Well, as a Liverpool fan, I could recall so many great European nights.
There was Wembley versus Bruge when Kenny scored THAT goal and my dad forced a glug of Scotch down this 9 year old's throat as The King jumped over the hoardings, right up to THAT comeback, when at a urinal at half-time, I said to dad "Do you know what? I reckon we can do this...."
So many great matches, so many great memories.
Some amazing, some tragic.
Seeing Tommy Smith getting stitched up in the tunnel, Terry Mac stubbing out a fag seconds before he ran out onto the pitch. Being a mascot at Liverpool v. Newcastle in 1974 and all the players signing my programme.
Kevin Keegan ruffling my hair, calling me 'sunshine' & giving me a half-drunk bottle of Orange Panda Pops that my mum threw away 3 years later.
But the one that I want to submit is when I was about 10, and we'd just moved to near Henley-Upon-Thames, but still had season tickets for Anny. Me and my dad had travelled up for a game on a Saturday. He'd worked his arse off to get his business going, moved us down south, got me into a good school, was driving a nice car, but we still went to the game. We were walking up, I think it was Rockfield Road towards The Kop, and it was bustling, you could smell the hot dogs & onions, and songs were being sung, and scarves swung, and the scallies were being naughty, and i said to my dad "I want to live here!'
Now these were back-to-back-terraces with broken glass cemented on the back walls, and we were walking up a cobbled street, and my dad has broken his back to move us to leafy Berkshire, but I just wanted to live next to this Church Of Football.
This anecdote often came up from my dad, followed by "why did I bother?"
We won that day by the way. I nagged him all the way home in the car. I want to live IN Anfield.
Memory added on March 20, 2013
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