‘Red Shoes’
Liverpool v Manchester United
19th of January, 2020.
I lay on the sofa, in my best ‘Uncle Albert’ voice, reading about ‘the war’, just trying to keep calm – before the storm.
Within minutes, Davie greeted me at his and Carly’s front door. He had a fillip.
‘Leicester lost 2-1 to Burnley’.
Excellent.
‘Alright Kels’ I said, and repeated my greeting, but 7 – year-old baby Kelsey was oblivious to me, just as I am to anyone suggesting that a certain team (in red) are going to win a certain trophy. Kelsey you see was engrossed in a game on her mobile – what would we do without them!
Sweets in the bowl already and waiting but there was no Carly – who had only, in my mum’s Welsh voice, ‘now jest, left for work’ – that was a shame.
I gave Davie his 21st (hahaha) birthday card for sometime soon and within a second of me sitting down, Dean announced the unsayable ‘ If we win this today – that should be it’.
It was like a red rag to a bull.
‘No. no, no’ I protested, trying to shout him and Davie down – to no avail.
‘Why, don’t you believe in this team?’ Deano asked.
‘Of course I do’ I replied, ‘but I won’t believe it’s over until the fat lady sings’.
‘I can’t remember the last time we won it’ Davie said, chomping on the soft wine gum like sweets, as I asked him how old he was, because I can never remember!
‘38’ he replied, as he recalled having the home top with the flecks on it, with me recalling having the same top for my birthday in that March, 1990 and consequently wearing it on every subsequent visit to the Kop that season.
‘My first one was with the yellow Liver Bird on it’, the simple design one, I thought ‘and I must’ve been about 8 or 9’ I continued. It was a lush top – Nike take note.
The teams were soon out and the hairs went up as that song, our song, ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ was boomed out with Deano having said that the fans had greeted the coaches – too right I thought, as I had put on twitter; it was, like every game now, the most important one In 30 long years.
This was it.
The Liverpool line-up read like a Who’s Who of Potential Greats; Alisson in goals, Trent Alexander-Arnold and Andy Robertson as wing-backs. Virgil van Dijk and Joe Gomez at the back – it was like reciting your address – that’s how familiar the team is. Jordan Henderson (Captain), Gini Wijnaldum and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain in the middle with Mo Salah, Bobby Firmino and Sadio Mane up top – tormentors supreme.
Man United – they didn’t have Marcus Rashford, who had come on and off in the mid-week win over Wolves; so that was a bonus. They did have Martial though and he had previous against us; for didn’t he score two on his debut that one time, mmm.
They were still Man U though, no matter what XI they put out; still liable to come and trip us up and they would have loved nothing better. Still a threat not to be taken lightly.
And, so it proved. Untied had much more of the ball in the first ten or fifteen minutes as Liverpool began to, ‘Feel themselves into the game’ as Deano said.
Then Liverpool went on the attack.
The ball over the top, flighted long and rangy by the artillery shell of a Virgil pass was a key weapon as Mane and Mo Salah got behind United’s packed midfield.
Corner. Corner, creeping closer corner, like a shadow of red soldiers advancing across no-mans land, towards the enemy trench. Then, all of a sudden, the ball was gloriously thumped into the top left-hand corner of De Gea’s net!
It was only Virgil van Djke.
‘What a header son, what a header’ I could have gasped in my best excited Andy Gray Scottish voice.
This was the vital, vital breakthrough which we had craved.
I jumped off the sofa and ran down the wing so to speak towards the kitchen in complete celebration. Shouting ‘Yeaaaaaahhhhhhssssss’ at the top of my voice.
Then, moments later it seemed, I jumped off the sofa again, in a double-take celebration as Bobby Firmino curled home a pearler which swept into the same portion of De Gea’s net.
‘Yes, yeahhhhs,’ again I roared like a lion on drugs and as we were now 2-0 up, I felt that we could crush them.
But oh no, no, it got disallowed and I could not believe it. Virgil van Dijk had supposedly fouled De Gea as he had challenged for the ball. The Dutchman had hardly touched De Gea.
I was gutted.
Liverpool pressed, pressed like a vice and very soon, thanks to slick passing movements, Gini Wijnaldum got in on our left and slotted low and accurately inside the base of De Gea’s left post. It was a superb finish.
Off I exploded again, like a pile of TNT, this time nearly hitting the kitchen door. Then, then, reality struck or VAR, did as the goal was ruled out for offside.
‘Yeah, it’s not a goal’ the boys concluded.
‘I’m never going to celebrate a goal again’ I said, absolutely distraught, with my heart beating ten-to-the-dozen.
United even survived a gilt-edged chance from Sadio Mane who when clean through, somehow shot straight at De Gea.
‘How did he miss that!’ Dean shouted, perplexed that we had not scored again. ‘This is going to bite us on the bum’ he added.
At half-time I got our favourites, the soft refresher like sweets and the pink and green ones; pouring them into the bowl, which was almost empty. We would need, to para-phrase Sir Huw Dowding, as regards the foreign squadrons, in the Battle of Britain, every last one of them.
At one stage in the first half I had even caught Kelsey’s attention, as she stopped to look and stare at me, as I had shouted at the top of my voice at some slack defending by the reds.
‘Sorry Kels’ I said, ‘but it is these bast888s’, as though I had a stone-wall alibi.
‘What do you mean, you always shout!’ Deano had responded, with me laughing.
With Liverpool attacking the Kop In the second half, they went for it.
Just how, how they never scored in that exhilarating first quarter I will never know. We were all going nuts with pent-up excitement of being so near yet, yet so far.
Mo Salah with that chance. Clean through and he just got the hair’s breath of touches to the ball when with any sort of powerful connection, it would have rippled the net.
‘He doesn’t score easy chances’ I gasped, almost holding my head in my hands, adding, ‘he only scores spectacular goals’ as I thought back to the hat-full he’d missed against Salzburg away and then fired home that second from a ridiculous angle which Pythagoras would have been scratching his head at.
Henderson fired in a rocket which looked in all the way until De Gea showed his undoubted class by somehow flinging out his left arm to tip onto the post. There were other chances but I’ll be buggered if I can recall them right now. It was all a red blur – like a Martian weed from ‘War of the Worlds’.
It left the game, as I did say then, several times, ‘On a knife-edge’.
United had survived the onslaught – by the skin of their teeth. They were jammy but were still in the game and still only one goal behind. Liverpool seemed to just go into their defensive shell. Tried to conserve energy and beat off United almost with one hand but the ball kept going back to United and United kept coming dangerously forward.
‘Watch him, watch him!’ I roared on more than one occasion, pointing at the screen, as a United player came down Liverpool’s left, having the freedom of Anfield. Do you think Trent heard me above the din – no chance!
The sweets were going down as my nerves began to be shredded. At one point I held out my left hand and found that it was physically shaking. That’s how tense I was. That’s how tense these games can get to you – especially this one, especially on this occasion when Liverpool were continually unable to get hold of the ball as though it was someone reaching for the remote as it hung tantalisingly on the edge of the sofa.
‘I’m just waiting for them to score’ I said, shaking my head as another attack went in, like a flight of Stuka dive-bombers attacking the little ships in the channel off the beaches of Dunkirk. Fortunately though, Liverpool had some high calibre defensive guns in Alisson, Gomez and the outstanding, Virgil van Djke.
‘Time!!’ we all roared as Alisson at last got hold of the ball, with seconds remaining. Do you think he listened to us – did he heck as like as he kicked the ball high and long to Salah, who was lucky to still be on the pitch, as he had lost countless balls. However, Super Mo held this ball up. Then he only left two United players in his wake as he sped off towards the Kop End. De Gea came out to the edge of the area and Mo Salah only nutmegged him and finished United off with a low powerful finish into the bottom left-hand corner of De Gea’s net!
This time, this time, I did not care, all hell broke loose as I went nuts, jumping off the sofa, again and just celebrating in ecstasy….
I think half the street heard – never mind poor baby Kelsey, as the realisation kicked-in that we were at last on the verge of beating our most hated of enemies, in such dramatic fashion.
‘That’s not offside!!’ one of the boys shouted in joy.
Then we heard it, heard it for the first time, and as I write this it is giving me goose-bumps, with me now trying to fight back the emotion, as the Kop began daring to sing a thirty – year-old hit.
It felt fantastic – one day, hopefully, I will be able to sing it, along with the fat-lady, who is now perhaps putting her make-up on and flicking through her wardrobe, with a view to maybe, performing and saying, ‘Now, what jewellery shall I wear with my red dress and red shoes…’
20/1/20.
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