A Footy Trek
After a bit of discussion my two friends Chris and Craig and I made a plan to travel to the UK for a soccer (re: football) trip. After scouring the fixture list we identify a sweet spot in the calendar: late January and early February. It’s an off-peak time of year, so flights will be cheaper and there are both regular league matches and the FA Cup Fourth round is happening, so the soccer calendar is full!
Now, our opportunities to watch soccer are limited to the one or two matches a week that we can catch on cable, so while we’ve been exposed to the big three of Manchester United, Arsenal and Liverpool while we are there we are making an effort to branch out to more exotic grounds and get a better idea of what English football is all about. And maybe form an allegiance to a team (but more about that later).
If we’re going that far, we don’t want to come back empty handed, so by placing many international phone calls we’ve managed to secure tickets to seven matches over the course of about 10 days' travel. Clearly, that’s not enough football, so we will also be visiting a number of museums - football club museums - and touring a few football stadiums.
Hang onto your butts, because after a flight to London and a train up north, it all kicks off on a derby day in Liverpool…
It’s the FA Cup fourth round and what brought us up north is that this match will be a derby between local rivals Tranmere Rovers and Everton. Everton host and hold the greater reputation, having not been relegated since the mid-fifties. But, it’s not a season to remember for Evertonians, and this upstart group from Tranmere (just across the river in Birkenhead) are coached by an ex-player of their fierce rivals Liverpool FC.
We make our way into the stadium, and the start is delayed about 15-20 minutes because of fan congestion getting into the stadium. Things don’t start well for the home side, and then go completely sideways. The fans share the intensity of their feelings with their players. One Evertonian behind us is screaming “Play with some heart you bloody twats!” on repeat. Around the 70th minute, he bolts down the stairway and out the stadium arms flailing having had enough. At this point, his side are down by three goals. We’re not sure exactly what is going on with transportation, but the buses to get back into the city center are stuffed, and the line to get on is hopeless, so we choose to walk the two odd miles back into town. As it turns out, this was a poor choice.
We don’t get far before the road turns into a highway. A highway next to a housing project. A highway next to a housing project where there is a group of young angry Evertonians.
Then we hear the rocks start to hit the pavement around us. “Go back to Tranmere!” they scream as they elevate themselves on playground equipment, to get a better chance of hitting us. We are able to laugh it off, but we do speed up our pace. Then before we’re back in the city center, Craig slips on some uneven pavement (it’s getting dark by now) and twists his ankle. There’s a bar off in the distance, and that’s enough to motivate him to carry on.
In the bar, the boys get a bitter. This is a chance for Craigs injury to heal up a bit and we reflect on the events of the day before we head back to our hostel.
Before long a couple of locals sidle up to us and engage in conversation - pleasant at first but slowly turning dark with questions of “why did you kill him?” (John Lennon) then suddenly we were each given nicknames “Big Fella”, “Little Fella” and bizarrely “Grace Slick”. At some point we extracted ourselves from conversation and hopped in a cab to make our exit.
The next day we board a series of increasingly smaller trains and make our way north to Bolton. We’re at another FA Cup match this time at the Reebok Stadium - one of a very few recently constructed stadiums in the UK. It’s much like a modern NFL stadium, rounded, the stands all touch each other and it’s been built out on the edge of town. Our seats are next to a very pleasant, welcoming, well informed multigenerational family. They share a lot about the club, their performances and Bolton. It’s an absolute pleasure being sat next to them and I feel at times as though we should be chatting over a cup of tea.
Even the Scunthorpe fans - who lose by four goals are in good spirits on this trip to Bolton as it’s recognized that they over-achieved just to get here.
After returning from Bolton, we drop our things and catch a bus to Anfield. The senior side were playing away in Leeds this weekend, but the Under 18's are playing a match at Anfield, and that's exciting enough as we will be sitting in the famous Kop End stands. It's a school night, but the tickets are cheap so it's a very family friendly event. The home side struggled to a draw but this didn't hurt the atmosphere for the kids sitting around us.
Another day, another trip to Anfield. This time it’s quite early. We started with a visit to the team museum, on display there is the European Cup, and a very good history of the Kop. Then, we’re off to the Stadium tour. We are whisked down to the locker rooms, out through the players tunnel under the iconic “This Is Anfield” sign - which you can yourself reach out and touch - and out onto the pitch, where someone was spreading ashes at the Kop end. A quite exciting morning!
Today’s plan is to leave Liverpool and take a train to Manchester, then make our way to Old Trafford, the home of Manchester United for a tour of that stadium. We are doing an early afternoon tour, so there should be plenty of time.
Comedy gold ensues as Craig, who has been hobbled by an ankle injury and is walking with the assistance of an old lady stability cane, and I miss the train. Chris makes it. This should not be a big deal as our tickets get us on the next train in 45 minutes or so.
None of us has a cell phone, so my assumption is if Chris isn’t waiting for us at the train station, we will catch him at the stadium (the tickets are under my name).
When we get there, well, it’s a big train station. We look about for a bit, then Craig and I can’t agree on how to proceed. He wants to stay at the station until we find Chris, I say he’s probably gone on to Old Trafford, which is today’s destination, he does not concur.
In the end, Craig stays and I go on to Old Trafford, where of course Chris is waiting. We have just enough time to join the tour group who have already gathered.
They take us into the large media room, through the locker rooms and out onto the pitch. It’s a jolly good time. Then head back to the train station to scoop up a dejected Craig before hitting our hostel.
We got into London and checked into our lodging in central London a bit late. Traveling up to Highbury in north London on a match-day meant we arrived quite late. In the end we ended up jumping out of our cab and running to the stadium and even then, missing kick-off.
We were sat at the back of the North Bank Stand with an obscured view by both the poles holding up the roof, and the roof itself. How far back were we? When the ball was on the opposite side of the pitch we needed to hunch down - way down - in our seats to see the players run down the goal line.
Arsenal looked great, and Bradford did everything they could to make the Gunners look that much better.
A complete party atmosphere! Despite the scoreline this one felt closer. The home fans seemed relaxed and happy no matter the outcome, but when they went ahead it was euphoria!
Zola scored a worldie, while Newcastle’s star player Alan Shearer was being kicked to hell and did not appreciate it.
Absolutely blown away with this stadium. It was really built in a time when people were out to impress. And whomever built it, had a deep appreciation for marble.
Our tour starts in the lobby, and our tour guide is amazing to us. He opens with a few party tricks - such as spelling “Arsenal” with the initials of players currently on the roster from each of the countries represented by people on the tour (although to do this he did have to use the names of a few players on loan). Then he dives into the history of the building, changes made over time and such.
After which we are off and out onto pitch level. We see where the players sit during the match, reverse down the players tunnel and get a peak at the locker rooms.
Then it’s on to the team Museum where sportingly, they still have a cardboard cut-out of George Graham you can have your picture with.
Finally, we hit the team store. Between the tour, the museum and the match the other night I came dangerously close to becoming an Arsenal fan that day.
In fact, I bought a Lauren jersey in the store, but Craig gave me such shit about it I turn around and returned it before we made it out of sight of the stadium. What might have been…
A day off from football? Absolutely not! That’s not what this trip is about. We go to west London and tour Stamford Bridge.
Our tour group gathers outside the team store and we’re taken in via the team entrance, straight into the locker rooms, where you can sit under the player jerseys. Then we are quizzed on who’s our favorite player. This get’s a bit difficult, as we aren’t Chelsea fans per se.
Finally, we walked out the team tunnel and around the various stands before being led back out to the team store. Funny how that happens.
We head to west London again. This time it’s to Loftus Road, home of Queens Park Rangers. The neighborhood is really fun, it’s full of Jamaican Jerk Chicken joints, and rastafarian stuff is all over.
Somehow, I’ve secured us seats with the Bolton away fans. Now, away fans are subjected to more scrutiny by stadium security. Imagine our surprise when the staff found Craig had been carrying a pocket knife he had forgotten in one of the many many pockets of his jacket. Reader, we have boarded two flights, and gone through “security” at five different stadiums on this trip, the pocket knife has been there the whole time.
After a bit of explaining and appoligies Craig convinces everyone that he is not in fact a hooligan, but rather just a stupid American. This excuse seems to scan, so they let us pass.
Once inside and seated we learn that only the rowdiest, drunkest one percent of fans travel to follow their team. When at Bolton, we sat to a very sedate multi-generational group of Bolton fans and enjoyed a jovial conversation that you could imagine we’d have over a warm cup of tea. Here though, our fellows in the away end are organized, inebriated and angry.
Far from engaging in conversation, we three keep our lips sealed, lest we betray ourselves as out-group Americans. That is, until I almost got us killed in the 36th minute.
When the Bolton goalkeeper took down a QPR player in the box, I reflexively say “That’s a red card!”. At that point everyone in a three row radius turns and gives me a hard stare. Everyone except of course Craig and Chris, who are looking at me with a look that says “why on Earth would you say such a stupid thing?”
After the longest five seconds of my life the Away fans Capitain papers over my mistake by loudly noting “He had to go off. That’s truth.”
Thus spoke, our fellow supporters redirect their anger at QPR players and fans. “Who’s the wanker in the hat?” directed at a QPR supporter in an adjacent stand with a vaguely Caribbean inspired headdress in QPR blue and white. Each time 6' 7" QPR forward Peter Crouch touches the ball everyone yells in unison “FREAK!”.
After the match, we mill out onto the tube. We spend the next 35 minutes watching a pair of Bolton supporters try unsuccessfully to stand up as the tube car trundles side to side. Important lessons were learned that day.
We board a train from London in the early morning, take three hours to get to Newcastle. It’s snowing a bit on the trip up, but - not really that much.
As we check into our hostel the housekeeper asks the purpose of our visit to her hometown of Newcastle - when we explain we’re going to the Newcastle United match that evening she remarks that “Oh, no. That’s been put off.”
Because of the snow and the conditions around the stadium the game was canceled. After that train ride, we’re gutted. We decide to salvage something from the day and do a walk around the stadium, to find the team store is open - it’ll have to do.
Sadly, it can't All be Football
Liverpool is a particularly lovely pile of a city, very picturesque in how it’s moldering away. And if you’ve made it this far - all three of us returned from the this Liverpool FC fans. You could feel the class and grace of the club walking around the stadium, and none of us could resist it.
