Andy's Articles


Andy C Legs
Aug 22, 2019
Hi, just wrote this little piece about Sunday, maybe have a read. All the best, Andy.



Andy C Legs
Aug 22, 2019
Hi reds, I just finished this piece off about West Ham. Maybe have a read. Maybe leave a much appreciated comment. Andy

Red Lippy

West Ham Utd v Liverpool

Wednesday, 29th of January, 2020.

It was just that I wanted to be there, if and when Liverpool won this game. With my other ‘family’.

Davie answered the door and soon Fudge followed – more smooths and a cwtch; well, how could I refuse; she was everyone’s dog but Davie was her master.

I thought that I heard, just for an instant a female voice and no, it was not any of the three girls – but, but Carly’s, Davie’s wife’s voice.

Davie tried to convince me otherwise.

‘No, Carly’s not here’ he said, trying not to lie, or in Carly’s words, talk!

I scanned the table. There were four cups there. Like in a nursery rhyme, one for Deano, one for me, one for Davie and, and, well.

‘There’s four cups Davie, so Carly is here’.

‘Well observed inspector Crouch’, Deano said as Carly emerged from the kitchen. The gang was all here.

I did not fail to glance at the mound of sweets in the bowl too. ‘I did not get any’, I expressed sadly.

‘Don’t worry Crouch, we just got these from over the shop’ as I looked down enviously.

So, we caught-up and I told Carly that I had been heading for the bank on Monday morning, when she and her half-sister Lauren had been, ‘Going to the gym’ with their dad – a Manc.

‘Did I tell you where I am going in September?’, Deano said, looking straight faced as Alisson facing a free-kick.

‘Pearl, Har-bour’ I replied, thinking about that hulk of a rusting battleship which is still there after the surprise attack in December 1941, which was as quick as a Liverpool counter.

So, to the Liverpool team. The usual back-five which if I starred long and hard enough at my key-board – it should by now, type the reds line-up itself. Alisson in goals, Trent Alexander-Arnold and Andy Robertson at left-back. Gini Wijnaldum, captain Jordan Henderson and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain. With no Sadio Mane to call on due to a hamstring and hopefully back after the International Break, Divock Origi was paired with Bobby Firmino and Mo Salah.

West Ham were managed by David Moyes. Well, we all knew how he would set them-up, think of a double decker and double it so it made one of those bendy, stretchy buses which are prevalent on the continent. They were without Antonio and to be fair, I was not interested in them – so long as our collective team effort kept them out then that’s all I was worried about. Believe me though, I was a tad nervous – especially as we’d dropped vital points here last season; which cost us in the end.

All white top with black shorts. Just like in the 1980’s. Love it. And we were passing the ball ala that vintage too. But us being greedy and spoilt now, wanted it to go forward quicker and more effectively.

‘We need to get behind them’ I said and as though the lads heard us, Andy Robertson powered down the wing and put in an inviting cross which was missed. It was the way forward.

The commentator said about ‘The Ox’ having scored there for Arsenal. ‘And he did for Liverpool’, I pipped-up, having discovered by now that young baby Kelsey had sneaked behind the sofa, and sprung-up like a Jackie – in – the box, as soon as I saw her mop of golden hair.

Love her cotton socks.

Andy Robertson again got free after some more quick, slick passing and whipped in a ‘please score me’ ball which Origi missed at Fabianski’s right near post and also eluded Mo Salah.

‘We should have scored then!’ Deano said, exasperated.

Robertson then got put in by Mo Salah, after an intricate passing move but just failed to find the left bottom corner of Fabianski’s goal – this was more like it.

Liverpool, as it often has been the case this season, had grown into the game and moved up a few notches. They tigerishly began fighting for the ball higher-up the pitch and from this, Origi got fouled from near the six-yard box.

‘Pen-alt-tee!’ Deano bellowed, then added, ‘but hang on, let’s wait for VAR!’. How terrible, as it spoilt the moment but we can’t really complain this season.

It had to be Mo Salah to take it – though I did think about Bobby or Hendo. I was desperate for him to score, desperate for Liverpool to win – desperate for the – at this moment in time there seems to be a problem with my keyboard as it has refused me permission to write the ‘t’ word (no that’s enough, it just said!!!).

Mo Salah smashed home the spot-kick, putting it to Fabianski’s right.

‘YES! YES!’ I shouted, raising both arms aloft, as though I was lifting something shiny (now Andrew, I’m not going to tell you again, my keyboard just warned me, in my late father’s sternest voice!).

One nil up. The breakthrough. Tidy.

At one stage four players hounded the one West Ham player on the edge of his area.

‘That’s what I love to see!’ I shouted as Kelsey expressed her desire that I turn my volume down!

The home team had half chances but there was always Virgil van Dijk and the equally impervious Joe Gomes to snuff out any danger and of course Alisson.

At the break we were treated to not only a lovely cuppa made by Carly, God it was needed, but also Birthday Cake. Victoria sponge – it was lush! You see it was Davie’s 21st the day after! No, I can never recall how old he is – suffice to say at least ten years older than me; my range went from 32 to 38 for him. He liked the lower figure!

‘Thirty-eight Crouch’ he admitted. He didn’t look a day over 22!

Carly was going to treat him to a meal, ‘And maybe use your vouchers Crouch’ she suggested. It would be a change ‘just the two’ of them going out – without the kids. ‘Then maybe a drink on Saturday night’ - so that was something to look forward to.

Liverpool kept control. A strangle-hold but on rare occasions the Hammers attacked and they may as well have because Alisson kept the scoreline down to nil as he made two-point blank stops as Trent somehow managed to hit his right post and the ball rebounded out to Van Dijk to gratefully clear.

In between this though, Liverpool caught the home team with a sucker-punch. Blowing their bubbles right in the air.

From a West Ham attack, on the edge of the reds area, the ball was looped over the top, by Henderson if my memory serves me correctly and then Mo Salah was on it in a flash and with a delicious ball served it on a plate (which the finest five star chefs could not have conjured-up), as Mo flicked the ball with the outside of his left boot to send Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain arrowing in on goal, where he finished low and hard, into the bottom right of Fabianski’s goal.

More celebrations.

‘Done and Dusted’, Deano said.

Quick as a flash I replied, ‘That’s what you said Sunday and looked what happened!’.

‘He’s in my dream team’ Deano beamed, as again, with Carly already warning me, I flashed a middle finger at him and Davie but let Carly off with a verbal warning!

‘There’s only one team – LIVERPOOL!’ I shouted at them for the umpteenth time!

Liverpool should have scored more as I recall Bobby Firmino jigging his way through but not finding any end product as Liverpool toyed with the home team. They just seem to have a knack of slowing it down and going at their own pace and we later discussed this.

‘We will have to stop shouting and accept it. That this is the way they play now’. Too true Deano.

Curtis Jones came on and it was very heartening to see. I just feel that he is going to be more than a bit part player in less than a few years.

Kaitlyn, the middle girl had made an appearance and she was worried that she would get that virus which is spreading from China. What was she like!

‘It’s just a head cold’, Carly said, as Kaitlyn had wrapped herself-up in a wool-like top. Kids – who’d have them…

‘We’re champions of the world’ sang the travelling fans as some even dared to sing the other ditty which Deano pointed out to me.

‘Look Crouch, you’re not telling them off!’ whilst inwardly I was lapping it up but did not dare openly say it.

The fat lady, with the red dress and shoes, who could be asked to sing, is now maybe, just maybe, perhaps putting on her red lippy.

30/1/20. Andy C Legs 1474


Well-Known Member
Ad-free Member
Sep 23, 2016
Another great read Andy. Like Kaitlin Our Grand-Daughter Georgia was worried about catching the Coronavirus. Her fear has now been made many times worse with the news that folk returning from China courtesy of the RAF will be housed two miles from our house in Arrowe Park Hospital.
By the by, I was wondering why they are being bussed all the way up here to the Wirral? My nephew says it’s because we’re a peninsula with water on three sides. He reckons that should there be an outbreak the whole peninsula will be quarantined.
I might get out now while I can.:D


Andy C Legs
Aug 22, 2019
Another great read Andy. Like Kaitlin Our Grand-Daughter Georgia was worried about catching the Coronavirus. Her fear has now been made many times worse with the news that folk returning from China courtesy of the RAF will be housed two miles from our house in Arrowe Park Hospital.
By the by, I was wondering why they are being bussed all the way up here to the Wirral? My nephew says it’s because we’re a peninsula with water on three sides. He reckons that should there be an outbreak the whole peninsula will be quarantined.
I might get out now while I can.:D
I like it. I think it could be that they could block all the roads off and close the tunnels!!! Any time you want a bolt hole in Wales mate, you know where to come, as we say here, there will always be a welcome in the hills!!! .


Well-Known Member
Ad-free Member
Sep 23, 2016
I like it. I think it could be that they could block all the roads off and close the tunnels!!! Any time you want a bolt hole in Wales mate, you know where to come, as we say here, there will always be a welcome in the hills!!! .

Yeah, I've got an "Outbreak" type scenario going on in my head. We need Dustin Hoffman here pronto. :D


Andy C Legs
Aug 22, 2019
Hi all you good reds, I have just tried to write this little piece about Tuesday. If you get five; maybe have a read. All the best, Andy.


Andy C Legs
Aug 22, 2019
Hi all you good reds, I have just tried to write this little piece about Tuesday. If you get five; maybe have a read. All the best, Andy.
Purple Scarf

Liverpool v Shrewsbury Town

FA Cup 4th Round Replay

4th of February, 2020.

I wrapped my purple scarf around baby Kelsey, as she was twiddling her thumbs on Davie’s mobile.

Seven – year -old Kelsey was playing a game – just like Liverpool’s kids were about to; some of them were only ten years old than her.

Davie flicked through the channels, trying, like any red I knew, to get a decent stream.

‘I’m sure it’s on here, Crouch’ he said, as ‘Bein’ came through, as if by magic.

We were not sure though if that it was the right channel, but he then found out that a vehicle had over-turned on the M6 so kick-off had been delayed and we would not have to settle for watching Oxford v the Geordie ‘Barcodes’ Newcastle.

It was only me and Davie, as he told me that Deano, was staying at home. ‘Faggot’, I jested, smiling, as we all three hardly miss a game together like Alisson missing a cross.

Sweets were in the bowl – some soft winey gum streaky types, but soon my pink and white staple ‘Refresher’ ones were poured in – saved over from Saturday night when I had shot straight to see the ‘boys’ after the rugby, for a post-match analysis following the Southampton win. I did not need to drink as I was heady – giddy even, on a lead which I still can’t ‘Rubiks Cube’ figure out how we’ve got!

So, to this game.

A replay which our manager, Jurgen Klopp had insisted that he would not be at or any of the first team squad. That was of course not totally adhered to as one James Milner, whom the camera panned to on several occasions, was there amongst the crowd. What a man – he was at Anfield of his own free will and had already offered the lads encouragement. One day he will be a manager – let’s hope not too soon as he is the ‘Swiss Army knife’ of the squad, due to him being able to fill so many positions.

Neil Critchley was the home manager – as he usually is for the Under -23’s which lined-up for this replay. What an experience he and they were gaining. Playing in front of a packed house as well.

As I had stated on ‘Twitter’; when the whistle blows, I just want Liverpool to win; this game was no different.

Me and Davie did not shout anything detrimental because the young lads were playing with such authority and growing confidence, as they attacked the Anfield Road End, that if you blinked, they could have easily been mistaken for the First Team.

They were more than holding their own.

Neco Williams was the stand-out player at right-back and he had one or two chances go just wide. Certainly, he is one to put on the subs bench now. What a prospect and he is Welsh as well – a real bonus for me.

The sweets were going down well. ‘So moreish’ as an absent Deano would have said. I think next time I’ll have to just to be done with it, and get three packs. They were as addictive as the ball was to sticking like glue to our very young reds.

I and Davie did not know all the players but the one called, Cain, was more than able even though he looked as though he should have been locked in his bedroom revising for a school test in the morning.

The all-blue Shrewsbury were being out-skilled by basically Liverpool’s Youth Team. Curtis Jones, being given the honour of being made Liverpool’s youngest ever captain for the night, showed porn like filth skill when he somehow nut-megged an opponent on the right of the Shrews area. It was skill ala Salah and it was a joy to watch as much as re-runs of ‘Number Six’ being won.

There was a rare scare or two as the visitors had the audacity to attack the Kop End, defended stoutly by two young Dutch Masters, schooled and tutored no doubt by possibly the next ‘Player of the Year’, Virgil van Dijk, in the form of the ginger haired Sepp van den Berg and Ki-Jan Hoever, who cleaned every danger without being noticed, such was their professional performances.

Jelly Babies were poured into the bowl at the break. Kelsey had wrapped my scarf back around her at several stages of the half - happily playing on the phone. Such an angel she is getting. No hassle or tantrums at all, before she had to brush her teeth prior to Davie calling her to ‘go-up’.

It was a call, which some of our kids could have had but instead, they were preparing to come out in the second half and attack a roaring Kop End that greeted them enthusiastically as though they had tread the lush green turf of Anfield all their young precocious precious playing lives.

Me and Davie got concerned as Shrewsbury had an attacking spell – causing problems as the kids lost their composure at one stage but they came through that dodgy period. In fact, there was a ten minute period when the kids penned Shrewsbury into their own area as they won a succession of corners and if a man from Mars had come to see the game, he would not have known that the players in red were the Youth Team players, up against seasoned League Division One opponents.

A cross came over from the Shrewsbury left and a bit of skill which resulted in Shaun Whalley, heading into the net, from close range, to give the visitors the lead.

I was really gutted and felt that Liverpool would have a mountain to climb.

Davie though had begun protesting that the goal had been offside.

I dismissed this as I thought that at least it had been a great experience for the ‘Milky Bar Klopp Kids’.

But hang-on. VAR was checking ‘the goal’ and as we sat there, the camera panned to Sam Ricketts, the Shrewsbury manager and before the final decision came, I knew what had happened as I heard the rippled roaring Kop, celebrating the goal being chalked-off.

It was a crucial moment.

Press, press, press at every opportunity. Never giving the visitors a chance to put their foot on the deck and play. It was just like watching Liverpool’s first team, only the boys were much nippier. Klopp must have been loving it.

Then, after about 75 minutes, their keeper, O’Leary, kicked the ball down the middle and one of our players eagerly went to challenge for the ball and a Shrewsbury defender, Ro-Shaun Williams, headed back to safety. However, the ball incredibly found its way into the top left-hand corner of O’Leary’s net, for a comical own-goal!

Oh my, I just jumped off the sofa and ran towards the kitchen in celebration, shock, surprise and joy. It was just nuts; as not even VAR could erase it.

The kids were ahead.

Did they listen to me when our keeper, Kelleher, was on the ball, as I shouted, ‘TIME!’ - as if he could hear me above that din!

Liverpool tried to get a second as Harvey Elliott played a less than successful pass forward through the centre-circle on a break-away. A better ball and Wirral born striker, Joe Hardy, a January signing from Brentford, would have been clean through on goal.

The lads more than held their own. In their own back-yard as though they were out late playing under the white glare of street lamp-lights, like we all used to when growing-up, like during the war, (well, The Falklands one for me!).

The kids had done very well and I wondered if any of them owned a long purple scarf.

5/2/20. 1299 A. Phillips


Andy C Legs
Aug 22, 2019
Hi reds, just wrote this little piece about yesterday. Maybe if you get five, have a look see. Any comments will be very much appreciated. By the way - I like Reckordlig cider!!!

In Klopp we trust

Norwich City v Liverpool

15TH of February, 2020.

Deano greeted me when I got to Davie’s house – wearing that all white away top – lush; Nike, take note.

The guy from next door was there. Tools being collected, for more work was being carried out on the Wheatstone abode. This time to Kelsey’s room, as the electrics were sorted. There is still a long way to go though, despite Davie having knocked a part of a wall away. The kids are getting bigger; so too are their rooms.

It had seemed like an age since the last game – Shrewsbury and even longer since the first team had played; Southampton. A lot had happened since then. Manchester City had been slapped with a two - year European ban; was the main talking point – but will they get a League points retrospective deduction as well; wouldn’t that be something! Stevie G may get his title medal afterall - as this season just goes into an even deeper dream; one day someone will wake me up.

Davie and Deano had beers in hand by the time the teams came out – me, just a tea; tidy.

Liverpool fielded the usual suspects; Alisson, Trent Alexander-Arnold and Andy Robertson as wing-backs. Joe Gomes and Virgil van Dijk at centre-back. Then there was Gini Wijnaldum, captain Jordan Henderson and Naby Keita getting a run-out in midfield. Up top was Mo Salah, Bobby Firmino and, despite Sadio Mane being on the bench, Alex-Oxlade Chamberlain. Not a bad line-up.

As well as facing Norwich, Liverpool would have to contend with storm ‘Denis’ which was hitting the country but you would not have thought so as the reds pressed immediately and began controlling the game. Bobby Firmino in particular was showing flashes of skill and the three of us agreed that he was on his game - when he is the opposition can usually look-out.

However, after about twenty minutes, with sweets going down in the bowl and beers being sunk at a quicker rate than Leicester’s Title bid, we began to get frustrated as Deano got annoyed and also Davie at the lack of cut and thrust. We seemed blunt. In a counter-argument Deano said, ‘We must be patient. They always find a way’.

‘They feel themselves into games’ I said, as outwardly I tried not to shout.

The opportunities were rare and if truth be told, I can’t recall many, expect when Norwich broke our defensive line with a ball over the top which set the one player marginally ahead of Virgil and away. But, but, just at the point of shooting, he played it to Pukki, who was thwarted by Alisson who had sprung cat-like out of his goal, on the right of his area, and now pulled out his outstretched right arm, to flick the ball away from his opponents feet. It was a great piece of keeping. What anticipation and timing by Alisson! It could have been a game changing moment but VAR may have over-ruled any goal, due to offside. Alisson was not to know that though. As much as we admire what Salah and Mane et al do – if Liverpool do win something; Alisson’s contribution will have been immeasurable.

The reds nearly scored when Bobby Firmino wriggled his way through and his shot was palmed away but Naby Keita, with the goal at his mercy, somehow managed to shoot the ball straight at Krul - anywhere either side and it would have been in, as Deano frustratedly pointed out.

I was wary that Norwich had beaten Man City there earlier in the season, on the counter and did not want a repeat result in this game. Norwich had had far too many chances in the first game at Anfield, which Deano could not recall, that we had seen in his ‘pent-house’ flat, well, it is on the top floor! So, Norwich knew how to create chances against us.

Baby Kelsey was hovering round and Davie teased her that she had let all the boys kiss her at the party she had been to earlier. So funny. Then she slid on the floor in a fashion which Bobby would have been happy to celebrating one of his away goals – I mean, he never scores at home; does he? However, give it time, you never know.

At the break, whilst Davie did some more hoovering, I chatted to Deano about going out for some food for my birthday next month. I had suggested the Saturday night; because my brother would be off then (he works alternative weekends you see). This arrangement was half way to being sorted before Deano had gently reminded me that Liverpool just happened to be playing on the 21st of March, against Palace. What a schoolboy error; especially as I base everything around Liverpool’s fixtures!! ‘That might be the’ – at this point my type-writer has stopped me in my tracks and has issued an official warning to my brain not to type the rest of the sentence, as I don’t want to mention the un-mentionable – ala, Jordan Henderson!! Yes well, you all know what I mean. So, it could be a case of a possible Sunday afternoon meal instead -we will see.

I had shouted at the reds and to quote Deano, ‘I hope he (Klopp) had fired some ff’s into them’ in the dressing room - precisely.

Tea having been made and more sweets poured into the bowl – I was advised to leave my ones for Tuesday, the second half began. It was better.

Liverpool seemed more on it and Andy Robertson began to be on the ball and putting crosses into the area. We even began to shoot as Naby Keita blasted one from the edge of the area for Krul to produce a finger tip save over. From one of the corners, Virgil van Dijk had an arrowing header saved and then got man-handled by two players in a manner which would have been more accustomed to a game played at The Millennium Stadium. No foul – no chance; what a joke.

‘Get the Ox off’ one of us suggested and ‘get Mane on’. This was surely the only option. We were crying out for Sadio’s pace and directness.

Fairs do’s to Jurgen Klopp, he must have been wired to our brains. For soon after the switch was made along with Fabinho coming on for Keita and this allowed Jordan Henderson – who was chasing every lost tackle or slip-shod pass in an effort to try and make sure this game did not pass us by (what a captain to have) - to move into a more advanced role.

Mane immediately made a difference as the front three began to link-up better and Robertson put a cracking ball across which Bobby Firmino nearly got to – ‘But why didn’t Mo, move to it as well?’ Deano asked, as Salah strangely stayed on the edge of the area.

Norwich were continually under the cosh it seemed and this was more like it.

Henderson looked-up, measured a ball forward into the area and Mane had no right whatsoever to latch his right foot onto the ball, control it, shift it to his left foot, and turn as deftly swiftly as a ballet dancer, to rifle the ball into the bottom right-hand corner of Krul’s net to make it 1-0.

I just went ‘Yesssssss’, turning, contortedly, with every nerve, into the arm of the sofa, in thankful prayer, saying, ‘I love him’ and at that moment, I did; I loved Sadio Mane with all my heart.

Even then VAR nearly intervened. Push, what push or foul on their player? Were they for real??? Never in a million years. The goal stood and it was scored after 77 patient (not) filled minutes as Liverpool had finally made the break-through. Just how important was that goal…

This immediately brought the Liverpool fans into song, singing the ditty which I just, just can’t type but we all know what was sung as my heart pounded in pride in possible trophy lifting anticipation.

‘Go on Crouch, aren’t you going to tell them off?’ asked Davie, as he began to take-up our fans mantle with Deano joining in with a fist for good measure! Heady times indeed.

Still the game was being played. Still only 1-0 but a comfortable one, even if Norwich had shot against Alisson’s left near post trying to catch out our brilliant Brazilian. Not a chance. ‘He would have got to it’ Davie said, confidently, as we later discussed the difference between Alisson and Karius. Night and day; night and day.

Liverpool could have scored another one as Trent put a great ball across which Bobby Firmino just could not connect to properly, but they were content to see the game out. It’s what they do. They just seem to do enough. To pace themselves. Incredible. I wonder if they will ever be able to cut loose again. It will no doubt be down to Klopp and what he wants.

In Klopp we trust.

16/2/20 1513

A. Phillips


Andy C Legs
Aug 22, 2019
Hi Reds, not been feeling great for a little while but I've just managed to cobble the following piece together. Perhaps you may care to read it if you get three. All the best, Andy.

Slow Drag of her fag.

Liverpool v Bournemouth

7th of March, 2020.

Even though there were plenty of car-parking spaces available – outside Davie’s house, I still went to the end of his road and then tried three times to squeeze my Corsa into the space on the corner, by the speed bump and why I may hear you ask? Because of superstition, because I thought if I could park there, then Liverpool would maybe get back to winning ways, as that is where I’d been parking all season, up until the Watford defeat.

It was absurd – I know but then, we footy fans are notoriously silly. I ended-up giving in to sensibility and parked right by Deano’s (of course) red Fiesta, almost opposite chez Wheatstone.

Carly greeted me. The gang was all there, for a change but there were, yet again, major developments taking place as Davie was waiting for a bed and a cooker to be delivered by Argos.

‘Sometime between one and three, Crouch’, said Carly, adding, ‘I know; right when the football will be on’.

Not only that, they were waiting for their roof to be repaired and this had caused a leak in their bedroom, which, as you can imagine, Carly was not too happy about; ‘I have to sleep with a bucket next to my bed’ she had hissed. Then, to cap it all, last Saturday, we’d had to push their mini up the lane, as it had shown red on the temperature gauge, only just having had its MOT! If it had not rained, it had deluged and to cap it all, Liverpool had started to annoyingly, shockingly, lose.

So, this was the game which we just had to win. The game where I had almost again, stood-up and taken notice that every result mattered and that I hoped, as though, in my mum’s expression, ‘a bomb had gone up the red men’s arse’.

Let’s be honest. Liverpool have not been playing particularly well; well since the Leicester game, if I’m really being critical. They have just about done enough to eek out wins and the 4-0 win over Southampton had been flattering. They had played well in little quarter of an hour bursts but in defence – not ours at the moment, they have almost been pacing themselves; not wanting to run out of energy. However, they did not start this game off on the right foot either.

At least James Milner was in – but at left-back? Surely this just shows-up the lack of quality depth in our squad at left-back; this has to be addressed in the summer, as I so wanted Milner to have been in the middle.

Bournemouth played us on the break. Especially with our ever so trapeze artist, with that long balancing pole, high line of ours. After a bright opening we managed to concede. I mean, for Christ sake like.

Yes, yes, Gomes may have been fouled by the fella, whatever his name was but what really concerned us was the lacksidasical attitude of our defence. Why didn’t someone put a tackle in? If Gomes was more alert, he could have fouled the fella. I would have preferred that than for the opposition player to carry on, cross the ball in and them score a bloody tap-in! What was Virgil doing? He has been impervious for most of the season and is allowed an off day but that’s about three he’s had now in the last few games. He can’t just glide through every game – as much as we love him too.

I was just distraught. That was the worst thing that could happen. Crumbs, the air was so blue, it was more navy than Everton’s shirts…. At one point I said to Carly, ‘It’s a good job you don’t have a swear box!’

‘I know. Init’ she said, ‘I’d be rich’.

It got that bad that I even uttered the ‘c’ word in some shape or form and I never use that word – though I have in work recently but that’s another story. Carly just laughed, along with Davie and Dean. Normally I am a quiet sort of chap who does not say boo to a ghost, but when it comes to Liverpool, that’s it, that’s what does it, they know how to push my buttons like a naughty child.

Bournemouth got through again – surprise, surprise, not. Adrian made a world class save and it should have been 2-0. I can’t recall the save but I know he more than saved our bacon as I was livid and beginning to really lose it, as I felt as though 30 years was getting even longer (that’s it; didn’t Adrian tip the ball around or something like that?).

Somehow Liverpool, attacking the Anfield Road End, managed to press. Actually, play a decisive ball through instead of this tippy-tappy football around the area, lose the ball and be right in the brown stuff when Bournemouth countered. Sadio Mane got free on our left, inside the area and then, even then, cocked-up the pass across to his right, to Mo Salah, who somehow managed to shoot the ball, low, through the defender’s legs and into the bottom left-hand corner of Ramsdale’s net. 1-1.

Thank God for that.

A drop of tea, a lushly soft marshmallow yellow and purple sweet and then Liverpool were somewhat on it.

The visitors tried to break on the half-way line and the ball came to Virgil van Dijk and as he always fancies himself as a midfield general, he played a first time forward ball, to Sadio Mane who ran through on goal and produced a low, decisive, rasping shot, which almost curled bullet like into the left corner of Ramsdale’s net to make it 2-1.

‘Yes!’ I cried, hoping that normal service was going to be resumed, that Liverpool would now go on, full of confidence and put the plucky visitors to the sword.

Not a bit of it.

Liverpool still gave them a chance before the break to equalise and it was a real relief to get to the break in front, somehow.

Before too long the said oven arrived. Fair do’s to those lads, they wheeled it in and just happened to be reds; from Merthyr. They were shocked about the way we had been playing when we told them; ‘We should’ve been 2-0 down’, I emphasised.

We helped Davie un-pack the oven and then before we knew it, the second half was un-folding.

The reds started well enough by attacking, with quick balls and some inter-change of passing, forward. That was more like it. It didn’t last though.

Liverpool soon went back into their shell. Was it just me who thought this? Well, no, as we were all going-off on one at the reds, urging them to step it up and get the game killing third. It never came.

Adrian was looking dodgy, and at one stage he came out to win the ball and completely floundered in No-Man’s land. A Bournemouth player lobbed the ball at an empty net and for all the face masks in China, it looked as though it was going to be a goal. But, then, hail the conquering hero, in the form of the never say die, James Milner, who managed to get back and somehow, somersaultingly, hook the ball from off the line, to safety. It may turn out to be one of the most important moments in the last 30 years….

We all looked at each other in dis-belief. It should have been a goal.

Milner, the oldest player on the pitch, and skipper for the day, had saved Liverpool’s blushes and in one fell swoop had given the reds a huge helping hand in our quest for the Title.

No wonder I again went off on one. Shouting and swearing to ever increasingly dizzying heights, as my stress levels were going higher than the roof of the main stand…

Liverpool did have another three - or four - minute spell when they looked threatening as Bobby Firmino put over a peach of a ball to Mane. It was a tap-in but Mane just couldn’t reach it in time. Mane seemed to be a bit more on it, as he had earlier produced a cracking, shot from on our left, outside the area, which thumped between Ramsdale’s left up-right and post. That would have been some goal.

Milner did the sensible thing as the clock ticked down, with the opposition playing with 10 men, as Billing limped around the pitch. Our skipper elected to play the ball short and keep it near the opposition area; so sensible and professional.

‘Don’t cross it’ urged Deano, who had even been up-staged by my shouting, for a change, much to the merriment of Davie and Carly.

Thank God the ref actually gave us something – as he seemed to have hated us all game, as he finally blew-up.

The relief was just incredibly exhausting, and we were only watching it in the living room – goodness knows how it had felt in the ground…

No wonder Klopp fist pumped the Kop three times in celebration – no doubt one was for relief.

The Fat Lady is putting on the red lippy, her red silk scarf, as she is maybe getting ready to perform in May, whilst having a long, slow drag of her fag…

7/3/20 1566


Andy C Legs
Aug 22, 2019
Hi guys, just penned this. Would really appreciate if you read it and any views would be just so appreciated. Al the best, keep safe. Andy.

‘Sweet Silver Song of the Lark’

So, I went to Davie’s last night. Not armed with any sweets. There was no need; there was no Liverpool and no football – whatsoever.

Davie answered the door. Within about five seconds though we had both uttered the un-mentionable ‘t’ word. You know the one, the one I have been desperately fighting against to say for the past three months. The one this PC even has not allowed me to type it. Ok, here goes, ‘The Title’, the bloody League Title….

I admitted to Davie that it is what I have been most concerned about, apart from the deaths and the possible fact my brother and mum may contact it – you know, that virus with ironically enough, the number 19 on the end of it; the number of titles Liverpool may well be on, if and when we ever get the season finished.

‘I know Crouch’ he said, as Fudge came and greeted me like I was one of the family – which I consider her to be part of my family, the same as I feel about Davie, Carly, Deano and the three girls. I mean, I see them more than my brother and mum as I’m always watching Liverpool with them! They are the people I see the most, apart from the crew I work – well, I turn-up, with, on the line in work.

Carly was there. In her PJ’s and she was eagerly rubbing the silver off a scratch card. It was the only gambling available – now that the footy, racing and rugby has been called-off. No wonder I had spent the day wandering around town, clueless as to what to look forward to, as I feel crushed without football and Liverpool.

‘Bist-ard’, or words to that effect, Carly hissed, ‘all I wanted was 43 on all four of them’ she sighed, and she would – or maybe Davie as well of course, have been in the money. ‘Three pound I’ve won Dai’ she said, as Davie came out of the shower; he had bought the ticket for Carly – love him. At least they would have their money back and be able to ‘go again’. We wondered if Liverpool will.

No matter how many times we talked about the different scenarios, it still would not seem right, unless football resumed properly, with full stadiums. Totally understand the precautions taken to hopefully prevent even one more death, as our manager, Jurgen Klopp said better than any politician.

The first scenario then is, if footy does come back to normal on the 3rd of April then the reds next game will just happen to be against Man City of all teams. Oh, hang on a cotton picking minute, I could say now in my late Dad’s voice, if Sky use their heads here, they could put this game back to the end of any potential season – just, just in case, LFC don’t win the, the, t, ti, tit – no, my keyboard has reverted back to norm.

Another scenario cold be that the games are played behind closed-doors, as a couple of Europa League games have been. No, no, no – surely not. If footy is going to be played, it has to be fully-blown, all singing (well this applies to Anfield anyway) and dancing, in front of fans. But, if it has to be this way, then so be it. The pubs would do a roaring trade as everyone would be squeezed into them to create an atmosphere – that is, until the government ban more than 50 people gathering together of course; which may well happen.

Davie, swivelling in his Bond villain chair, cuppa in hand instead of a bottle of something, agreed that he would accept another scenario when the League is called to a stop right here, right now, as it stands, and as Liverpool have played 75% of their games, then the rules state that they will be crowned Champions – especially as they currently hold not just a pithy one or two point lead but an humungous 25 point lead. Surely no one would deny them the trophy? But, hold on, there is Karen Brady who is advocating that the season be null and void. Well, no wonder she is, West Ham have a real chance of going down if it isn’t. I have only one message for her, ‘You’re fired!’.

‘Never liked her or the other two’ Davie said. I came out with it and declared that if I lived in London, I would openly go and follow West Ham as I have always felt that they are the closest to Liverpool for passionate fans who are close to their club and also, they traditionally play good football. The sooner they are rid of ‘The Brady Bunch’, the better, so I’ve got nothing against West Ham what so ever, apart from when Liverpool don’t beat them which they had been very lucky too recently.

‘Whatever happens, I just want that title’ Davie said, and I agreed. I think that any Liverpool fan would concur.

It just has a hollow feeling in my heart though to think that Liverpool will not get the chance to properly win it. That’s what it boils down to.

Now, here is the thing and I’m going to really reveal something here. There is even more of a reason I want us to win it this year, for when we won the Champions League my and our celebrations were somewhat curtailed. I/we, were allowed to wallow for what, maybe an hour if that and then, then, I was called away, right at the point where we all were so deliriously happy, me, Dean, Davie, Carly even the girls were beaming and baby Kelsey as I told her to remember ‘this time and never forget it’. I could not have said anything more prophetic; for within less than an hour I saw my dad’s body on his living room floor, with a blanket over it…

So, I want to see Liverpool, properly, properly possibly win the Lea, Leag, Leag, Leag, nope, my keyboard still is not letting me type it or let me say it out loud, just like it has not all season.

The season just has to re-start. That’s it.

If every team does play again, in full stadiums, and Liverpool do just, just mange to maybe get over the line, then I want to be with Deano, Davie and Carly at that precise time; for it will mean even more than I could have ever thought…

The fat lady, with the red lippy, in the red dress, with a fag in her mouth, has been told that she may not have a gig in May and that it has been possibly postponed but maybe, just maybe, with hope in heart she will still be able to sing the sweet silver song of the lark…..


A. Phillips RIP GLP. 1154


Well-Known Member
Ad-free Member
Sep 23, 2016
Keep the faith Andy, Carly, Davie, Deano and yourself will get to see the red dressed, red lippied lady perform her gig. It may not be in May, but she's waited thirty years for this gig (The biggest of her life so far) and nothing is going to deny her that moment in the spotlight with the world watching her.



Andy C Legs
Aug 22, 2019
Keep the faith Andy, Carly, Davie, Deano and yourself will get to see the red dressed, red lippied lady perform her gig. It may not be in May, but she's waited thirty years for this gig (The biggest of her life so far) and nothing is going to deny her that moment in the spotlight with the world watching her.

Thank you mate, that means a heck of a lot to me. Fingers crossed we will see the tixxx as even my phone is not allowing me to type it, in all its glory like only red fans can create .....


Andy C Legs
Aug 22, 2019
Someone on Twitter suggested people write about the last time we won the league. So, this is my little piece. If you get five, maybes have a read. All the best, take care and keep safe. Andy

‘Called on to Sing’

Memories of Liverpool v QPR (April, 1990).

Me and Gail queued-up – that’s what you could do in those days. Don’t ask me for how long. All we hoped was that the Kop turnstile would not stop clicking before we got there.

I’d met Gail on the Kop, on the left-hand side, the end nearest the Main Stand one late January day – versus Luton and arranged to meet her every game then. We rarely saw the reds draw, let alone lose. It just did not happen.

On this particular day we managed to squeeze into the top right-hand side of the famous old terrace, looking towards the old Kemlyn Stand (the Sir Kenny Dalglish Stand – these days). All that mattered was that we were ‘in’.

We had beaten Millwall with a goal from ‘Bupa-Man’ Gary Gillespie and then along the way had crushed Charlton away, 4-0, when our new hero, ‘Oh Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie Rose-en-thal’ had scored a hat-trick, following a surprising 3-4 semi reverse against Palace. Then we had beaten the soon to be Chav Chelsea, 4-1 – blowing them away and as I had headed towards the coach, Des had told me that we would be Champions. I was a pessimist then and nothing has changed in thirty years since.

The visitors on one of the last days in April 1990, QPR though, had not read the script. They only went and scored first, down at the Anfield Road End. The cheek of it!!! I’ve had to check this fact out but it was that Yank, Roy Wegerle – didn’t he have a moustache? He put the visitors in front. I knew I was worried.

This reds team though had Alan Hansen at the back – with my abiding memory of him striding forward against Southampton that season in I think, the crucial 3-2 League win, and laughing my head off in pride as the Kop chanted, ‘Hansen, Hansen, take the piss’ and he did, always. McMahon and Whelan were also there along with a front three which are an equal of Bobby Firmino, Mo Salah and Sadio Mane; in the form of Johnny Barnes, Peter Beardsley and my number one hero, Ian Rush. Not a bad spine, with ‘Brucie, Brucie Grob-el-laar’, in goal and Stevie Nicol as well who was a very decent player – akin to Andy Robertson.

Well, with the lads, wearing that red top which looked as though a few pigeons had crapped on it and a Candy logo – the top which I’d had in March, for my birthday (before we crucially beat Man U 2-1 away), attacking the Kop, desperate for a goal, the ball came in from the Main Stand side to the edge of the six yard box. Someone swivelled like a ballerina and lashed the ball into Dave Seaman’s top right-hand corner!


Doubly or even triply delight for me because not only was it a Liverpool goal and a critical equaliser but it had been scored by said hero, none other than the goal machine, the moustachioed master, Heinz Bean loving lithe – nay, Gazelle, number nine with a shot-gun sling finish, in the form of Ian Rush.

I just know that I could not believe that he had scored from such an acute angle… I was nearly over-come. I don’t often cry (still I haven’t since my dad died a few hours after the win in Madrid) but give me a Liverpool goal and the chances are, I’ll immediately explode into a fountain of tears, especially if I happen to be really there. This time was no different. You see, I love Liverpool, right from the very, very, very depths of me and can’t never contain my most natural emotions. I will be the same till the day I die but before then I just want Liverpool to win the league again, I can die happy then.

Well, that was the equaliser, 1-1 at the break.

Not sure how Villa were doing. Villa being our nearest Title challengers. It had been nip and tuck but Liverpool had just gone on this incredible run since returning to Hillsborough and losing 2-0 before Christmas. Villa were hanging onto their coat-tails, just like Forest, United, Watford, Ipswich had in the past, except for Arsenal though, who had dramatically won the title right in front of our disbelieving eyes less than 12 months before. After that, anything could happen – and well, you all knew it did in subsequent years to come.

Sometime in the second half we won a penalty. Now, I’ve just got this feeling that it was not really a pen – as Stevie Nic got fouled outside the area but do you know, I took it, thank you very much, yessiiireeebeee. There was only one man to take it. The coolest player and one of the most graceful I’ve ever had the pleasure to see in real life, the player whose Anfield debut I had not seen because I’d criminally missed the bus against Oxford in August, 1987 and subsequently missed his introductory free-kick in front of an instant adoring Kop; Johnneeee Barnes.

Don’t ask me what the strike was like. Id have to You Tube it or watch it on video, providing my bro can set my dad’s video up for me, but the main thing was, Barnesy scored to make it 2-1 to Liverpool. It put us in the box seat -set-us up to have a real chance of winning the League there and then, that day.

The closer the time ticked the more tense I got because in those days before mobiles and instant info access, I used to carry a transistor radio with me. So, as the game neared it’s close and Liverpool, with Glen ‘Glenda’ Hysen, all grey permed locks alongside ‘Jocky’ Hansen in defence, with me having lost Gail, having gone to the loo and never finding her again amongst the sea of faces below me, I pressed my ear up against my radio as though some spirit was whispering to me Lottery numbers to the first draw, about five years later. What I heard though, as the Kop chanted, ‘Champions, Champions’ ringing out like bells being peeled out as regularly in those days for a Sunday service, was much more important meaningful news to me, which confirmed that Villa had drew 3-3 with Norwich.

Now I joined in with the celebrations going on all around me because I knew then for certain that Liverpool were League Champions.

Let that sink in a moment or two.

League, Cham-pions. Liverpool.

League Champions. Premier League Champions – it doesn’t matter. It means the same thing – Liverpool were champions of England. Not just for the first time either. It was for the 18th time. 18 times Liverpool have won the League. 18 bloody times and in 1990, on that spring day, 30 years ago, I was fortunate enough to have witnessed it. Lived it. Breathed it. Felt it. Got emotional about it with every last one of my breaths. Tears running endlessly down my cheeks, as the Kop continued booming out, ‘Champions’ or ‘Camp-e-o-nee’ in equal measure.

I’m there again. I’m 21 again. Liverpool top of the tree, back where they belong, after only a year away. The King, Dalglish as manager as the players file past us, celebrating. Nowhere else I want to be. Living the moments which will, little did I know it, last over half a life-time in my memory…

Today, as I write this, Liverpool should have been playing Crystal Palace. Could have played at Everton on Monday and maybe they’d have won and then, just, just maybe, if they had beaten Roy Hodgson’s team, they could have turned back the clock and I could have perhaps closed my eyes and sang ‘Champions’ once again, in the blink of an eye…

The fat lady has maybe put back that date but you never know, she may still yet be called on to sing...



Andy C Legs
Aug 22, 2019
Hi guys, it has been a while, so just trying to get back in the groove. Just wrote this this morning bright and early - up at 6 am with no alarm, so hopefully it is worth a read. Any feedback at all would be tremendous. Thanks, Andy.

The Fat Lady is on Standby.

Liverpool v Crystal Palace

24th of June, 2020.

I had been nervous all day, as though there was a coiled-up spring inside me and it just had to come out; it was just when.

Reading whilst sat there, alone, on the bench and social distancing, near the beautiful canal and the barge boat café, where on a glorious sunny day I could have imagined in better times it would have been packed to the rafters. It was a book called ‘Munich’ by Robert Harris, and I had rescued it from the scrap heap of my brother’s throw-out pile. No one would have thought to look at me that I was burning not with the sun but with a desire which has got greater by the year and decades.

It was un-usual of me to arrive early. Using my brain, just for once, to get the soft sweets we usually had – popping into Morrisons Petrol station instead of risking going to the store. The soft pink and white ones and green and pink ones; I was hoping they would do the trick as we had jelly babies on Sunday and we had drawn in a game which if we had still been playing now, we would not have scored in.

I seen Davie, Dean, Carly – my family and they had been walking Fudge, who had had a trim; she looked so much better for it; with baby Kelsey holding her pink lead; the way it’s going I think I’ll book an appointment at the same place as my greying hair is getting miles too long!

A quiet un-expected can of cider – watered down with pop for me and a natter on Davie’s patio before we went inside for the game; nervous, you bet. Confident – no, not after Sunday. Hopeful – yes. As Dean would say, ‘Surely we can’t lose tonight’.

‘Three points tonight’ Deano demanded as the pre-match chat was taking place, as the sweets were already going down. Exactly. I wasn’t bothered about if and how we got them. A scrappy 1-0 win and I’d bite your hand off. We just needed to win. That was all and, and, well, we’d let the fate of God’s take care of the rest.

An empty Anfield. How strange. The Kop draped with a collection of large colourful flags and banners. Oh, how it would have been a cacophony of noise and anticipation if it had been full to the rafters. ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ was blared out – sounding even louder than usual in the empty stadium as the teams lined-up and exchanged pleasantries.

Jurgen had his strongest line-up, no messing. Ali, Trent, a returning Robbo – God how we had missed his energy and runs v Everton. Virg and Joe in the middle. With Hendo, Gini and Fab patrolling the midfield. The terrible trio back together up top – Mane, Salah and Bobby; all their names tripping off the top of the tongue like your full address, when you were a kid.

Palace – our bogey side, the last team to win in the league at Anfield in April two years ago and that was after we had gone 1-0 up with Coutinho’s free-kick. It seemed light years away. This was an altogether different reds team; a team which had conquered Europe since and had gone a knats whisker away to claiming the title last season and we on the cusp of immortality within weeks, if not days and as I write this the hairs all over my body are standing to attention and I’m starting to have tears at the mere thought of it…Just how must the players be feeling.

Liverpool won the toss and it set the tone of the whole game – they won everything. Dominant in the tackle as they harried and chased Palace into submission right from the first to the last in what must have been one of, if not the best, performances seen at Anfield since the 5-0 drubbing of Notts Forest in 1988; yes, it was on a par with that.

Hand on heart, I can’t recall all the numerous chances created. I really can’t. Robbo was just on fire. His link-up with Sadio being a feature as much as Trent’s was with Salah. Liverpool found space and created openings which bamboozled Palace with Fabino absolutely majestic in the middle as he patrolled the edges of both penalty areas like a midfield version of Virg. The surprise was that the crucial opening goal took so long to come – it was worth waiting for.

Virg won a free-kick on the right of the area. Mo was obviously there and we debated about who was going to take it; maybe not Trent after he had wasted three clear chances in the dreadful Derby. Just what was he like but do you know even before we could say, ‘Noooo Trent’ he stepped-up and coolly curled the ball around the wall to lift it into the top left-hand corner of Hennessey’s net! Oh my God, oh my God, I just cried out in pure ecstasy and relief and again, as I write this, tears are forming at the pure emotion of it, the pure delight of the strike and its significance. Fists clenched just turning towards the kitchen on the sofa in my own Andy world at the majesty of the goal. Just pure class – sod Beckham comparisons; more like Johnny Barnesesque.

Virg was man-handled as Liverpool won every ball, every tackle, moving through the gears, enjoying themselves; one could only imagine how a packed Anfield would have sounded – like an explosion of constant noise as the boys in red produced a performance for the watching millions around the world which must have had ‘The King’ himself, purring in delight as he looked-up from the matchday programme.

‘We need a second goal’ Deano said at one point, as he was oft to say, ‘otherwise it’s going to bite us on the ass’. Oh, so true mate, especially against Palace, and yes Carly, this was the same side we were three-nil up against that one time but that was a Rodgers side, this is a Klopp team and it is a million miles an altogether different beast.

Fabinho just played this sumptuous clipped ball from near the centre circle, as he picked out Salah’s run on the right edge of the box. Oh my, what a pass. Mo was straight on it and ran into the centre, un-marked and lifted his trusty left foot to slam the ball wide to the left of Hennessy to make it 2-0 just before the break. That was it, I again roared, oblivious to Davie and Deano, in Andy’s world where the fairy’s live and I’m happy, just for that split second where nothing else mattered…We were 2-0 up and the reds now had a proper cushion to take into the break. Had Palace had even half a chance – yes, I think but again, such was the dominance of our performance I certainly can’t recall it.

By now I had finished my shandy cider and the sweets had gone down quicker than Ashley Young in the box and it was just as well that we had another pack to munch on, as Davie made the tea with Carly having enjoyed sitting in Davie’s father’s day present of an inflatable chair, which neatly had a can holder on the side of it. She could almost have said, in her best Tracy West Barry accent, ‘It’s lush’ as I’d handed her the sweet basket.

At least Liverpool could not get at Palace in their changing room – and why hadn’t we made them get changed in a port-a-cabin like the Evertonian’s had made us do on Sunday! As Deano said, it’s because that game was played at ‘Woodison’.

If we had any concerns that we would not play like we had in the first period then there we no worries on that score as attacking even a deserted Kop in the second period we purred and roared like lions, after their prey as Palace again felt the full effect of every straining effort by a team determined not to give an inch and to take 1,000 miles.

They say that lightening doesn’t strike twice well Fabinho discounted that load of old twaddle as he re-produced his goal v Man City earlier on in the season as he let fly a low rocket powered sizzler which flew past Hennessy’s left in the blink of an eye. It was a sumptuous goal. The clincher at 3-0. Fab was mobbed – sod social distancing I wanted to jump on a train and go and give him a smacker on the lips. The goal meant so much and it was majestic! He had earlier had a crack at a free-kick which had just gone over the bar and he should try his luck more often.

Palace were out of it. Liverpool were not giving them even half a sniff. It was debatable if they even touched the ball in the red’s penalty area in the second period. Alison may as well have read ‘War and Peace’ and smoked a cigar for all the work he had to do but my God, what a difference he has made to this team – as Deano would say, ‘We have gone up another level’. Him, Virg and the superb Joe Gomes who is getting more like Hansen by the minute and I can’t give him greater praise than that, as Liverpool seemed to be playing with just those two at the back, while the rest of the team pressed Palace into total submission in a blanket attack.

Bobby, to Mo on the half way line and in an instant, like magic, just like that, Mo was passing first time to Mane on the left who must have been shocked at how easy he was through on goal. With a chasing pack trailing behind him, I kept calm, trying not to get excited, just in case Sadio didn’t score. Was there really any doubt? Sadio just arrowed a low, powerful shot into the bottom left-hand corner of Hennessy’s goal to make it 4-0.

Oh my, again, it was music to my eyes. Magical. I’ve waited 30 years for the reds to be this close now and had ‘it’ nearly snatched away; this goal brought it possibly closer. Liverpool mean so much to me. They can make me cry in an instant. Just ask Carly – it makes her laugh, as she said again during the game. Just the way us three are is pure theatre.

Well, after the goal Liverpool just carried on in the same vein but Klopp gave league debuts to right-back Neco Williams; a Welshman and surely a full International in the making as well as Liverpool fan from a kid, Harvey Elliott who was soon showing all the confidence of years of experience in the body of a teenager – oh my, what a talent he is and he’s not going anywhere. Timo who? No wonder we never bought him.

Before the end we could have scored through Neco himself as he cut into the box with the reds going from one side to the other, pulling Palace apart, yet again for the pure fun of it. It was just a joy to watch as for once I actually relaxed and sat back and admired what was happening with less than 10 minutes to go. I don’t think I’ve done that for years and years.

She has the red lipstick on. The long red dress and the red silk scarf at the ready; the fat lady is on standby.




Andy C Legs
Aug 22, 2019
Hi, just, just still cant believe it.....Anyhow, I managed to cobble together, this little piece. Maybe someone will have a read. 19 19 19 19 19 19 19 19 19 19 19!!!!!!!!

The Fat Lady Finally Sang.

‘When you walk’

I knew that they already had the two flags out and the inflatable trophy, with the crown on top, which could be removed – just, just in case. ‘Well, you never know’ Davie had said to me before I left the night before, after Liverpool had beaten Palace 4-0.

Just two points separated us, two points to bridge the wide valley of 30 championship barren years. The nub of it was that if, and it was a small if, City failed to beat Chelsea then we, Liverpool, would win the t** no, my lap-top has just returned to its normal censoring state and even now prevents me from typing that word.

I had worn the yellow top, right at the last minute, having worn the white one all day; I hoped it would just maybe be a good omen. Deano, lounged out like the three of us, on the patio chair, with the sun still burning in the glorious summer sky, tried to figure out what vintage it was and I said, ‘Gerrard wore it’ I think it was about ‘2007’ I said as now, today, I recall us winning 3-0 at West Ham I believe, when Crouchy and Kuyt scored.

‘I’ve got the lucky flags out as well’, Davie pointed out, the triangular ones – red of course. We just all were waiting, waiting for another game, another game in the last 30 years; though this one was different as Liverpool were not playing but it felt as though they were.

‘Chelsea are going for a Champions League spot’ Davie reminded us, so they had certainly had something to play for, ‘especially with Wolves and United breathing down their necks’. He had a point but City had Sterling and De Bruyne and had swatted Arsenal and Burnley aside since the re-start. Their machine was seemingly up and running and going through the gears.

In the car, I had thought though, of how ironic it would be if Chelsea could do something, as it was they, who oft remind us, had beaten us, when Stevie G had slipped. What karma but after all this time of waiting I doubted it, as Kelsey wore the crown on her head and sang ‘We’ve conquered all of Europe’, another red in the making and she is only 7.

‘Time to set-it up’, Deano said and we soon followed him, as I poured the trusty soft sweets into the basket which had served us well all season; you know the ones, the soft pink/white and pink/green ones – you can get them in Aldi’s.

‘Kels’ Davie said, ‘bring your dog in’, as I handed her the toy she had on a piece of cable, it looked like one of those unicorn animals, not that I’m up on stuff like that, it had pleased her. It had kept her away from ‘Fudge’ who panted loudly near her basket in the corner as the game soon got under way. The game that could decide the destiny of the League Championship – that evening.

Man City, wearing that mainly yellow top with pink on the bottom – as though they were an ice-lolly, were just pressing, pressing, keeping the ball as Chelsea were strangled. There seemed no way out and it felt as though it was a matter of time before City scored.

I tried to be disinterested – hardly looking at the screen, chatting to the boys but of course, the longer it stayed 0-0, I began to start, just a tad to feel it. If I had let myself, I could have been going nuts and shouting but it was like I was bracing myself, as Man City were just bound to score.

Then all of a sudden, Chelsea woke-up to the fact that this Man City team can be attacked and punished – Liverpool had shown that in the last few years since Klopp has come like a messiah – a second Shankly. Frank Lampard’s team swiftly passed the ball forward and began to play like the team I had enjoyed watching pre-Xmas time. They began to look dangerous and when two City players dithered – don’t ask me who, Pulisic went through them, ran on and finished into Ederson’s bottom left corner, to make it 1-0.

Well, we went a bit nuts! As you can imagine. We had not expected that.

‘That means City have to score two now’, Deano beamed but we all knew they were well capable of it. ‘Virg would have shepherded him out wide’, he mused, joyous after another City calamity at the back – it was their achilles heel.

Chelsea were on top - their tails-up, as the tv cameras had flicked to the square of reds fans in their armchairs – ‘Why couldn’t it have been us?’ Davie joked.

Half time came. ‘Half way there’ Deano said as I tried not to start thinking too far ahead. Keeping my feet on the ground – just like I had all season, as Davie mentioned the trophy and when we win it, as I again, shouted him down for the thousandth time – with Dean going along with the wind-up. Normally Carly would be there to say, ‘You tell them Crouch’ as I’d say, ‘I’ve been waiting thirty years, anything can happen’. At this Davie would respond with, ‘You’re not coming here again, with that attitude!’ It was all good banter to relieve the tension. Carly was in work at that moment but she would be home before full-time – to see whatever state we were in.

We just knew Man City would come back. Chelsea had a chance to go 2-0 up before City scored a quite superb free-kick from De Bruyne, up, up and over the wall and into the bottom right corner of Kepa’s net. It had been coming. I felt deflated; it was just when, not if City would score again and Stirling should have as well, as his shot hit the foot of Kepa’s right post. It was that close. Chelsea, who had been saved by Kepa in the first half, were hanging on by their toe nails.

Deano got it spot-on when he said, ‘Get in amongst them Frank’ as Lampard got off his seat at the water-break, which had come just in the nick of time. Whatever he said to them, did the trick, for they pushed out and up on City and suddenly were getting through and behind them, again.

When was it – I don’t know, 15 minutes to go maybe and Chelsea were attacking and Mount was it, who rounded Eduardo and somehow did not score and then City got away with another calamity at the back before a re-surgent Chelsea, with a fresh wind in their sails, had the ball near the goal-line and it just would not go in as Davie and Dean were halfway through shouting, ‘Yeahs’. But, oh, hang on a cotton - picking minute, as my dad would have said, as the game was stopped and the ref looked towards the big ‘VAR’ screen. Then replays showed that a City player – Fernandinho was it, had clearly handled the ball off the line with the palm of his hand.

‘That’s a penalty!!’ I screamed my emotion rising-up in reality, that this could be the moment.

‘The more times they show it, the clearer it gets’, one of us said, as we all tensed, sensing the drama as it un-folded, in those tense, title ticking seconds.

Then he gave it. The ref gave the penalty. I just had to hold it. Hold it in. My emotion. To be calm. Just, just in case. Then Fernandinho got sent-off. A penalty to face and down to ten-men with the title on the line. Never, ever thought in my wildest dreams that that scenario would ever be un-folding in front of us. Willian stepped-up and smashed the ball to Eduardo’s right and I was off, flying, running towards the kitchen, roaring at the top of my voice like an explosion, fists clenched, shouting ‘Yes’ over and over, as I knew we were that close.

At one point, Carly had come in. In to a scene I bet she never thought she would ever witness in her 34 years of her life. Three men in a total state of longing for the final whistle in a game of football which meant so much.

As the minutes ticked down Davie tried his best to wind me up and it was working and I did not care, talking about champagne and ice and flags.

‘It’s not over, yet!’ I shouted, contorted inside as my hands clenched the sofa more tighter, just like in 1986 sat on that bench outside International – now the ‘In-shops’ in Cwmbran. In the same tunnel vision state.

‘Two minutes!’ I shouted, as it went to 94, with me thinking back to being on the Kop, as all around me everyone sang ‘Eee-aye-adio, we’ve won the league’ after we beat QPR but me not allowing myself to as the Villa game was still playing and at any moment Villa could have made it 4-3 to be party poopers as I glued my radio to my ear before I could finally celebrate along with everyone else. It was the same now, City needed not one, but two goals in about two minutes but knowing them, even then, as they had scored THAT goal v QPR, a few years ago, it was not over, not over until the fat lady sang and right then, right in my imaginary world, she had got the call, she was getting ready to go to the microphone and finally sing but not until it was over, until it was finally over.

‘Thirty seconds’ I shouted and as I’m writing this now, I’m fighting the tears at the emotion of it all as the years roll by and the enormity of the occasion rises-up, with all those years going under the bridge in a massive rolling wave.

And down the seconds went, half a life-time sweeping by there and then in a flash of an eye, and still I fight the tears as I write this, on the morning after having raided the paper shop to buy every paper there – bar the obvious one.

Then, that was it! I just leapt out of the seat and just, well, just went totally nuts!!!! Shouting at the top of my voice in a very loud manner indeed. ‘YES, YES, YES!!!!’ over and over whilst hugging Davie then Deano, as we began to sing ‘Campione’ as it flashed up on the screen that ‘Liverpool are Premier League Champions’ – even typing this now, has brought tears to my eyes, as it is just incredible. I can’t believe it, it’s just brilliant.

I’m sorry, I just had a little cry at the enormity of it – of how much it means. How much absolute joy it has brought to my heart. I’m in bits and it is just fantastic. It is no wonder I went mental last night at the pure out-pouring of relief and ecstasy at the win, shouting at the top of my voice, over and over again as we went out to the patio with Deano letting off a red flare smoke bomb as we just danced in total joy – mirroring scenes outside Anfield as crowds gathered in joyous celebrations, clambering on the Paisley Gates as we draped the flags around us and Caitlyn laughed at our antics with Kelsey so happy and singing before we walked down to the park with Davie’s chilled champagne bottle which his late dad, Nigel had given him, telling him to keep it for such an occasion.

On the path, with Davie shaking the bottle up and down and then trying to figure out how to pop it open before finally the champers flowed and the four of us had a sip of it in celebration. Just treasured moments. Having photos with the trophy and walking around the park as Deano put on the Stevie G song and of course, ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ which I sang – badly, before we returned to chez Wheatstone, as a firework went off in the distance, as other reds celebrated a night never, ever to forget and one that we thought we’d never see.

Finally, finally, the lovely attractive, warm fat lady with a beaming smile, red lipstick, red silk scarf, wearing an all red dress, with the curls of her long black hair hanging down on her shoulders, with a small Liverbird pennant classily hanging from a chain on her neck, put her mouth to the microphone and began to sing our song, you know the one,

‘When you walk………’




Andy C Legs
Aug 22, 2019
Hi and so to the last pieces of the season. I have tried to write a little something so here goes with the first post!

A Short Year

The Title Lift.

Chelsea H

22 July, 2020

When I had to reluctantly leave the celebration’s I vowed to myself that I would want to be with these people again, the next time Liverpool were fortunate enough to win a major prize; little did I realise it would be a year later.

From Norwich to Newcastle, from Arsenal to Aston Villa – every game vital on the road to a success which even Liverpool teams of old will find difficult to match-up to. Throughout the 2019/20 season I have tried to write-up nearly every game in some form – having only missed watching Liverpool on the box about 4 times in the league. It is ironic; we finally land the title and neither me, Dean, Davie or Carly come to that matter, have actually seen the reds in the flesh, dooooiiinggggg it!

These are the people whom I have called my family; they are all but in name. So many hours spent there, in their bosom, bubble even along with baby Kelsey – who is going to be a red for years, and Fudge of course who I must report is not very well at present. We, well, ok, me, have all been barking mad this season as each goal has flown in and each consecutive win has been recorded. I lost track – Dean never though, what was it, carrying on from 2018/19, something ridiculous like 14 until we drew 1-1 with Man United and if that game had been played for an extra 5 minutes, we would have won it.

Then we went on another incredible winning run – what was it, 18 games where Liverpool picked-up every single point on offer! Not even the 1978/79 team, or the 1987/88 team or the 1985/86 team or the 1981/82 team can compete with that winning run. What did Hendo say the other night, after we finally got our hands on the only ship that never sailed into the Mersey – the Premiership; that the players took one game at a time, never looking two or three games ahead. King Kenny himself could not have said it better.

I’m just getting my head around how phenomenally consistent this team has been. Staggering. I am gutted now that we lost to Arsenal – in a game we dominated from start to finish, went 1-0 up and gifted them their 2 goals. Because we could and should have got to 100 points but maybe there is a beautiful symmetry, pre-destined, that the night we did pick the trophy-up, that we beat Chelsea 5-3 to gain 96 points. 96 points – each point representing the lives of the fans who needlessly died at Hillsborough.

I managed to be there when the trophy was lifted though. Zooming-up Cwmbran Drive, past the town, taking a left off towards Davie/Carly’s house in the greying night, about 10.20, having dashed from my new back-breaking job. Quickly I put on my yellow Liverpool top – Stevie G vintage, in front of everyone and I didn’t care – like I say, they are family. Then they tried to tell me quickly about the extraordinary game that I’d missed, where Naby had scored a blinder of a rising shot and Trent had produced another worldy free-kick and Bobby had finally scored a league goal at Anfield this season, thanks to yet another peach of a cross from Trent.

I took a photo of everyone, even a running Kayla, catching her in mid stride, dashing past me. Just what will be a cherished memory. As the lights darkened on the screen and I took long gulps out of the glass which had a purple cider shandy in it, the King himself came out with the trophy, all gleaming having been polished, like in one of our songs, by Mr Sheen. Six red ribbons dangling down from it – at long last.

Then, every member of the backroom staff and of course a beaming, stubbled, cap back to front wearing Jurgen Klopp, came onto the podium, especially erected on a silent, deserted Kop but not in spirit because every past and present Liverpool supporter was there – don’t doubt that. Then the whole squad joined, as they received their medals, as they, as we did, waited just a little bit more for the trophy which we thought we would never, ever, see being presented to a Liverpool captain. And up he stepped, Jordan Henderson, the soon to be announced Footballer Writers Player of the Year. He finally got his hands on that massive trophy and with his back to the boys, did his now well practised trophy shuffle and lifted the Premier League trophy high into the night. It was at this point that the Fat lady, wearing the red dress, began to sing.

Then, when the players and the staff and whoever else was associated with the team, all lined-up, they began to sing our song, as Trevor Hicks once said at a Hillsborough Concert, ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ as the ticker-tape came pouring down like rain from the sky and the fireworks had boomed like twenty million twenty five pounder guns. We huddled together, me, Deano, Davie and of course baby Kelsey who just sticks to her best friend like glue. We tried to sing our anthem in tune with the screen but we fell down, on top of Carly, who was filming us. The others were tipsy – me, I was just drunk on the occasion!

There was nowhere else I wanted to be than with these people. Right there, right then. It had only taken a year you see. I was making the most of it just like I went nuts in those moments after we had won the title – about two weeks ago. It meant the world to me, especially after I’d had to leave those European Cup winning celebrations so dramatically the year before. I could not have dreamed in my wildest dreams then that I would be in the same location, with the same people, about the same time of the year but with a different major trophy, the one which Trent said he would have swapped every other medal for.

Many hugs, even a kiss from Deano, it was that sort of occasion. Just love pouring out from every nook and cranny. I did not need alcohol – these moments themselves were enough. In years to come, when we have used ‘Freeprints’ we will have the photos in our hands to recall this time, so that the three girls can recall it instantly as they grow-up, the night when one grown man was close to happy, heartfelt tears.

Carly of course could not but help declare that she wished that her idol, Stevie Gerrard could have been there, to have been part of the celebrations – she loves him more than any player, as me and Deano, a lot more older and with longer memories told her that Graeme Souness was better than Gerrard and she was wide-eyed at our comments. And that he would make any of our Liverpool Best XI’s, in Deano’s eyes. It’s a toss-up between Souness and Dalglish who is the Greatest Liverpool player, with Kenny just coming-out on top. Davie had said that this was the greatest Liverpool team he had seen and that was fair comment. I mean – Virg alone, my favourite current Liverpool player, is surely going to rank alongside Alan Hansen – and I can’t give him any better compliment. For Carly – read Mane, mind she will then say ‘Robbo’. Me and Dean just can go all misty-eyed as well though when we think of John Barnes who was also there, interviewing the players and Jurgen after the trophy lift. Barnsey was a player – a true club legend. Mane and Mo, have still some way to go but they are getting there. It is the collective though about this whole current Liverpool team which is its strength. As Hendo said, they all work for each other – just like teams of our past did. It has been a message which echoes back to one Bill Shankly and for that read Jurgen Klopp. He has made sure that this mentality runs throughout every corner of the club. That every member of it is respected as much as the players themselves; like a collective. It bonds everyone together, including every fan.

Finally, I sipped the last drop of drink and smoothed Fudge, as she lay flat down in her bag. Hoping that she would get better and that the next time I visited, that she would be up on her feet and bark the house down! Reluctantly I had to leave but under much better circumstances now, in a happy mood, still trying to take it all in. It had been a short year…




Andy C Legs
Aug 22, 2019
Following on from this, I managed to cobble this piece together. Maybe someone would like to have a read. All the best, Andy.

I Did Not Want It to End

Newcastle United A


I could have just carried on watching as the last twenty minutes of our season wound down in the best possible way, with the reds playing delightful one-touch, flicking football, like the true champions they are. It was an absolute joy to watch and I felt gutted when the final whistle went. Will we ever see anything like it again?

This time I had arrived within twenty minutes of kick-off and armed with some bars, given to me by work. I would not buy them myself but Carly smiled in delight when I popped the carrier bag down, in the kitchen, which smelt of freshly cooked chicken in a bag. It made me realise just how hungry I was having not had not much more than a bowl of cereal since I’d got-up.

It’s strange, I don’t eat much these days. I drink a lot more though and I put this down to my new job. You see, as I chatted to Carly and the lads, Dean and Davie, I took voluntary redundancy before being pushed and now am not stressed about which plastic part goes on in the correct order or what mill gap I’m allowed when a curved piece of plastic goes on a plane seat- anymore but have a physical pain sometimes; let’s just say, I don’t fear going to work now; besides which, I’ll never need a gym!

The lads tried to tell me the much-changed team, for the last time, in our Title winning season. Alli, Neco Williams, Robbo, Virg and Joe at the back with Millie, Naby and Gini in the middle. Up top there was Divock – build him a statue, Mini and ‘The Ox’. All the other main guys were on the bench. Just when was the last time Mo, Mane or Bobby did not start? One for the statisticians to look-up me’s thinks.

Newcastle. Ah, so much potential. And we gifted them a goal before we all realised it. Virg seemed to be on the back-foot and a quick free-kick ball over the top, which was put in by Gayle ‘Who always scores against us’ Deano said. After 26 seconds! Nuts. Stunned and shocked, even as VAR checked the goal. I thought that they were offside but Neco must’ve been playing them on. Lesson learnt there for our countryman.

That was about as much as Newcastle seen of the ball, as I cast my mind back to the game at Anfield when we had also gone behind. We had come back to win then. I hoped that despite us having won the League, that we would replicate that action as no-matter how many points we were ahead, I wanted Liverpool to win – always win, it has been instilled and ingrained back into our DNA now by Klopp.

There were crisps of differing sorts in the bowls – and I tried not to take too much advantage but was grateful as Liverpool almost half-heartedly knocked the ball about, hardly registering too many shots at goal in the first period apart from one by the ‘Ox’ which went wide of Dubravka’s right-post. Then the Ox got down the right by-line with a burst of pace and crossed and there was Virg to head powerfully into Dubravka’s top left-hand corner, postage stamp-style. What a simple, well-crafted equaliser, it meant that Virg had scored in the first and last games of our League season.

After that Newcastle may as well have not bothered. Liverpool could have scored again and as Davie finally got the half-time tea’s in, with baby Kelsey showing her ever impressive artistic portfolio of pencil drawings, and the crisps having all been consumed, the second-half was nearly under-way. Sweets were put in the bowl and Liverpool seemed to have moved-up a gear from second to fourth in one switch akin to that Niki Lauda in the film, ‘Rush’ which I’m half-way through watching. Talking of films, I chatted to Dean about the one I had seen the previous night called ‘The Post’ – quite good. He was all over it like – well, Liverpool around Newcastle’s penalty area, as modern American history is his thing. ‘Watch, ‘All the Presidents Men’ he suggested. Maybe I will – just to broaden my own mind.

We were debating about Origi and whether he was good enough – even now, as we easily recalled his vital goals on our way to winning last season’s Champions League (really – did we win that? I have to pinch myself now). And whether Divock was happy to play only fleetingly and what did he go and do, score a cracking, curling goal to put us 2-1 up! He must have heard us.

Divock was off soon though as the terrible three came on. Mane, Mo and Bob. The Geordies must’ve feared the worst. They had every right to. From the moment our main men came on, Liverpool looked totally transformed. It was first to every ball and the midfield did not look so dis-jointed to the forwards. Bobby was the orchestrator with his clever balls and first time passes as the ball was almost slid slow motion around, with first touches from the back to the front, as space was found and chances were created, with Mo hitting Dubravka’s left post almost instantly after coming on. Then he had about another three decent chances. ‘You should have had about 30 goals!’ Dean shouted at our Egyptian King who now had no-chance of retaining his Golden Boot.

As Davie urged though, we still needed that third killer goal, especially as we had seen the team concede needless goals against Burnley and Arsenal which cost us the chance of 100 points. Virg lofted a long ball forward and in the blink of a Bobby back-heel, Mane was cutting in on our left and arrowing a belter into Dubravka’s bottom left to make it 3-1. That was it. No way back for the Barcodes after that.

It should have been more as the four minutes of added on were played out. Four minutes of a season which would live long in the memory. No wonder I did not want it to end…




Andy C Legs
Aug 22, 2019
Thought that I would give this a whirl too while I was in the groove!

Still Writing Their History

League Season Review: 2019/20.

Trying to kick the ball about in the garden has just made me want to write this; a little reflection on the season so far.

It was when Bobby put Mo through, against Newcastle at home, with that exquisite back-heel, that just encapsulated the skill which comes to my mind, which led to the winning of the title.

Then, I would say it was that game, against Villa. That was the most crucial win. There was a stage that afternoon when Man City were winning and we were losing and the gap was down to 3 points. They would play us next and if it stayed that way, anything could happen. Was it no wonder that I exploded in joy and relief when Robbo scored the equaliser and then went ballistic when Sadio scored that last gasp-winner. For the first time I really felt fear before Robbo’s equaliser, fear that we would be caught. Yes, I know we beat City the week after and moved 9 points ahead of them but it could have been oh so different.

Sweets – every game, always the same ones and if they were not, then we lost and also me trying to park my car always in the same spot when I go to Davie’s to watch the game! As if I’m superstitious – you bet! Then also trying to write-up about every game we won so that Liverpool may keep the incredible run going.

As I pick this piece back-up, the season is over now. I thought at one stage that the ‘Null and Voiders’ were going to have the last laugh – but we did, Liverpool FC. It is incredible what Klopp has achieved. Writing this I will be disappointed if he does not win ‘Manager of the Year’. The team has been relentless. Playing some fantastic, attacking football along the way, in spurts at times. It was like they were setting their own pace. In some games, just doing enough to win. Always I felt we could move-up another two gears.

It is hard to pinpoint one particular player as everyone has played his part, from Adrian, to Ali, to Robbo, Gini, Mini, Sadio, Mo and Hendo! I feel though that we can’t do without Virg – who has played every minute, of every league game for the last two seasons. He was almost the final piece of the jigsaw as Ali was the final one. Though it is doubtful if we could have won the league without Sadio. He has been nothing short of brilliant for the last two years. He has pace to burn and just so accurate and cold-blooded in front of goal. And that smile! It lights-up any ground. I would love it if he won the Players Player trophy.

Yesterday I was trying to figure out how many League doubles we have completed and so here goes, from my head; Aston Villa away – 2-1 (Robbo and Sadio), Home 2-0 (Mane & Jones); Chelsea a 2-1 Trent and Bobby, Chelsea h 5-3 Naby, Trent, Gini, Bobby, Ox, Crystal Palace a 2-1 now I know Bobby scored the winner! Palace h 4-0 Trent, Fabinho, Mo and Mane, Leicester h 2-1 Mane and Milly pen a 4-0 Bob 2, Millie pen, Trent. Norwich h 4-1 own goal after an Origi cross, Virg, Mo and I’m not sure if Sadio scored the 4th, a 1-0 where Sadio came off the bench and turned to hit it home from close range. Southampton a 2-1 I believe when Sadio deffo scored and I can’t say with certainty who got the other but I know Adrian cocked-up! H 4-0 Ox, Hendo, Mo 2. Spurs H 2-1 when we were a goal behind after about a minute. Hendo and Sadio got brought down with Mo converting the spot-kick. Bobby scored the winner at Spurs, 1-0. Sheffield Utd a 1-0 when Gini squirmed a hopeful ball in, h 2-0 where I think Mo and Mane scored. West Ham a 2-0 Ox and Mo, West Ham h 3-2 and just don’t ask me who scored as I’ll just guess with Sadio and Mo no doubt! Bournemouth a 3-0 Ox, Naby and Mo h 2-1 after the Watford defeat, where we again conceded early with Mo scoring a scuffed equaliser, Virg putting Sadio through and Millie acrobatically clearing off the line – the most important piece of action in 30 – Years. Wolves at home was a 1-0 win, thanks to a Sadio goal then Wolves had a legit goal VARRED out. Also, we won 2-1 away where Hendo opened the scoring, they equalised before Bobby again popped-up with a last gasp winner! I forgot Brighton. We beat them 2-1 at home thanks to two identical Virg headers and then nearly collapsed as Ali got sent-off with the visitors scoring to make it a back’s against the wall last few minutes. We won the away game 3-1 after winning the league. Mo was it and Hendo who put us 2-0 up before we again got slack at the back and they scored a whizzing low shot to make it 2-1. Mo though scored a near post header to make it 3-1.

Crumbs – so that’s at least 12 doubles – 72 points in current currency. I wonder where the other 27 points came from? I know we beat every team in the league this season so lets start with Arsenal at home when Matip rose highest to score with a Kop End header before Mo was pulled back by Luis and he converted the spot-kick and then ran and ran firing home a low shot to make it 3-0. They scored a consolation late on. We beat Burnley 3-1 was it, away? Where Mo and Sadio had a bust-up? Deffo Bobby scored and Trent as well from a ridiculous ball which looped into the top corner of the net! Then there were wins over Watford at home when Mo cheekily back-heeled twice and the visitors missed sitters. Everton were thrashed 5-2 where Origi scored two spectacular goals along with Shaq and Sadio with Gini scoring late on. We beat Man City with Fabinho firing in a fantastic long-ranger howitzer, Trent sending Robbo scampering down the wing before crossing first time for Mo to head home without breaking stride – that could have been the Championship, there and then. Sadio’s bullet header made it 3-0 as City scored late on. Man Untied were beaten 2-0 at home with Virg heading in early as Bobby had a superb goal chalked-off, as did Gini before Mo ran half the length of the pitch and slotted home with the Kop dusting off their old ditty of ‘We’re gonna win the League’.

We drew 1-1 at OT with Divock being fouled before United went up-field, crossed the ball and someone scored. Lallana though preserved our un-defeated league record which stretched-back until January 2019, by ghosting in and prodding in the equaliser as a parting gift. Somehow, we let Burnley back into the game at Anfield after Robbo had scored a powerful header from the right-hand side. In all fairness, the visitors should have won. It stopped us from recording 19 home league wins but the result helped us go 3 League seasons un-defeated at Anfield which is apparently a record. Also, there was that 0-0 draw – the only one of the entire League Season, at Everton which is instantly forgettable except for the fact it nudged us closer to the 5 points required at that stage to win the League.

And to the losses. Only 3. Make that 4 out of 76 over a two-season period. Incredible. The 3-0 defeat at relegated Watford was thouroughly deserved. Awful, sloppy defending. Should have been more conceded as well. Then when the Title had been wrapped-up we pressed Man City for twenty minutes and did not take any of the numerous chances we created and got punished 4-0 in the end and it could have been more. They let-us off lightly if truth be told. When we went to Arsenal and went 1-0 up through Sadio I felt that we would at least get a point but two gifts from Virg and Ali, gave Arsenal the points in a game where we again did not convert a hat-full of chances we created!

I am led to believe that this Liverpool 2019/20 team, have beaten the points tally of our 1978/79 team, who lost 4 games and scored 80 odd goals and conceded a miserly 16 goals over 42 matches. I don’t judge Liverpool on other sides but our own past teams and it is debatable if there was a greater Liverpool team than that 78/79 team which contained Clemence, Neal, A. Kennedy, Thompson, Hansen, Souness, McDermott, Case, R. Kennedy and David Johnson and a certain Kenny Dalglish. Now though, you can instead read Alisson, Trent Alexander-Arnold, A. Robertson, Virgil van Djke, J. Gomes/J.Matip, J. Henderson, G. Wijnaldum, Fabinho, Mo Salah, Bobby Firmino & Sadio Mane – for these men have earned their place alongside the past club legends; they are still writing their history…