died but that’s only what it said on his birth certificate. He was about eight when he was born, and he matured fast. An anecdote. We were returning from a Gaelic football game he’d played for his school.
He was ten at the time and this was a county final in the Community Games. It was a tight match that seemed likely to be won by the opposition’s star centre back.
Early in the second half this guy got the ball inside his half and as he surged forward, John hit him with a brutal shoulder to the chest. Had it been an adult game, this would have been a straight red. The victim went down groaning, loud enough to draw his mum into the fray and she had no doubt that her boy had been assaulted.
I kept my head down. The referee told the lady to calm down. Young boys, he said, weren’t capable of that kind of malice. Her boy never surged forward again and a game that might have been won comfortably ended up going to extra time. That was when our boys ran out of luck.
So, we’re in the car on the way home.
“Dad, what did you think of my tackle on Damien?”
“It was hard but I know it was an accident.”
“It wasn’t. At half-time, Finian [the team manager] told me that if he kept coming forward, I was to take him out.”
It would be nice to think John brought up the subject because he was feeling guilty though it’s hard to be 100 per cent certain of that.
You get some kids who gravitate to Manchester United, others who go for Liverpool. These are fans from faraway places who somehow feel they belong to one tribe but not the other.
My own view is that if you were the type to choose Ovett over Coe, McEnroe before Borg, you were going to have Liverpool over United. A friend used to say if Glasgow and Dublin had a lovechild, it would be Liverpool.
A youngster enjoys Liverpool’s triumph outside Anfield
MARTIN RICKETT
There are three occasions I can recall watching television with John. One was Ireland’s game against England in the 1988 European Championship in Germany. Another was the US bombing of Baghdad in January 1991. And then there was that evening at Anfield in 1989, when Liverpool had only to avoid a two-goal defeat to win the league title. Young hearts are easily broken and John’s was smashed that evening. For him to go silent, something terrible needed to happen.
He was six at the time. Inconsolable.
Five years later might have been the first time he mentioned that game. My friend and fellow journalist Paul Kimmage was visiting. “Hey Paul, you know in your book with Andy Townsend [Andy’s Game: The Inside Story of the World Cup], he remembers the night that Arsenal won 2-0 at Anfield, how David Seaman threw the ball out to Lee Dixon, long pass to Alan Smith, then on to Michael Thomas for the winning goal. Tell Townsend, Seaman didn’t play in goal that night. It was John Lukic.”
His mum keeps his last school bag in a wardrobe in our bedroom. It is red, of course. Inside there is a Liverpool 1995 calendar, a Liverpool pencil case, his last Liverpool replica shirt. Plenty of school exercise copies, too: English, maths, Gaeilge. They tell of a kid who liked getting things right and was good at it.
On the Liverpool pencil case he has painted in giant white letters his initials: “JW L.F.C.” His replica shirt has the number 25 on the back, the name Razor just above it. For sure, he would have warmed to Neil Ruddock’s hard-man aura.
I have spent more than 40 years writing about sport. Long ago I tired of the tribalism and this latter-day need for everyone to “have a team”. It is so important for a politician or a celebrity that even when they don’t have one, they come up with one. Someone once said, “God save the people who have no heroes.” I’ve often thought, “No, God save the people who need heroes.”
Then you see Jürgen Klopp being interviewed, tears coming so he can no longer speak and it does make you realise how much this means to people.
A few months after John died, his 12-year-old friend Andrew visited his grave. We knew that because Andrew left his Liverpool scarf alongside the headstone.
And there was another friend, David. He lived in Dublin. Once he came to visit with his parents and John and he went for a wander on my mother-in-law’s farm. They found a haystack and set fire to it. It smouldered away for days. My mother-in-law’s anger burned for far longer.
David now lives with his family in Western Australia and the text he sent had been written on the 25th anniversary of John’s death. The same day that Klopp’s team won the title. Short and sweet, David’s text said: “I’m thinking of Johnny. Been waiting many years for Liverpool to win the title for him.”
Got a text message from Western Australia the other day. We’ll return to it later.
It got me thinking about our boy, John, who was killed while cycling home from a Gaelic football game. Thursday last was the 25th anniversary of his death. It was also the day Liverpool Football Club won their first English title for 30 years. John was a Liverpool nut. As much as any kid could fall in love with a football club, his heart and soul were Liverpool’s.
He was 12 when he died but that’s only what it said on his birth certificate. He was about eight when he was born, and he matured fast. An anecdote. We were returning from a Gaelic football game he’d played for his school.
He was ten at the time and this was a county final in the Community Games. It was a tight match that seemed likely to be won by the opposition’s star centre back.
Early in the second half this guy got the ball inside his half and as he surged forward, John hit him with a brutal shoulder to the chest. Had it been an adult game, this would have been a straight red. The victim went down groaning, loud enough to draw his mum into the fray and she had no doubt that her boy had been assaulted.
I kept my head down. The referee told the lady to calm down. Young boys, he said, weren’t capable of that kind of malice. Her boy never surged forward again and a game that might have been won comfortably ended up going to extra time. That was when our boys ran out of luck.
So, we’re in the car on the way home.
“Dad, what did you think of my tackle on Damien?”
“It was hard but I know it was an accident.”
“It wasn’t. At half-time, Finian [the team manager] told me that if he kept coming forward, I was to take him out.”
It would be nice to think John brought up the subject because he was feeling guilty though it’s hard to be 100 per cent certain of that.
You get some kids who gravitate to Manchester United, others who go for Liverpool. These are fans from faraway places who somehow feel they belong to one tribe but not the other.
My own view is that if you were the type to choose Ovett over Coe, McEnroe before Borg, you were going to have Liverpool over United. A friend used to say if Glasgow and Dublin had a lovechild, it would be Liverpool.
A youngster enjoys Liverpool’s triumph outside Anfield
MARTIN RICKETT
There are three occasions I can recall watching television with John. One was Ireland’s game against England in the 1988 European Championship in Germany. Another was the US bombing of Baghdad in January 1991. And then there was that evening at Anfield in 1989, when Liverpool had only to avoid a two-goal defeat to win the league title. Young hearts are easily broken and John’s was smashed that evening. For him to go silent, something terrible needed to happen.
He was six at the time. Inconsolable.
Five years later might have been the first time he mentioned that game. My friend and fellow journalist Paul Kimmage was visiting. “Hey Paul, you know in your book with Andy Townsend [Andy’s Game: The Inside Story of the World Cup], he remembers the night that Arsenal won 2-0 at Anfield, how David Seaman threw the ball out to Lee Dixon, long pass to Alan Smith, then on to Michael Thomas for the winning goal. Tell Townsend, Seaman didn’t play in goal that night. It was John Lukic.”
His mum keeps his last school bag in a wardrobe in our bedroom. It is red, of course. Inside there is a Liverpool 1995 calendar, a Liverpool pencil case, his last Liverpool replica shirt. Plenty of school exercise copies, too: English, maths, Gaeilge. They tell of a kid who liked getting things right and was good at it.
On the Liverpool pencil case he has painted in giant white letters his initials: “JW L.F.C.” His replica shirt has the number 25 on the back, the name Razor just above it. For sure, he would have warmed to Neil Ruddock’s hard-man aura.
I have spent more than 40 years writing about sport. Long ago I tired of the tribalism and this latter-day need for everyone to “have a team”. It is so important for a politician or a celebrity that even when they don’t have one, they come up with one. Someone once said, “God save the people who have no heroes.” I’ve often thought, “No, God save the people who need heroes.”
Then you see Jürgen Klopp being interviewed, tears coming so he can no longer speak and it does make you realise how much this means to people.
A few months after John died, his 12-year-old friend Andrew visited his grave. We knew that because Andrew left his Liverpool scarf alongside the headstone.
And there was another friend, David. He lived in Dublin. Once he came to visit with his parents and John and he went for a wander on my mother-in-law’s farm. They found a haystack and set fire to it. It smouldered away for days. My mother-in-law’s anger burned for far longer.
David now lives with his family in Western Australia and the text he sent had been written on the 25th anniversary of John’s death. The same day that Klopp’s team won the title. Short and sweet, David’s text said: “I’m thinking of Johnny. Been waiting many years for Liverpool to win the title for him.”
7 years ago ...
and a few days ago:
and a few days ago:
Mangalore is a town/city on the Konkan coast, approximately 100 kms north of where I was born.
For the people who like to travel, that entire Konkan coast - Mangalore, south to Kerala, north to Goa is a brilliant place to visit. Nice culture, great cuisine. Wonderful scenery and people.
Highly recommend it as a place to visit once this pandemic is over.
The President of Israel weighed in with a congratulatory tweet. As did, by the way, the President of Namibia.
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