This means more: Colby

Editor’s note: Odds are, if you support Liverpool FC, you love a good story. We thought the story of how each of us got here deserved telling, so this is the first in a series of these. LFC Brooklyn members answering the question, “Why do you support Liverpool?” Up first is me, Colby Black. One of LFC Brooklyn’s Founding Fathers. So here we go, and get ready to share your story with the group.

L. Carlo Longino. R. Carra

L. Carlo Longino. R. Carra


You’re reading this because of Carlo Longino. 

I don’t mean Carlo taught you to read, but if he did, let me know.

I mean all the peculiar bounces and coincidences and weird breaks that had to go just so to make me write this would have never happened if not for Carlo Longino. 

Carlo was a Liverpool supporter from a very young age. Like middle school in the late 80s. How someone in Cincinnati, Ohio managed to actually follow Liverpool then is almost beyond my imagination. Also, it bears noting: Carlo somehow managed to find and woo one of the only two Scouse gals at the University of Texas it the late 90s. The other one was her sister.

In May of 2005, I was working the worst of all the terrible jobs I’ve ever had. I was in the middle of a divorce. I wasn’t exactly homeless. But my name didn’t exactly appear on any leases or mortgages. I had a room that was a converted garage in Austin, Texas. Not only was it un-airconditioned, but the washer and dryer for the house were in it. Which means the dryer actually heated up the room. 

So, I was leaving my crummy job on a Wednesday afternoon, when Carlo invited me to swing by his place. This sounded better than the oven I called a home, so I went by. 

Entirely unbeknownst to me, the biggest sporting event in the world had just taken place in Istanbul. You know what happened there. But on a back porch in Austin, I found Carlo (and his wife Alex) blissfully drunk on that LFC win over Milan. Also blissfully drunk on a bottle of “Magic Whisky.” They had taken a Sharpie to a bottle of The Famous Grouse and written “Magic Whisky” on it. 

When they spoke, they were tripping over each other as they gushed about the match. When they weren’t speaking, they were just smiling and giggling to themselves. The names and terms and Scouse, I didn’t always understand, but the bliss? I got that. 

I was HIGHLY skeptical of this soccer thing, but I figured anything making those two that happy had to be OK. So I became a very casual Liverpool fan. Meaning I checked the standings about three times a month, while noticing how many cool people around me we Liverpool supporters.

In 2016, Carlo was in Brooklyn and had to cancel on me. “Just too tired, man. Sorry.” When he got back to Austin, it didn’t really go away. It was about a month later he was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. It was October of 2017 when I got the call that it wasn’t going to turn out well. And it didn’t.

A whole lot of it hit me as not fair at all. “Fuck. This is bullshit,” was really coined around this time. I wasn’t really sure what to do or how to process it or … well, anything. On a lark, I Googled, “Brooklyn Liverpool bar,” and was shocked to learn it was two blocks from my apartment. I decided I would watch the rest of that season for Carlo because he didn’t get to. I stumbled into the Monro for the next match, and as Robert Frost said, that has made all the difference. 

I lost one of the best friends I’ve ever had, but I found what I genuinely consider my Brooklyn family. I find it somewhat poetic that I never actually watched a Liverpool match with Carlo, and there’s so many match days I’ll look around the Monro and say, “He would be eating all of this up with a spoon.”

He never walked alone and neither do we. This really does mean more.

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