The Liverpool Way

Liverpool Football Club, in the past did things "The Liverpool Way". Something that grew in the Shankly era and was admired far and wide. Then, like now, the press were fed on crumbs but those crumbs were factual and not the leaked drivel we seem to find now.

As Liverpool got on with it with a quiet dignity, we as fans would eagerly jump to the back page of the Echo to see if we HAD signed anyone - not who we might be signing or any of the other dross that is pumped out so frequently and inaccurately now.

Back then we trusted that club was being run professionally by the chairman, board and secretary and the playing side including, transfer targets, was the decision of the manager and his staff. Together they worked as a team - bringing the best for our club.

Sadly "The Liverpool Way" has been lost, it's broken. Where once there was dignity, loyalty and respect we now suffer ridicule. Roy Hodgson comes across as a diplomat so may help deflect some unwanted press attention away. That though, won’t fix the problem.

New owners and backroom staff might be the long term cure but old ‘owners’ and their staff and their use or misuse of the press are the current symptoms that need dealing with.

The prescription for me, until new owners are in place, is for LFC to call a press conference, honestly spell out what each of their roles actually are, and announce that all future press briefings will be announced, transparently, via the official website. A bitter taste for those in situ I would guess but something that I believe would bring some sort of stability to the illness inflicted on our club.

Even if we don’t like what we hear, at least would stop all this obsessive and worrying speculation and it may even make the club a better proposition to prospective new owners.

A new season is upon us and we need to get on with ensuring we get the best possible results for the club, our club, with what we have not what we hope to have.

Liverpool in the past played it simply both on and off the field leading the way to our great successes. Doing things simply isn’t always the easy option but it is the Liverpool Way.

Raindrops Keep Fallin' on my Head...

It’s approximately 5 hours to Liverpool v Chelsea, a fixture every LFC fan should be relishing but…everything other than a game of football is on the minds of Red’s fans everywhere.

Reports abound about Rafa’s imminent departure for Juventus. I don’t want that to happen but who could blame him?

Having got within a whisker of the coveted title last season, maybe the addition of a little quality and some decent and experienced players would have seen us reach the heights every fan wants to achieve.

As it was a quality player left in Alonso, along with a decent experienced player in Arbeloa. These were replaced by, in my opinion, a quality (but injured) player Aquilani and a decent experienced player in Kyrgiakos. The addition of Glen Johnson improved the quality of the squad but that was more or less it. No much needed strengthening in the depth of the squad.

Forlan was a player I was talking about last year as someone who would be a great asset to our squad. He was playing really well, had experience of the Premiership (as we know to our cost) and is now a much better player. He would, well should, have been affordable. We of course didn't get him or anyone else of that ilk.


Sadly football now is controlled by money more than it ever was and when Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid rode into L4 it Liverpool turned RED in a way that none of us imagined.

For three years Rafa has had to wheel and deal in the transfer market – selling the very players who add strength to a squad to fund the purchase of players needed in certain positions. It just is not sustainable. That’s why there are mid-table teams and teams at the top. Those at the top don’t wheel and deal, they make their purchases to strengthen the squad, replace the mistakes that have been made with better players and so keep on strengthening.

I’m not going to go into the finer detail of Rafa’s transfers or the policy foisted upon him. Others such as Paul Tomkins have done that in great detail and he also covers it in a recent post http://tomkinstimes.com/2010/04/transfer-tosh/

The owners, Butch and Sundance, have robbed our bank, told lies to escape the law (fit and proper owners?) and hopefully are about to ride off into the sunset if a quote from the film runs true…

“Butch and me have been talking it all over. Wherever the hell Bolivia is, that's where we're off to…”

For me the only thing that can keep Rafa at Anfield now is a swift conclusion to the sale of the club and cast iron guarantees that the effort he undoubtedly puts in is rewarded with the backing he deserves to move our great club on.

I hope that Rafa considers his efforts over the time he’s been here and decides to finish the job he’s started. It would be nice if he could declare once and for all he’s staying, maybe by running to Kop, putting his shirt over his head to reveal a t-shirt with the message:

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls... meet... the future!”

But how can he with the current turmoil at the club??

Oh well, just over four hours to kick off now and I am slowly beginning to think of the game. Let's big up the support, put on a great performance and show Rafa what he'd be missing.

Even though…those raindrops are fallin' on my head and they keep fallin', there's one thing I know, the blues they send to meet me won't defeat me and it won't be long till happiness steps up to greet me.

YNWA

Hillsborough - Still hurting after all these years

One sunny April morning I awoke, the birds were singing and I had thoughts of a trip to Sheffield to watch my all conquering team, Liverpool Football Club in the semi final of the FA Cup.

That was 21 years ago, 15 April 1989, but it seems like it was yesterday.

Picking up the coach by The Rocket we headed for Sheffield; the mood was buoyant, we were the best and we knew it, the day was set.

Our coach was heading for a pub on the outskirts of Sheffield where food was laid on for us by the manager, whose brother was a fellow passenger. We were there for about an hour and filled with chips, a few butties, and stories of past glory days, we headed to Hillsborough.

On the main road near to the ground the traffic was mayhem and the police were trying to redirect our coach to the Forest end, despite the protestations of the driver. We got off the coach at the top of Leppings Lane to make our way to the ground before he went to find suitable parking.

I was the only one in my party with a ticket for Leppings Lane, the others had secured stand tickets, so leaving them to go their way I went to put a few bets on before making the short walk to the ground.

Upon entering the outer enclosure, before the turnstiles, it soon became obvious that things weren’t right. There were no queues to the turnstiles it was just a mass of people, a mass that was being added to by the second as waves of supporters added the throng.

There was no order, women and children were crying because of the crush, blokes were shouting and remember that this is outside the ground.

A mounted policeman was trying to get people into queues but he was a waste of space in all honesty – they needed to stop people moving into the confined space and not shout at those in there already suffering the crush.

Eventually I arrived at a turnstile and for as long as I could I put my hands on the walls either side of the turnstile to allow kids and women under and into the turnstile so they were not pushed onto the wall. Finally, when I could hold no more, I went through the turnstile.

It was such a relief to be inside the ground, there was space and you could breathe. How things would change.

I had been to the semi final the previous year and had had an uncomfortable time on the Leppings Lane terrace – I was veteran on the Kop but this had been different. For this reason I had planned to go to the terrace to the left or right of the goal rather than stand behind it but having gone through the bedlam before the turnstile my plan was forgotten.

Like the previous year I headed down the tunnel, it was right in front of you, it drew you in. I took up my place to the right of tunnel and it wasn’t long before I sensed something was not right. Approaching kick off time memories of the previous year came back as the space became tighter and tighter. I decided then to get out – my plan was still there in the back of my mind I guess.

I squeezed my way as far to the right as I could and climbed over the railings into the corner pen, just as Peter Beardsley's shot hit the bar. I wouldn’t like to think of the consequences had he scored at that time.

This pen was right under the police control room, why couldn’t they see what was happening?

Manoeuvring through I, and many others, had been shouting to the police on the perimeter that the gates at the front needed to be opened. But to no avail. Some fans were trying to climb over onto the pitch but they just bellowed at them to get back in… I wonder how they can live with themselves.

Once I was in the sanctuary of the emptier pen I began helping people over the railings to safety until I felt I was being more of a hindrance as the numbers grew.

I comforted a couple of young lads whose dad was elsewhere in the ground and waited while the horror unfolded. I remember my mouth was so dry, like I had never experienced before or since. I shared Wrigley’s Doublemint with the lads – the things you remember…

My feelings of guilt and the vivid memories will never go away, and never a day passes when I don’t think of it, of those people, it flashes into my head and then it’s gone.

How could a beautiful sunny April day end so tragically?

I somehow managed to find my coach and listening to the radio as we made our way back home the numbers of dead and injured were rising. The coach was silent.

Arriving back at The Rocket we were embraced by some Everton fans returning from their semi final - strangers just pleased that some fellow Scouser's had returned from a football match.

On a sunny day, 15 April 1989, we lost ninety six friends. They set out to watch their invincible team just like me, but never to return. One day they will get justice because we will never forget.

Justice for the 96 - YNWA

From Cheltenham Woes to the Anfield Legends Lounge

I never went to the Cheltenham Festival this year but I did 'enjoy' a bet or two and opened new accounts to benefit from the freebies on offer. I had just about run out of accounts to open when I remembered that Liverpool FCs 'partner' bookmaker was 188bet. I proceeded to open an account only to find that they didn't offer bets on horseracing! Unperturbed I placed a bet on Aston Villa and lost the lot! If I start backing Spurs and Man City I can guarantee us 4^th place – I have no luck see…  Or do I? Part of the deal in opening the 188bet account was a chance of winning LFC tickets, something I had totally forgotten about until a phone call on Thursday morning made my day.

“You know the competition you entered on 188bet?” the caller said; “Erm, yes” I lied. “Well you have won tickets for Sundays Liverpool match.” “Bloody Hell!” I exclaimed just before the train entered the tunnels at Lime Street and we got cut off!!

Frantically, when daylight reappeared I rang the number back. It was confirmed, me and four friends would be going to the Sunderland match, with full hospitality courtesy of 188bet.

I started going to watch Liverpool in around 1965 when my Dad would walk me and my brother to the ground from ‘Noggsie’ and take us into the ‘Anny Road’ end for free at ‘3/4 time’. This meant that we’d see the last 15 minutes of games and watch legends like Roger Hunt, Ron Yeats and Tommy Smith doing their stuff. My first full match in the boys pen was on the 12 April 1968 and we lost 2 – 1 against Sheffield United, Sir Roger Hunt hitting the net for the Reds. Many happy years stood on the Kop followed until, fed up with games being switched to Monday nights for TV, and being skint, I foolishly didn’t renew my season ticket. I now go to games when I am able to get hold of tickets for me and my LFC mad daughter Sofie.

So not knowing exactly what to expect we set off.

First stop the Hillsborough Justice Centre to pick up some Spirit of Shankly leaflets to hand out in the ground followed swiftly by a couple of pints in The King Harry.

Me, Sofie and Mal then went to meet our host from 188bet, Kevan a Geordie Newcastle fan who would get on well with my son in law Mal (who is of similar ilk!), my brother Garry and pal Mick.

A slight hiccup before entering The Legends Lounge – we hadn’t been informed of the dress code no jeans etc but I guess staring at my Shanks tee shirt, the biggest legend of them all, they saw sense and let us in.

Champagne, wine and canapés preceded a tour of the stadium and museum – the first time Geordie Mal had seen a trophy never mind a museum full – and then back to the Legends Lounge to meet Tommy Smith and tuck in to the beautiful food & more wine:

Hoi Sin & Teriyaki flavoured duck, soup, roast meats, Salmon and treacle tart, Lemon Crème Fraiche and crystallised lemon peel. And very nice too!

I put on more bets (oh dear!), bought Sofie a Torres dress, I’m not sure he’d suit it, and then it was time for the game. Our seats were in the Main Stand, level with the Anfield Road end 18 yard box, and 3 minutes in our latest legend struck. After a brilliant run from the left wing Fernando Torres scored with a fantastic curling a shot into the top corner. The game flowed, it was like watching a Liverpool team from a different season and when a nice strike from Glen Johnson hit the net the game was all but over.

At half-time we fought our way back to the Legends Lounge to top up on wine and confidently hand in our table quiz before we were back out for the second half.

More of the same from the Reds as Steve ‘beach ball head’ Bruce's tactics were no answer to Liverpool’s fluid passing game. When Torres made it 3 – 0 we waited for more but it wasn’t to be. A great performance by the lads to make our brilliant day even better.

After the game we saluted the SOS protest on the Kop and went back to the Legends Lounge for more wine, oh and I had a coffee! Tommy Smith kindly signed a picture and Brian Hall the programme – both will be going to the Hillsborough Justice Campaign to hopefully raise some money for them.

Drinking our wine we were given the answers and a quiz sheet to mark – I spotted we had got 2 wrong straight away, we had got 4 of the 5 overseas players to have scored 20 Premier League goals and wrongly guessed that the former Liverpool goalkeeper awarded the PFA Merit award was Ray Clemence when in fact it was Steve Ogrizovic.

But as Tommy Smith asked did anyone have 16 correct? No response, then 15 correct? No response I knew it was ours! Jubilant celebrations followed – and more wine!

Oh yes, and the prize – it was another bottle of wine each signed by the Legend that is Tommy Smith – The Anfield Iron!!

Leaving my beloved cathedral it was back to the King Harry a few more ciders before the budget price hike and a taxi home. I won’t go into the taxi crashing incident outside the Supporters Club – that can be done another day.

So my Cheltenham Festival woes became, for me, the stuff of legends and a day of my dreams! Oh yes and my bets for the day: Liverpool 3 - 1, 4 - 1 and 5 -2! One day, one day...