I grew up with stories of footballing
legends.
Roy of the Rovers was staple diet.
You went with it, collecting football cards
could swallow up all your earnings. Those hard earned pennies from minding the cars that parked
down your road, every Saturday home game. It was a perk of living so close to Anfield.
The cars did not actually
need minding, but it was a way of developing a interaction with people.
It instilled inside you, from an early age, that if you put some time in, and you
were polite,and you had a go, you could earn some money.
You would chase towards a car
before your mate got there “Mind your car Sir” we always got a
smile.
I remember one day a massive chrome encrusted Mercedes the
likes of which you never saw on the terraced streets of Anfield
parked down our street.
I had to patiently wait till after the match
had finished, but I got a shilling, the usual rate was a couple of
pennies or maybe a tanner.
The takings always went up when we won the
match.
Saturday afternoons would be spent taking the results on Final
Score which usually came up after the wrestling with Mick McManus and
co, including the strangely named Kendo Nagasaki. I always remember knowing Giant Haystacks, he was a bouncer on the Robin Hood camp disco in Prestatyn where you would be dragged for a holiday.
Although we didn't have
a TV, until 1966 when a special effort was made because of the World Cup.
Those footie cards always seemed to have lots of swaps,
you could just not get Roger Hunt.
I had loads of Tommy Smiths and Tommy
Lawrence's but Roger Hunt was gold dust.
Last week I lingered in some family archives that I had been wanting to tidy up for over a decade and I come across a Liverpool Echo, and it was old.
7th November 1957.
What was strange was that the front page was in colour, and emblazoned upon that front page was a hero of a generation before mine....Billy Liddel.
I thought Billy Liddle was a giant, as that's how he was always talked about.
The greatest goalscorer ever they said, and there it was in black and white and red all over, the statistics.
It must have been my grandfathers, who I never knew. My Grandmother will have kept it. She would often sing out in chorus as if involuntarily Go Billy Liddel, steaming down the middle.
He was a hero. They immortalised him in pubs and factories all over the city. A working class hero was something to be.
Even Evertonian's respected him in the same way as we, with, the Dixie Dean.History is not only about posh art, its about the everyday.
This is the week that Liverpool go
seven points clear and although Man City have a few games in hand the
next match, the Chelsea match is pivotal we could win the league. Alex Ferguson said the first thing he wanted to do was knock Liverpool off their perch. He must be sick as a parrot this week when ex Everton manager, David Moyes is sacked...the chosen one, by him.
It took 15 years for Moyes to get Everton in the Champions League, but he has finally done it.
By resigning as Everton manager.
Chelsea have a new cat now, that's what they called their goalie in the 60's.
The Cat. I had a couple of footie cards of Peter Bonetti, The Cat, and a few Peter Osgood's.
You had to eat so much plastic tasting chewing gum and all you get is a load of Martin Chivers.
They must have sent all the Roger Hunts to London and sent the London strikers up here.
It took 15 years for Moyes to get Everton in the Champions League, but he has finally done it.
By resigning as Everton manager.
Chelsea have a new cat now, that's what they called their goalie in the 60's.
The Cat. I had a couple of footie cards of Peter Bonetti, The Cat, and a few Peter Osgood's.
You had to eat so much plastic tasting chewing gum and all you get is a load of Martin Chivers.
They must have sent all the Roger Hunts to London and sent the London strikers up here.
The Kop hero now of course is Suarez,
who hasn't always done the right thing but he may be winning round
most of his critics.
I read the paper as if it was the
Whizzer, or whatever comic it was that that Roy of the Rovers always
dribbled past one, then another , then he would dummy the goalkeeper
and yeeeess, he scores.
I read on, and was alarmingly reminded
that the paper I was reading, dated 1957 was a year that Liverpool
were in the second division.
Then the great Bill Shankly arrived.
Then the great Bill Shankly arrived.
I am to have it framed, its history.