Madonna, complete with conical brassiere (or had she just completely given up on underwear at that stage?) was not talking about being a football fan when she sang about justifying her love. But she could have been.
Justifying your love of, and right to support, Liverpool FC should not be necessary. But unfortunately many people are made to feel that it is. How much of a fan are you?
Being a 'real' fan is something everyone feels pressure to justify at some point. Even those who haven't missed a game for five years will feel condescended to by those who haven't missed one for six years.
Somehow there's nothing worse in football than being a 'fake' of 'fair-weather' fan. So your birthplace is examined, your dedication called into question, your motives scrutinised.
I've always maintained that, by way of legacy and heritage, Liverpool Football Club 'belongs' to Liverpudlians. But it 'belongs' in a sense that means it is open to share with everyone; it is not an exclusive club. Anyone can join.
What's clear is that Liverpool FC would not have become a global phenomena without first relying on the locals who followed the club from its inception in 1892, and who supported it through both the initial league titles and the dark days of the old Second Division; those who gave Bill Shankly the ammunition to help inspire the team. Without such passionate and loyal support, the club may well have floundered half a century ago, and become another Blackpool.
But what's equally clear is that modern day Liverpool relies on the contribution from its global fan-base on top of those from Merseyside. You cannot separate the two.
Liverpool's finances over the past few decades have been considerably boosted by those buying shirts and official merchandise around the world, subscribing to its services, flying in for games at Anfield, and generally helping to keep the name of Liverpool FC important around the world –– particularly when trophies were almost nowhere to be seen in the '90s, and qualification for the Champions League proved completely elusive.
It could be argued that Liverpool FC without so many fans spread far and wide across the world would be, er ... Everton.
Same city, similar size ground, and also at the pinnacle of English football in the mid-'80s (before football's exposure grew to new levels a few years later), but for them only one trophy, back in 1995, in the last 20 years. Perhaps Liverpool might not have recovered from a similarly dark '90s without the might that comes with being such a massively supported club? With such support, Liverpool FC can transcend its geography.
Evertonians are proud that they see their support as being pure in terms of local appeal. There's nothing to suggest there are more Evertonians than Liverpudlians on Merseyside, but Liverpool FC is simply that much more appealing to followers of football beyond the north-west, and everyone should be proud of just why it's so attractive.
In the harshest terms, Everton are local and parochial; Liverpool are both local and global.
I understand the need for fans' forums like Reclaim The Kop, because there are traditions to uphold at Anfield, and a friendly education into the dos and donts is important; I was lucky in that I got mine from my mate and his London-based Liverpudlian family, with whom I started travelling to games in the early '90s. Not everyone from beyond the city gets such a natural education.
My motivation for writing my new book, 'Above Us Only Sky', was to look at how the club has transformed into a worldwide phenomenon, on the pitch, behind the scenes and in terms of fan-base.
As well as looking into the American owners, continental coaching staff and a plethora of overseas playing talent (allied to those locals in key roles), I wanted to examine what the club means to people from far and wide: to those from Liverpool, and to those from Timbuktu. (Okay, so I didn't speak to any actual Timbuktu Reds, but I'm sure they exist in Momo Sissoko's homeland.)
When I fell in love with Liverpool, aged seven or eight, I knew no different. Perhaps I was a glory-hunter, as at the time Liverpool were successful, and thus on my TV screen a lot. I didn't go looking for them; as a southerner, they came to me, in what seemed a very natural way. I'm sure the same thing happened to kids in Norway, Australia and Malaysia, as Liverpool entered their living rooms.
By the time I was old enough to understand what being a fan meant, I was already hooked; there was no way of swapping my allegiance.
And by the time I was going to games, from 1990 onwards, the glory had dissipated, replaced by the rather inglorious Souness era, followed by the Evans' years, which produced some very fine football but ultimately delivered only one League Cup. I was lucky enough to still be going every week during the Treble season, so I did at least get to enjoy the best of the Houllier years, after a difficult start and before the wheels fell off.
I don't know if it makes me 'more' of a fan to have spent a decade going regularly to games both home and away (including some in Europe), but to my mind it made me a better fan from a personal point of view. It subsequently helped me appreciate the good times we've experienced this decade - such as Istanbul and even Athens, the likes of which I never expected to see - and to know that even the bad times have been considerably better than many of those I sat through.
I think regular match-goers feel they are making a much bigger sacrifice, and see those who watch at home as taking the easy option. In some ways it's true, in that if you've paid to watch, and paid and spent time travelling, you've put your money and time on the line, and that counts for something; but that doesn't mean those who are not present haven't tried to be there, or wouldn't wish to be there if they could. It doesn't mean they don't care.
Perhaps the most dedicated fans don't allow life to get in the way of their support for the Reds, but many of us cannot detach the realities of our lives to give us the freedom to follow the team far and wide.
And watching a game on TV or listening on the radio is not necessarily the easy option. I know I feel far happier and far more in control when I'm at a game. I can see everything, and have a sense that I can influence things as part of the crowd. I can also feel the safety and security of being a member of the masses.
I find my right to write about the club on this 'official' platform is often called into question by some Reds. And I understand why: no single person can talk to, or represent, every different 'kind' of fan out there, or pander to everyone's taste or opinions.
Others may disagree, as is their prerogative, but I feel I earned the right by writing, over several years, hundreds of unpaid articles for a number of fan sites, purely for the love of doing so. The right to express my opinion did not just fall into my lap because I wrote my first book. I 'paid my dues' for a long time first.
However, I have never felt of myself as a spokesperson for the fans; just the voice of this one particular fan (and occasionally for some of the other voices in my head, not to mention the one rather strange voice from the back of my wardrobe, which keeps trying to get me to say that Phil Neville is a footballing genius).
Regular readers will be aware that I mention that I suffer with M.E. from time to time, for which I'm also criticised. However, I mention it to explain my situation regarding writing about Liverpool despite no longer being able to get to many games (or, as I explained last week, being unable to appear on TV when invited to, when in that very piece I was criticising some of those who do appear on TV; I don't wish to appear hypocritical).
Being ill, combined with having partial access to my five-year-old son (Saturdays and midweek), means getting to games is a big deal, whereas ten years ago I had no such worries, even though I lived much further from Liverpool at the time. I need a very good reason to sacrifice my time with my son, as well as help getting to those games I do go attend. So these days it's more of a treat than a weekly occurrence.
It does give me a wry smile that often the same people who moan about me mentioning my illness are the ones who moan that 'he doesn't go to the game'. I'm well beyond realising that some people will never let you win, whatever you say.
I would like people to appreciate that I'm not a casual fan who opts out of going - but if people can't grasp that fact, then frankly that's their problem, not mine. I am at ease with myself in terms of how I support the club, but it took a while to get to this point.
My life is what it is. And despite some difficulties, there are also plenty of things for which I feel grateful. Sometimes you have to accept the bad and appreciate the good. I do miss going to games every week, but being a father is something you cannot go back on, and nor would I wish to.
Ideally I'd be able to juggle my time and energy between my son, my girlfriend and going to matches in the way I used to, and still be able to write about the latter in order to make a living. But it's not an ideal world.
So if people want to worry about who is a better fan than whom, that's their business. But ultimately it's rather facile. So long as you're not harming anyone else (including the club's reputation), being a fan is about what it means to you. Nothing else.
These days I put the people in my life who rely on me before football. Does that make me less of a fan? Perhaps. But maybe it makes me more of a human being.
Justifying your love of, and right to support, Liverpool FC should not be necessary. But unfortunately many people are made to feel that it is. How much of a fan are you?
Being a 'real' fan is something everyone feels pressure to justify at some point. Even those who haven't missed a game for five years will feel condescended to by those who haven't missed one for six years.
Somehow there's nothing worse in football than being a 'fake' of 'fair-weather' fan. So your birthplace is examined, your dedication called into question, your motives scrutinised.
I've always maintained that, by way of legacy and heritage, Liverpool Football Club 'belongs' to Liverpudlians. But it 'belongs' in a sense that means it is open to share with everyone; it is not an exclusive club. Anyone can join.
What's clear is that Liverpool FC would not have become a global phenomena without first relying on the locals who followed the club from its inception in 1892, and who supported it through both the initial league titles and the dark days of the old Second Division; those who gave Bill Shankly the ammunition to help inspire the team. Without such passionate and loyal support, the club may well have floundered half a century ago, and become another Blackpool.
But what's equally clear is that modern day Liverpool relies on the contribution from its global fan-base on top of those from Merseyside. You cannot separate the two.
Liverpool's finances over the past few decades have been considerably boosted by those buying shirts and official merchandise around the world, subscribing to its services, flying in for games at Anfield, and generally helping to keep the name of Liverpool FC important around the world –– particularly when trophies were almost nowhere to be seen in the '90s, and qualification for the Champions League proved completely elusive.
It could be argued that Liverpool FC without so many fans spread far and wide across the world would be, er ... Everton.
Same city, similar size ground, and also at the pinnacle of English football in the mid-'80s (before football's exposure grew to new levels a few years later), but for them only one trophy, back in 1995, in the last 20 years. Perhaps Liverpool might not have recovered from a similarly dark '90s without the might that comes with being such a massively supported club? With such support, Liverpool FC can transcend its geography.
Evertonians are proud that they see their support as being pure in terms of local appeal. There's nothing to suggest there are more Evertonians than Liverpudlians on Merseyside, but Liverpool FC is simply that much more appealing to followers of football beyond the north-west, and everyone should be proud of just why it's so attractive.
In the harshest terms, Everton are local and parochial; Liverpool are both local and global.
I understand the need for fans' forums like Reclaim The Kop, because there are traditions to uphold at Anfield, and a friendly education into the dos and donts is important; I was lucky in that I got mine from my mate and his London-based Liverpudlian family, with whom I started travelling to games in the early '90s. Not everyone from beyond the city gets such a natural education.
My motivation for writing my new book, 'Above Us Only Sky', was to look at how the club has transformed into a worldwide phenomenon, on the pitch, behind the scenes and in terms of fan-base.
As well as looking into the American owners, continental coaching staff and a plethora of overseas playing talent (allied to those locals in key roles), I wanted to examine what the club means to people from far and wide: to those from Liverpool, and to those from Timbuktu. (Okay, so I didn't speak to any actual Timbuktu Reds, but I'm sure they exist in Momo Sissoko's homeland.)
When I fell in love with Liverpool, aged seven or eight, I knew no different. Perhaps I was a glory-hunter, as at the time Liverpool were successful, and thus on my TV screen a lot. I didn't go looking for them; as a southerner, they came to me, in what seemed a very natural way. I'm sure the same thing happened to kids in Norway, Australia and Malaysia, as Liverpool entered their living rooms.
By the time I was old enough to understand what being a fan meant, I was already hooked; there was no way of swapping my allegiance.
And by the time I was going to games, from 1990 onwards, the glory had dissipated, replaced by the rather inglorious Souness era, followed by the Evans' years, which produced some very fine football but ultimately delivered only one League Cup. I was lucky enough to still be going every week during the Treble season, so I did at least get to enjoy the best of the Houllier years, after a difficult start and before the wheels fell off.
I don't know if it makes me 'more' of a fan to have spent a decade going regularly to games both home and away (including some in Europe), but to my mind it made me a better fan from a personal point of view. It subsequently helped me appreciate the good times we've experienced this decade - such as Istanbul and even Athens, the likes of which I never expected to see - and to know that even the bad times have been considerably better than many of those I sat through.
I think regular match-goers feel they are making a much bigger sacrifice, and see those who watch at home as taking the easy option. In some ways it's true, in that if you've paid to watch, and paid and spent time travelling, you've put your money and time on the line, and that counts for something; but that doesn't mean those who are not present haven't tried to be there, or wouldn't wish to be there if they could. It doesn't mean they don't care.
Perhaps the most dedicated fans don't allow life to get in the way of their support for the Reds, but many of us cannot detach the realities of our lives to give us the freedom to follow the team far and wide.
And watching a game on TV or listening on the radio is not necessarily the easy option. I know I feel far happier and far more in control when I'm at a game. I can see everything, and have a sense that I can influence things as part of the crowd. I can also feel the safety and security of being a member of the masses.
I find my right to write about the club on this 'official' platform is often called into question by some Reds. And I understand why: no single person can talk to, or represent, every different 'kind' of fan out there, or pander to everyone's taste or opinions.
Others may disagree, as is their prerogative, but I feel I earned the right by writing, over several years, hundreds of unpaid articles for a number of fan sites, purely for the love of doing so. The right to express my opinion did not just fall into my lap because I wrote my first book. I 'paid my dues' for a long time first.
However, I have never felt of myself as a spokesperson for the fans; just the voice of this one particular fan (and occasionally for some of the other voices in my head, not to mention the one rather strange voice from the back of my wardrobe, which keeps trying to get me to say that Phil Neville is a footballing genius).
Regular readers will be aware that I mention that I suffer with M.E. from time to time, for which I'm also criticised. However, I mention it to explain my situation regarding writing about Liverpool despite no longer being able to get to many games (or, as I explained last week, being unable to appear on TV when invited to, when in that very piece I was criticising some of those who do appear on TV; I don't wish to appear hypocritical).
Being ill, combined with having partial access to my five-year-old son (Saturdays and midweek), means getting to games is a big deal, whereas ten years ago I had no such worries, even though I lived much further from Liverpool at the time. I need a very good reason to sacrifice my time with my son, as well as help getting to those games I do go attend. So these days it's more of a treat than a weekly occurrence.
It does give me a wry smile that often the same people who moan about me mentioning my illness are the ones who moan that 'he doesn't go to the game'. I'm well beyond realising that some people will never let you win, whatever you say.
I would like people to appreciate that I'm not a casual fan who opts out of going - but if people can't grasp that fact, then frankly that's their problem, not mine. I am at ease with myself in terms of how I support the club, but it took a while to get to this point.
My life is what it is. And despite some difficulties, there are also plenty of things for which I feel grateful. Sometimes you have to accept the bad and appreciate the good. I do miss going to games every week, but being a father is something you cannot go back on, and nor would I wish to.
Ideally I'd be able to juggle my time and energy between my son, my girlfriend and going to matches in the way I used to, and still be able to write about the latter in order to make a living. But it's not an ideal world.
So if people want to worry about who is a better fan than whom, that's their business. But ultimately it's rather facile. So long as you're not harming anyone else (including the club's reputation), being a fan is about what it means to you. Nothing else.
These days I put the people in my life who rely on me before football. Does that make me less of a fan? Perhaps. But maybe it makes me more of a human being.
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