This Means More: Andy
Why do I support Liverpool? Two words: me dad. I grew up in Warrington, slap bang half way between Liverpool and Manchester. Warrington is rugby league country, but football is still an obsession there. When I was a kid, everyone was Liverpool, Everton or United. I only knew one City fan my whole life there – no sports-washing oil money pouring into them in those days. My mum is from a big Catholic family – loads of uncles, aunts, cousins, the vast majority United fans. Dad though supported Liverpool. So my brother and I did too, no question about it.
April 1983. Anfield. Liverpool v Swansea. I remember the walk up the steps to our seats, the green of the pitch and the noise from the thousands of people in the stands. “What if Liverpool lose dad?” I’d asked on the way there. “Doesn’t matter, we’ll still win the league”. But it mattered to me, I was only a kid, terrified they might lose on my first visit. It finished 3-nil to the reds and I could sleep easy that night.
Mostly we listened to the matches on the radio. Sometimes you even had to listen to the Everton game just to get updates from Liverpool’s. Now and then we would pile in the car and dad would drive the same weird back-roads route he always did to Anfield. Whenever we complained it took ages and why couldn’t he take the motorway, he’d just say “It’s the way I’ve always gone”. Dad and I didn’t have the best relationship and we disagreed on a lot. But the one thing we could bond over was Liverpool.
May 2005. Southampton. Liverpool v Milan. Liverpool had just dragged themselves off their knees in Istanbul to win the European Cup from A.C. Milan in a comeback for the ages. It was late and I was outside the pub on the phone to my dad. I never phoned him. But elated and drunk, this one time I had called, to celebrate with him. He told me “This one’s for you. We had our wins back in the 70s and 80s. But this one’s yours and your brother’s”
That summer, dad and I went on the Anfield stadium tour. Purely to see the actual European Cup won in May. We had a surprisingly good time hanging out together and on the winding drive back along his usual strange back-roads route, I thought maybe we’d finally start being closer.
A few months later and I’m staring at the sky out of the window in a taxi to the airport. “Business or pleasure is it?” the cabbie asks. It takes me a few seconds to reply. “Not really, no. Me dad’s just died.”
December 2021. Brooklyn. Everton v Liverpool. The Monro has a lamp on the end of the bar with the exact same LFC lampshade my brother and I had in our room growing up. I don’t live in Brooklyn any more, but so long as Vinny and the Brooklyn Reds are there, it will always be my football home away from home. Sitting out back that day and raising a glass to dad on what would have been his birthday. We beat Everton 4-1 at Goodison, Salah scores a couple, biggest win there in years.
Dad never saw this wonderful Klopp team play. He never met my wife. Never met my daughters, his only grand-kids. We weren’t really close, me and me dad. But he turned me onto Bowie and T Rex, Led Zeppelin and the Stones. And Liverpool Football Club. RIP dad.
Want to share your own story? Email us! Want to read other “Why I Support Liverpool” stories? Here’s Adam’s, Matthew’s, Lauren’s, and Colby’s.