Field Of Dreams Come True

THAT was the weekend, that was!

Finally, approaching four decades since I became an avid follower of America's 'National Pastime', I saw a Major League Baseball game in person.

Yes, it wasn't over the Pond, but nevertheless it was a real contest with two massive juggernauts of the sport going head-to-head in the first-ever London Series.

As soon as I discovered MLB had arranged for the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees to meet in a two-game series in the capital, I knew I had to be there.

At the time of the announcement I was still working and hoped to watch the contests in the Press area of the London Stadium covering the action for the Liverpool ECHO. After all, Boston's owners - Fenway Sports Group - are also in charge of Liverpool Football Club.

However, that all changed in January this year and I now had to make other arrangements for the big summer showdowns.

Having organised my transport and accommodation, I began my pilgrimage from Liverpool on Friday morning.

By early afternoon I was checked into my hotel, and an hour or two later I had made my way to the 'London Yards' event at the Truman Brewery in Brick Lane, barely a couple of home run shots' distance from Spitalfields Market for those who know their capital geography.

There, I was amongst many friends. Virtually everyone was wearing a baseball cap and shirt displaying the colours of their favourite team - yours truly included in my San Diego Padres livery.

Fabulous ballpark-inspired food and drink was being served while fans could partake in both pitching and batting challenges in specially-erected cages. For me, I was just happy to have my photo taken posing on a Topps baseball card!

Three hours later, full and refreshed, it was time to return to my hotel back down in Putney and prepare for Game One on Saturday evening.

Saturday morning dawned with beautiful sunshine and with forecasters predicting the hottest day of the year lay ahead in London, I was more than happy with that.

My biggest fear was the 'Great British Weather' would intervene and lead to the games being called off due to rain.

But thankfully there was zero chance of that occurrence and the main objective was to seek shelter from the sun's powerful rays and not the heavens opening with a deluge.

Game One was scheduled for a 6.10pm start but I had made the conscious decision to be at the London Stadium early for a very special photographic event.

Via Twitter, fellow baseball fans had arranged for a 'teams group' shot featuring supporters of all 30 MLB franchises - and I was more than happy to represent the Padres for this!

First, though, I had to purchase a ticket for the game. I was given several options for my seat but in the end settled for what I thought would be a decent one. It was high above home plate, with the third base line directly in front of me.

The ticket safely tucked away in my wallet, it was back for the photo. Seeing and greeting fellow fans was a wonderful occasion and everyone was clearly buzzing with real happiness that their dreams too were about to be realised in just a few hours' time.

Sat down in the shade, a longer chat followed with a good friend of mine, a huge Yankees fan who I'd arranged to meet at the Stadium, before it was finally time to take my seat.

And what a sight to behold. My unrestricted view of the diamond and outfield was just perfect.

The pre-game formalities completed, for me time just seemed to stand still when Boston's starting pitcher, Rick Porcello, tossed the first pitch of the game for a called strike at 6.10pm.

In that moment I thought of how I'd grown up as a child learning about baseball through my wonderful Dad and over the intervening decades had come to love this most special of all sports.

And now, at last, I was watching it for real.

Thirty runs, 37 hits and an almost record-setting four hours and 42 minutes later, it was all over, a brilliant double play instigated by shortstop Didi Gregorius sealing an extraordinary 17-13 victory for the Bronx Bombers.

Travelling back to my hotel took the best part of two-and-a-half hours via various Tube trains hurtling along deep into the London night. But inside I was flying, on such a high for what I had witnessed for the very first time in my life.

Sunday was Game Two, but for me it was time to head back to Liverpool. I managed to follow the action via my phone during my train journey seeing the Red Sox race into an early 4-0 lead. However, by the time I returned home to watch the remainder of the clash, New York had turned all that around, eventually prevailing 12-8 to sweep the inaugural London Series.

Yes, the 'Damn Yankees' once again!

But in the final reckoning, the results barely mattered to me. Actually being in attendance for a MLB game was the most important part of the weekend in the presence of thousands of fellow fans, many like me, I guess, who had waited a lifetime for this to happen.

God willing, I'll be attendance at the London Stadium next summer when the St Louis Cardinals and Chicago Cubs are set to lock horns for the London Series 2020.

And maybe one day, hopefully in the not too distant future, I'll witness in person my Padres play in San Diego and see another lifelong dream realised.

Because for me, there's really nothing in sport - and often life itself - that can truly compare with "the old ball-game".

Whatever happens...

I BEGAN writing this blog late on the evening of Friday, May 31, 2019.

Twenty-four hours from now, the winners (and losers) in the 2018-19 UEFA Champions League Final will be known.

Celebrations will be full swing across either Merseyside or North London while sorrows will be getting drowned in the same places should the trophy not be going to Anfield or the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium.

My allegiance, as all my family and friends know, is with Liverpool Football Club.

And I think I can pinpoint the moment I became a Red to 1973.

That year I can still recall both my first Grand National (I sobbed buckets as the gallant but spent Australian chaser Crisp was beaten on the line by the fast-finishing and youthful Red Rum) and my first FA Cup Final (I shouted with joy as Second Division Sunderland defied all the odds to defeat "dirty" Leeds United in still one of the biggest shocks in the competition's storied history).

In the September of that same year I began my time in education - some 18 years all told.

And it was in my first class in infants school I nailed my proverbial colours to the Red mast.

Sure, living where I did there were plenty of school pals who opted to be Blue and follow Everton.

But I was more than happy to be a Red.

In those days the stars of the team included goalkeeper Ray Clemence, midfielder Ian Callaghan and striker Kevin Keegan. But as a five-year-old, going on six-year-old schoolboy, my first hero in Red was Emlyn Hughes.

His infectious enthusiasm and ready smile really rubbed off on me and played a big part in my growing affection for the club.

And the following May, I can recall my happiness watching a fist-pumping 'Crazy Horse' accept the celebrated piece of silverware from Princess Anne after skippering the Reds to a 3-0 demolition of Newcastle United in the 1974 FA Cup Final.

Eighteen months later, now aged seven, I made my 'debut' at Anfield, with a seat midway up in the Main Stand. I was one of 37,340 fans on hand for a 1-0 victory over Sheffield United in the First Division. The great Ray Kennedy provided the only goal of the game, netting the winner 12 minutes from time. Strangely enough, I was accompanied to the game by a pair of older Blades supporters who weren't so chatty on the way back home!

From that moment on I always knew Anfield and Liverpool Football Club would play a very important part in my life.

And so it was to prove.

As I grew older I began to attend more and more matches, first with my Dad including some classic games such as the 4-0 win over Alex Ferguson's Aberdeen in the European Cup in November, 1980 and the 6-0 thrashing of Luton Town in October, 1983 when Ian Rush bagged five goals - including a brilliant volley at The Kop End that only those in attendance ever saw due to the absence of TV cameras - and Kenny Dalglish the other, while future Red Paul Walsh shone bright for the Hatters.

Later, of course, I began to attend games with my mates, standing on The Kop. My 'spec' was usually halfway up on the Main Stand side of that extraordinary terrace.

I was there for some amazing highs (Jan Molby's double to see off Manchester United in the Milk Cup in November, 1985) and some awful lows ("...it's up for grabs now!...").

I also began to follow my team away from Anfield and, as many of you know, was one of the very lucky ones on April 15, 1989.

Into the 1990s I began to take a seat in the Anfield stands and was in the old Kemlyn Road Stand when just 23,094 of us roared the Reds to a famous 3-0 win over Auxerre, overturning a 2-0 first-leg deficit in the second round of the UEFA Cup.

Due to work commitments, my opportunities to see the Reds live diminished during that decade and I was only able to make sporadic returns to the stadium. One such game I'll always remember was in April, 1997, when, on a rare occasion I had a seat in the Anfield Road End, I saw Liverpool just fall short against Paris St-Germain, beating the French side 2-0 on the night only to exit the European Cup-Winners' Cup at the last-four stage, 3-2 on aggregate.

After the turn of the millennium, my life changed domestically. Now married and with two young children, attending games at Anfield became much more difficult, especially when the prices began to sky-rocket. Nevertheless, the love I had for my club never wavered and I was a thrilled as any Reds fan who was fortunate to see first hand those epic wins that secured five pieces of silverware in 2001, the wonderful Worthington Cup Final triumph over Manchester United in 2003, the famous Olympiacos game in December, 2004 and the nerve-shredding Champions League semi-final victory over Chelsea the following spring.

And, of course, May 25, 2005, AC Milan and Istanbul.

I have made some trips back to Anfield but they are few and far between these days. Thankfully, my eldest son has been able to attend some games, most notably in March, 2016, when a Daniel Sturridge penalty and instinctive close-range finish from Roberto Firmino famously got the better of Manchester United in a last-16 clash in the Europa League.

And so we now arrive at June 1, 2019.

As I write, my nerves are really kicking-in over this evening's game in Madrid.

After what happened in Kiev a little over 12 months ago, I can barely imagine losing two European Cup Finals in succession. But of course, it could.

This is sport. Anything could happen in the Spanish capital. It isn't scripted.

Naturally I want my team to triumph - I'll take an own goal in a drab encounter so long as Jordan Henderson lifts 'Old Big Ears' for a sixth time in the club's illustrious history.

But however the match pans out and even if we just fall short on the night, I will still love my club.

For whatever happens, this love affair I have with Liverpool Football Club I will continue until my final day on God's earth.