The Friday Thing #775
Based on the volume of email responses quickly after sending, last week’s Friday Thing was one of the most popular. Storytelling with data ??
The Friday Thing #775 concerns The Beautiful Game. Given World Cup fever is upon us, I thought perhaps time to write a bit about my relationship with football.
I remember when I first joined Facebook and one of the profile questions to be filled out was “religion”. Without hesitation, I typed “Liverpool”, referring to the football club rather than the city. Religion was never a big thing in our household growing up on Merseyside, but football was a very big thing – and remains so. I can’t remember the first game I attended at Anfield but that’s perhaps not surprising given I was six years old when my dad took me to our cathedral. To call my dad a “fan” would be something of an understatement. He traveled around the country and Europe watching our team sweep all before them on the way domestic and European glory. There is an entire other story to tell of how this European success for Liverpool influenced fashion (including my own) and still does to this day in Liverpool and around the UK. Perhaps another edition of The Friday Thing will cover the topic of “scallies”. Perhaps.
Unlike my friend Andrew, I don’t have a great memory for specific games and dates of football games – but I do have a memory for how they made me feel. I remember the first time I saw Kenny Daglish play when I was seven (the same number of his shirt) and thus my favourite number has always been 7. I remember standing on the famous Kop at Anfield with my dad and brother, marveling at how thousands of people could sway and sing in such unison. I remember when my dad took a job at Anfield as a ‘gateman’ – literally a turnstile gate back in those days when people could pay for tickets on the day of the game. My brother and I would arrive early to the stadium with my dad and enter through the main entrance, walking past the players changing rooms, down the steps to the pitch – halting briefly to allow my dad to lift me up to touch the This is Anfield sign, just as my heroes would do before every game. We’d watch the game a few minutes after kick off when the gates closed from a random free seat in the stadium and begin our departure in the final moments of the game by walking slowly around the pitch towards the exit. It’s bonkers now to think we would do that every week as if it were just normal.?
There are so many games from my teenage years that it’s hard to remember as one season flowed to the next. My brother and I by this point had season tickets (thanks Mum and Dad) and in my teens, I would often meet my dad and his pals for the midweek games or European games – always finding ‘our’ standing point on The Kop beneath a straggly piece of rope that hung from the rafters. Heady days those, when Liverpool where still in their pomp until 1990 began a thirty year wait to be crowned champions of England once more. In between those times there were still many moments to cherish – glorious moments such as the 7 minute destruction of Aston Villa by Fowler and McManaman with a sumptuous goal by Fowler. He was (and is) known as “God” to Liverpool fans. More religious overtones, though he never looked like God when I’d see him in the bars of Liverpool on a Saturday night – which may be connected to that thirty-year gulf.
There are the games (maybe seasons even) where Steven Gerrard seemed to singlehandedly drag the team over the line while those around him faltered. He scored “that goal” against Olympiakos in 2005 and cemented a piece of Andy Gray commentary I can recount do this day – “Oh you beauty. What a hit son, what a hit”.
The goal helped lead us to Champions League Final that year and quite simply one of the greatest nights of my life, as well as one of the greatest football games ever seen. After deciding not to travel Istanbul to watch the final, my friends and I did the next best thing. We drove 250 miles north to sit in a bar in Liverpool with my dad and brother. By half time Liverpool were 3-0 down to Italian giants, AC Milan and the outcome looked bleak to say the least. I was receiving text messages from non-Liverpool fans suggesting that our performance was an embarrassment to the nation. Frankly, it was. And then the second half came along, and we watched an extraordinary comeback – led of course by our talisman, Steven Gerrard. The rest is history yet that night explains why football is my religion. We stuck with our team through it all, through a rollercoaster of emotions which is maybe why the celebrations after that game feel like they were yesterday – not seventeen years ago. Football takes you places – literally, physically, emotionally.
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There are emotional downs too – Heysel and Hillsborough in particular and more recently the Champions League Final in Paris last year. On those days, the football didn’t matter – but your football family did and always will.
But oh the highs. The 4-0 comeback against the incredible Barcelona team in 2019 that sent Liverpool to another Champions League Final. I could watch that game again and again and again. The greatest Champions League comeback ever? Probably.
Oh, and we went on to win our sixth Champions League trophy that year too. Sorry Spurs fans. And the following year, the thirty-year wait ended as we added our 19th domestic league title. My kids now run around in modern day Liverpool shirts and the cycle continues. Though I am not sure they appreciate that I inherited my dad’s penchant for screaming the house down when Liverpool score.?Sorry, girls.
Which brings me back to today. In a few minutes, I’ll be watching England vs. the USA in the group stages of this year’s World Cup. Once again, I’ll gather with friends and supporters from both sides and enjoy The Beautiful Game. Though it’s not Liverpool, there will no doubt be ups and downs and perhaps a beer or two. Football has this power over us, to bring people together, to create stories and memories. It’s why I love this game.
Wishing everyone here in the US a great holiday and long weekend!
Cheers,
- Steve
Director, WW Financial Services Marketing at Microsoft
2 年YNWA. Enjoyed the read!
Lovely piece Steve. My mum was also that 6 Yr old watching games on the Kop with her Dad in the early 1960's. Religion doesn't even come close. And yes, I inherited much of it too.
Head of Vendor Management at Mediolanum Irish Operations
2 年YNWA. Great read. Been a LFC fan my whole life. There's nothing like being in the Kop.
Global eCommerce & Digital Transformation Leader | Driving Growth Through Innovation & Strategic Partnerships | Advisory Board Member | Mentor
2 年Love this .. Football ?? as we love to call it and not soccer has the power to bring back so many memories , including some of our own lived experiences both as fans and players of representing be it our school teams !
Sales Director
2 年Great post Steve! And since you mentioned Aston Villa and the 7-minute destruction, a game which I too attended ??, there was another match which lives long in the memories of Villa fans of a certain age. It was December 1976 and, as you said, Liverpool were sweeping all before them. But not that night, oh no! Under floodlights on a crisp winter’s evening Aston Villa simply played the soon-to-be European champions off the park and won comfortably 5-1. Perhaps it was a kick up the backside that spurred them on to greater glory!