It was August 1967 when I first handed over my four bob (20p in today's money),pushed through the turnstile and gazed in awe at the steep staircase ahead of me. At the top of the stairs was a dark tunnel through which a tumultuous noise was coming. I entered the tunnel to see the mighty Kop in all its glory and I was hooked. In the forty three years that followed I have been a regular on the Kop and a season ticket holder for the majority of those years. Why? Well the main reason is that I loved the whole thing, the game the noise, the spectacle - the tremendous atmosphere. I was happy to hand over my cash even when it escalated from a few shillings to twenty and then thirty quid and is today pushing forty. Because I was being entertained.
On Saturday I couldn't make it to Anfield as I was celebrating in London with Marion. A couple of years ago I wouldn't have considered missing a match but sadly my whole reason for going to Anfield - to be entertained - is evaporating in an acrimonious cloud of poison. There was a time when the players would beam out from the photos in the programmes with smiles on their faces but today there's a near universal hard man scowl. It was nice if we won but no big deal if we didn't as long as it was a good match. After all it was entertainment, like going to the cinema or a concert.
Last Saturday a supporters' group demonstrated before, during and after the match at Anfield and staged a sit in. More is planned for this Sunday. I sympathise with the group. I understand their hatred at the way that the club became big business and was taken over by soulless money men looking to make a quick buck and I share their frustration at seeing the one time colossus shrinking towards oblivion. But what are the demonstrations going to achieve? What is their purpose? To tell the owners we don't want them there? Well I would have thought that was pretty obvious to them by now. All they are achieving is distracting the players and distracting the crowd from what, after all, they are paying (through the nose) to see. Staying behind after the match to vent spleen at the owners who most likely are not even there is only going to get the protestors hoarse with shouting. The only people being damaged by the protests are those who want to watch an entertaining game and then get home in a decent time. Everyone knows that the ownership of the club is a disaster, the demonstrations will achieve zilch other than perhaps a burnt Sunday dinner. Until the club is either repossessed by RBS or sold to a new owner we'll just have to take it and hope that someone on the pitch gives us cause to smile. Here's hoping for Sunday.
As you make your sandwiches tomorrow spare a thought for the bloke who bought this loaf from his supermarket. He though that the bread looked a bit of a funny colour at one end and then saw it was a mouse. Oh well, at least he spotted it and found it was complete - except for the tail.
I'm away from the office today but I hear that the broadband is back up and running after three weeks. Normal blogging should return shortly.
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