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...