You'll never walk alone (pt.1) ...

Whenever an author (not sure if I’m calling myself that) writes about football, it is a deeply personal experience. For a true fan of the beautiful game, one’s passion for football and their club of choice is as inseparable from themselves as the act of breathing. Therefore, when an author writes about this game, whether it be Hornby or McGinniss, what they are really writing about is themselves. (For example: in his memoir Fever Pitch, Nick Hornby concludes that his obsession for Arsenal as a youth was a fairly direct product of his parents divorce and filled an uneasy time in his childhood ... it's a good read if you're up for it). As I am both an avid football supporter and abroad in England, I feel it is necessary to write some sort of meditation on this game that I love, and what it really means to me. I am interested in my roots as a football supporter, but what I am more interested in is the way football has affected my life and whether or not, like Hornby, my passion for football can be used as a lens to aptly view myself and my life. With that said, here we go.

The first football match I had ever seen was on May 11^th 1996, the FA Cup final between Manchester United and Liverpool Football Club. Though being six years old at the time, I remember this game vividly. I was watching it at home with my dad, brother, sister and a couple of friends. All of the previously mentioned people, save for my dad, was supporting Manchester United. I had a decision to make, one that (little did I know at the age of six years) would affect the rest of my life and, in terms of the nation I am currently living in, is among the biggest decisions one ever makes. Basically, in England, supporting a football resembles marriage more than anything else. The only difference between the two is that every English lad is loyal to their football clubs.

I chose Liverpool, and with that moment, my 15 year relationship with this club was forged. Over the next two years I spent in England, I became as ardent a Reds fan as there ever was. Fowler, McManaman, Barnes and Rush were not just names to me anymore, but living Gods, whose grace and skill on the football pitch earned them an amount of admiration that I could never fully repay. Liverpool became a close friend, an ideology and a way of life for me. Looking back, at this age, if someone were to tell me that I would someday stop being a Reds fan, I would have probably told them to 'fuck off.'

When I came back to the states, I was still playing the game. I was a quick pacey winger with an eye for the assist. I was full of potential, potential that I might add amounted to a very average high school career, but the game was still close to me nonetheless. However, being a football supporter became harder in states. Where football was far and away the sport of England, in the states football became crowded out by the NBA and NFL. Americans did not grasp the subtleties and grace of the game and soon the names of Fowler, McManaman and Rush slipped from their perches as gods and the passion they previously inspired in me merely turned into nostalgia for those long forgotten days of my youth.

Then, in May of 2005, as quickly as Liverpool entered into my life, it came roaring back. Turning through the pages of Sports Illustrated, reading up on the upcoming NBA playoffs, I came across an article telling the story of an underdog team that made it all the way to the Champions League final. This team was Liverpool. They had fought their way through the group and knockout stages to play AC Milan in the 2005 Champions League final. I knew that I was lucky to have even heard about this game, so I had no choice but to watch. Due to the time difference of the game being played in Instanbul, I cut out of school early to watch it.

The first half did not go well. Actually, this is an understatement. It was horrible. With 45 minutes played, Liverpool went three goals down and there looked to be no hoisting of the cup possible after the other 45 were complete. But losing in the final in this disgraceful manner was not on the cards for this fateful evening. In the second half, Liverpool’s talismanic captain, Steven Gerrard pulled one goal back with a cleverly placed header. Then, Vladimir Smicer’s left-footed rocket beat AC Milan’s Dida to his far post (this is easily Smicer’s greatest accomplishment as a Liverpool player, for he was sold weeks later). Then Xabi Alonso converted the rebound of his saved penalty to level the scores at 3 all. When the game remained level after the additional 30 minutes, penalties followed. As fate would have it, Liverpool’s keeper, Jerzy Dudek demonstrated incredible heroics, saving three of AC Milan’s four penalty attempts. Liverpool prevailed, completing the greatest comeback in a cup final ever in one of the most memorable game ever played. The relationship that was forged 15 years ago, was now cemented, permanently and forever.

Since then, I have been through it all with this team. I have been there for the highs: 2006 FA Cup final (perhaps the most dominant and clutch single player performance in a cup final by Steven Gerrard) and the lows: 2007 Champions League final loss, narrowly missing the Premier League title in 2009, the tyrannical reign of Hicks and Gillett and currently sitting in 9^th place while losing to shit teams like Stoke while talentless shitheads like Lucas play 85 minutes and then get sent off (not that I’m bitter or anything). I have seen players come and go. Some good, that I didn't want to see leave (Xabi Alonso, Mascherano, Peter Crouch) and some not so good (Robbie Keane, Craig Bellamy, Alberto Aquilani). I've seen the manager who has been at the helm of Liverpool since 2005 leave and a new one arrive. But, despite these many changes, the old dictum invariably holds true: "Once a Red, always a Red." Though the likes of Alonso and Crouch have moved on, they are still Reds to me, similar to how I once lost my passion, only to gain it back again.

But, as I mentioned above, this entry is not really about football, but my life. My life, in which football plays some allegorical part in shaping who I am. As I scan my brain for overarching conclusions and moments of clarity, stay tuned for part 2 ... LW