Football isn’t a game that appeals to me, a fact that often sets me apart from your average english ‘bloke.’ Nonetheless though, it’s a crime that after all these years living in the burbs of one of Europe’s most football frenzied cities, I had never been to match, if only for the experience. Last week I finally put right that particular wrong and went to Anfield stadium with Philly to watch Liverpool beat West Ham, like they stole something!

Football, or “footy” as it is known in these parts, is as much a part of British culture as the monarchy, bangers and mash, and double decker buses. I’ve tried to love the game, but for me there’s simply no spark there. I’ll enjoy a key match now and again, and the world cup can be fun, but I can always think of better ways to spend 90 minutes of my life. That aside, I’ve long said that I’d like to go to a match, and living so close to Liverpool, Everton, and Tranmere Rovers there’s simply no excuse for not seeing at least one game, but it’s taken me until now to actually do just that.

Along with fellow footy match virgin, Philly, and accompanied by his sort-of-kinda step father in law, Steve, and Steve’s Dad, the four of us headed to Anfield stadium last week to watch Liverpool play West Ham, or if you would rather use the footy vernacular, ‘The Reds’ play ‘The Hammers.’

Steve and his father are hardened Liverpool supporters who hold season tickets in a different part of the stadium to where Philly and I were going to be seated. For this reason, and perhaps because they had already grown tired of my sarcastic approach to football talk, they quickly left us at the main gate to find take up their seats while we battled the masses in the club shop.

We emerged a few minutes later suitably adorned in Liverpool hats and scarfs that convincingly disguised us as life-long fans enabling us to blend in as we thread our way though the crowds to turnstile S in search for seating block MX, row 4, in the main stand.

We find the correct line to stand in and eventually squeeze through the impossibly narrow turnstile that would exclude many an American from entering the grounds. Given the state of clubs animosity toward its relatively new American owners I wondered if the skinny turnstile might be a new measure, a ‘scouse‘ “welcome and thanks for nothing” perhaps?

Anfield stadium isn’t like the stadiums I’ve been in before. It’s an ugly concrete block that has all the style and charm of a public toilet. But as we make our way through a sea of red hats and scarfs to our seats, the functional and utilitarian feel gives way to a more atmospheric air, not the excited high spirited climate I had expected, but more of an expectant throng that is perhaps more akin to something like a minors strike rally.

Philly and I are sat in the very corner of the main stand, right next to the West Ham supporters in the other stand. As the players come onto the pitch the cheering and jeering picks up. The Liverpool fans sing in crowd chorus their anthem “You’ll Never Walk Alone” while the West Ham fans sing the less iconic feeling “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles.” It’s 8 o’clock, and the match kicks off.

Now this is where a true fan could tell you who was kicking the ball and how they were playing. My summery would be far less detailed. The players were quickly running around and kicking the ball and we, ‘we’ meaning Liverpool of course (come on, I have a Liverpool hat and scarf now so I can say ‘we’), nearly scored a very quick opening goal. As the game continued Liverpool seemed to be playing much better than West Ham, but then what the heck do I know? All the action tough was huddled around the West Ham end of the field as ‘The Reds’ made repeated goal attempts.

Being so close to the pitch I recognised a few players after seeing them on TV. The Liverpool captain, whose name I have honestly forgotten, took a couple of corner kicks, and some guy called something-or-other Torez scored a hat trick much to the delight of the fans and the two fake fans sitting in the corner.

At half time I wished for scantily clad cheer leaders and some kind of half time show, but instead people left their seats returning a few minutes later with steaming cups of tea and hot dogs as some lady in a wheelchair on the side of the pitch holding a microphone talked about disabled kids or something. Hardly the cheerleader I’d hoped for.

The match resumed and this time it was down the other end of the pitch as the teams had changed sides. Now we couldn’t really make out what was happening, but nonetheless we stood up and oohed and aahed appropriately.

At this point the West Ham fans began mercilessly taunting the Liverpool fans. Throughout the game the banter between the fans had, much to my surprise, been extremely good natured and given the controversial situation surrounding Liverpool’s unpopular American owners the West Ham fans took every opportunity to chant “USA, USA, USA.” At one point they were all pointing at us chanting “Where’s your famous atmosphere!” which I have to confess I was wondering myself. The home team was by now winning 3 nil and their seemed to be little excitement.

In the end, as good as the game itself was, (‘we’ won 4 – 0) the whole experience was made that much more fun by the banter between the fans in the stadium. Picking on one particular Liverpool fan who they had labeled as ‘fat lad,’ the West Ham supporters came up with repeated amusing chants. At one stage the ‘fat lad’ left his seat and the West Ham supporters began chanting “He’s going home for his dinner!” He returned a few minutes later to the chant “He only went for a burger!” The Liverpool fans laughed at that and applauded ‘the Hammers’ supporters. As the final whistle blew the fans stood to applaud the players as they left then turned their attention to the visiting opposing supporters to applaud them. It was a friendly gesture which actually seemed to sum up the entire night.

The experience didn’t make me into a footy fan, but I enjoyed the night perhaps more than the Liverpool fans who all seemed to walk home in a rather boring ‘job done’ fashion that felt like a trudge home after a day down the mine. I’ll go to another match though. I’m told the European games are good so I might try one of those games. Lets hope they bring a little of their weather with them too!

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