When I was almost five years old, my family and I moved to Birkenhead in Merseyside, just across the River Mersey from Liverpool. I suppose that was around the time that I started to recognise that there was a world outside my family and friends, and most of my earliest memories of childhood are from that period.
One of the first things I recognised was football (no, it's not "sah-ker", it's football - you use your foot to kick a ball; socks play no more part in the game than any other), and living on Merseyside, I had two choices of teams to support: the blue of Everton or the red of Liverpool. (Technically speaking, living in Birkenhead, I also had the white of Tranmere Rovers, but let's not be silly -- the Lilywhites never had a chance as they are historically rubbish.)
I chose Liverpool. It wasn't too difficult a choice. They were the new European Cup winners, their star player, Kevin Keegan, was a ubiquitous pitchman for all sorts of products, and Liverpool players littered England's national squad (never mind that the national squad was pretty pathetic back then, even by today's low standards).
The first 14 years of my relationship with Liverpool Football Club were beautiful, with League, FA Cup, League Cup and European titles galore, the deeply ugly scars of Heysel and Hillsborough notwithstanding. Life hasn't been quite as rosy since then, but days like Istanbul 2005 and Cardiff 2006 have provided plenty of smiles.
This is a long and enduring relationship. I've never been tempted to end it, even during the dark days of Graeme Souness's tenure as manager. They would have to do something quite despicable for me to ever turn on them. Having said that, Liverpool (and sports in general, I hasten to add) don't mean as much to me now as they did as a little child. I'm more likely to kick a table leg when they mess up than throw myself on the bed crying (as I did when I was 6 years old).
I was inspired to write this post after reading an article I found last night on Liverpool's official website giving details of a book that has been recently published researching why LFC are the choice of so many British Asians, from back in the 1960s, even in areas closer to other major clubs.
The most common answer: legendary manager Bill Shankly. Shankly turned a club living on past memories in the 1950s to one that was feared and respected by all by the end of the 1960s, but he did so by creating a family atmosphere not just within the club, but with the fans as well. These things resonated with Asian immigrants, who have a traditionally strong sense of family. I've seen old television footage of fans being told in 1974 that Shankly unexpectedly had resigned as Liverpool manager: they could not have been more shocked if they'd been told a beloved family member had just died. They loved Shankly that much.
Shankly pre-dates my relationship with Liverpool, but we do share one common bond: Shankly's nickname was "Shanks". So was mine.
I chose Liverpool. It wasn't too difficult a choice. They were the new European Cup winners, their star player, Kevin Keegan, was a ubiquitous pitchman for all sorts of products, and Liverpool players littered England's national squad (never mind that the national squad was pretty pathetic back then, even by today's low standards).
The first 14 years of my relationship with Liverpool Football Club were beautiful, with League, FA Cup, League Cup and European titles galore, the deeply ugly scars of Heysel and Hillsborough notwithstanding. Life hasn't been quite as rosy since then, but days like Istanbul 2005 and Cardiff 2006 have provided plenty of smiles.
This is a long and enduring relationship. I've never been tempted to end it, even during the dark days of Graeme Souness's tenure as manager. They would have to do something quite despicable for me to ever turn on them. Having said that, Liverpool (and sports in general, I hasten to add) don't mean as much to me now as they did as a little child. I'm more likely to kick a table leg when they mess up than throw myself on the bed crying (as I did when I was 6 years old).
I was inspired to write this post after reading an article I found last night on Liverpool's official website giving details of a book that has been recently published researching why LFC are the choice of so many British Asians, from back in the 1960s, even in areas closer to other major clubs.
The most common answer: legendary manager Bill Shankly. Shankly turned a club living on past memories in the 1950s to one that was feared and respected by all by the end of the 1960s, but he did so by creating a family atmosphere not just within the club, but with the fans as well. These things resonated with Asian immigrants, who have a traditionally strong sense of family. I've seen old television footage of fans being told in 1974 that Shankly unexpectedly had resigned as Liverpool manager: they could not have been more shocked if they'd been told a beloved family member had just died. They loved Shankly that much.
Shankly pre-dates my relationship with Liverpool, but we do share one common bond: Shankly's nickname was "Shanks". So was mine.
2 Comments:
...and Shanky-poo. And don't you forget it!!! hee hee
I have nothing witty to say to this post. Although, I do want to emphasize just one word.
Futbol. Futbol. Futbol. Futbol. Futbol...
Post a Comment