i hope this has not already been posted but if it has im sure some of you regulars will let me know, but as a parent of a 6 year old who lives outside the city limits of the great city of liverpool i am sure alot of you dads can relate to this story which i found on another site so here goes
"Dad? I want to support Man United."
Mid-September 2010. After finishing 7th last season, I’m struggling to convince my two boys that Liverpool are the greatest club in the world. And now, under Hodgson’s guidance and the increasingly worrying Hicks/Gillett ownership, my job is getting more difficult. I arrive home from work one day, and my 9-year-old approaches me sheepishly.
“Dad? I don’t want to support Liverpool anymore. I want to support Man United.” Six words that any LFC-supporting father dreads.
“Me too!” chips in my 7-year-old, helpfully.
“Why?” I reply calmly, struggling to hide the panic and anger bubbling up inside.
“Everyone at school supports Man United, and I don’t want to be the odd-one-out.” It’s true. We live in Surrey, a few miles from Chelsea’s training ground, and about 15 miles from Stamford Bridge. Chelsea run the local soccer schools. And yet the kids support United.
Unfortunately, my anger gets the better of me. “Well, you have a simple choice to make boys. Either you can support Man United, or you can have a Dad.” This sends them running to Mum, and you can imagine the trouble I’m in.
Once calm returns to the house, chastised, I try a different approach. “Well you can’t support Man United can you boys? Remember the first rule of football: You can only support the team your Dad supports, or your local team.” I’d taken them to see Reading when they were in the Premier League, including the time they beat Liverpool. But they got bored when I took them to Championship games, and they’d lost interest. “It’s got to be Liverpool or Reading.”
“Reading? They’re rubbish”, declares my youngest.
“Well it’s got to be Liverpool then”, I say, in a matter-of-fact kind of way.
“Reading aren’t our only local team you know”, offers my eldest kindly. Unfortunately geography is one of his stronger subjects. “If I can’t support Man United, I want to support Chelsea.”
“Fulham are closer”, I reply confidently, not sure if it’s true.
“Fulham? They’re rubbish”, declares my youngest, again.
I’m really panicking now. “OK, you can support Liverpool and either Arsenal or Tottenham for a bit, until Liverpool improve. They both play good football and are both only a bit further away than Chelsea.”
“I’m going to support Liverpool, Man United, Chelsea, Arsenal and Tottenham” declares my youngest.
“Then you’ll have a very successful season”, I mutter.
“I’ll do you a deal”, offers my eldest. Always doing deals. “I’ll support Liverpool and Man United until the end of the season, and then decide.”
With Liverpool still in the picture for both of them, I decide to leave it there for the time-being. Let them go on a journey of discovery - plenty of time to steer them back onto the righteous path before the end of the season. “Deal”, I agree.
“But…” continues my eldest, “if Liverpool drop into the relegation zone, I’m supporting Man United”.
“Relegation zone?!” I laugh. Never in my lifetime. Never. “Alright boys, no problem. You don’t have to support Liverpool if we drop into the relegation zone.”
3rd October 2010. Home to Blackpool, absolute banker – home win, 99 times out of 100. Even a draw will keep us out of the relegation zone, so absolutely no worries at all.
Of course you know what happens. Total humiliation. The most humiliating defeat at Anfield since…. well, since Northampton won there 11 days earlier. My boys see the result, and I pray they won’t see the table.
“Dad, Dad, Liverpool are in the relegation zone! You said we don’t have to support them if they’re in the relegation zone! Yeessss!!!”
We don’t play again for two weeks, and they’re two of the worst weeks of my life. On top of everything else, Liverpool face administration and probable relegation if they can’t sell the club. I seriously wonder if the club I’ve loved for my whole life is dying before me.
The week of 11th to 15th October I can’t sleep properly or focus on work. I sit at my desk clicking the refresh button on the live news feeds a hundred times a day. Finally on 15th October, just an hour or two before the deadline, the LFC board burst out of the High Court declaring victory. The club can be sold to NESV. I should feel euphoric, but I’m broken, exhausted, and slump on my desk, numb with relief.
Confident that Liverpool will climb back up the table, I explain to my boys how Liverpool will now be great again, and sit back and wait for the victories to roll in. But of course, they don’t. Week after week I pray for Liverpool victories, while at the same time a shameful part of me hopes we lose so that Hodgson will be sacked.
For the first time I wonder if I’m being cruel, insisting my boys support Liverpool. Then I bump into a mate who has his son dressed in a Brentford shirt. Immediately, I know that encouraging them to support Liverpool is one of the greatest gifts I can ever give to them. I just need to bide my time.
In mid-December we lose to Newcastle, and I tell my boys that Hodgson will be sacked the next day. Then we lose to Wolves at Anfield, and I tell my boys that Hodgson will definitely, definitely, be sacked the next day. They find my pain hilarious. Then on 5th January we lose to Blackburn, and finally the axe falls.
8th January 2011. Liverpool announce that King Kenny will return as manager until the end of the season. Now, I’ve loved Kenny my whole life. Two years ago, in an interview for a business magazine, I told them Kenny Dalglish was my inspiration, because no-one has achieved so much as both a team player and a Manager. But I have my reservations. If he can still do it, why has he been out of management for so long? Anyway, I can’t let my boys know my concerns. This is too good a chance to miss.
“Kenny Dalglish? He is such an old man”, offers my eldest generously.
“Right”, I said. “Both of you wait there.”
I went upstairs and fetched Kenny’s autobiography and my LFC history books. “Right. Guess how many league titles Kenny has won.” I didn’t wait for an answer. “Nine. Nine league titles. And, and three European Cups.” They sat there with their mouths open, catching flies.
Finally my eldest spoke. “Yeah, he was a good player but that doesn’t make him a good manager, does it?”
I smiled. “Well, he was Liverpool manager for five years. In his first season, he won the league title and the FA Cup. Not only that, but he also played 29 games that season, and scored the winning goal at Chelsea to win the title on the final day of the season.”
“What? You can’t be a player and a Manager at the same time.”
“Kenny could. And in those five years, he won the title three times. Then he went to Blackburn, and won the title for them too. Blackburn! So do you think he’s a good Manager?”
“Yeah! Brilliant.”
The next day, and Kenny’s first match is away at Old Trafford. I fear the worst. My boys cheer when United score just to wind me up, but I can tell they’re not sure who they want to win. Our performance overall is much improved so I feel quietly optimistic about the future.
During the next few weeks, Liverpool gradually improve and we get some victories under our belt. I subliminally try to influence my boys by leaving Liverpool scarves and pennants around the house, and put a picture of Kenny in a frame next to the TV. I leave their Match Attax collection album open at the Liverpool page after they go to bed, and I tell them all the transfer rumours about the players that the new owners may be buying for us. They increasingly play as Liverpool on PES, and beg to stay up to watch the first-half of our televised evening games.
Then at the end of January a set-back. They love Gerrard and Torres, and all of a sudden it seems Torres may be going to Chelsea. I quickly go into damage limitation mode, reminding them how bad Torres has been for a year or more. He goes, and I quietly remove their posters of him while they are out. I show them a video of new-signing Luis Suarez on YouTube, and they watch Carra stop Torres getting anywhere near our goal as Liverpool thrillingly beat Chelsea. Torres is forgotten, and Liverpool’s good form continues.
6th March 2011. Liverpool versus United, and a true test of their loyalties. They join me on the sofa at kick-off, each with a Liverpool scarf draped around their neck. I’m happy but nervous. Are we good enough yet to beat United? As the game progresses, my nerves ease. We’re playing well. Then, with his back to goal, Suarez takes his first giant step to becoming a Liverpool Legend. He suddenly spins between two defenders, beats a third, and rolls the ball under the on-rushing keeper. Kuyt taps it in, and me and my boys go wild. Before half-time it’s 2-0, and we’re all delighted. Half way through the second half, and a fantastic Suarez free-kick is parried into the path of Kuyt, who hammers it into the net. The boys leap on me and I find myself twirling around the living room, one of them held high in each arm, their arms raised, fingertips touching the ceiling.
“Kuyt’s got a hat-trick, Kuyt’s got a hat-trick – against Man United!” they scream in delight, and I know our journey is complete. For the first time in months I can hold my head up high and walk on, with hope in my heart.
Support United, or have a Dad? Boys, You’ll NEVER Walk Alone.
"Dad? I want to support Man United."
Mid-September 2010. After finishing 7th last season, I’m struggling to convince my two boys that Liverpool are the greatest club in the world. And now, under Hodgson’s guidance and the increasingly worrying Hicks/Gillett ownership, my job is getting more difficult. I arrive home from work one day, and my 9-year-old approaches me sheepishly.
“Dad? I don’t want to support Liverpool anymore. I want to support Man United.” Six words that any LFC-supporting father dreads.
“Me too!” chips in my 7-year-old, helpfully.
“Why?” I reply calmly, struggling to hide the panic and anger bubbling up inside.
“Everyone at school supports Man United, and I don’t want to be the odd-one-out.” It’s true. We live in Surrey, a few miles from Chelsea’s training ground, and about 15 miles from Stamford Bridge. Chelsea run the local soccer schools. And yet the kids support United.
Unfortunately, my anger gets the better of me. “Well, you have a simple choice to make boys. Either you can support Man United, or you can have a Dad.” This sends them running to Mum, and you can imagine the trouble I’m in.
Once calm returns to the house, chastised, I try a different approach. “Well you can’t support Man United can you boys? Remember the first rule of football: You can only support the team your Dad supports, or your local team.” I’d taken them to see Reading when they were in the Premier League, including the time they beat Liverpool. But they got bored when I took them to Championship games, and they’d lost interest. “It’s got to be Liverpool or Reading.”
“Reading? They’re rubbish”, declares my youngest.
“Well it’s got to be Liverpool then”, I say, in a matter-of-fact kind of way.
“Reading aren’t our only local team you know”, offers my eldest kindly. Unfortunately geography is one of his stronger subjects. “If I can’t support Man United, I want to support Chelsea.”
“Fulham are closer”, I reply confidently, not sure if it’s true.
“Fulham? They’re rubbish”, declares my youngest, again.
I’m really panicking now. “OK, you can support Liverpool and either Arsenal or Tottenham for a bit, until Liverpool improve. They both play good football and are both only a bit further away than Chelsea.”
“I’m going to support Liverpool, Man United, Chelsea, Arsenal and Tottenham” declares my youngest.
“Then you’ll have a very successful season”, I mutter.
“I’ll do you a deal”, offers my eldest. Always doing deals. “I’ll support Liverpool and Man United until the end of the season, and then decide.”
With Liverpool still in the picture for both of them, I decide to leave it there for the time-being. Let them go on a journey of discovery - plenty of time to steer them back onto the righteous path before the end of the season. “Deal”, I agree.
“But…” continues my eldest, “if Liverpool drop into the relegation zone, I’m supporting Man United”.
“Relegation zone?!” I laugh. Never in my lifetime. Never. “Alright boys, no problem. You don’t have to support Liverpool if we drop into the relegation zone.”
3rd October 2010. Home to Blackpool, absolute banker – home win, 99 times out of 100. Even a draw will keep us out of the relegation zone, so absolutely no worries at all.
Of course you know what happens. Total humiliation. The most humiliating defeat at Anfield since…. well, since Northampton won there 11 days earlier. My boys see the result, and I pray they won’t see the table.
“Dad, Dad, Liverpool are in the relegation zone! You said we don’t have to support them if they’re in the relegation zone! Yeessss!!!”
We don’t play again for two weeks, and they’re two of the worst weeks of my life. On top of everything else, Liverpool face administration and probable relegation if they can’t sell the club. I seriously wonder if the club I’ve loved for my whole life is dying before me.
The week of 11th to 15th October I can’t sleep properly or focus on work. I sit at my desk clicking the refresh button on the live news feeds a hundred times a day. Finally on 15th October, just an hour or two before the deadline, the LFC board burst out of the High Court declaring victory. The club can be sold to NESV. I should feel euphoric, but I’m broken, exhausted, and slump on my desk, numb with relief.
Confident that Liverpool will climb back up the table, I explain to my boys how Liverpool will now be great again, and sit back and wait for the victories to roll in. But of course, they don’t. Week after week I pray for Liverpool victories, while at the same time a shameful part of me hopes we lose so that Hodgson will be sacked.
For the first time I wonder if I’m being cruel, insisting my boys support Liverpool. Then I bump into a mate who has his son dressed in a Brentford shirt. Immediately, I know that encouraging them to support Liverpool is one of the greatest gifts I can ever give to them. I just need to bide my time.
In mid-December we lose to Newcastle, and I tell my boys that Hodgson will be sacked the next day. Then we lose to Wolves at Anfield, and I tell my boys that Hodgson will definitely, definitely, be sacked the next day. They find my pain hilarious. Then on 5th January we lose to Blackburn, and finally the axe falls.
8th January 2011. Liverpool announce that King Kenny will return as manager until the end of the season. Now, I’ve loved Kenny my whole life. Two years ago, in an interview for a business magazine, I told them Kenny Dalglish was my inspiration, because no-one has achieved so much as both a team player and a Manager. But I have my reservations. If he can still do it, why has he been out of management for so long? Anyway, I can’t let my boys know my concerns. This is too good a chance to miss.
“Kenny Dalglish? He is such an old man”, offers my eldest generously.
“Right”, I said. “Both of you wait there.”
I went upstairs and fetched Kenny’s autobiography and my LFC history books. “Right. Guess how many league titles Kenny has won.” I didn’t wait for an answer. “Nine. Nine league titles. And, and three European Cups.” They sat there with their mouths open, catching flies.
Finally my eldest spoke. “Yeah, he was a good player but that doesn’t make him a good manager, does it?”
I smiled. “Well, he was Liverpool manager for five years. In his first season, he won the league title and the FA Cup. Not only that, but he also played 29 games that season, and scored the winning goal at Chelsea to win the title on the final day of the season.”
“What? You can’t be a player and a Manager at the same time.”
“Kenny could. And in those five years, he won the title three times. Then he went to Blackburn, and won the title for them too. Blackburn! So do you think he’s a good Manager?”
“Yeah! Brilliant.”
The next day, and Kenny’s first match is away at Old Trafford. I fear the worst. My boys cheer when United score just to wind me up, but I can tell they’re not sure who they want to win. Our performance overall is much improved so I feel quietly optimistic about the future.
During the next few weeks, Liverpool gradually improve and we get some victories under our belt. I subliminally try to influence my boys by leaving Liverpool scarves and pennants around the house, and put a picture of Kenny in a frame next to the TV. I leave their Match Attax collection album open at the Liverpool page after they go to bed, and I tell them all the transfer rumours about the players that the new owners may be buying for us. They increasingly play as Liverpool on PES, and beg to stay up to watch the first-half of our televised evening games.
Then at the end of January a set-back. They love Gerrard and Torres, and all of a sudden it seems Torres may be going to Chelsea. I quickly go into damage limitation mode, reminding them how bad Torres has been for a year or more. He goes, and I quietly remove their posters of him while they are out. I show them a video of new-signing Luis Suarez on YouTube, and they watch Carra stop Torres getting anywhere near our goal as Liverpool thrillingly beat Chelsea. Torres is forgotten, and Liverpool’s good form continues.
6th March 2011. Liverpool versus United, and a true test of their loyalties. They join me on the sofa at kick-off, each with a Liverpool scarf draped around their neck. I’m happy but nervous. Are we good enough yet to beat United? As the game progresses, my nerves ease. We’re playing well. Then, with his back to goal, Suarez takes his first giant step to becoming a Liverpool Legend. He suddenly spins between two defenders, beats a third, and rolls the ball under the on-rushing keeper. Kuyt taps it in, and me and my boys go wild. Before half-time it’s 2-0, and we’re all delighted. Half way through the second half, and a fantastic Suarez free-kick is parried into the path of Kuyt, who hammers it into the net. The boys leap on me and I find myself twirling around the living room, one of them held high in each arm, their arms raised, fingertips touching the ceiling.
“Kuyt’s got a hat-trick, Kuyt’s got a hat-trick – against Man United!” they scream in delight, and I know our journey is complete. For the first time in months I can hold my head up high and walk on, with hope in my heart.
Support United, or have a Dad? Boys, You’ll NEVER Walk Alone.
FFS - Why didn't I think of that -
RAFA 
Comment