My Liverpudlian Days

Liverpool F.C., a soccer team from England (or E, as I used to annotate on my way to a M.A. in E history back in late 80’s/early ‘90’s) played and lost in the Champions League final yesterday afternoon. They lost to A.C. Milan, a team they beat 4-3 two years ago. I was not able to watch it since it was shown @ 1.30 pm and the Duece’s (ESPN2) replay @ 6pm was just a lie (they had some NCAA game on instead- I was to watch the 1st half and then go to nephew #3‘s v-ball game- I drank a cider and read the times, and yes- one beer was enough to make me ‘sick’).

Liverpool is not my favourite team, or favourite team from England, But generally I’ll support English teams unless they are playing an American, Irish, Mexican, or even a Canadian team. I’ve stated this before, I have three teams : Chicago Fire, Man. United (Premiership winners, F.A. Cup finalists, Champion’s League semi-finalists- not a bad year, but it was close to the ‘99 teams success) , and Club America- who I root for otherwise is negotiable. But this is about Liverpool, and my three favourite Liverpool moments. Chronowise.

Spring 1997 found me in Ireland for the first time in 17 years, and this time by myself. I was just over from England and visiting my cousin and family in Belcoo, a tiny spot rite on the border between Free Ireland and Occupied Ireland (bizarre seeing heavily armed troops making patrols in the streets- the worst of The Troubles was over, but still automatic rifles were a common site on the streets). I am a very social person, but I also have a wicked antisocial side as well, and I’d just been in London by myself for two weeks. Now, I had to deal with my cousin’s family. I’m sure they liked the American visiting, since I do believe I’m still the only gringo to have visited- most family visitors go to my parents islands. So I got off the bus, my Cousin collected me @ the stop, there was the immediate tea and ’have y ate?’ and small talk. It continued until I queried “Em, are ye watching the Liverpool game?”. As always, sports has a great way of breaking down barriers, and from that moment on, I fell in love with Belcoo. It was Liverpool-Paris SG (I think), and they were down 0-3 from the first of two games. Liverpool had to score three to tie it all up. 60m in , it became 1-3. 80m in, it was 2-3, and the usual screams, jumping up from the seats, and mad cheering continued. I remember there was added time, and they sang past the end, but whatever will be will be, and there it ended. Half time we went to the streets and I “took corners”* with the lads, 10-18 y.o.

Spring 2003 (?) found me working as a sub once again, but @ a school that had an every other Thursday ½ day. As a sub, I could break out early (Now I’d have to stay till until closing time, but subs didn’t have to- nice!). This was very nice, since it allowed me to el to Fado, an Irish sorta bar on Grand, and take in Liverpool games with Gallo. They started @ 1.30p, so we’d have a drink or two, maybe a cigarette or three, and even some fry. Liverpool this time was chasing three cups: The F.A. Cup (winners), the league cup (winners), and the one we were watching -UEFA cup again. It was really enjoyable, and Fado was a perfect ½ way point for us to meet. We went over a series of months and caught 6-7 game to-gether. It was a happy coincidence that we were both able to make it. Liverpool won in the final- three cups in one season, a nice accomplishment. As an aside, we watched the League cup final, taped, @ his crib that season as well. It was a high scoring beginning and Liverpool, as I remember, fell behind early. I made the remark as I do @ a lot of games: “It’ll be a 6-5 game” as soccer fans just love highscoring games. It ended 6-5 Liverpool in OT, although neither of us watched the end- it was 5-5 late late late, and wherever we were going we had not budgeted all that extra time.

The last time Liverpool played A.C Milan in a Champions league final was two years ago- same teams, same cup, different result. I watched that game over @ goodkixxs place. He lived in the ‘hood back then (divorced, in the process of--now Pilsen, from whence he was berthed). Fucking Liverpool was totally outplayed, and looked real bad. They fell behind 0-3, and our attention wandered. Kixx handled stuff around the house, and I decided to carry one, with one eye on a book and one eye on the game. Then, 1-3. “Hey, they just scored- it’s 3-1”.
A minute or two later, they scored again.
“Yeaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!! Get in here, y gotta see this goal!!”
Then unbelievable, they tied it up- three goals in six minutes, and I instantly realized, as I always do watching some sporting event when something like this happens-

“I watched it live!! I watched it live!! I watched it live!! I’m gonna be able to brag about watching this as it happened fucking forever!!!!”

Those six minutes were the only part of the entire 120m (O.T. added 30m to this game’s regular 90m)- the only part- where Liverpool looked like they like they belonged on the same pitch. But that, and the penalty kick deciders after which gave the title to Liverpool-lets me brag to this day. As I brag rite now.

They had a slite article on the final I think, in the Times, and one of the players was talking about the halftime scene when they were down 0-3. He was talking about how, even down 0-3, the 45,000 Liverpool fans could be clearly heard in the locker room singing the famous L.F.C. song= “You’ll Never Walk Alone” by whatever 60’s Liverpool band that made it famous originally.


*=played soccer