nothernsoul-madebymood

The Gaelic Games

And so the moment had arrived. The last time – in a long time at least – I would experience watching my team Liverpool in a Manchester ale house. The last time I’d be forced to switch allegiances on grounds of personal safety; & hopefully, yet highly unlikely, the last time I’d have to endure the partisan presumptions from United fans.

For this weekend - after much contemplation - I’ve decided to leave sunny Manchester for the greener & ultimately safer pastures of Ireland; the land of the Gaelic Games, as the plot thickens & contradictions look set to continue.

Unable to resist slipping back into character & going against the grain one last time, I ordered a Guinness, grabbed a pew & watched on in wonderment as Liverpool took on Reading at the Madejski. It turned out to be one of the more memorable, most enjoyable games of the season & bizarrely responsible for rekindling my passion for Liverpool FC, my love of football & reaffirming my affections for Mancunians.

The Secret Charms Of Beech Road - ManchesterThere will be many things I’ll miss about Manchester – or Chorlton to be precise – most notably: (& in no particular order) The Inn Plaice, Barbeque’s breakfast barms, the secret charms of the vibrant Beech Rd, & Oxfam’s bookshop – IMO, the pearl of Chorltania.

But most notably of all, I’ll miss the eye-opening & uniquely invigorating experience of being a Liverpool fan in Manchester. Don’t get me wrong, two years of celebrating Liverpool goals in silence, alone in piss-stenched toilet cubicles has certainly had its drawbacks. But the rewards will certainly drown out hours of uncomfortable lip-biting & all lingering smells I’d duly been subjected to. Reading Vs Liverpool was indeed a pleasant surprise. In a game holding no particular significance, I witnessed one of the finest all-round performances from a Red centre-forward for many a year. A vintage Owen or Fowler, or even Rush at his peak would’ve struggled to match the talented, all action display of our newest amigo Fernando Torres. Not only did he bag a hat-trick, but he also showed the kind of character & work-rate not normally associated with foreigners playing in England. For me - on Tuesday night - a new star was born on Merseyside.

Fernando Torres - My New Liverpool HeroTorres has the skill & pace of Henry, with the work-rate & desire of a Shearer; now that’s no small accolade. Since the demise of Fowler & once the false dawn created by ‘that’ Michael Owen wonder goal versus the Argies had subsided (I’ve since found Owen to be very one-dimensional), I’ve been searching for a new hero in a Liverpool shirt & in Fernando, I may just have found one. 

Prior to the Reading game I’d slumped into a mini-depression, in fear of another Houllier-esque performance & prepared myself for another season of painfully relinquished hope. In all honesty, I found the Birmingham & Portsmouth games possibly more frustrating than a trip to the Trafford Centre with the girlfriend. So in an end-to-end action packed match, the excitement was nothing if unexpected. For want of a better phrase: it was a game brimming with life & had me glued to my seat.

As I sat transfixed amongst the enemy, listening to the moans & dismissive rants of envious Mancs, I began to saver the moment, appreciating something I will miss enormously.

'Cemetry Gates' - Southern Cemetery In ManchesterAfter a thoroughly entertaining first half, the game was in the balance. Torres was running Reading ragged, despite being battered all over the park & had just scored his first of three expertly taken goals. Steve Coppell’s men responded brilliantly though & equalised for the second time in the match. Amid murmurs of “Fergie should’ve signed him when he had the chance”, a man persistently asked for updates as he floated between bar & the outside smoking area. He then asked the bloke sitting beside me - who was deep in conversation about the importance of local rivers & ship canals in the economic growth of Manchester - if the match was in any way entertaining? The response he received was a classic & so typical of the now legendary cynical Mancunian humour: “Iv seen more life in Southern Cemetery lad” was His response. For all those not familiar with Southern Cemetery or Manc humour even, it’s a notoriously large graveyard situated in South Manchester, as referenced by The Smiths in their timeless & misspelt classic ‘Cemetry Gates’ & where Sir Matt Busby, among many, now rests.
 
To be honest though, after all my tribulations of watching Liverpool in Manchester, never had I witnessed exact hatred or outright nastiness towards their supposedly bitter rivals - Liverpool. Scathing attacks were never vicious & the taunting always in jest. It’s largely a friendly rivalry exaggerated through football & one that I’ll miss immensely when I’m gone.

And so I move on; to become an Englishman in Ireland, supporting a soccer team from England & worshiping a Spaniard who plays for Liverpool. But as well as declaring my love for Liverpool, I’ll now speak highly of similar folk, of harmonious pride & humour, with the loves, the hates and the passions just like mine. The people of Chorlton, the people of Manchester - good people, people I’ll miss for sure.       

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