Painting The Town Red

Priorities

Those of you who know me know that I am a fairly relaxed bloke, but that there are some things that I take quite seriously. These include the efficient solution of partial differential equations, cooking good curry and football.

I allow myself to get over-excited by football, and in particular, the exploits of the one-and-only Liverpool Football Club. So, when The Reds got to the final of the Champions League last week I decided that it was time to leave my nest in Godalming, and head north to Liverpool to enjoy the game with some of the best football fans in the world. This presented no problems with my employer, as I had made it clear when I started working there that they could work me on any day at any hour they wanted - except for days when Liverpool were playing in Europe. One has to prioritise.

To The North

I bought a train ticket a week before the match, but was unable to get any accomodation - all the hotels had been booked out a month in advance for this night-of-nights. No bother, I didn't plan to get much sleep in, and I figured that half of Liverpool had similar designs.

Four hours after leaving Godalming I had travelled the length of England to the old port city. Four hours of the green English countryside in the sun. Crickey, it takes me the same amount of time to get from Brisbane to Ballandean, and the distance between those two is a speck on the map of Australia.

Liverudlians and their city cop a lot of slack from the rest of England, especially from Southerners and Mancs. But all of that carry-on about tracksuits, trainers and a lack of culture was quickley dispelled within minutes of leaving the train station (though I did clock one girl in a rather fetching velour number). But more importantly, Liverpudlians have an over-abundance of friendliness and approachability - something that their southern compatriots lack. If only I could understand what they hell they are saying. I had a talk with one guy in the bus stop that left me very confused, clearly I have a lot to learn about the English language.

Killing Time

I got into town around 11 in the morning, and had plenty of time to kill before the 8 o'clock kick-off. I walked around the Albert Docks, then got a bus out to Anfield, Liverpool's famous stadium. Unfortunately the museum was closed, but I was still able to see the famous Shankly Gates (which have the words "You'll Never Walk Alone" across the top, in reference to the Jerry and The Pacemakers song that is the club's anthem) and the Hillsborough Memorial.

What struck me the most was how the stadium blended into the surrounding suburb. This was no purpose-built public entertainment venue with well organised public transport links, facilities and amenities. It is a stadium that looks as if it was dropped into the surrounding rows of terrace houses in a completely arbitrary manner. The houses on two sides back right up to the stadum, and the roads that run along the other two sides could hardly be described as main roads. It is just there, part of the furniture in this very poor suburb (many houses were boarded up).

But what this football team means to the city cannot be understated. Every second person was dressed in red, and everywhere people were singing You'll Never Walk Alone, and Johny Cash's Burning Ring Of Fire. Impromptu games of football were breaking out on the street, and every person dressed in red was trading smiles with every other person dressed in red. It was damn exciting. The football team is part of the fabric of the city, and the type of devotion it receives from the locals is quite humbling to this long-distance fan.

Game On

An hour before the game I made my way towards the pubs - only to find that they were all full of singing fans. Every single pub in Liverpool was full-up, with queues around the corner full of fans anxious to get inside. Shit! I tagged along with three likely characters who said they knew a spot, and sure enough they found a little pub that wasn't quite full to bursting.... yet.

Inside the pub it was easy to see why I made the trip. Everybody was on their feet and singing. Not just lip synching, but really singing and chanting at the top of their voices. Even when the team went behind in the game, everybody just sung louder. And, after a game that Liverpool was desperately unlucky to lose, the fans kept singing. It was unthinkable to pack up and go home quietly. Instead the streets were full of people singing about the club

We Love you Liverpool we do.

We Love you Liverpool we do.

We Love you Liverpool we do.

Oh Liverpool we love you!

about the players

Steve Gerrard Gerrard

He'll pass the ball 40 yards

He's big and He's fucking hard

Steve Gerrard Gerrard

(sung to the tune of Que sera sera)

He's big

He's red

His feet stick out the bed

Peter Crouch

Peter Crouch!

and You'll Never Walk Alone, of course.

I can only imagine what the party would have been like if we had won.

New Friends

I found myself with a cup of beer, sitting in a square in the middle of Liverpool's nightclub district, surrounded by the subdued party after the loss. I was wondering what to do - being in a foreign city with a daypack and nowhere to sleep the night. Just then a girl wandered up and asked "you're Australian, aren't you?"
"Yeah, how the hell didya figure that one out?" (she had an Australian accent so I put it on)
"you look Australian"
"you reckon?"...

Her name was Shannon, and she introduced me to her boyfrind and other assorted friends, all of them locals. Nice one, they had been out watching the game and were heading off to find somewhere for some drinks and revelry. First Shannon took us to the top of the building she used to live in to show us the night view over the city, and then we went to some place-or-other that served beer.

I had a great time, making friends with plenty of locals. Shannon, a very gregarious character, made it her mission to introduce me to some locals, for which I am very thankfull. Everybody was heading back to Shannon's boyfriend's house, and I was offered a couch to sleep on. Perfect. I never had it so easy meeting people in any other city!

A Gentle Reminder

But on the way home I was reminded that England does have a harder edge than a country boy like myself is accustomed to. I was waiting outside an off-license for some of my new-found friends to buy some beer for when we got home, when somebody started pulling hard on my dreadlocks. I turned around and informed the middle-aged guy that was pulling my hair that it was real hair and it hurt when it got pulled - just like real hair. He then said "come on, give us one of you locks". I turned him down, and watched him go into the offie.

I have noticed some guys who come in to drink at the bar, and on the street, who you want to "keep an eye on". This character was one of them, people who have a potential for violence. Not young punks, or skinheads, but "geezers", older guys who wear slick clothes and drive nice cars. I watched him leave the offie and get into his car. I was drunk and got distracted by someone or something, and the next thing I knew I felt him pulling on my dreads again. I instictively put my hand up to stop him, and the next thing I saw was a knife and him snarling "give me one of your fucking dreads". He was trying to cut one of my dreads off. Then he saw the cut he had put in my hand, and the group of my new-found friends squaring up and thankfully made for his car.

The cut wasn't big, but it bled like crazy. I was partly shocked, and annoyed at myself for not keeping my eye on a character that had triggered my suspicions - being able to pick a dangerous person is useless if you don't act on it. My friends were shocked, and embaressed, that this had happened, and everybody in and around the offie was trying very hard to make sure I didn't get the wrong impression of the locals - they are very proud of their friendliness and openness in those parts.

Nae Bother Pal

My shock passed quickly and I enjoyed the rest of my evening, and an impromptue bandage of toilet paper and sticky tape that Shannon knocked up had my thumb sorted. I got a good (well, as good as could be expected) night's sleep on the couch.

The next morning I rose, along with the rest of the town, with a hangover and thoughts of what could/should have been. Though we didn't win, I had a wonderful time, and was impressed by the friendliness and fun of the people of Liverpool.