
Saturday was a bad day for Liverpool FC. But it was a great day for Liverpool fans and the wider football community. It’s not the first sign of dissent from football fans, but it certainly was the most vocal, most noticeable, and as time goes on, it may turn out to be the most effective tactic in the fight to bring football back to the people. And by football, I mean English football. In most of Europe this is not an issue. A season ticket for Bayern Munich was €140 this season and €130 at last season’s runners-up Wolfsburg. In the 1970’s and 1980’s football hooliganism was known as the ‘English disease’. Today’s ‘English disease’ is the daylight robbery of the fans that built this sport. And unlike hooliganism, it is completely legal; completely supported by the elite; and if it goes unchecked will – eventually – destroy English football.
It may take a decade for the scales to fall from the eyes of the Premier League, the Football Association and the clubs, but you cannot have walkouts like Saturday. It cannot be allowed spread. The fans have to be listened to. I’m a Liverpool fan. From Dublin. I’ve been to Anfield twice in my life. Twice they won 3-0. In 1993 I sat on a roofless Kop during a downpour as they crushed Wimbledon. Great atmosphere, great scouse wit on display in the face of a monsoon. In 2011 I sat in the Anfield Road end as they battered Newcastle by the same score. Surrounded by tourists (like me?) I felt I had to keep a bit quiet. Every exasperated “for fuck’s sake ref!” was almost frowned upon by the crowd around me. There was no craic at all. No atmosphere down there. I really wished I’d been on the Kop. Or in Tallaght at a Dublin derby.
Regardless of your background, you know this sport is for everyone. I know that the people that can make football matches the best 90 minutes of your life that week, even that year, are drawn from all places. It’s not like Rugby in that way. The craic and the banter is of a different shade – more cynical, more fatalistic and more cutting. And funnier. The anger is different too, in that it exists. What makes football crowds around the world the most energetic, heaving masses of equal parts joy and borderline violent, depending on what they are seeing, is because many of them see those 90 minutes as a glorious release from the rest of their lives. Many people simply need it.
Anfield, Liverpool is a poor place. The ground is surrounded by rows and rows of small terraced houses. The people in these areas are not rich. A 3-bed house on Arkles Road, 3 minutes walk from the Kop, is currently for sale for less than £80,000. 2-beds can be bought for less than £50,000.
The people who live on Arkles Road, the people who have lived on Arkles Road and surrounding streets since the houses were built, are the heart and soul of Liverpool Football Club. And Everton Football Club. And the same people on the same streets in Moss Side and Salford are the heart and soul of Manchester football. But the clubs don’t think they need those people anymore. Not when there’s thousands of Thais, Chinese, Americans, and yes Irish daytrippers, willing to pay the price the owners want.
But you can keep that English league with its English disease. It’s not for me. And it’s not for the 10,000 leaders of the fightback on Saturday. I was proud to be a Liverpool fan this weekend, albeit from the armchair. And I hope that one day soon this English disease is defeated. Perhaps the miracle of Leicester City is part of the solution. Dozens of individual players in England cost more than the entire Leicester team in transfer fees. Maybe Liverpool and other clubs don’t need to squeeze every last penny from their fans to be successful. I hope the fight continues. I hope it spreads, or at least threatens to spread, to other clubs. And I hope the clubs listen.
Owners come and go. Directors come and go. Managers and Players come and go. But the people of Arkles Road and the city of Liverpool, one of the truly great football cities on Earth, remain. And they need to be able to pay in to see their team.
You can see them, their great grandfathers, grandfathers and fathers in the clip below. A different world, but the same game. On the same pitch, with the same Liver bird on the chest…
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