"Pints and Pool"

[Cormack74]

Sean me old mucker, great thread here is my story

My most poignant football story is the last football game I watched with my father, the Istanbul Champions Lg Final. My relationship with my Father like his relationship with his father was strained at the best of times. We seemed like two different men from almost different class’s and in many ways we were. Growing up I had no interest in football what so ever. I could not tell you who won the world cup, I know this because under caution at a police station in the company of my father, I was asked this question, when the police man accused me of having selective memory, I said Italy, that was not the right answer apparently.

My Dad was a Leeds fan, we are similar in the fact that both of us do not support Man United which 99% of our very large family in Dublin do. He spent some time in Leeds, in his young days working and I think that was why he supported them. They may very well have been the team of the day back then also.

As I got older I meddled with supporting Nottingham Forest because even though I had no interest in football there was a time when they were the sexy team to support. Somewhere around roughly the Roy Evans, Houllier era I increasingly started to take more of an interest in Liverpool. I think in the Spice boys days I started to identify as a Liverpool fan, but being able to see the game back in those days was not easy. They were on the box sporadically and usually on Sky in the pub and I did not quite like them enough to take time out to watch the games.
Truly it was only when I moved to Hong Kong 23 years ago and how every single game is on live here that I became fanatically about Liverpool and then football in general. Ultimately much more so than my father ever was.

Back in the day, my Dad would have his Sunday roast, a pint of beer and watch Match of the Day. It was his Sunday Mass, I remember distinctly thinking to myself I just do not get that at all. Today I do the very same thing, Only its Sunday morning not afternoon and its buckets of coffee instead. The closet we have ever been, is when we spoke about football. It was the one area I think I felt he truly respected what I had to say because in his later years he knew I watched so much of it. I remember watching the only game live with him was I think the FA cup game which was against O Learys Babes and they were flying high in Europe, I still think we ran out winners and we shared a rare genuine moment. Knowing how much I loved Liverpool, my Dad bought me a Treble wining t shirt, which to this day I cherish and I am not in the slightest bit sentimental. I have very special military medals, his prized gold ring with our shared name which he wore every day of his life and various other special trinkets, but its that tattered Liverpool Treble T Shirt that he bought for me that I cherish, because he knew how much I loved Liverpool and in many ways it meant one of the handful of times in our lifes together, he saw me.

My father died of cancer early May 2005. I was lucky I managed to fly home from Hong Kong, just in time to spend one more night with him. My father was a hard man, respected everywhere he went. At his funeral the church was full to capacity and outside the carpark was full of people. He coached Gaelic football, he knew people on many sides of town, politicians, gangsters, old ladies, young lads playing football, they all knew him very well, but I felt like they all knew him a lot more than I ever had.

That night before he died, we had a vigil by his bedside, my Mother and 3 sisters were asleep and I held my once strong man father in my arms like a baby and comforted him. He died the next day.

Over the following weeks, the usual stuff that happens around funerals happened and eventually things settled down. I rarely if ever shed a tear, I don’t believe in goodbyes and in my mind I know I will see him again. But the last time I spent with him was watching the Champions Lg final together, Me and his Urn of Ashes, two cans of beer opened for for him and quite a few for me.

Half time came around, we were 3 nil down and as god is my witness to use phrase my mother uses a lot, I said if you are up there, show me 2nd half, that’s my sign you are there.

When we eventually won, I cried for 20 minutes but I cried for my father not for my team and then and everyday since then together we never walk alone.

Well in Nicey, thanks for putting it out there.

[Peter_Griffin]

Sean me old mucker, great thread here is my story

My most poignant football story is the last football game I watched with my father, the Istanbul Champions Lg Final. My relationship with my Father like his relationship with his father was strained at the best of times. We seemed like two different men from almost different class’s and in many ways we were. Growing up I had no interest in football what so ever. I could not tell you who won the world cup, I know this because under caution at a police station in the company of my father, I was asked this question, when the police man accused me of having selective memory, I said Italy, that was not the right answer apparently.

My Dad was a Leeds fan, we are similar in the fact that both of us do not support Man United which 99% of our very large family in Dublin do. He spent some time in Leeds, in his young days working and I think that was why he supported them. They may very well have been the team of the day back then also.

As I got older I meddled with supporting Nottingham Forest because even though I had no interest in football there was a time when they were the sexy team to support. Somewhere around roughly the Roy Evans, Houllier era I increasingly started to take more of an interest in Liverpool. I think in the Spice boys days I started to identify as a Liverpool fan, but being able to see the game back in those days was not easy. They were on the box sporadically and usually on Sky in the pub and I did not quite like them enough to take time out to watch the games.
Truly it was only when I moved to Hong Kong 23 years ago and how every single game is on live here that I became fanatically about Liverpool and then football in general. Ultimately much more so than my father ever was.

Back in the day, my Dad would have his Sunday roast, a pint of beer and watch Match of the Day. It was his Sunday Mass, I remember distinctly thinking to myself I just do not get that at all. Today I do the very same thing, Only its Sunday morning not afternoon and its buckets of coffee instead. The closet we have ever been, is when we spoke about football. It was the one area I think I felt he truly respected what I had to say because in his later years he knew I watched so much of it. I remember watching the only game live with him was I think the FA cup game which was against O Learys Babes and they were flying high in Europe, I still think we ran out winners and we shared a rare genuine moment. Knowing how much I loved Liverpool, my Dad bought me a Treble wining t shirt, which to this day I cherish and I am not in the slightest bit sentimental. I have very special military medals, his prized gold ring with our shared name which he wore every day of his life and various other special trinkets, but its that tattered Liverpool Treble T Shirt that he bought for me that I cherish, because he knew how much I loved Liverpool and in many ways it meant one of the handful of times in our lifes together, he saw me.

My father died of cancer early May 2005. I was lucky I managed to fly home from Hong Kong, just in time to spend one more night with him. My father was a hard man, respected everywhere he went. At his funeral the church was full to capacity and outside the carpark was full of people. He coached Gaelic football, he knew people on many sides of town, politicians, gangsters, old ladies, young lads playing football, they all knew him very well, but I felt like they all knew him a lot more than I ever had.

That night before he died, we had a vigil by his bedside, my Mother and 3 sisters were asleep and I held my once strong man father in my arms like a baby and comforted him. He died the next day.

Over the following weeks, the usual stuff that happens around funerals happened and eventually things settled down. I rarely if ever shed a tear, I don’t believe in goodbyes and in my mind I know I will see him again. But the last time I spent with him was watching the Champions Lg final together, Me and his Urn of Ashes, two cans of beer opened for for him and quite a few for me.

Half time came around, we were 3 nil down and as god is my witness to use phrase my mother uses a lot, I said if you are up there, show me 2nd half, that’s my sign you are there.

When we eventually won, I cried for 20 minutes but I cried for my father not for my team and then and everyday since then together we never walk alone.

This is an amazing, lovely story. I’ve just shed a tear for you and your old man.

YNWA

[baitman]

Half time came around, we were 3 nil down and as god is my witness to use phrase my mother uses a lot, I said if you are up there, show me 2nd half, that’s my sign you are there.

When we eventually won, I cried for 20 minutes but I cried for my father not for my team and then and everyday since then together we never walk alone.

Aww ffs, filling up here

[frank the tank]

Sean me old mucker, great thread here is my story

My most poignant football story is the last football game I watched with my father, the Istanbul Champions Lg Final. My relationship with my Father like his relationship with his father was strained at the best of times. We seemed like two different men from almost different class’s and in many ways we were. Growing up I had no interest in football what so ever. I could not tell you who won the world cup, I know this because under caution at a police station in the company of my father, I was asked this question, when the police man accused me of having selective memory, I said Italy, that was not the right answer apparently.

My Dad was a Leeds fan, we are similar in the fact that both of us do not support Man United which 99% of our very large family in Dublin do. He spent some time in Leeds, in his young days working and I think that was why he supported them. They may very well have been the team of the day back then also.

As I got older I meddled with supporting Nottingham Forest because even though I had no interest in football there was a time when they were the sexy team to support. Somewhere around roughly the Roy Evans, Houllier era I increasingly started to take more of an interest in Liverpool. I think in the Spice boys days I started to identify as a Liverpool fan, but being able to see the game back in those days was not easy. They were on the box sporadically and usually on Sky in the pub and I did not quite like them enough to take time out to watch the games.
Truly it was only when I moved to Hong Kong 23 years ago and how every single game is on live here that I became fanatically about Liverpool and then football in general. Ultimately much more so than my father ever was.

Back in the day, my Dad would have his Sunday roast, a pint of beer and watch Match of the Day. It was his Sunday Mass, I remember distinctly thinking to myself I just do not get that at all. Today I do the very same thing, Only its Sunday morning not afternoon and its buckets of coffee instead. The closet we have ever been, is when we spoke about football. It was the one area I think I felt he truly respected what I had to say because in his later years he knew I watched so much of it. I remember watching the only game live with him was I think the FA cup game which was against O Learys Babes and they were flying high in Europe, I still think we ran out winners and we shared a rare genuine moment. Knowing how much I loved Liverpool, my Dad bought me a Treble wining t shirt, which to this day I cherish and I am not in the slightest bit sentimental. I have very special military medals, his prized gold ring with our shared name which he wore every day of his life and various other special trinkets, but its that tattered Liverpool Treble T Shirt that he bought for me that I cherish, because he knew how much I loved Liverpool and in many ways it meant one of the handful of times in our lifes together, he saw me.

My father died of cancer early May 2005. I was lucky I managed to fly home from Hong Kong, just in time to spend one more night with him. My father was a hard man, respected everywhere he went. At his funeral the church was full to capacity and outside the carpark was full of people. He coached Gaelic football, he knew people on many sides of town, politicians, gangsters, old ladies, young lads playing football, they all knew him very well, but I felt like they all knew him a lot more than I ever had.

That night before he died, we had a vigil by his bedside, my Mother and 3 sisters were asleep and I held my once strong man father in my arms like a baby and comforted him. He died the next day.

Over the following weeks, the usual stuff that happens around funerals happened and eventually things settled down. I rarely if ever shed a tear, I don’t believe in goodbyes and in my mind I know I will see him again. But the last time I spent with him was watching the Champions Lg final together, Me and his Urn of Ashes, two cans of beer opened for for him and quite a few for me.

Half time came around, we were 3 nil down and as god is my witness to use phrase my mother uses a lot, I said if you are up there, show me 2nd half, that’s my sign you are there.

When we eventually won, I cried for 20 minutes but I cried for my father not for my team and then and everyday since then together we never walk alone.

No one is topping that post. Hairs on my arm rose when you talk about half time. Amazing post

14 years ago but the way you tell that is amazing raw emotion. Sorry for your loss.

[Sus]

Sean me old mucker, great thread here is my story

My most poignant football story is the last football game I watched with my father, the Istanbul Champions Lg Final. My relationship with my Father like his relationship with his father was strained at the best of times. We seemed like two different men from almost different class’s and in many ways we were. Growing up I had no interest in football what so ever. I could not tell you who won the world cup, I know this because under caution at a police station in the company of my father, I was asked this question, when the police man accused me of having selective memory, I said Italy, that was not the right answer apparently.

My Dad was a Leeds fan, we are similar in the fact that both of us do not support Man United which 99% of our very large family in Dublin do. He spent some time in Leeds, in his young days working and I think that was why he supported them. They may very well have been the team of the day back then also.

As I got older I meddled with supporting Nottingham Forest because even though I had no interest in football there was a time when they were the sexy team to support. Somewhere around roughly the Roy Evans, Houllier era I increasingly started to take more of an interest in Liverpool. I think in the Spice boys days I started to identify as a Liverpool fan, but being able to see the game back in those days was not easy. They were on the box sporadically and usually on Sky in the pub and I did not quite like them enough to take time out to watch the games.
Truly it was only when I moved to Hong Kong 23 years ago and how every single game is on live here that I became fanatically about Liverpool and then football in general. Ultimately much more so than my father ever was.

Back in the day, my Dad would have his Sunday roast, a pint of beer and watch Match of the Day. It was his Sunday Mass, I remember distinctly thinking to myself I just do not get that at all. Today I do the very same thing, Only its Sunday morning not afternoon and its buckets of coffee instead. The closet we have ever been, is when we spoke about football. It was the one area I think I felt he truly respected what I had to say because in his later years he knew I watched so much of it. I remember watching the only game live with him was I think the FA cup game which was against O Learys Babes and they were flying high in Europe, I still think we ran out winners and we shared a rare genuine moment. Knowing how much I loved Liverpool, my Dad bought me a Treble wining t shirt, which to this day I cherish and I am not in the slightest bit sentimental. I have very special military medals, his prized gold ring with our shared name which he wore every day of his life and various other special trinkets, but its that tattered Liverpool Treble T Shirt that he bought for me that I cherish, because he knew how much I loved Liverpool and in many ways it meant one of the handful of times in our lifes together, he saw me.

My father died of cancer early May 2005. I was lucky I managed to fly home from Hong Kong, just in time to spend one more night with him. My father was a hard man, respected everywhere he went. At his funeral the church was full to capacity and outside the carpark was full of people. He coached Gaelic football, he knew people on many sides of town, politicians, gangsters, old ladies, young lads playing football, they all knew him very well, but I felt like they all knew him a lot more than I ever had.

That night before he died, we had a vigil by his bedside, my Mother and 3 sisters were asleep and I held my once strong man father in my arms like a baby and comforted him. He died the next day.

Over the following weeks, the usual stuff that happens around funerals happened and eventually things settled down. I rarely if ever shed a tear, I don’t believe in goodbyes and in my mind I know I will see him again. But the last time I spent with him was watching the Champions Lg final together, Me and his Urn of Ashes, two cans of beer opened for for him and quite a few for me.

Half time came around, we were 3 nil down and as god is my witness to use phrase my mother uses a lot, I said if you are up there, show me 2nd half, that’s my sign you are there.

When we eventually won, I cried for 20 minutes but I cried for my father not for my team and then and everyday since then together we never walk alone.

Bit of dust in my eye reading this - wonderful post

[Assassin]

Nicey

[SB]

Sean me old mucker, great thread here is my story

My most poignant football story is the last football game I watched with my father, the Istanbul Champions Lg Final. My relationship with my Father like his relationship with his father was strained at the best of times. We seemed like two different men from almost different class’s and in many ways we were. Growing up I had no interest in football what so ever. I could not tell you who won the world cup, I know this because under caution at a police station in the company of my father, I was asked this question, when the police man accused me of having selective memory, I said Italy, that was not the right answer apparently.

My Dad was a Leeds fan, we are similar in the fact that both of us do not support Man United which 99% of our very large family in Dublin do. He spent some time in Leeds, in his young days working and I think that was why he supported them. They may very well have been the team of the day back then also.

As I got older I meddled with supporting Nottingham Forest because even though I had no interest in football there was a time when they were the sexy team to support. Somewhere around roughly the Roy Evans, Houllier era I increasingly started to take more of an interest in Liverpool. I think in the Spice boys days I started to identify as a Liverpool fan, but being able to see the game back in those days was not easy. They were on the box sporadically and usually on Sky in the pub and I did not quite like them enough to take time out to watch the games.
Truly it was only when I moved to Hong Kong 23 years ago and how every single game is on live here that I became fanatically about Liverpool and then football in general. Ultimately much more so than my father ever was.

Back in the day, my Dad would have his Sunday roast, a pint of beer and watch Match of the Day. It was his Sunday Mass, I remember distinctly thinking to myself I just do not get that at all. Today I do the very same thing, Only its Sunday morning not afternoon and its buckets of coffee instead. The closet we have ever been, is when we spoke about football. It was the one area I think I felt he truly respected what I had to say because in his later years he knew I watched so much of it. I remember watching the only game live with him was I think the FA cup game which was against O Learys Babes and they were flying high in Europe, I still think we ran out winners and we shared a rare genuine moment. Knowing how much I loved Liverpool, my Dad bought me a Treble wining t shirt, which to this day I cherish and I am not in the slightest bit sentimental. I have very special military medals, his prized gold ring with our shared name which he wore every day of his life and various other special trinkets, but its that tattered Liverpool Treble T Shirt that he bought for me that I cherish, because he knew how much I loved Liverpool and in many ways it meant one of the handful of times in our lifes together, he saw me.

My father died of cancer early May 2005. I was lucky I managed to fly home from Hong Kong, just in time to spend one more night with him. My father was a hard man, respected everywhere he went. At his funeral the church was full to capacity and outside the carpark was full of people. He coached Gaelic football, he knew people on many sides of town, politicians, gangsters, old ladies, young lads playing football, they all knew him very well, but I felt like they all knew him a lot more than I ever had.

That night before he died, we had a vigil by his bedside, my Mother and 3 sisters were asleep and I held my once strong man father in my arms like a baby and comforted him. He died the next day.

Over the following weeks, the usual stuff that happens around funerals happened and eventually things settled down. I rarely if ever shed a tear, I don’t believe in goodbyes and in my mind I know I will see him again. But the last time I spent with him was watching the Champions Lg final together, Me and his Urn of Ashes, two cans of beer opened for for him and quite a few for me.

Half time came around, we were 3 nil down and as god is my witness to use phrase my mother uses a lot, I said if you are up there, show me 2nd half, that’s my sign you are there.

When we eventually won, I cried for 20 minutes but I cried for my father not for my team and then and everyday since then together we never walk alone.

Well in Nicey.

The closest I go in that direction is as follows

I was talking with my now departed Dad some time back & I remember thinking that never having seen Liverpool play a live match with my Dad was one of the few regrets I had in life. A few months later Liverpool FC announced that they were coming to Australia for the first ever time in July 2013. We arranged txt & my mum n dad , my son & I were off to Melbourne to see the mighty Reds play Melbourne at the MCG. It was an amazing build up in the heart of Melbourne throughout the day & we all made our way to the MCG for the evening KO. 96,000 fans sang YNWA in one of the greatest renditions ever heard on this planet. We had an amazing time but unfortunately later that year my Dad was diagnosed with a brain tumour that was very aggressive & he passed away in December that year. At his funeral I arranged to have the recording played of YNWA from that wonderful night in Melbourne where my Dad got to sing at his own funeral & there wasn’t a dry eye in the house , as I’m sure you can imagine. Every time I here our anthem I think of him & that one time when 3 generations of Batho’s saw Liverpool FC strut their stuff. YNWA Ernie Batho

[frank the tank]

Wow.

Not sure this was what Sean had in mind when he set up this thread - but this is powerful stuff.

I think only LFC can make people like that. Otherr fans are obviously fanatical and committed to their teams. But Jurgen said something along the lines of "whoever doesn't feel what LFC means obviously doesn't have a heart" when he got his world coach of the year award recently. That really resonated with me.

[Nicey]

Wow.

Not sure this was what Sean had in mind when he set up this thread - but this is powerful stuff.

I think only LFC can make people like that. Otherr fans are obviously fanatical and committed to their teams. But Jurgen said something along the lines of "whoever doesn't feel what LFC means obviously doesn't have a heart" when he got his world coach of the year award recently. That really resonated with me.

Yeah, me too, I wad drawn to Liverpool because of the decency, the stand-up nature of the people and the club, the Liverpool way. I love that a man of the Calibre of Jurgen Kloop is our manager, he is such a decent human being, so well put together. A father, a husband, a coach, a man of faith of principal, it warms my heart knowing he is our manager. When ever its his time to go, I hope he does so with warmth smiles and a deafening salute because he has truly transformed this club in 4 short years.

[Nicey]

Well in Nicey.

The closest I go in that direction is as follows

I was talking with my now departed Dad some time back & I remember thinking that never having seen Liverpool play a live match with my Dad was one of the few regrets I had in life. A few months later Liverpool FC announced that they were coming to Australia for the first ever time in July 2013. We arranged txt & my mum n dad , my son & I were off to Melbourne to see the mighty Reds play Melbourne at the MCG. It was an amazing build up in the heart of Melbourne throughout the day & we all made our way to the MCG for the evening KO. 96,000 fans sang YNWA in one of the greatest renditions ever heard on this planet. We had an amazing time but unfortunately later that year my Dad was diagnosed with a brain tumour that was very aggressive & he passed away in December that year. At his funeral I arranged to have the recording played of YNWA from that wonderful night in Melbourne where my Dad got to sing at his own funeral & there wasn’t a dry eye in the house , as I’m sure you can imagine. Every time I here our anthem I think of him & that one time when 3 generations of Batho’s saw Liverpool FC strut their stuff. YNWA Ernie Batho

They are up there, in the great boozer in the sky, watchng the games on a dodgy Dubai feed with Keys and that other fathead

[frank the tank]

They are up there, in the great boozer in the sky, watchng the games on a dodgy Dubai feed with Keys and that other fathead

[SB]

They are up there, in the great boozer in the sky, watchng the games on a dodgy Dubai feed with Keys and that other fathead

[brightred]

I think you ****ed up this thread Nicey.

Nobody can possibly top that memory!!

Cheers bud

[Buzzo]

I have a possible claim to fame here. A bit of an odd one.

Me, my missus and two kids did the Anfield tour this summer. It was amazing, great to see all the behind the scenes areas that you have become acquainted with over the years and particularly to see the new stand which was majestic.

After the interview areas, press conference areas and changing rooms comes the obviously memorable tunnel area and ‘this is Anfield’ sign.

The area was busy, but it was the one photo I wanted and got my wife to take it.

The tour was busy and we’d become aware of a group of elderly Scousers that were having a fine time on the tour. Singing some songs etc. 5 of them, all 70 plus.

All of a sudden we became aware that I had become the subject of their conversation.

“Ask him”

“He won’t mind”

“I’m sure his wife won’t mind, will you love”.

What strange proposition was about to come my way?

Well it was a unique one, and left me I am fairly sure with an almost unique Anfield tunnel claim to fame

One of the women was experiencing her first visit to Anfield since the 60’s and wanted to touch the sign again. However, given her advancing years, height and physical condition realised this was going to prove to be a challenge. I’m 6’ 3 and they had clocked me effortlessly touching the sign previously.

“Would you give her a lift mate”?

What could I say? What would you say? So I agreed.

I’m not kidding, she was not light. At all. Which I realised the second I scooped her up. As she reached for the sign she kind of slipped, so I had to grapple her a bit higher. She clutched at the sign. I was sweating, grimacing, trying to be polite and not in anyway signify how deceptively heavy she was. Her pals stood with cameras ready.

Take the ****ing photos I hope I only thought.

They did, just before I dropped the old girl to the floor.

They were delighted. I was broken. They headed off to the Kop and began to sing some songs which was sweet. I headed off to the dugout for a seat.

So now, pre match, every time I see the sign. This is what I think off This is my memory And I wonder, has anyone else ever lifted and 70 plus year old stranger up to the iconic sign?

I doubt it. Not even Kenny, Jurgen, Gerrard or Salah.

[Norbs]

You slipped her the finger didn't you?