Mini drinkies Liverpool v Utrecht 15th December
- Thread starter Avmenon
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I get the feeling that Avvy might soon be a permanent fixture in this country with all his trips to Liverpool. In spite of the cold!
[quote author=Spionkop69 link=topic=43023.msg1227144#msg1227144 date=1291207823]
I get the feeling that Avvy might soon be a permanent fixture in this country with all his trips to Liverpool. In spite of the cold!
[/quote]
Yeh mate - fair does to him - in his short time in the country and, despite living in Norwich (!), he's made a good few trips to Anfield already...
Good work I say. Now the rest of yers get yer bums up here and join in the fun. Can't make the game myself as I'm away on business
I get the feeling that Avvy might soon be a permanent fixture in this country with all his trips to Liverpool. In spite of the cold!
[/quote]
Yeh mate - fair does to him - in his short time in the country and, despite living in Norwich (!), he's made a good few trips to Anfield already...
Good work I say. Now the rest of yers get yer bums up here and join in the fun. Can't make the game myself as I'm away on business
How easy is it likely to be for this, given that we'll probably (fingers crossed) already be through?
[quote author=Avmenon link=topic=43023.msg1227162#msg1227162 date=1291209252]
Until they catch me and kick my ass out anyway ;D
[/quote]
I'm sure we will....
Until they catch me and kick my ass out anyway ;D
[/quote]
I'm sure we will....
Re: Mini drinkies Liverpool v Utrecht 15th December *info needed*
Sorry to bump this but I'm hoping for some info from the locals.
The legend that is Sunny has gotten me a ticket; but I'm coming in by train and am arriving at Lime Street at 4.40pm.
Is there a direct bus from there to Anfield?
Also, I'm putting up at Anfield Stadium Guest House which is on Salisbury Road upstairs from Sam Dodds Bar which is a few hundred feet from Anfield.
I know Vladders has told me not to stay in Kensington, but the match ends pretty late and I don't want to chance getting a bus or a cab after the game back to the city.
That plus it's a dorm thingy and a lot cheaper 8)
Anyone know the place?
[size=7pt]Am I going to die[/size]? :-X
Sorry to bump this but I'm hoping for some info from the locals.
The legend that is Sunny has gotten me a ticket; but I'm coming in by train and am arriving at Lime Street at 4.40pm.
Is there a direct bus from there to Anfield?
Also, I'm putting up at Anfield Stadium Guest House which is on Salisbury Road upstairs from Sam Dodds Bar which is a few hundred feet from Anfield.
I know Vladders has told me not to stay in Kensington, but the match ends pretty late and I don't want to chance getting a bus or a cab after the game back to the city.
That plus it's a dorm thingy and a lot cheaper 8)
Anyone know the place?
[size=7pt]Am I going to die[/size]? :-X
So I'm back; reached Norwich at past 3 and rushed home to pacify the missus with an attempt at cuisine ;D
Aside from the shitty game, it wasnt a bad outing; train to Lime Street took just under 6 hours; and it was slightly uneventful. Aside from having the bad luck to have a bunch of noisy kids in my carriage; which made rest impossible.
Still; I'd taken a book which I thought would keep me occupied. Unfortunately it lasted to Notthingham..so I spent the rest of the journey looking at the sights..though the Yorkshire journey was quite nice..Sheffield excepted.That's an ugly town.Oh, and why is the Chesterfield cathedral spire so weird looking?It looks melted.
The only eventful bit of the journey were the 2 stops made in Manchester; where there were a few travellers boarding in Utrecht colours. I of course assumed that these were Dutch fans who'd flown in.
They weren't, well one wasnt.
The loudest one spoke with a definite English accent, which was probably Mancunian; since the dickhead was wearing a Utrecht shirt but professed loudly to be a Citeh fan who was coming to Anfield on a free ticket given to him by some Dutch freinds coming from Rottedam and with a banner ( I never did see the banner though).
He spent the short journey from Manchester Oxford Road talking about Adebayou, Tevez, the game against Juventus and Tevez again in that order.
Yes, he was quite loud.
I did actually consider asking him whether he wanted to share a cab to Anfield; but he disembarked at Lime Street to meet some others wearing Utrecht shirts and I decided that I’d rather get there myself.I already felt dirty enough; because NO ONE here told me that I'd be passing Old fucking Trafford by train while on the way to Lime Street.
How could I go to Anfield after passing THAT place?
I’d pick up something bad; I knew I would.
I felt like the monkey from ‘Outbreak’ that escaped and killed everybody…
Blech..
Anyway, I didn’t have a choice..So I reached Lime Street and made my way to the bus station (I’d carefully memorized the route, though I needn’t have bothered; it was easy enough to find).It’s the No. 17 at Stand No. 6 at Queen’s Square Bus Station, if anyone is thinking of taking the train and hasn’t tried yet. There are signs to the station from Lime Street which are pretty clear.
Well, I found the station but it was actually a local who told me where to wait.
I reach there pretty early and decide to check in (I’d carefully memorized the route from the stadium, though again it was pretty easy to find)
It was all this needless memorizing that made me forget my anniversary, by the way.
Turns out I was sharing the dorm with 7 other people (ALL Utrecht fans)
That wasn’t so good, to be honest…I was worried that they’d want to vent their frustrations on the nearest Red they could find after we thrashed them later (Ha, if only)
They were pretty good sorts though.
I left the guest house at the same time as two of them and one goes; YOU ARE LIVERPOOL SUPPORTER, YES?..GOOD GOOD…WHO WILL WIN TONIGHT YAAR.. I tell him that it’ll be us hopefully..
YOU HOPE?..YOU DON’T THINK 4 OR 5 NIL?
I said no, but I hoped we’d win but wished him luck..
YAAR YAAR, GOOD LUCK TO YOU…HOPE ITS GOOD GAME…
Then I of course get the obligatory chips and gravy (I don’t much like the curry, but the gravy’s delish) before I set off for the King Harry to meet Sunny’s mate Dougie for the ticket; he’s not there yet, but I bump into Sunny’s other mate Bob and we chat for a while..he’s a great guy and really friendly; I met them for the Blackpool game as well.
Bob kids around and said that I’d better not jinx them again like I did for Blackpool.
(I have that same worry)
I defend myself by saying we’ve won before when I was up ie Napoli (although we pretty shit for that one too; the Kop was up for it that night though)..Dougie arrives with my ticket and we get some drinks; I get a round for Bob and Dougie and somebody gets me one and by the end of the night things were a bit of a blur (we drank at the Harry both before and after the game)
Things went well though, by the end of the night I’d been appointed Group Solicitor for Bob’s Friends in the Corner in front of the Fruit Machine, and let me tell you : I was fucking honoured.
The game was of course, not so good.
It was shit.
It was just so bad.
I never thought I’d see a game that was worse than Blackpool; but I was wrong.
There was no interest, there was no drive.
Most importantly, no one wanted the fucking ball.
Aside from Kelly and Shelvey, no one else deserved to be on that pitch.
Don’t get me wrong though; Utrecht were shit, zero penetration, and they were never really a threat. And yes, we rested key players, BUT what can you say when the players you do name play as if they couldn’t be bothered?
Does qualification mean you don’t have to play?
That you don’t need to want to win?
That you have to force half-hearted attempts from the Kop to say ‘ATTACK..ATTACK…ATTACKATTACKATTACK’
Why half-hearted?
I think everyone was just numb; everyone was so used to seeing us being shit that we weren’t surprised anymore; we don’t expect any better, maybe.
Oh, the crowd was upset though…the first touch Poulsen got of the ball caused a scream ‘HE’S FUCKING WANK’…I heard that against Napoli too..might have been the same supporter, actually.
But, yes, he was fucking wank..
Bob actually told me later that one stage, he swore loudly and was shocked because there was a little kid behind him, he apologised to the kid’s father, only for him to say ‘It’s alright, they’re fucking wanting screaming’
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
I managed not to swear myself; though were plenty of anguished groans and AARRGGHHSS from time to time.
The best thing of the night was this little kid behind me as well; who aside from occasionally kicking me kept asking his grandma questions.
But I felt so bad; it was obviously his first game, and he has to watch THIS?
We complain about how shit we are, but can you imagine if you’re a young fan and THIS is all you’ve ever known?
I can’t even begin to imagine.
I’m not as old as some; but I can remember when we were good; when we were the best (and yes, some of those games were under Rafa)
Maybe that helps me carry on to hope.
I don’t know.
But this kid is really cute though; he’s with his older aunt or grandma, I can’t be sure…and he keeps asking these questions.
‘WHY’D HE FALL DOWN’?
Cause of a naughty tackle, Nathan.
(he was tickled to have the same name as a player by the way)
Eventually he kept asking questions which were harder to answer; one was when someone miscontrolled the ball out of play (forgot who it was)
‘WHY’D HE DO THAT’???...he asks innocently
The answer was classic.
‘Because he’s rubbish’
Rubbish became Nathan’s favourite word that night; and I’m only hoping he didn’t pick up any other words which were flying around which were far less restrained than ‘rubbish’.
It just kills me that his first game was this pile of wank.
I’m trying not to think about the game too much.
The Utrecht fans were good though; comfortably outdid us at every turn.
I think there was some trouble in their end, since I saw loads of policemen converging there..there were no scenes of fighting on the street after the game though, so maybe not.
The crowd wasn’t good; meaning there was to be no fightback from the Kop this night; I think noone believed anymore, there was still some against Napoli, but not yesterday.
I didn’t have any either; I just felt so tired and deflated.
And pretty angry.
We don’t have the right to demand they win all the time; but we have a right to expect them to try their best.
They didn’t.
I don’t know what Hodgson tells them; does he not care what kind of performance is dished out?
Is he going to say some crap about how it was a dead rubber and how he didn’t want to risk his players?
That’s fine, but how’ll he explain his players not wanting the ball.
Save for one or two, it was a disgrace.
We all know how shit Hodgson is, but are our players just shit?
I was reading Neil’s post talking about how our squad was so much better than Blackpool or Stoke or whatever.
Well, it was definitely light years ahead of Utrecht; but guess what?
Only Utrecht came to play.
Our best team wouldn’t beat that lot, let alone our second string.
Not when you don’t care; not when you don’t want the fucking ball.
30 years for football experience and this is the kind of football he wants to dish out; Fulham were a lot more entertaining.
I know this sounds a bit knee-jerk and that we didn’t have our best players, but fuck me, I was shaken by seeing a bunch of morons in MY shirt not giving a fuck.
Babel was just OK, when he wanted to be, which wasn’t very often.
Only Kelly and Shelvery really stuck out as beiung Liverpool players; and Wilson too.
Kuyt did some running, but little else.
And Joe Cole haha…a lot of tippy-tappy with zero end product; he was more like a crap Arsenal player that night.
Jones was so-so.
As for the rest, I’d rather shoot them all and collect the insurance; and I’d finish off Christian fucking Poulsen myself.
I hope I never see him in a red shirt again.
I was basically watching the vast majority of the players play like they’d rather be doing something else; I’d have rather been at the Harry, anyway. So I can understand. But then im not paid to play football.
Eventually it ends, and the Dutch are clapping their team, as well they should.
I wished they’d have won; they were shit…but they deserved it infinitely more than we did; they were’nt a good team, but they tried.
We didn’t even do that.
What’s most galling is that we’re not more angry, numbness is just so much worse than anger.
Oh well.
The game ends and I go back to the Harry.
I initially wanted to go back to the guest house; I was feeling a bit tired.But I really had no mood to go back to my room filled with Utrecht fans; they deserved congratulations, but I was too bitter to give it.
So I went to the Harry again and got more beers; and became Group Solicitor.
Incidentally; sorry we couldn’t meet up, Sumo…I did text you though…guess the timing wasn’t good for you, but maybe another time?
Anyway, after a bit we’re all packing to leave…Bob offers to get me a cab; but I told him I’d rather walk…so I did…I did run into some interference on the Walton Breck though…some guys were drinking outside a pub with a stupid name and as I walked by they shouted ‘OI, MOHAMMAD ALI!!!’
(I was flattered, but they might have been talking about how he looks now, come to think of it)
I was already pretty comfortable with the booze, and I just walked on.
I passed by Anfield at about 12.30; and it was my first time seeing it at that time of night…with no one around, and it was just surreal.
Beautiful.
I’d been so used to the noise and the lights; but the silence was both unnerving and intriguing. I get back to the guest house..Thankfully, most of the Dutch are asleep by this time…unfortunately, I was on a top bunk bed. Lotsa beer and top bunk bed don’t mix too well; and I didn’t get much sleep.
Don’t think the bottom bunk did either.
The Dutch fans are a noisy bunch, by the way..constant talking punctuated by silent bouts, then some talking…this goes on late..
Yes, some braver soul might have said something…but I’m not one.
Besides I was outnumbered 7 to 1.
Although one was a girl with a cute ass, and I *think* she was fooling around with one of her friends sometime around 3am.
After a fitful sleep, I get up and shower in the freezing weather; it’s early but I’m usually anal. And I didn’t want to risk getting caught in a scramble for the toilet when I had a morning train to catch.
I leave, and realise I had no idea where to catch the bus to town.
I wait a bit; and then I see a young black kid off to school and I ask him.Now before KopKing says anything; let me add that I said ‘black’ because I was curious as to whether a black Scouse accent was dissimilar to the Scouse I’d heard; I think he was the first black Liverpudlian I’d spoken to.
And yes, it’s identical, which delighted me.
So I make my way to Lime Street (thankfully I’d been anal about getting early because the heavens opened not 5 minutes after I’d reached the station.
PS : there was a HUGE queue outside Anfield at about 8am or so; I thought about doing the same but didn’t want to risk the train…whats that about?
Are they queuing up to buy stuff?...it looked like they were buying stuff at the Kop Café but I wasn’t sure.
The ride home was very uneventful; and I got some sleep..though I spent most of it just watching the countryside.It’s why I love trains..I get back and make my way home, stopping to help one old lady with her shopping.She told me to wear warmer clothes in future.
That’s it.
Not a great result; but I’m still glad I went..I’d guess most people are wondering why I always ramble about this, but I’m just making memories..someday soon I wont be able to go, and then I just want to look back and say, ‘I’m glad I had these few chances to go; and that I’ve been so lucky to have even these few moments at Anfield, when so many haven’t been’.
That stops me from whining when the thought of my time running out creeps in.
For anyone who’s still dreaming about going, and thinking that it’s some magical cathedral…it is..
But not for the reasons you think; the way you think about this club and team will forever change once you’ve climbed those steps, and no, I can’t explain it..And no, I’m not talking about Roy fucking Hodgson.
Ps : Sunny, hope to see yer the next time I'm up; missed ya twice already.
Oh, and please tell Bob he's aces. 8)
Aside from the shitty game, it wasnt a bad outing; train to Lime Street took just under 6 hours; and it was slightly uneventful. Aside from having the bad luck to have a bunch of noisy kids in my carriage; which made rest impossible.
Still; I'd taken a book which I thought would keep me occupied. Unfortunately it lasted to Notthingham..so I spent the rest of the journey looking at the sights..though the Yorkshire journey was quite nice..Sheffield excepted.That's an ugly town.Oh, and why is the Chesterfield cathedral spire so weird looking?It looks melted.
The only eventful bit of the journey were the 2 stops made in Manchester; where there were a few travellers boarding in Utrecht colours. I of course assumed that these were Dutch fans who'd flown in.
They weren't, well one wasnt.
The loudest one spoke with a definite English accent, which was probably Mancunian; since the dickhead was wearing a Utrecht shirt but professed loudly to be a Citeh fan who was coming to Anfield on a free ticket given to him by some Dutch freinds coming from Rottedam and with a banner ( I never did see the banner though).
He spent the short journey from Manchester Oxford Road talking about Adebayou, Tevez, the game against Juventus and Tevez again in that order.
Yes, he was quite loud.
I did actually consider asking him whether he wanted to share a cab to Anfield; but he disembarked at Lime Street to meet some others wearing Utrecht shirts and I decided that I’d rather get there myself.I already felt dirty enough; because NO ONE here told me that I'd be passing Old fucking Trafford by train while on the way to Lime Street.
How could I go to Anfield after passing THAT place?
I’d pick up something bad; I knew I would.
I felt like the monkey from ‘Outbreak’ that escaped and killed everybody…
Blech..
Anyway, I didn’t have a choice..So I reached Lime Street and made my way to the bus station (I’d carefully memorized the route, though I needn’t have bothered; it was easy enough to find).It’s the No. 17 at Stand No. 6 at Queen’s Square Bus Station, if anyone is thinking of taking the train and hasn’t tried yet. There are signs to the station from Lime Street which are pretty clear.
Well, I found the station but it was actually a local who told me where to wait.
I reach there pretty early and decide to check in (I’d carefully memorized the route from the stadium, though again it was pretty easy to find)
It was all this needless memorizing that made me forget my anniversary, by the way.
Turns out I was sharing the dorm with 7 other people (ALL Utrecht fans)
That wasn’t so good, to be honest…I was worried that they’d want to vent their frustrations on the nearest Red they could find after we thrashed them later (Ha, if only)
They were pretty good sorts though.
I left the guest house at the same time as two of them and one goes; YOU ARE LIVERPOOL SUPPORTER, YES?..GOOD GOOD…WHO WILL WIN TONIGHT YAAR.. I tell him that it’ll be us hopefully..
YOU HOPE?..YOU DON’T THINK 4 OR 5 NIL?
I said no, but I hoped we’d win but wished him luck..
YAAR YAAR, GOOD LUCK TO YOU…HOPE ITS GOOD GAME…
Then I of course get the obligatory chips and gravy (I don’t much like the curry, but the gravy’s delish) before I set off for the King Harry to meet Sunny’s mate Dougie for the ticket; he’s not there yet, but I bump into Sunny’s other mate Bob and we chat for a while..he’s a great guy and really friendly; I met them for the Blackpool game as well.
Bob kids around and said that I’d better not jinx them again like I did for Blackpool.
(I have that same worry)
I defend myself by saying we’ve won before when I was up ie Napoli (although we pretty shit for that one too; the Kop was up for it that night though)..Dougie arrives with my ticket and we get some drinks; I get a round for Bob and Dougie and somebody gets me one and by the end of the night things were a bit of a blur (we drank at the Harry both before and after the game)
Things went well though, by the end of the night I’d been appointed Group Solicitor for Bob’s Friends in the Corner in front of the Fruit Machine, and let me tell you : I was fucking honoured.
The game was of course, not so good.
It was shit.
It was just so bad.
I never thought I’d see a game that was worse than Blackpool; but I was wrong.
There was no interest, there was no drive.
Most importantly, no one wanted the fucking ball.
Aside from Kelly and Shelvey, no one else deserved to be on that pitch.
Don’t get me wrong though; Utrecht were shit, zero penetration, and they were never really a threat. And yes, we rested key players, BUT what can you say when the players you do name play as if they couldn’t be bothered?
Does qualification mean you don’t have to play?
That you don’t need to want to win?
That you have to force half-hearted attempts from the Kop to say ‘ATTACK..ATTACK…ATTACKATTACKATTACK’
Why half-hearted?
I think everyone was just numb; everyone was so used to seeing us being shit that we weren’t surprised anymore; we don’t expect any better, maybe.
Oh, the crowd was upset though…the first touch Poulsen got of the ball caused a scream ‘HE’S FUCKING WANK’…I heard that against Napoli too..might have been the same supporter, actually.
But, yes, he was fucking wank..
Bob actually told me later that one stage, he swore loudly and was shocked because there was a little kid behind him, he apologised to the kid’s father, only for him to say ‘It’s alright, they’re fucking wanting screaming’
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
I managed not to swear myself; though were plenty of anguished groans and AARRGGHHSS from time to time.
The best thing of the night was this little kid behind me as well; who aside from occasionally kicking me kept asking his grandma questions.
But I felt so bad; it was obviously his first game, and he has to watch THIS?
We complain about how shit we are, but can you imagine if you’re a young fan and THIS is all you’ve ever known?
I can’t even begin to imagine.
I’m not as old as some; but I can remember when we were good; when we were the best (and yes, some of those games were under Rafa)
Maybe that helps me carry on to hope.
I don’t know.
But this kid is really cute though; he’s with his older aunt or grandma, I can’t be sure…and he keeps asking these questions.
‘WHY’D HE FALL DOWN’?
Cause of a naughty tackle, Nathan.
(he was tickled to have the same name as a player by the way)
Eventually he kept asking questions which were harder to answer; one was when someone miscontrolled the ball out of play (forgot who it was)
‘WHY’D HE DO THAT’???...he asks innocently
The answer was classic.
‘Because he’s rubbish’
Rubbish became Nathan’s favourite word that night; and I’m only hoping he didn’t pick up any other words which were flying around which were far less restrained than ‘rubbish’.
It just kills me that his first game was this pile of wank.
I’m trying not to think about the game too much.
The Utrecht fans were good though; comfortably outdid us at every turn.
I think there was some trouble in their end, since I saw loads of policemen converging there..there were no scenes of fighting on the street after the game though, so maybe not.
The crowd wasn’t good; meaning there was to be no fightback from the Kop this night; I think noone believed anymore, there was still some against Napoli, but not yesterday.
I didn’t have any either; I just felt so tired and deflated.
And pretty angry.
We don’t have the right to demand they win all the time; but we have a right to expect them to try their best.
They didn’t.
I don’t know what Hodgson tells them; does he not care what kind of performance is dished out?
Is he going to say some crap about how it was a dead rubber and how he didn’t want to risk his players?
That’s fine, but how’ll he explain his players not wanting the ball.
Save for one or two, it was a disgrace.
We all know how shit Hodgson is, but are our players just shit?
I was reading Neil’s post talking about how our squad was so much better than Blackpool or Stoke or whatever.
Well, it was definitely light years ahead of Utrecht; but guess what?
Only Utrecht came to play.
Our best team wouldn’t beat that lot, let alone our second string.
Not when you don’t care; not when you don’t want the fucking ball.
30 years for football experience and this is the kind of football he wants to dish out; Fulham were a lot more entertaining.
I know this sounds a bit knee-jerk and that we didn’t have our best players, but fuck me, I was shaken by seeing a bunch of morons in MY shirt not giving a fuck.
Babel was just OK, when he wanted to be, which wasn’t very often.
Only Kelly and Shelvery really stuck out as beiung Liverpool players; and Wilson too.
Kuyt did some running, but little else.
And Joe Cole haha…a lot of tippy-tappy with zero end product; he was more like a crap Arsenal player that night.
Jones was so-so.
As for the rest, I’d rather shoot them all and collect the insurance; and I’d finish off Christian fucking Poulsen myself.
I hope I never see him in a red shirt again.
I was basically watching the vast majority of the players play like they’d rather be doing something else; I’d have rather been at the Harry, anyway. So I can understand. But then im not paid to play football.
Eventually it ends, and the Dutch are clapping their team, as well they should.
I wished they’d have won; they were shit…but they deserved it infinitely more than we did; they were’nt a good team, but they tried.
We didn’t even do that.
What’s most galling is that we’re not more angry, numbness is just so much worse than anger.
Oh well.
The game ends and I go back to the Harry.
I initially wanted to go back to the guest house; I was feeling a bit tired.But I really had no mood to go back to my room filled with Utrecht fans; they deserved congratulations, but I was too bitter to give it.
So I went to the Harry again and got more beers; and became Group Solicitor.
Incidentally; sorry we couldn’t meet up, Sumo…I did text you though…guess the timing wasn’t good for you, but maybe another time?
Anyway, after a bit we’re all packing to leave…Bob offers to get me a cab; but I told him I’d rather walk…so I did…I did run into some interference on the Walton Breck though…some guys were drinking outside a pub with a stupid name and as I walked by they shouted ‘OI, MOHAMMAD ALI!!!’
(I was flattered, but they might have been talking about how he looks now, come to think of it)
I was already pretty comfortable with the booze, and I just walked on.
I passed by Anfield at about 12.30; and it was my first time seeing it at that time of night…with no one around, and it was just surreal.
Beautiful.
I’d been so used to the noise and the lights; but the silence was both unnerving and intriguing. I get back to the guest house..Thankfully, most of the Dutch are asleep by this time…unfortunately, I was on a top bunk bed. Lotsa beer and top bunk bed don’t mix too well; and I didn’t get much sleep.
Don’t think the bottom bunk did either.
The Dutch fans are a noisy bunch, by the way..constant talking punctuated by silent bouts, then some talking…this goes on late..
Yes, some braver soul might have said something…but I’m not one.
Besides I was outnumbered 7 to 1.
Although one was a girl with a cute ass, and I *think* she was fooling around with one of her friends sometime around 3am.
After a fitful sleep, I get up and shower in the freezing weather; it’s early but I’m usually anal. And I didn’t want to risk getting caught in a scramble for the toilet when I had a morning train to catch.
I leave, and realise I had no idea where to catch the bus to town.
I wait a bit; and then I see a young black kid off to school and I ask him.Now before KopKing says anything; let me add that I said ‘black’ because I was curious as to whether a black Scouse accent was dissimilar to the Scouse I’d heard; I think he was the first black Liverpudlian I’d spoken to.
And yes, it’s identical, which delighted me.
So I make my way to Lime Street (thankfully I’d been anal about getting early because the heavens opened not 5 minutes after I’d reached the station.
PS : there was a HUGE queue outside Anfield at about 8am or so; I thought about doing the same but didn’t want to risk the train…whats that about?
Are they queuing up to buy stuff?...it looked like they were buying stuff at the Kop Café but I wasn’t sure.
The ride home was very uneventful; and I got some sleep..though I spent most of it just watching the countryside.It’s why I love trains..I get back and make my way home, stopping to help one old lady with her shopping.She told me to wear warmer clothes in future.
That’s it.
Not a great result; but I’m still glad I went..I’d guess most people are wondering why I always ramble about this, but I’m just making memories..someday soon I wont be able to go, and then I just want to look back and say, ‘I’m glad I had these few chances to go; and that I’ve been so lucky to have even these few moments at Anfield, when so many haven’t been’.
That stops me from whining when the thought of my time running out creeps in.
For anyone who’s still dreaming about going, and thinking that it’s some magical cathedral…it is..
But not for the reasons you think; the way you think about this club and team will forever change once you’ve climbed those steps, and no, I can’t explain it..And no, I’m not talking about Roy fucking Hodgson.
Ps : Sunny, hope to see yer the next time I'm up; missed ya twice already.
Oh, and please tell Bob he's aces. 8)
Thanks Avy. I really enjoyed that read. Brightened up my morning despite the depressing content.
I think your words sum up the feelings of most of us. "Numbness" is a great word. Defeat or poor performances dont seem to annoy us as much as before. We expect it. Then we get a great buzz when we do have the odd good performance. A feeling that we've turned the corner only to get a severe kicking when go round the corner.
It truly is a sad situation we find ourselves in.
I think your words sum up the feelings of most of us. "Numbness" is a great word. Defeat or poor performances dont seem to annoy us as much as before. We expect it. Then we get a great buzz when we do have the odd good performance. A feeling that we've turned the corner only to get a severe kicking when go round the corner.
It truly is a sad situation we find ourselves in.
Is Avvy's the longest post in the history of 6CM?
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