It was when I visited Anfield.
It was like how Newton discovered gravity, when he sat under a tree and an apple fell. It's really quite unremarkable. But its effect and consequence are profound.
As profound as it gets in football anyway - a vow to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part (which in today's climate refers to: until you get relegated to the championship).
That was back in 1996. I went along with my parents to visit my uncle and cousins who lived in Loughborough and because mum was a die hard Liverpool fan (I must reiterate though, that I'm not a fan by default) we went on a road trip to Anfield, Goodison Park and surprise, surprise, Old Trafford too.
We didn't catch any matches though, just checked the grounds snapped some photos and shopped for souvenirs. At that time the Shankly statue wasn't even erected yet. There was an air of unparalleled heritage, glory and nostalgia. A feeling you can't really explain or comprehend without experience.
By then I'd already had an inkling towards this great British pastime, introduced by mum having friends over on weekends for good food and well, the opportunity to shout at the TV. So this fascination was not entirely foreign, but standing at the legendary grounds, I fully understood.
(I'm still trying to locate a photograph from this trip to insert in this space).
When I got back to KL, I got a copy of the official LFC magazine, saved up 10 pounds (about RM40 at that time), got my mum to prepare a bank draft and sent in my application for an annual club membership. I also decided Robbie Fowler was my favourite player. His statistics speak for itself, but I held on to the fact that if I suffered from mild dyslexia, he'd be a flower. Michael Owen hadn't debuted at that point.
The rest as they say, is history.
Fast forward to 2012:
It was just another Thursday for them.
For me, a childhood dream manifested (and trying hard not to stumble on pronouncing Henchoz or saying flower out loud)
xo Reem
sweeeetttttt
ReplyDeleteIt's a great childhood dream. Like me, why I'm be liverpool fan until now because i cant read book.
ReplyDeleteThen in 1996 i was 9years old, standard 3. Majority my classmate can read but im in danger situation, so i m struggling to learn to read and its about michael owen and robbie fowler. Seriously its priceless. Just sharing my story. YNWA. Walk on walkon