SO, there will be no parade this year.
Plans will now change for Sunday.
And the scarves, shirts and banners will be put away for use on another day.
Such has been the way for us Liverpool supporters since the spring of 2012.
Four finals after Kenny Dalglish guided the Reds to the League Cup triumph over Cardiff City, it's been a collective tale of misery - with now a full set of cup losses to lament.
FA Cup, League Cup, Europa League and now Champions League.
I'm getting an inkling of what it must have been like to have been a Buffalo Bills fan a quarter of a century ago - just look up their Super Bowl heartbreakers if you don't believe me.
So, what can be said about this latest tale of woe?
The writing, perhaps, was on the wall once our wonderfully-talented talisman, Mohamed Salah, was cruelly forced out of the game due to a nasty shoulder injury he sustained in the opening half.
Only Real Madrid skipper Sergio Ramos will know deep down whether he meant his challenge to inflict serious damage on the Liverpool forward, but the Spaniard has a chequered history when it comes to dealing with talented players he knows will beat him for skill all day long.
His collection of Champions League yellow cards - a record 35 - is a testimony to that fact.
So when Salah tearfully left proceedings and Reds manager Jurgen Klopp was forced into making a change he certainly hadn't anticipated at such an early stage of the contest, it was always going to be a difficult night from that point onwards.
To be fair, though, the Reds were largely holding their own and a goalless scoreline after 45 minutes was both welcome and somewhat unexpected.
Then came the second 45 minutes.
In many ways it summed up this extraordinary journey all Liverpool supporters are having under Klopp.
From the low of seeing goalkeeper Loris Karius gift Real's opener to Karim Benzema to the high of witnessing Sadio Mane finish off a brilliant corner-kick routine honed to perfection on the training ground at Melwood to being on the wrong end of a truly astonishing strike from Gareth Bale to watching the Reds' number one make another miscue and more or less hand-deliver a third and ultimately killer goal to the Spaniards seven minutes from time.
This was a half of football that will always be remembered - but for the wrong reasons.
The pain of the defeat is still raw and the cold light of day has yet to dawn.
But even at this very early stage it's difficult to see how Karius will retain his position of Liverpool's first-choice goalkeeper - and maybe even a place at Anfield.
The first decision might be understandable, especially if the Reds are able to acquire a truly top-notch goalkeeper who has more years at the highest level of the game under his belt; the second decision leaves something of a dilemma.
Every player in the history of football - and indeed all sports - has committed errors.
It's all part of being human.
But it's almost always the last line of defence in team sports who suffer the most if they happen to make a mistake.
And so it proved in Kiev - twice.
One thing is for certain, Karius will really know who his true friends are after his personal nightmare.
And he will absolutely need them right now.
I hope the young German player will recover from this - but he'll need plenty of support from those closest to him.
He certainly shouldn't be made a scapegoat - football, after all, is a team game.
You win together; you draw together; you lose together.
That's the very nature of a team sport.
So where to next for Liverpool Football Club?
As miserable as us fans are feeling once again when the fates conspired to ensure there was not going to be Number Six, I'm confident the club is heading in a very positive direction.
Yes, it's not a straight and smooth road - this is the rollercoaster we all knew we were going to ride once this extraordinary and charismatic 50-year-old German became the club's manager in the autumn of 2015.
But there will be more ups than downs, I have absolutely no doubt about that.
This is a young Liverpool team that is really starting to gel as a fearsome unit who can rip opposition apart on more occasions than not. Reinforcements are predicted to arrive in the summer to improve the depth and quality of the squad, so with a fair wind and decent fortune that all clubs require at some stage in their season, this time next year there will likely be fresh silverware to polish at Anfield.
Indeed, winning the Champions League in Madrid come the spring of 2019 might just be the perfect place to exorcise these demons we are bedevilled with just now.
And as the magnificent Allez Allez Allez song so rightly puts it: "We're NEVER gonna stop!"
Saturday, 26 May 2018
Wednesday, 11 October 2017
Battle Lines Are Now Drawn
WE all thought 2016 was a dreadful year.
Bookended by the death of the great David Bowie in the January and the confirmation that the not-so-great Donald Trump would be the 45th President of the United States before the 12 months was out, it was a year to remember - but not for particularly good reasons.
But now, as I write this latest blog, near halfway into the 10th month of 2017, 2016 seems not no bad after all - in comparison with what has followed.
Anyone with an ounce of common sense and decency knew that the Trump Presidency was going to be bad.
Perhaps none of us really knew that within 10 months of him making his first address at President, his Presidency would be the most appalling, divisive, nightmarish, disgusting and unwanted in the years since the country first declared its independence from the British Empire 241 years ago.
And that includes the embarrassments brought about by the corrupt Richard Nixon, for starters.
Throughout 2017, Trump has lurched from one incident to another - and found to be wanting.
Not only that, however, he has gradually shown his true colours to reveal the dangerous despot he really is.
In the days when he was a 'reality' TV star presenting The Apprentice, he was largely kept under control when issuing the order "You're fired!" was simply an amusing catchphrase.
Now, you might say I'm overreacting, but I now have real concerns that those exact words would be happily repeated as he gives the command to launch missiles - whether conventional or nuclear - on any enemy he cares. And I'm not just referring to North Korea here.
Yes, North Korea has provided him the perfect ammunition he has wanted - they too have a crazy dictator in charge and my fear is they will act first giving Trump the excuse he wants to pounce and set about launching a military campaign he so clearly craves.
Trump can certainly claim to be the first President of the Divided States since those dreadful days of the American Civil War in the 1860s.
He has been nothing but divisive in his words and actions since he first entered the White House - and God knows, so many of us wish he had not.
Little could I have imagined, for example, that the Commander-in-Chief would have picked a conflict with one of the country's biggest institutions - the National Football League.
But then, it's all part of his master-plan - to divide, and conquer his enemies.
That's how despots operate.
There seems to be plenty of stuff Trump would prefer not to come to light, starting with what the Russians have on him exactly. My guess is a tome that would rival War And Peace - and its sequel had Leo Tolstoy ever got around to penning one.
So therefore he deflects issues elsewhere, a diversionary tactic people like him are only too clever at.
And in the end, we're left with a situation where battle lines have been drawn - and very distinctive they are too.
And I don't mean political left and political right.
I mean simply right and wrong.
What we are all seeing for ourselves here, in our own precious lifetime, is a man who should be nowhere near the great and noble office of President of the United States of America, let alone be a man who has the codes to launch nuclear weapons and bring about Armageddon and the end of our treasured Planet Earth.
Some people reading this might say I'm going too far - he would never do that. But I'm only going on the evidence thus far, and it's not good at all.
I am really fearful for the immediate future, because if things spark into something dreadful on the Korean Peninsula, there's every chance that engagement will not be restricted to what happens to the two nations and the millions of people who happen to live north and south of the 38th Parallel.
I wish I knew what the answer is to solve all of our problems, starting with Trump, but I simply don't.
Maybe these are the end of days we're living through now, but don't know it.
Maybe this is what the Book of Revelation is all about, I don't know.
But I hope and I pray all the time that good will prevail and that evil will be defeated - it's something I have always ascribed to, and always will.
And I guess it's that hope and those prayers that is helping me right now - because this is a battle we cannot afford to lose - for the sake of our own priceless lives and our great and wonderful planet, the only one we know for certain has life in the universe.
Bookended by the death of the great David Bowie in the January and the confirmation that the not-so-great Donald Trump would be the 45th President of the United States before the 12 months was out, it was a year to remember - but not for particularly good reasons.
But now, as I write this latest blog, near halfway into the 10th month of 2017, 2016 seems not no bad after all - in comparison with what has followed.
Anyone with an ounce of common sense and decency knew that the Trump Presidency was going to be bad.
Perhaps none of us really knew that within 10 months of him making his first address at President, his Presidency would be the most appalling, divisive, nightmarish, disgusting and unwanted in the years since the country first declared its independence from the British Empire 241 years ago.
And that includes the embarrassments brought about by the corrupt Richard Nixon, for starters.
Throughout 2017, Trump has lurched from one incident to another - and found to be wanting.
Not only that, however, he has gradually shown his true colours to reveal the dangerous despot he really is.
In the days when he was a 'reality' TV star presenting The Apprentice, he was largely kept under control when issuing the order "You're fired!" was simply an amusing catchphrase.
Now, you might say I'm overreacting, but I now have real concerns that those exact words would be happily repeated as he gives the command to launch missiles - whether conventional or nuclear - on any enemy he cares. And I'm not just referring to North Korea here.
Yes, North Korea has provided him the perfect ammunition he has wanted - they too have a crazy dictator in charge and my fear is they will act first giving Trump the excuse he wants to pounce and set about launching a military campaign he so clearly craves.
Trump can certainly claim to be the first President of the Divided States since those dreadful days of the American Civil War in the 1860s.
He has been nothing but divisive in his words and actions since he first entered the White House - and God knows, so many of us wish he had not.
Little could I have imagined, for example, that the Commander-in-Chief would have picked a conflict with one of the country's biggest institutions - the National Football League.
But then, it's all part of his master-plan - to divide, and conquer his enemies.
That's how despots operate.
There seems to be plenty of stuff Trump would prefer not to come to light, starting with what the Russians have on him exactly. My guess is a tome that would rival War And Peace - and its sequel had Leo Tolstoy ever got around to penning one.
So therefore he deflects issues elsewhere, a diversionary tactic people like him are only too clever at.
And in the end, we're left with a situation where battle lines have been drawn - and very distinctive they are too.
And I don't mean political left and political right.
I mean simply right and wrong.
What we are all seeing for ourselves here, in our own precious lifetime, is a man who should be nowhere near the great and noble office of President of the United States of America, let alone be a man who has the codes to launch nuclear weapons and bring about Armageddon and the end of our treasured Planet Earth.
Some people reading this might say I'm going too far - he would never do that. But I'm only going on the evidence thus far, and it's not good at all.
I am really fearful for the immediate future, because if things spark into something dreadful on the Korean Peninsula, there's every chance that engagement will not be restricted to what happens to the two nations and the millions of people who happen to live north and south of the 38th Parallel.
I wish I knew what the answer is to solve all of our problems, starting with Trump, but I simply don't.
Maybe these are the end of days we're living through now, but don't know it.
Maybe this is what the Book of Revelation is all about, I don't know.
But I hope and I pray all the time that good will prevail and that evil will be defeated - it's something I have always ascribed to, and always will.
And I guess it's that hope and those prayers that is helping me right now - because this is a battle we cannot afford to lose - for the sake of our own priceless lives and our great and wonderful planet, the only one we know for certain has life in the universe.
Tuesday, 31 January 2017
Time to talk politics...
POLITICS...
In all my years - now exceeding three decades - of having an interest in politics I have never experienced a period we are going through right now.
And I daresay that goes for pretty much all of you reading this.
As I write this blog late on the evening of the final day of January, 2017, I can honestly say I have never been more concerned about the future of our planet than I do right now.
If things weren't bad enough in my own country with the decision to start Article 50 and leave the European Union - akin to pointing a loaded revolver at your own foot and pulling the trigger and then failing to understand your crippling wound - the situation over in the United States of America is even more disconcerting to me, in the short term at least.
Many of us were rightly concerned about Donald Trump winning the nomination to become the Republican Party's choice to be the 45th President.
And when he went on and actually claim success in November's election via the clearly outdated Electoral College system, our concern was quickly transformed into fear.
And given the first 11 days of Trump's Presidency, those fears have been more than realised.
The tremendous American filmmaker Michael Moore has said there is a coup d'état taking place across the 50 states http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/donald-trump-michael-moore-coup-us-steve-bannon-sally-yates-rule-of-law-a7554556.html and he is spot-on.
Make no mistake about this fact too. Trump might be the figurehead but the real power behind the throne is his senior counsellor Steve Bannon.
The appalling Bannon has more than the President's ear. This fascist - because, frankly, that's what he is - is pulling the President's strings. And anyone with any intelligence can clearly see the puppeteer at work over the past week or so.
The extreme right-wing policies implemented by Trump as 'Executive Orders' have Bannon's telltale fingerprints all over them.
I have no doubt in my mind that Bannon and his appalling ilk are desperate to provoke Islamic fundamentalists into an outright war. Absolutely no doubt whatsoever.
The decision to ban travellers entering the United States from seven Muslim-majority nations was clearly meant as a proverbial slap in the face in the hope of triggering a response.
It's already been pointed out that countries with a Muslim-majority population such as Saudi Arabia that were not on Trump's list might have had something to do with the fact the President has substantial financial interests in that nation. Yet, for example, everyone knows that 15 of the 19 hijackers involved in the 9/11 terrorist attacks of 2001 were Saudi Arabian nationals...
Now should Muslim extremists not take the proverbial bait being offered by Trump/Bannon, I am absolutely certain a 'Reichstag Fire' incident will happen in the United States or in a place of American interest in the not-too-distant future.
If you know your history, this is the MO of the extreme right. They have done it before and they will definitely do it again.
Added to all of this, the firing of acting US Attorney General Sally Yates late on Monday evening was another clear example of the sort of extremist regime that has taken the reins in the United States.
I have followed politics in the United States for many years, and with a degree in American Studies feel more than qualified to pass judgement on what I, and the rest of us, are witnessing right now.
These are incredibly disturbing times and I'd love to think a peaceful outcome to all of this is on the horizon.
But I honestly cannot see that.
It's up to us decent people to keep up the protests and ensure the searchlight stays shining with a blinding full beam on the regime in Washington and call it out for what it is.
The mainstream media might refer to it as "populist" and remind us all that Trump was "democratically elected" and is "leader of the Free World" - but all that just sticks in my craw.
You certainly have to be aware of the way the mainstream media will normalise what is actually taking place.
Believe me, by any stretch of the imagination, it ISN'T normal.
All I can picture right now is a bleak future under this new Government in the United States.
And if you throw in the darkly disturbing figure of Vladimir Putin into the mix and the Brexit decision in this country, 2017 and the immediate years ahead don't look good at all for decent people the world over.
It's an awful time right now - and it's more than likely to get much, much worse.
All I can say is just hold your loved ones close to you and all the things you know to be right and true, keep fighting injustice wherever you see it and know that goodness will prevail in the end.
Because for the sake of the planet, it absolutely must.
In all my years - now exceeding three decades - of having an interest in politics I have never experienced a period we are going through right now.
And I daresay that goes for pretty much all of you reading this.
As I write this blog late on the evening of the final day of January, 2017, I can honestly say I have never been more concerned about the future of our planet than I do right now.
If things weren't bad enough in my own country with the decision to start Article 50 and leave the European Union - akin to pointing a loaded revolver at your own foot and pulling the trigger and then failing to understand your crippling wound - the situation over in the United States of America is even more disconcerting to me, in the short term at least.
Many of us were rightly concerned about Donald Trump winning the nomination to become the Republican Party's choice to be the 45th President.
And when he went on and actually claim success in November's election via the clearly outdated Electoral College system, our concern was quickly transformed into fear.
And given the first 11 days of Trump's Presidency, those fears have been more than realised.
The tremendous American filmmaker Michael Moore has said there is a coup d'état taking place across the 50 states http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/donald-trump-michael-moore-coup-us-steve-bannon-sally-yates-rule-of-law-a7554556.html and he is spot-on.
Make no mistake about this fact too. Trump might be the figurehead but the real power behind the throne is his senior counsellor Steve Bannon.
The appalling Bannon has more than the President's ear. This fascist - because, frankly, that's what he is - is pulling the President's strings. And anyone with any intelligence can clearly see the puppeteer at work over the past week or so.
The extreme right-wing policies implemented by Trump as 'Executive Orders' have Bannon's telltale fingerprints all over them.
I have no doubt in my mind that Bannon and his appalling ilk are desperate to provoke Islamic fundamentalists into an outright war. Absolutely no doubt whatsoever.
The decision to ban travellers entering the United States from seven Muslim-majority nations was clearly meant as a proverbial slap in the face in the hope of triggering a response.
It's already been pointed out that countries with a Muslim-majority population such as Saudi Arabia that were not on Trump's list might have had something to do with the fact the President has substantial financial interests in that nation. Yet, for example, everyone knows that 15 of the 19 hijackers involved in the 9/11 terrorist attacks of 2001 were Saudi Arabian nationals...
Now should Muslim extremists not take the proverbial bait being offered by Trump/Bannon, I am absolutely certain a 'Reichstag Fire' incident will happen in the United States or in a place of American interest in the not-too-distant future.
If you know your history, this is the MO of the extreme right. They have done it before and they will definitely do it again.
Added to all of this, the firing of acting US Attorney General Sally Yates late on Monday evening was another clear example of the sort of extremist regime that has taken the reins in the United States.
I have followed politics in the United States for many years, and with a degree in American Studies feel more than qualified to pass judgement on what I, and the rest of us, are witnessing right now.
These are incredibly disturbing times and I'd love to think a peaceful outcome to all of this is on the horizon.
But I honestly cannot see that.
It's up to us decent people to keep up the protests and ensure the searchlight stays shining with a blinding full beam on the regime in Washington and call it out for what it is.
The mainstream media might refer to it as "populist" and remind us all that Trump was "democratically elected" and is "leader of the Free World" - but all that just sticks in my craw.
You certainly have to be aware of the way the mainstream media will normalise what is actually taking place.
Believe me, by any stretch of the imagination, it ISN'T normal.
All I can picture right now is a bleak future under this new Government in the United States.
And if you throw in the darkly disturbing figure of Vladimir Putin into the mix and the Brexit decision in this country, 2017 and the immediate years ahead don't look good at all for decent people the world over.
It's an awful time right now - and it's more than likely to get much, much worse.
All I can say is just hold your loved ones close to you and all the things you know to be right and true, keep fighting injustice wherever you see it and know that goodness will prevail in the end.
Because for the sake of the planet, it absolutely must.
Wednesday, 30 November 2016
So this is Christmas...
YES, that most extraordinary time of the year has arrived once again.
Twelve months on from Yuletide 2015 when a word like 'Brexit' wasn't in the lexicon and the mere thought of 'President Elect Trump' was simply too ridiculous to imagine, that's where we're at as 2016 enters its final few weeks.
Personally, I've never known a year quite like 2016.
I think it was someone on Twitter who said that things all started to go awry when the great David Bowie shuffled off his mortal coil before the New Year was barely a fortnight old.
Bowie, according to the Tweeter, was the glue that held the universe together. And since he wasn't around any more, well...
Now I'm not going to put everything down to the very sad passing of that remarkable musician, but that claim is tough to argue against.
And if you throw in the departures of such people as Prince, Muhammad Ali and Leonard Cohen to name just a legendary trio, it's been one hell of a 12 months witnessing the great and the good pass away.
Back in the summer, a week before the European Union Referendum, I wrote about how there was a war raging between Love and Hate: http://snowypadres.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/two-four-letter-words.html
Six months later, that conflict is still going on - and in many ways has really intensified in the period since I penned that blog.
Britain - or should I say, certain parts of Britain - voted, just, to leave the European Union while over in the United States, despite not winning the 'popular vote' by quite a fair number, the dreadful Donald Trump is set to become the 45th American President early in 2017.
Meanwhile, real war is still raging in Syria with a peace settlement to a conflict that has being going on for more years than the Second World War still a distant dream.
The rise of the extreme right-wing is absolutely upon us and our nearest European neighbour, France, may be a matter of months away from electing a fascist president in the shape of Marine Le Pen - truly unbelievable for a nation that fought and died battling such an odious regime in the 1940s.
For anyone who knows me, December has always been my most favourite month of the year.
I absolutely love all that goes with it - the overall chaos, the parties, the family get-togethers, the food, the drink, the presents, the music, the films, the television, the sport. Everything.
I also love hearing again at Mass at Christmas that special story of the very first Christmas, now more than 2,000 years old.
The tale is only told in two of the Gospels - Matthew and Luke. And both accounts were penned for different audiences.
In St Matthew's version, the focus is on the visit of the wise men from the East while St Luke homes in on the message of the angels to the poorest of all of Palestine's workers, the shepherds in the fields.
And it's Luke's Gospel that has been a constant with me over the years.
As wonderfully astute as the wise men undoubtedly were and as great a carol as We Three Kings really is, the first line in The First Nowell is just so incredibly powerful:
"The first Nowell the angels did say
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay."
In other words, the Son of God's priority was for the poorest of them all.
And it makes you wonder what He would think of our world right now nearly 2,017 years after He was living among the people in Roman-occupied Galilee and Judea.
There just seems to be hatred and heartlessness everywhere you turn, with the poorest and weakest amongst us suffering most of all. And as things stand, it's difficult to see things getting any better.
When the first chimes of the New Year ring in, universally we always hope for a better 12 months ahead than the one we've just experienced.
In lots of ways, that will be the case more than ever come the opening seconds of January 1, 2017.
Yes, I'd truly love to think 2017 actually will be a better one than the one that's gone before it, but the way things are I have serious doubts.
All I'm hoping for right now as I write this at the start of the final month of 2016 is that you all have a happy and peaceful end to the year and that Christmas is one to remember for all the good reasons that this great and wondrous season can bring to you and your families.
And when the calendar does flip over into 2017, we must all stand together, united against hatred and division and bitterness - and confront it whenever and wherever we see it.
I'd like to think we've come a long way since we lived in caves and went out in search of killing woolly mammoths for our evening meals.
But sometimes I truly wonder about that...
Twelve months on from Yuletide 2015 when a word like 'Brexit' wasn't in the lexicon and the mere thought of 'President Elect Trump' was simply too ridiculous to imagine, that's where we're at as 2016 enters its final few weeks.
Personally, I've never known a year quite like 2016.
I think it was someone on Twitter who said that things all started to go awry when the great David Bowie shuffled off his mortal coil before the New Year was barely a fortnight old.
Bowie, according to the Tweeter, was the glue that held the universe together. And since he wasn't around any more, well...
Now I'm not going to put everything down to the very sad passing of that remarkable musician, but that claim is tough to argue against.
And if you throw in the departures of such people as Prince, Muhammad Ali and Leonard Cohen to name just a legendary trio, it's been one hell of a 12 months witnessing the great and the good pass away.
Back in the summer, a week before the European Union Referendum, I wrote about how there was a war raging between Love and Hate: http://snowypadres.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/two-four-letter-words.html
Six months later, that conflict is still going on - and in many ways has really intensified in the period since I penned that blog.
Britain - or should I say, certain parts of Britain - voted, just, to leave the European Union while over in the United States, despite not winning the 'popular vote' by quite a fair number, the dreadful Donald Trump is set to become the 45th American President early in 2017.
Meanwhile, real war is still raging in Syria with a peace settlement to a conflict that has being going on for more years than the Second World War still a distant dream.
The rise of the extreme right-wing is absolutely upon us and our nearest European neighbour, France, may be a matter of months away from electing a fascist president in the shape of Marine Le Pen - truly unbelievable for a nation that fought and died battling such an odious regime in the 1940s.
For anyone who knows me, December has always been my most favourite month of the year.
I absolutely love all that goes with it - the overall chaos, the parties, the family get-togethers, the food, the drink, the presents, the music, the films, the television, the sport. Everything.
I also love hearing again at Mass at Christmas that special story of the very first Christmas, now more than 2,000 years old.
The tale is only told in two of the Gospels - Matthew and Luke. And both accounts were penned for different audiences.
In St Matthew's version, the focus is on the visit of the wise men from the East while St Luke homes in on the message of the angels to the poorest of all of Palestine's workers, the shepherds in the fields.
And it's Luke's Gospel that has been a constant with me over the years.
As wonderfully astute as the wise men undoubtedly were and as great a carol as We Three Kings really is, the first line in The First Nowell is just so incredibly powerful:
"The first Nowell the angels did say
Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay."
In other words, the Son of God's priority was for the poorest of them all.
And it makes you wonder what He would think of our world right now nearly 2,017 years after He was living among the people in Roman-occupied Galilee and Judea.
There just seems to be hatred and heartlessness everywhere you turn, with the poorest and weakest amongst us suffering most of all. And as things stand, it's difficult to see things getting any better.
When the first chimes of the New Year ring in, universally we always hope for a better 12 months ahead than the one we've just experienced.
In lots of ways, that will be the case more than ever come the opening seconds of January 1, 2017.
Yes, I'd truly love to think 2017 actually will be a better one than the one that's gone before it, but the way things are I have serious doubts.
All I'm hoping for right now as I write this at the start of the final month of 2016 is that you all have a happy and peaceful end to the year and that Christmas is one to remember for all the good reasons that this great and wondrous season can bring to you and your families.
And when the calendar does flip over into 2017, we must all stand together, united against hatred and division and bitterness - and confront it whenever and wherever we see it.
I'd like to think we've come a long way since we lived in caves and went out in search of killing woolly mammoths for our evening meals.
But sometimes I truly wonder about that...
Thursday, 16 June 2016
Two four-letter words
TWO four-letter words.
Each having a pair of vowels and two consonants.
But perhaps of all words in the English language they could not be more polarised.
I am writing, of course, of the words 'love' and 'hate'.
And right now, in our world, whether it's right here on the streets of the United Kingdom, in nightclubs in the United States of America or in the battle-scarred Middle East, those two small words are waging a war.
And it's affecting every single one of us.
The killing of MP Jo Cox has shocked the nation, a nadir I certainly didn't believe was possible to reach in our country.
Hate seems to be everywhere, and it's chilling me to the bone.
I truly cannot understand what is going on with the human race.
It seems you cannot go barely a couple of days before some horrendous hate-crime is committed somewhere in our world.
The brutal murder of dozens of people in a gay nightclub in downtown Orlando only last weekend was just one of an appalling series of attacks that has left the victims' families to mourn and countless numbers of decent people in the USA and beyond its shores to question yet again the absolutely insane gun 'laws' in that magnificent nation.
Right now, hate seems to have the upper hand.
But for the sake of the human race, it cannot and must not be allowed to win.
There's a wonderful quote in Charles Dickens's timeless tale A Christmas Carol that comes to mind when I think about how bad things are in the human race and how they might be improved for the good of all.
Early in the story, the heartless skinflint Scrooge is visited by his cheery nephew Fred on Christmas Eve afternoon.
Fred wants his uncle to join them the following day to celebrate Christmas, but the money-obsessed miser is having none of it.
Referencing to the season of the year, Fred remarks: "I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round - apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that - as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys."
It's a brilliant summing up of the human race.
We are indeed all fellow-passengers to the grave, and it's while we're here for this oh so short space of time that I really believe we all have to play our part in being decent, helping others as best we can, and not closing our hearts and minds to them.
The European Union referendum vote has shone a very bright spotlight on what really comes down to selfishness on one side and benevolence on the other.
The Brexit side have certainly shown their absolute selfishness with their Little Englander rhetoric that simply sticks in the craw.
It's a love-in, or in this instance, a hate-in, of the right-wing - and it's been appalling to watch.
You only have to see the people leading their campaign and it tells you everything.
It's meanness and nastiness personified with an underlying agenda of hate that boils down to their masterplan to haul up the proverbial drawbridge should they win and sod the rest of the continent that we have been a geographical part of for millions of years and economically connected to for more than four decades.
There just seems to be no end to their message of hate.
But it cannot be allowed to be triumphant.
Just a couple of thousand years ago, a truly remarkable man told us to ''love your neighbour as yourself".
He preached love, not hate, and His powerful words still carry resonance today.
Reading the tributes to MP Jo Cox has been absolutely heartbreaking, but one really stood out from the rest.
It came from her grieving husband, Brendan, who wrote: "Today is the beginning of a new chapter in our lives. More difficult, more painful, less joyful, less full of love. I and Jo's friends and family are going to work every moment of our lives to love and nurture our kids and to fight against the hate that killed Jo Jo believed in a better world and she fought for it every day of her life with an energy, and a zest for life that would exhaust most people. She would have wanted two things above all else to happen now, one that our precious children are bathed in love and two, that we all unite to fight against the hatred that killed her. Hate doesn't have a creed, race or religion, it is poisonous."
And he is absolutely right.
I dread to think how the rest of this already awful year is going to pan out with the thought of Donald Trump winning the Presidency in November, something to truly terrify all right-thinking people in the four corners of this small planet we all share.
For now, I just hope and pray that we'll start to see more love around the world and not be so fearful of people who perhaps are "not like us" - whatever that means.
Indeed, as Dickens so eloquently put it, we really are all fellow-passengers to the grave and the human race needs to wise up and take that simple but true message on board.
I firmly believe that in the end, love will win the battle with hate.
Right now, though, we all just need to help it along.
Each having a pair of vowels and two consonants.
But perhaps of all words in the English language they could not be more polarised.
I am writing, of course, of the words 'love' and 'hate'.
And right now, in our world, whether it's right here on the streets of the United Kingdom, in nightclubs in the United States of America or in the battle-scarred Middle East, those two small words are waging a war.
And it's affecting every single one of us.
The killing of MP Jo Cox has shocked the nation, a nadir I certainly didn't believe was possible to reach in our country.
Hate seems to be everywhere, and it's chilling me to the bone.
I truly cannot understand what is going on with the human race.
It seems you cannot go barely a couple of days before some horrendous hate-crime is committed somewhere in our world.
The brutal murder of dozens of people in a gay nightclub in downtown Orlando only last weekend was just one of an appalling series of attacks that has left the victims' families to mourn and countless numbers of decent people in the USA and beyond its shores to question yet again the absolutely insane gun 'laws' in that magnificent nation.
Right now, hate seems to have the upper hand.
But for the sake of the human race, it cannot and must not be allowed to win.
There's a wonderful quote in Charles Dickens's timeless tale A Christmas Carol that comes to mind when I think about how bad things are in the human race and how they might be improved for the good of all.
Early in the story, the heartless skinflint Scrooge is visited by his cheery nephew Fred on Christmas Eve afternoon.
Fred wants his uncle to join them the following day to celebrate Christmas, but the money-obsessed miser is having none of it.
Referencing to the season of the year, Fred remarks: "I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round - apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that - as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys."
It's a brilliant summing up of the human race.
We are indeed all fellow-passengers to the grave, and it's while we're here for this oh so short space of time that I really believe we all have to play our part in being decent, helping others as best we can, and not closing our hearts and minds to them.
The European Union referendum vote has shone a very bright spotlight on what really comes down to selfishness on one side and benevolence on the other.
The Brexit side have certainly shown their absolute selfishness with their Little Englander rhetoric that simply sticks in the craw.
It's a love-in, or in this instance, a hate-in, of the right-wing - and it's been appalling to watch.
You only have to see the people leading their campaign and it tells you everything.
It's meanness and nastiness personified with an underlying agenda of hate that boils down to their masterplan to haul up the proverbial drawbridge should they win and sod the rest of the continent that we have been a geographical part of for millions of years and economically connected to for more than four decades.
There just seems to be no end to their message of hate.
But it cannot be allowed to be triumphant.
Just a couple of thousand years ago, a truly remarkable man told us to ''love your neighbour as yourself".
He preached love, not hate, and His powerful words still carry resonance today.
Reading the tributes to MP Jo Cox has been absolutely heartbreaking, but one really stood out from the rest.
It came from her grieving husband, Brendan, who wrote: "Today is the beginning of a new chapter in our lives. More difficult, more painful, less joyful, less full of love. I and Jo's friends and family are going to work every moment of our lives to love and nurture our kids and to fight against the hate that killed Jo Jo believed in a better world and she fought for it every day of her life with an energy, and a zest for life that would exhaust most people. She would have wanted two things above all else to happen now, one that our precious children are bathed in love and two, that we all unite to fight against the hatred that killed her. Hate doesn't have a creed, race or religion, it is poisonous."
And he is absolutely right.
I dread to think how the rest of this already awful year is going to pan out with the thought of Donald Trump winning the Presidency in November, something to truly terrify all right-thinking people in the four corners of this small planet we all share.
For now, I just hope and pray that we'll start to see more love around the world and not be so fearful of people who perhaps are "not like us" - whatever that means.
Indeed, as Dickens so eloquently put it, we really are all fellow-passengers to the grave and the human race needs to wise up and take that simple but true message on board.
I firmly believe that in the end, love will win the battle with hate.
Right now, though, we all just need to help it along.
Wednesday, 18 May 2016
Though Your Dreams Be Tossed And Blown...
SO I've now poured myself a large glass of red wine - not whine in case anyone thinks this is - and I'm reflecting on the past three hours or so in the history of Liverpool Football Club.
Well, at the end of everything, it just wasn't meant to be.
That wonderful victory over our bitterest domestic rivals, the unforgettable comeback against our present manager's former club and that magnificent success that punched our ticket for a trip to Switzerland all came to naught in the end.
What a run it was, only for it to end with something of a whimper which was the most disappointing feature of tonight's fourth defeat in a European final.
Alongside the losses to Borussia Dortmund (1966), Juventus (1985) and AC Milan (2007) you can now add the name of Sevilla.
With a one-goal advantage in the bag at the break and looking on top of things, along with every other Liverpool Football Club supporter I had high hopes we'd build on that in the second half.
But the game changed within seconds of the restart and that would prove to be that.
Yes, manager Jurgen Klopp made all the necessary changes he had to during that second 45 minutes to attempt to try and turn things around, but it wasn't our night.
Yet. given everything that's happened to Liverpool FC this season, it wouldn't swap it for anything.
It's said that in sports - like life - you learn more from disappointments than you do from triumphs.
There's no doubt in my mind that when Klopp comes to analyse what went wrong tonight on the biggest of stages, he will see the faults - and more importantly do something about them.
I am so glad Klopp is our boss. His man-management skills are unquestioned while the belief he has instilled in the fans is quite simply priceless.
The number of late goals his team netted this season bears testament to that - not least the leveller scored by Christian Benteke at Anfield in the Reds' final home game of the season against Chelsea.
There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that the team under Klopp is going places - positive places.
Yes, it's been gut-wrenching to lose two cup finals in the same season. As a Liverpool supporter of more than 40 years I'm feeling the pain just the same as those who've been following the club for only a fraction of that time, not least my eldest son who is simply devastated.
But believe me, the future truly is bright under this incredible German. He knows the score, he 'gets' Liverpool and we WILL be back.
Next season, without the distraction of European football, the club's primary aim should be to secure our 19th top flight title.
Of course it will be tough, but under this unique manager I have never felt as confident of achieving that goal in many a long year.
We win together; we draw together; we lose together.
We are Liverpool Football Club.
And we will be back, have no doubt about that.
YNWA
Well, at the end of everything, it just wasn't meant to be.
That wonderful victory over our bitterest domestic rivals, the unforgettable comeback against our present manager's former club and that magnificent success that punched our ticket for a trip to Switzerland all came to naught in the end.
What a run it was, only for it to end with something of a whimper which was the most disappointing feature of tonight's fourth defeat in a European final.
Alongside the losses to Borussia Dortmund (1966), Juventus (1985) and AC Milan (2007) you can now add the name of Sevilla.
With a one-goal advantage in the bag at the break and looking on top of things, along with every other Liverpool Football Club supporter I had high hopes we'd build on that in the second half.
But the game changed within seconds of the restart and that would prove to be that.
Yes, manager Jurgen Klopp made all the necessary changes he had to during that second 45 minutes to attempt to try and turn things around, but it wasn't our night.
Yet. given everything that's happened to Liverpool FC this season, it wouldn't swap it for anything.
It's said that in sports - like life - you learn more from disappointments than you do from triumphs.
There's no doubt in my mind that when Klopp comes to analyse what went wrong tonight on the biggest of stages, he will see the faults - and more importantly do something about them.
I am so glad Klopp is our boss. His man-management skills are unquestioned while the belief he has instilled in the fans is quite simply priceless.
The number of late goals his team netted this season bears testament to that - not least the leveller scored by Christian Benteke at Anfield in the Reds' final home game of the season against Chelsea.
There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that the team under Klopp is going places - positive places.
Yes, it's been gut-wrenching to lose two cup finals in the same season. As a Liverpool supporter of more than 40 years I'm feeling the pain just the same as those who've been following the club for only a fraction of that time, not least my eldest son who is simply devastated.
But believe me, the future truly is bright under this incredible German. He knows the score, he 'gets' Liverpool and we WILL be back.
Next season, without the distraction of European football, the club's primary aim should be to secure our 19th top flight title.
Of course it will be tough, but under this unique manager I have never felt as confident of achieving that goal in many a long year.
We win together; we draw together; we lose together.
We are Liverpool Football Club.
And we will be back, have no doubt about that.
YNWA
Tuesday, 26 April 2016
I Was Just One Of The Lucky Ones
THE simple fact is I was just one of the lucky ones.
From the mid-1980s I began to follow Liverpool Football Club with an almost religious-like zeal.
I never missed a home game for season after season and began travelling to many grounds around the country to watch the Reds play - London, Derby, Nottingham, Norwich and Birmingham were among the cities I visited.
I also went to Sheffield.
My first visits there were both in the spring of 1988 as Liverpool first booked a place in that year's FA Cup Final with a semi-final success over Nottingham Forest. Later, with my sister to accompany me high up in the West Stand, we enjoyed watching Kenny Dalglish's all-conquering club inflicted a 5-1 hammering of Sheffield Wednesday in a First Division match.
Hillsborough was the venue for both games and in April, 1989, I returned to that same ground.
For that first semi-final in 1988, I found myself directly behind the goal on the Leppings Lane terrace. It was a jam-packed area with little, if any, room for manoeuvre once you were in-situ. I'd had similar experiences on other terraces at away grounds, but during that semi-final match, I distinctly remember feeling things were getting somewhat tighter than normal.
In the end, though, that was put to the back of my mind as the Reds won the game booking a place at Wembley, and as a 20-year-old student, it was the least of my worries at the time.
Sometime in late March or very early April the following year, my Dad drove me up to Anfield where I'd gone to purchase my ticket for that year's FA Cup semi-final, which, for the third successive season, was to be staged at Hillsborough.
And I can distinctly recall looking at the ticket and being dismayed to discover that like the previous year, Liverpool had been allocated the smaller Leppings Lane End and not the much bigger Spion Kop End for all of their standing supporters.
Those thoughts of the small, packed terrace 12 months earlier came back to me, but when Saturday, April 15, 1989 dawned fresh and bright, all I could think about was going back to the South Yorkshire ground to give my support to my team and hopefully see them reach another Wembley final.
I can't recall that much about the coach journey to Sheffield that sunny morning, except to say it seemed to take longer than the previous year's one, and we eventually parked up at I guess around 1.30pm.
A short walk later without mishap and with very little queuing for the turnstiles at the Leppings Lane End, I was in the ground behind the terracing.
This was my third visit to Hillsborough and I knew pretty well the layout of things. So when I saw that the tunnel that led down to the terracing right behind the goal was already looking to be filling up or maybe even full, my mind flashed back to the previous year's experience.
Did I really want a repeat of all that again? No chance, I said to myself.
It was a decision that saved my life.
I then happened to see a steward chatting to someone, and I asked directions to the side area of the terrace, and he pointed me towards the right. I then walked around the outside of the stand before entering the clearly far less crowded pen on the side of the ground where the main TV camera gantry on the South Stand was situated.
Save for a handful of fellow Reds supporters, the terrace was empty. There was plenty of room to sit on the concrete steps and have a read of the matchday programme. It was now gone 2.30pm, and as I glanced around I wondered to myself where the rest of our fans where - this, after all, was an FA Cup semi-final.
A further look to my left told me everything I needed to know - and fear.
The middle area was packed, dangerously packed. Almost 30 years later now, I can still see a man aged in his 50s or even 60s perhaps, wearing a long coat, deciding he didn't fancy it any more and being helped over the metal fencing that separated the individual pens into which supporters were, literally, herded.
Almost certainly that man's decision to get out then saved his life too.
It was now getting on for 2.50pm, and still the terracing I was now stood up in wasn't full by any stretch of the imagination. But as I glanced again to my left, it seemed to be getting worse by the minute.
What happened after that period has, of course, been well documented.
Despite everything, the match kicked-off on time.
Six minutes later it stopped.
Scores of supporters were fatally injured with hundreds more badly hurt.
Those that survived that day all suffered in one way or another.
Some time around 4pm, I think, fans were told to leave the ground and return to their transport.
Of course, those were the days when mobile phones resembled house-bricks and cost a fortune so everyone headed for public telephone boxes and houses around the ground to ask if they could make a call home.
I joined a big queue outside a house in Leppings Lane itself and eventually got a message through to someone, although not my parents. I was desperate to speak to them and it was not until our coach stopped at a service station on the way back to Liverpool that I was able to get through to them.
Those hours for my Mum and Dad must have been sheer hell. They had gone shopping in Liverpool that afternoon, returned to their car, put the radio on and heard the grim news from Hillsborough knowing full well that was the part of the ground I was due to be in.
To this day, nearly three decades later, it is a subject that they understandably find too distressing to talk to me about. As a parent now myself, I know exactly why.
So I returned to Liverpool that Saturday night around 8pm, shaken and upset, but luckily alive.
The rest of that evening was spent on the phone with schoolmates who hadn't managed to get a ticket for the game but knew I'd be there, while one made a special trip to see me in the house.
I can remember scribbling on a piece of scrap paper how I had seen the tragedy unfold and how it could have been prevented. It was pretty much how those with far more knowledge than me on such matters were to sum it all up.
Twenty-seven April 15ths have happened since that fateful one in 1989.
And now, at long, long last, justice has won the day.
The real truth of what happened, always known by the people of the city I'm proud to call home, has now been shown to the whole world.
The families' fight for justice has been won, and I am both so thrilled and relieved for them.
It's been a hell of a long time coming and they have experienced hell to get there.
But thank God they have triumphed in the end.
I will never forget April 15, 1989 for its horrors.
But I will always remember April 26, 2016 for the day that justice finally prevailed.
God bless those magnificent Hillsborough Families and God bless those 96 Angels.
Every single one of them, truly, has never walked alone. And never, ever will.
From the mid-1980s I began to follow Liverpool Football Club with an almost religious-like zeal.
I never missed a home game for season after season and began travelling to many grounds around the country to watch the Reds play - London, Derby, Nottingham, Norwich and Birmingham were among the cities I visited.
I also went to Sheffield.
My first visits there were both in the spring of 1988 as Liverpool first booked a place in that year's FA Cup Final with a semi-final success over Nottingham Forest. Later, with my sister to accompany me high up in the West Stand, we enjoyed watching Kenny Dalglish's all-conquering club inflicted a 5-1 hammering of Sheffield Wednesday in a First Division match.
Hillsborough was the venue for both games and in April, 1989, I returned to that same ground.
For that first semi-final in 1988, I found myself directly behind the goal on the Leppings Lane terrace. It was a jam-packed area with little, if any, room for manoeuvre once you were in-situ. I'd had similar experiences on other terraces at away grounds, but during that semi-final match, I distinctly remember feeling things were getting somewhat tighter than normal.
In the end, though, that was put to the back of my mind as the Reds won the game booking a place at Wembley, and as a 20-year-old student, it was the least of my worries at the time.
Sometime in late March or very early April the following year, my Dad drove me up to Anfield where I'd gone to purchase my ticket for that year's FA Cup semi-final, which, for the third successive season, was to be staged at Hillsborough.
And I can distinctly recall looking at the ticket and being dismayed to discover that like the previous year, Liverpool had been allocated the smaller Leppings Lane End and not the much bigger Spion Kop End for all of their standing supporters.
Those thoughts of the small, packed terrace 12 months earlier came back to me, but when Saturday, April 15, 1989 dawned fresh and bright, all I could think about was going back to the South Yorkshire ground to give my support to my team and hopefully see them reach another Wembley final.
I can't recall that much about the coach journey to Sheffield that sunny morning, except to say it seemed to take longer than the previous year's one, and we eventually parked up at I guess around 1.30pm.
A short walk later without mishap and with very little queuing for the turnstiles at the Leppings Lane End, I was in the ground behind the terracing.
This was my third visit to Hillsborough and I knew pretty well the layout of things. So when I saw that the tunnel that led down to the terracing right behind the goal was already looking to be filling up or maybe even full, my mind flashed back to the previous year's experience.
Did I really want a repeat of all that again? No chance, I said to myself.
It was a decision that saved my life.
I then happened to see a steward chatting to someone, and I asked directions to the side area of the terrace, and he pointed me towards the right. I then walked around the outside of the stand before entering the clearly far less crowded pen on the side of the ground where the main TV camera gantry on the South Stand was situated.
Save for a handful of fellow Reds supporters, the terrace was empty. There was plenty of room to sit on the concrete steps and have a read of the matchday programme. It was now gone 2.30pm, and as I glanced around I wondered to myself where the rest of our fans where - this, after all, was an FA Cup semi-final.
A further look to my left told me everything I needed to know - and fear.
The middle area was packed, dangerously packed. Almost 30 years later now, I can still see a man aged in his 50s or even 60s perhaps, wearing a long coat, deciding he didn't fancy it any more and being helped over the metal fencing that separated the individual pens into which supporters were, literally, herded.
Almost certainly that man's decision to get out then saved his life too.
It was now getting on for 2.50pm, and still the terracing I was now stood up in wasn't full by any stretch of the imagination. But as I glanced again to my left, it seemed to be getting worse by the minute.
What happened after that period has, of course, been well documented.
Despite everything, the match kicked-off on time.
Six minutes later it stopped.
Scores of supporters were fatally injured with hundreds more badly hurt.
Those that survived that day all suffered in one way or another.
Some time around 4pm, I think, fans were told to leave the ground and return to their transport.
Of course, those were the days when mobile phones resembled house-bricks and cost a fortune so everyone headed for public telephone boxes and houses around the ground to ask if they could make a call home.
I joined a big queue outside a house in Leppings Lane itself and eventually got a message through to someone, although not my parents. I was desperate to speak to them and it was not until our coach stopped at a service station on the way back to Liverpool that I was able to get through to them.
Those hours for my Mum and Dad must have been sheer hell. They had gone shopping in Liverpool that afternoon, returned to their car, put the radio on and heard the grim news from Hillsborough knowing full well that was the part of the ground I was due to be in.
To this day, nearly three decades later, it is a subject that they understandably find too distressing to talk to me about. As a parent now myself, I know exactly why.
So I returned to Liverpool that Saturday night around 8pm, shaken and upset, but luckily alive.
The rest of that evening was spent on the phone with schoolmates who hadn't managed to get a ticket for the game but knew I'd be there, while one made a special trip to see me in the house.
I can remember scribbling on a piece of scrap paper how I had seen the tragedy unfold and how it could have been prevented. It was pretty much how those with far more knowledge than me on such matters were to sum it all up.
Twenty-seven April 15ths have happened since that fateful one in 1989.
And now, at long, long last, justice has won the day.
The real truth of what happened, always known by the people of the city I'm proud to call home, has now been shown to the whole world.
The families' fight for justice has been won, and I am both so thrilled and relieved for them.
It's been a hell of a long time coming and they have experienced hell to get there.
But thank God they have triumphed in the end.
I will never forget April 15, 1989 for its horrors.
But I will always remember April 26, 2016 for the day that justice finally prevailed.
God bless those magnificent Hillsborough Families and God bless those 96 Angels.
Every single one of them, truly, has never walked alone. And never, ever will.
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