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Moctezuma

Memories of the first game you attended

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I only meant to type something brief.  I've put it behind NSFW tags for those who don't want sentimentalist clap-trap forced on them...

 

Warning! The following content is NOT WORK SAFE. Click the Show button to reveal.

This is how I remember it. Maybe it didn't happen exactky like this. But this is how I remember it.

 

My dad isn't in to footy. He's a quiet guy. Enjoys having his family around him. Likes a bit of gardening. I was like him in a lot of ways, but in others I was very different. I supported Liverpool. I loved footy. We weren't skint but we weren't loaded. I had a red and white hat and scarf - and my pride and joy a leather Liverpool football with red and white hexagons. An actual casey.

 

I had seen the games on Telly and I had decided that I wanted to be part of it. The swaying crowd. The singing.

 

However those crowds were my dad's nightmare. It just wasn't his thing. Maybe a bit out of his comfort zone. He wasn't keen.

Dad guessed the fad would pass and I would move onto something else. But I didn't. 

I pestered him relentlessly to take me to a game. I had no idea that it wasn't really his thing. I just wasn't aware enough to sense it.

 

One day he came home from work with two tickets. I couldn't believe it. I was actually going to a game. I remember looking at them so often that I know every inch of them.

 

We did a dry run over to Liverpool a week or two before the game. Dad wanted to be sure he knew where he was going. To be honest I just thought it was day out. I didn't realise it was a dry run over so dad knew where he was going. I just thought it was a great day trip. Walking aaround an empty Anfield was different in them days. The houses came right up to the ground. No superstore trying to get your cash. In fact the shop was just a tiny corner shop type of thing. It was shut and had grill shutters down, but I still remember a Ray Clemence book on display in the window. I wondered if the shop was open would Dad get it for me?

 

Eventually, the night of the match came around. It was cold. I had put on my hat and scarf a long time before dad got home from the factory.

 

I had a pot noodle for tea. They were pretty new to the market. It tasted nice but I couldn't eat it. I was too excited. Mum insisted I took something to eat and made me a sandwich, but I didn't touch it. We were going to Liverpool!!

I don't remember much else about the journey.

 

My next memory is inside the ground. Walking up the steps of the Kemlyn Road stand. I remember going towards our entrance to our seats. All that stood in our way was a friendly looking steward shuffling foot-to-foot to keep warm. He spoke to my dad. "You can come in mate, but he'll have to stay here. He looks like one of them football hooligans." Dad laughed. I smiled although my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking the view was like from beyond that entrance.

 

As we entered my senses were in overload. The grass was so green. Unbelievably bright green. The best grass I had ever seen in my life. The noise. The grass. The sounds. Unbelievable. Flags were waving. Red and white checkered flags. I struggled to take it all in as we took our seats.

 

I can't remember much about the game, but I remember my dad saying "That's Cally. You're privileged to have seen him play, you know!". Maybe he did know something about footy after all.

 

In my study there is some stuff hanging on the wall. My guitar. Some fancy love hearts the missus has hung up. And of course the ticket stubs from my first game. Dad kept them.

He framed them and gave them to me a few years back. Bit faded, but they look great! Was it really 40-odd years ago?

 

fvQ84di.jpg

 

Dad's got Parkinson's now. Pretty much housebound. The most altruistic bloke I have ever met in my life. Would love to go one more game with him.

Fantastic post that, the bond between your dad and you really shines through!

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I only meant to type something brief. I've put it behind NSFW tags for those who don't want sentimentalist clap-trap forced on them...

 

Warning! The following content is NOT WORK SAFE. Click the Show button to reveal.

This is how I remember it. Maybe it didn't happen exactky like this. But this is how I remember it.

 

My dad isn't in to footy. He's a quiet guy. Enjoys having his family around him. Likes a bit of gardening. I was like him in a lot of ways, but in others I was very different. I supported Liverpool. I loved footy. We weren't skint but we weren't loaded. I had a red and white hat and scarf - and my pride and joy a leather Liverpool football with red and white hexagons. An actual casey.

 

I had seen the games on Telly and I had decided that I wanted to be part of it. The swaying crowd. The singing.

 

However those crowds were my dad's nightmare. It just wasn't his thing. Maybe a bit out of his comfort zone. He wasn't keen.

Dad guessed the fad would pass and I would move onto something else. But I didn't.

I pestered him relentlessly to take me to a game. I had no idea that it wasn't really his thing. I just wasn't aware enough to sense it.

 

One day he came home from work with two tickets. I couldn't believe it. I was actually going to a game. I remember looking at them so often that I know every inch of them.

 

We did a dry run over to Liverpool a week or two before the game. Dad wanted to be sure he knew where he was going. To be honest I just thought it was day out. I didn't realise it was a dry run over so dad knew where he was going. I just thought it was a great day trip. Walking aaround an empty Anfield was different in them days. The houses came right up to the ground. No superstore trying to get your cash. In fact the shop was just a tiny corner shop type of thing. It was shut and had grill shutters down, but I still remember a Ray Clemence book on display in the window. I wondered if the shop was open would Dad get it for me?

 

Eventually, the night of the match came around. It was cold. I had put on my hat and scarf a long time before dad got home from the factory.

 

I had a pot noodle for tea. They were pretty new to the market. It tasted nice but I couldn't eat it. I was too excited. Mum insisted I took something to eat and made me a sandwich, but I didn't touch it. We were going to Liverpool!!

I don't remember much else about the journey.

 

My next memory is inside the ground. Walking up the steps of the Kemlyn Road stand. I remember going towards our entrance to our seats. All that stood in our way was a friendly looking steward shuffling foot-to-foot to keep warm. He spoke to my dad. "You can come in mate, but he'll have to stay here. He looks like one of them football hooligans." Dad laughed. I smiled although my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking the view was like from beyond that entrance.

 

As we entered my senses were in overload. The grass was so green. Unbelievably bright green. The best grass I had ever seen in my life. The noise. The grass. The sounds. Unbelievable. Flags were waving. Red and white checkered flags. I struggled to take it all in as we took our seats.

 

I can't remember much about the game, but I remember my dad saying "That's Cally. You're privileged to have seen him play, you know!". Maybe he did know something about footy after all.

 

In my study there is some stuff hanging on the wall. My guitar. Some fancy love hearts the missus has hung up. And of course the ticket stubs from my first game. Dad kept them.

He framed them and gave them to me a few years back. Bit faded, but they look great! Was it really 40-odd years ago?

 

fvQ84di.jpg

 

Dad's got Parkinson's now. Pretty much housebound. The most altruistic bloke I have ever met in my life. Would love to go one more game with him.

I think I've got something in my eye.

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Ah, the days when every German stadium bar Dortmund's had an athletics track.

Ha, did as well.

Ground had a huge pond behind one goal where millions of toadlets used to appear from every summer.

The other goal end had a massive corn field behind where people used to help themselves.

Two grassy knolls and no seating.

Littbarski and Tony Woodcock were in that Koln team, can't remember if they played though.

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Liverpool 5 Man City 2 in 1983. Don't really remember much about the game because I couldn't see anything. Just remember the place being absolutely heaving as it was boxing day or the day after. Got there late and walked up from by the Arkles pub. At that time there was a gap in tye corner between the kemlyn Rd and Anfield Road end so you could see the main stand packed. That gave me a bit of a buzz knowing I was going in and the place was so loud (to a little kid anyway).

Remember this well. Boxing Day morning kick off and a lockout where the ground only filled up about 15 minutes before kick off and it was empty until then.

Me and a couple of mates were about 16/17 at the time and had to hitch hike from Runcorn due to there being no trains. Got a lift from a couple of lads who were about 19/20 and we 'parked' down one of the side streets behind the kop near to The Salisbury pub before grabbing a couple of pints before the match. This wasnt exactly planned as the parking of the car consisted of the two lads in the front saying 'Quick,get out the car is nicked!'

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Leeds at home 1972 I was nine,my brother put me by the fence at the front of the Annie then went up the back,two women who were Leeds fans said we'll look after him,they gave me some chocolate and I was sick all down my scarf,we got beat 2-0

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Leeds at home 1972 I was nine,my brother put me by the fence at the front of the Annie then went up the back,two women who were Leeds fans said we'll look after him,they gave me some chocolate and I was sick all down my scarf,we got beat 2-0

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1984, October I think.

 

We lost 1-0 v the Blue shite with that famous Graeme Sharp goal.

 

I was in the Kop with a mate and his Dad.

 

The 2nd half seemed to go by in flash.

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On 08/09/2017 at 21:19, Jennings said:

I only meant to type something brief.  I've put it behind NSFW tags for those who don't want sentimentalist clap-trap forced on them...

 

 

Warning! The following content is NOT WORK SAFE. Click the Show button to reveal.

This is how I remember it. Maybe it didn't happen exactky like this. But this is how I remember it.

My dad isn't in to footy. He's a quiet guy. Enjoys having his family around him. Likes a bit of gardening. I was like him in a lot of ways, but in others I was very different. I supported Liverpool. I loved footy. We weren't skint but we weren't loaded. I had a red and white hat and scarf - and my pride and joy a leather Liverpool football with red and white hexagons. An actual casey.

I had seen the games on Telly and I had decided that I wanted to be part of it. The swaying crowd. The singing.

 

However those crowds were my dad's nightmare. It just wasn't his thing. Maybe a bit out of his comfort zone. He wasn't keen.

Dad guessed the fad would pass and I would move onto something else. But I didn't. 
I pestered him relentlessly to take me to a game. I had no idea that it wasn't really his thing. I just wasn't aware enough to sense it.

One day he came home from work with two tickets. I couldn't believe it. I was actually going to a game. I remember looking at them so often that I know every inch of them.

We did a dry run over to Liverpool a week or two before the game. Dad wanted to be sure he knew where he was going. To be honest I just thought it was day out. I didn't realise it was a dry run over so dad knew where he was going. I just thought it was a great day trip. Walking aaround an empty Anfield was different in them days. The houses came right up to the ground. No superstore trying to get your cash. In fact the shop was just a tiny corner shop type of thing. It was shut and had grill shutters down, but I still remember a Ray Clemence book on display in the window. I wondered if the shop was open would Dad get it for me?

Eventually, the night of the match came around. It was cold. I had put on my hat and scarf a long time before dad got home from the factory.

I had a pot noodle for tea. They were pretty new to the market. It tasted nice but I couldn't eat it. I was too excited. Mum insisted I took something to eat and made me a sandwich, but I didn't touch it. We were going to Liverpool!!

I don't remember much else about the journey.

My next memory is inside the ground. Walking up the steps of the Kemlyn Road stand. I remember going towards our entrance to our seats. All that stood in our way was a friendly looking steward shuffling foot-to-foot to keep warm. He spoke to my dad. "You can come in mate, but he'll have to stay here. He looks like one of them football hooligans." Dad laughed. I smiled although my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking the view was like from beyond that entrance.

As we entered my senses were in overload. The grass was so green. Unbelievably bright green. The best grass I had ever seen in my life. The noise. The grass. The sounds. Unbelievable. Flags were waving. Red and white checkered flags. I struggled to take it all in as we took our seats.

I can't remember much about the game, but I remember my dad saying "That's Cally. You're privileged to have seen him play, you know!". Maybe he did know something about footy after all.

In my study there is some stuff hanging on the wall. My guitar. Some fancy love hearts the missus has hung up. And of course the ticket stubs from my first game. Dad kept them.

He framed them and gave them to me a few years back. Bit faded, but they look great! Was it really 40-odd years ago?

fvQ84di.jpg

Dad's got Parkinson's now. Pretty much housebound. The most altruistic bloke I have ever met in my life. Would love to go one more game with him.

That’s a wonderful post and so much of it rings true with my own memories of my first match. The pestering for a ticket for what felt like years, the hindsight that my old man was a football fan but never went to the really went to the match before I started badgering him to take me. The bright green grass. The tiny club shop. The smells, the crowd, the singing. 
 

I took my old man over for the Leeds game last month. It was the first match I’ve been to with him in about 5 years and had it not been postponed it wouldn’t have happened because he’d decided he didn’t fancy it at xmas with the rise of omicron.

 

he’s looked frail this last year, had some troubles with his gall bladder which has made him look unwell for the first time I can remember and made him feel fallible for the first time I can think of.

 

I remember we took my grandad to a game with us years ago. My grandad was of the era where he’d go to watch whichever of Liverpool or Everton were at home that Saturday, but he was always a red. A sombre, serious man in my mind but a lovely and generous man to all, and he came alive that day we took him to the match again for what was the last time. I don’t remember the game but I remember the pub before the match with him, and the walk to the ground listening to him retell old tales of never heard before. 

 

 

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I was 8 went to White Hart Lane - never been so excited- was rushing to get boots off at school after footy had played in goal - door slammed and took took off my thumb - was left in my glove

was rushed to hospital- they sewed it back on and wrapped it up in a big white bandage- I was in floods of tears as thought I wouldn’t be able to go - however did get there and experienced my

first smell of street burgers

couldn’t believe that Liverpool lost to a Ralph Coates goal - he had an amazing comb over - what’s happened to those ? That night sealed my love for the Reds

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1968  Liverpool v Sheff Utd. I went in the boys pen and then into the Kop at three quarter time. Sir Roger scored for us but we lost 2-1but for me

  It was the start of a 50 plus year love affair.

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My first game was actually away from Anfield. 
 

An FA Cup Fourth Round Tie against Sunderland at the old Roker Park in 1982. I was nine. 
 

1,2,3,4 can you hear the Roker Roar!

 

Liverpool cantered to a 0-3 win with Kenny scoring two and Ian Rush bagging the other. Our team that day wasn’t too shabby.


I’d been to a number of Newcastle games (my dad’s team) and a couple at Elland Road by then, but this was the first time I saw my first and deepest love. 
 

I was taken to the game by my dad (who held his nose about sitting amongst the enemy for me) and my cousin who’d have been eighteen at the time. Sadly both are no longer with us.

 

We actually got the tickets from Barry Venison. He was a Sunderland player when this game was played, although he took no part. Barry had been a paper boy at my Uncle and Aunts Newsagents and a childhood friend of my cousin. 
 

There would be hundreds more matches until I stopped going around 2018, some much more well known than this one. You never forget your first though. How lucky I was to share mine with my dad, cousin, Kenny, Ian and the rest. 

 

A085A71A-5B6D-4EC9-946A-65A3BEADC115.jpeg

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Liverpool vs Celtic April 1989

 

I was 10 years old.

 

Mid-season friendly in pre-bling Dubai (where I grew up).

 

This was between the champions of Scotland and England, to compensate for not being in Europe due to the Heysel ban.

 

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dubai_Champions_Cup

 

Aldridge came in to score the equaliser.

 

We lost in penalties.

 

 

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I was far too young to remember my first match, sat on my dad's shoulders as I was only 2.

He took me to most home games, and as I got a little older, I can remember walking home, must have been about 5 by then, but I have no recollection of the games.

 

The one that I can recall most clearly was against Stoke when I was 9, which we won 2 - 1. The game was the last match Gordon Banks played before the car crash that cruelly robbed him of the sight in one eye the following day.

 

 

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PNE vs Darlington 1994 (1-3) was my first match I ever went to. It was a sunny day and went to shit very quickly as Liverpool also lost away to the Manc cunts.

 

The first game of a seven match losing streak that would see the total fruitcake John Beck sacked as Nob End boss. The run came to an end away at Mansfield and then they faced higher division Blackpool at Deepdale in the FA Cup. Recently departed Judas cunt Tony Ellis appeared for the Donkey Lashers and never got a sniff as Nob End ran out 1-0 winners. That was my second match I went to but my first experience of watching "my team" win.

 

First Liverpool match was vs Blackburn in 2004 towards the end of Ged's reign. Stood at the back of the Kop, enjoyed the atmosphere and was blown away by the pace of the game compared to watching PNE and the shite they were surrounded by in the lower leagues. A week or so before I'd been to watch the Nobbers vs Millwall and it was chronic, but this blew me away. I was always a fan of Liverpool but my dad wouldn't take me as:

 

(A) It was expensive

(B) Hard to get tickets

 

On the subject of my dad, however, I took him to his first Liverpool game vs Fulham when God scored his first goal back.

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I can't remember my first match as i was much too young, though i have vague memories of Johnny Sissons taking a corner in his West Ham away kit, another is Roger Hunt going down the tunnel pissed off i think after being substituted, another is of Athletico Bilbao fans marching down the road with flags after knocking us out on toss of the coin? I thought they were chanting Hozeh Hozeh. 

Me Dad used to take me in the Main Stand with his mate Harry Scott, oh and the mens toilets of piss and smoke, for some reason Malmo. 

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Home to Stoke a midweek game, won 2-1 after going 1 down.

 

Think it was 1972 so I was 9 going on 10, and I think it might have been Gordon Banks last game before his car accident.

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12 minutes ago, redinblack said:

Home to Stoke a midweek game, won 2-1 after going 1 down.

 

Think it was 1972 so I was 9 going on 10, and I think it might have been Gordon Banks last game before his car accident.

I think i was at that match too, when i started going on my own, i believe your right about Gordon Banks as thats what made me remember as Harrys Lad mentioned too. 

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On 20/03/2022 at 10:08, YorkshireRed said:

My first game was actually away from Anfield. 
 

An FA Cup Fourth Round Tie against Sunderland at the old Roker Park in 1982. I was nine. 
 

1,2,3,4 can you hear the Roker Roar!

 

Liverpool cantered to a 0-3 win with Kenny scoring two and Ian Rush bagging the other. Our team that day wasn’t too shabby.


I’d been to a number of Newcastle games (my dad’s team) and a couple at Elland Road by then, but this was the first time I saw my first and deepest love. 
 

I was taken to the game by my dad (who held his nose about sitting amongst the enemy for me) and my cousin who’d have been eighteen at the time. Sadly both are no longer with us.

 

We actually got the tickets from Barry Venison. He was a Sunderland player when this game was played, although he took no part. Barry had been a paper boy at my Uncle and Aunts Newsagents and a childhood friend of my cousin. 
 

There would be hundreds more matches until I stopped going around 2018, some much more well known than this one. You never forget your first though. How lucky I was to share mine with my dad, cousin, Kenny, Ian and the rest. 

 

A085A71A-5B6D-4EC9-946A-65A3BEADC115.jpeg

I was at that game too went with my Dad to St James and Roker every week for a season or two. Been in a bit of trouble at school so my weekends it was decided would be occupied. I remember my Dad writing to Alan Durban I think it was at the time, Venison had been dropped and my Dad told Durban that Venison was the best player on the park and didn’t deserved to be dropped. Got a reply explaining that he was young inexperienced etc… 
 

 

 My Dad and Grandad both Everton fans took me to my first game at Goodison Everton hadn’t lost all season Newcastle hadn’t won. Inevitably it finished 4 - 4. I think that was 77/78. My first game at Anfield was the same year against Wolves. 2 - 0. Actually looking it was 1979. 

.

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7 hours ago, redinblack said:

Home to Stoke a midweek game, won 2-1 after going 1 down.

 

Think it was 1972 so I was 9 going on 10, and I think it might have been Gordon Banks last game before his car accident.

I'm pretty certain the match before Gordon Banks had his accident was on a Saturday afternoon.

We did win 2-1 though.

 

 

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An older kid (youth) came up to me when I was playing -Tin can at my feet, kick it down the street- and asked, would I like to go to a proper football game? A word with my mum and off we went. We got on a bus, it was packed, I had only ever watched game on local parks. I had never seen so many people in one place around this massive edifice. The big lad ushered me through a turnstile and disappeared. It was scary,there were masses of snot nosed rag arsed kids. What a nightmare, it was the boys pen at Goodison and I didn't know the ropes, all the big kids were standing on a low wall with railings, got the odd glimpse of the pitch miles away with little dots moving about.
It was Everton v Sheff Wed with Tony Kay, Peter Swann and David 'Bronco' Layne, I learned later. The game ended at last and I was swept out of the gate by the crowd, fair enough the lad was there waiting for me.  

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