It's games like today's...

...that make me so proud to be a life-long supporter of Liverpool Football Club.

Little did I realise when I first decided sometime around 1973 when I was five or six years of age that the team wearing an all-red kit would take me on such an incredible rollercoaster ride of emotions.

From magnificent highs of cup triumphs and league victories to disappointing lows of cup losses and league failures to truly dreadful tragedies where the game itself became a total irrelevance, it's been a journey I've shared with many of my closest friends.

At the start of this 2013-14 season - I guess the 41st I have followed the team - I never would have believed that by the time we had played 36 Premier League matches, we could be within a matter of half a dozen points of perhaps winning our first top flight title in nearly a quarter-of-a-century.

After today's results, it seems that we may have to wait a little longer for that elusive 19th crown with Manchester City now installed once more as favourites to win the Premier League.

As it stands, we could triumph in our last two matches while the team from the Etihad Stadium win their last three. If it finishes that way, we would be equal on points but more than likely City would lift the title on goal difference.

It would be the second time in three seasons that City had won the title that way having memorably triumphed by that slimmest of margins over Manchester United in 2012.

Of course, as a Liverpool supporter, it would be a gut-wrenching way to lose the title; for me it would equate to how we lost the First Division crown to Arsenal on that late spring evening in 1989.

I was on The Kop that night and with my mind's eye can still picture the moment when Michael Thomas ran through on the goal 100 yards away at the Anfield Road End and ended our dreams of a second League and FA Cup double.

That was a campaign highly-charged with emotion in the closing weeks after the Hillsborough Disaster.

This time around, the season which, as always, began with hope, has, since the turn of the year, taken on an incredible life all of its own.

No-one would have thought that the team would win matches week after week after week.

But they did.

Manchester United, Arsenal, Everton, Tottenham Hotspur and Manchester City amongst others were all beaten, mostly very comfortably.

There had been no league defeats since December and the team were on an unprecedented roll that had taken them to the top of the table with just three games remaining.

And then came Chelsea today.

Their heavy reliance on defence may be laudable to those who love the way Italian sides play the so-called "beautiful game", but it leaves an unsavoury taste in the mouth, highlighted by the manager behind the tactics.

Jose Mourinho doubtless is a successful manager wherever he has gone. But I hope and pray he never becomes the boss of Liverpool Football Club.

The one overriding thing that matters to Jose Mourinho is Jose Mourinho. His celebration at Anfield today only underlines what a classless individual he is.

I could never imagine Brendan Rodgers behaving in such a way - and if I did I would be embarrassed as a Liverpool supporter.

You can talk about managers showing passion, but when he does, it just smacks of a man with no dignity and no class. You never saw the likes of Brian Clough, Sir Matt Busby, Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Kenny Dalglish and Jock Stein behaving in such a way as Mourinho did this afternoon in front of the Paddock after his team took an unassailable 2-0 lead.

Among the many things I ascribe to is the concept of karma. It may well come quickly for Mourinho as his team may well be dumped out of the European Champions League at the semi-final stage on Wednesday night. It may come later than that. But it will happen.

As for Liverpool, 2013-14 might be the nearly-season. In 2003, a year after Fenway Sports Group took over the Boston Red Sox, the team reached the American League Championship Series only to lose a heart-breaking best-of-seven series to the New York Yankees four games to three.

Baseball pals of mine will know that was the Tim Wakefield and Aaron 'Bleeping' Boone moment in Game Seven at Yankee Stadium.

Twelve months later, it all came good for the Red Sox in the most incredible way imaginable. Down three games to none against the Yankees in the same ALCS, the Red Sox reeled off four games on the spin to win the series and book their place in the World Series. Another four wins followed over the St Louis Cardinals and the team were World Series winners for the first time since 1918.

So maybe, 2013-14 for Liverpool may be like Boston's 2003. Perhaps we'll have to wait another 12 months before the glory finally returns to Anfield; perhaps we won't.

But whatever happens, 2013-14 has reignited my love affair for my football club, fired by the wonderful way the team are playing the game.

On numerous occasions I stood on The Kop and with thousands around me chanted "Attack! Attack! Attack!" as we targeted another win at opponents there for the taking.

It's been to the team's immense credit and the way we are playing that the fans have had no need to bellow that command from thousands of throats - they do it regardless.

Ninety-six goals in 36 matches - an average of almost 2.7 per game - speaks volumes and it's been wondrous to see.

So maybe we'll just fall short; maybe we'll win it all.

But whatever happens, as always, I am so proud to say Liverpool Football Club is my football club - and will be until the day I shuffle off this mortal coil.

It's A Wonderful Film...

"GEORGE BAILEY, I'll love you 'til the day I die..."

The words spoken by a young American schoolgirl called Mary Hatch to her 12-year-old unrequited love - who is totally unaware of what she has told him as she has whispered it in his deaf left ear - starts the tear ducts welling up and I know I will be crying buckets by the time the movie ends.

The fact that this beautifully-touching moment arrives barely 10 minutes into the film tells you all you need to know - It's A Wonderful Life is arguably the most tear-inducing and life-affirming movie you will ever see. Ever.

For those yet to experience this picture - and I do know many of my good pals have not - I urge every single one of you to try and see it, ideally between now and Twelfth Night.

It's a brilliant movie that works on so many levels with scenes of humour, romance, tragedy and darkness, the last 20 minutes or so utterly terrifying before the most magical of endings you could ever wish for in a film.

In a nutshell, the 1946 movie, directed by legendary filmmaker Frank Capra, focuses on the life of a late 30-something married father-of-four, George Bailey.

George (memorably portrayed by Hollywood great James Stewart) has been a pillar of the small town where he has lived - Bedford Falls - throughout his life. In that time, he has made countless personal sacrifices to help the poorest townsfolk in Bedford Falls live better lives through a Buildings & Loan company created by his late father.

George's sacrifices include his number one aim to travel the world. Instead, he has remained stuck in Bedford Falls, going on to marry Mary, now grown up (played effortlessly by Donna Reed) and having four children.

One snowy, Christmas Eve, through a set of accidental circumstances, the Buildings & Loan firm finds itself $8000 in arrears and a warrant is issued for George's arrest.

With trouble at every turn, George storms out of the family home and after a brawl in a local bar, contemplates taking his own life knowing an insurance policy he has would cover all the financial worries should he die.

It's at this stage in the film where fate takes a hand in the form of George's guardian angel, a certain Clarence Oddbody (Henry Travers). Clarence, an angel yet to earn his wings, devises a way to explain to George why it was so wrong to think about ending it all - by showing him how different his little world of Bedford Falls would have been if he had never been born.

And it's those scenes that are quite heart-breaking to witness - we learn so many things how George's mere presence affected so many other people's lives from saving his younger brother Harry's life when he was a young child to marrying Mary to having his four beautiful children.

By the final five minutes of the movie I am a complete emotional wreck. The tears are streaming down my face, and at the end I think about everything in my life - the good and the not-so-good - and always think to myself, yes, things aren't always rosy in my garden, but, you know, I really wouldn't have it any other way and I am so thankful for the life I am living right now.

So try and catch the film if you can - maybe it'll be your first introduction. If it is, I guarantee it will be on your 'must watch at Christmas list' for evermore. It certainly is with me.

Coincidence or Conspiracy?

FOR those still content to believe the conclusion that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone in the assassination of President John F. Kennedy 50 years ago this very day, perhaps you'd like to consider this list of people:

Jack Zangretti, Eddy Benavides, Mary Meyer, Hank Killam, Bill Hunter, Gary Underhill,  Jim Koethe, Teresa Norton, Karen Carlin, Marilyn Walle, William Pitzer, David Ferrie, Eladio Del Valle, E. R. Walthers, Rev. Clyde Johnson, William Pawley, George DeMohrenschildt, Carlos Prio Soccaras, Lou Staples, Joseph C. Ayres.

 All of the individuals identified above had connections to the vast story of President Kennedy's murder, some with bigger roles than others.

 Of those 20 people named, all met their deaths violently: Seventeen of them received fatal gunshot injuries, two died from blows to the neck while one had his throat cut.

 This list, incidentally, doesn't include people such as Lee Bowers Jr, William Whaley, Rose Cheramie, James Worrell or Mona B. Saenz, all of whom died in unusual road accidents.

 And not forgetting famed American journalist and TV personality Dorothy Kilgallen who was the only reporter to interview Jack Ruby - the man who shot Oswald - when he was in his jail cell in the spring of 1964 and began her own meticulous research into the President's death. Kilgallen, a regular panellist on the celebrated CBS TV game show What's My Line? for 15 years from 1950, was found dead in her New York apartment in November, 1965, not long after she had told friends: "If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to break this case. This story isn't going to die as long as there's a real reporter alive - and there are a lot of them." Kilgallen's death was said to have been caused by a cocktail of pills and alcohol although the exact circumstances were "undetermined".

But hey-ho, never mind. It was Oswald alone, don't forget, and there is nothing else sinister linked with this case whatsoever. Nothing. That's what we've all been told to believe, haven't we?

The Real Nightmare On Elm Street

I THINK I must have been in my very early teens or perhaps in my last year in junior school when I happened one day to be thumbing through an encyclopedia detailing famous historical events.

 My eyes were drawn to a monochrome photograph, slightly blurred, of a car with a number of people around it. The caption underneath the picture explained what was going on - American President John Fitzgerald Kennedy is assassinated in Dallas, Texas, on November 22, 1963, by Lee Harvey Oswald.

 Little did I realise that more than three decades after I first saw this image I would count researching the conspiracy behind the brutal public execution of America's 35th Commander-in-Chief as among my greatest and most important passions.

 Let me be frank from the outset. For those of you willing to go along with the official account of what happened that dreadful autumn afternoon, you need to wake up and smell the coffee.

 Maybe it's for the easy life; maybe it's because you don't like difficult questions; or maybe it's because where the truth goes on this one it's to a far darker place than you could ever imagine - or really want to go to.

 But for those still happy to go along with the official story that a lone, disillusioned man with Marxist sympathies fired three shots from a $13 bolt-action rifle with a defective telescopic sight from a sixth floor window at a moving target from 88 yards through thick foliage causing fatal injuries to one occupant of the limousine and serious wounds to another (with the same almost pristine bullet) while somehow reversing the law of physics by getting the mortally-wounded man to move backwards following a projectile that hit him from behind travelling thousands of feet per second, I've some bad news I want to relate to you - Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy don't exist. But if you buy into the findings of the 1964 Warren Commission, you may as well believe in Father Christmas and the elfish flying creature who leaves a shiny coin under your pillow whenever you lose one of your gnashers.

 It was the writer William Manchester who really kick-started my intense interest in the assassination of President John Kennedy. The year was 1988 and I can still remember getting his famous book out of the library at St Katherine's College in Liverpool where I was in the second of my three years reading History and American Studies for a BA Honours Degree.

 Manchester's 1967 tome, The Death Of A President, opened my eyes to an incredibly-hypnotic story, and from that moment on - at that point exactly 25 years since Kennedy's murder - my interest was sparked to find out through as much research as I could just what really happened in those fateful few seconds one November lunchtime on an ordinary downtown street in the third-biggest city in the second-largest State in the Union.

 I am not what some might call an 'Assassination Buff' - the sort of person who has devoted more hours of their lives than they care to mention on the subject. Far from it. But I do have more than a passing interest and have read many articles and books and witnessed a good number of programmes, films and documentaries - and, as any good journalist should do, I have listened to both sides of the case.

And, really, there are only two arguments: (1) Lee Harvey Oswald did the whole thing alone and it's case closed or (2) Lee Harvey Oswald did not and it's case still open.

Those are your two choices - it really is as simple as that.

There are countless side issues I could write about on this truly incredible story - and I have no doubt I will on a forthcoming blog. But for now, I'll leave you with these two facts to ponder over as the world prepares to mark half a century since President Kennedy's murder:

If Lee Harvey Oswald was the sole assassin as the Warren Commission ruled beyond reasonable doubt - and we should be content in the knowledge that this is indeed true - why on earth in November 2013 - 50 years later - are some 1,171 documents still withheld by the Central Intelligence Agency and marked "national security classified" in relation to the President's death?
 And, why is it that the files of the House Select Committee on Assassinations which met in the late 1970s will not be opened for another 16 years?

Somewhat strange, wouldn't you say, given it's "officially" an open and shut case?

Damascus if we do, Damascus if we don't

SYRIA.

That ancient Middle Eastern nation is now well and truly back in the news headlines.

It's on the front pages of every British national newspaper, bar one.

But then, Celebrity Big Brother is rather important too, isn't it, Mr Desmond?

The current state of play is very concerning indeed. As we stand, weapons inspectors from the United Nations are carrying out detailed investigations into the alleged use of chemical devices to kill and maim hundreds of innocent men, women and children in a suburb of the nation's capital city, Damascus.

The inspectors are set to complete their work by Friday and report back to the Secretary-General of the UN, Ban Ki-moon over the weekend.

It is believed that the regime of dictator President Bashar al-Assad is responsible for the actions that caused all these deaths by use of weapons outlawed since a treaty was signed by the vast majority of the world's nations as long ago as the 1920s.

Syria, incidentally, is one of the handful of countries not to have signed the treaty alongside such other luminaries as Angola, Egypt, North Korea and South Sudan.

It is believed that since civil war broke out in Syria in 2011, at least 100,000 people have already perished.

But it's only now that the world has decided to sit up and take notice - and it's all due to the usage of chemical weapons.

From my limited knowledge of the situation and taking on board my education which led to a degree in history, I find it completely inconceivable that military action taken by outside forces could lead to anything other than regime change in Syria.

For goodness sake, this isn't a particularly tricky level in Call Of Duty where you can always press the reset button if things go awry.

You are dealing with the lives of millions of people, not just in Syria but in the wider Middle East and arguably the whole world.

I just cannot agree with the idea that firing a few dozen Tomahawk cruise missiles at identified military targets will immediately solve the crisis in Syria.

If anything, I believe Assad's regime will fight back in any way he sees fit. And with his allies Russia and Iran close by, that's an extremely fearful thought indeed.

But then, we have the flip side of this coin. Does the world sit by and do nothing and allow this dictator to continue gassing his own people?

It seems to me, that the only long term solution for Syria is almost certainly going to be regime change. For once a leader has sanctioned the use of chemical weapons against his own people, how on earth can he be welcomed to the table of diplomacy at the United Nations? After all, surely Assad is a war criminal and by definition would need to stand before an international court of law.

I just hope there is complete support at the United Nations for whatever action is taken. But with China and Russia hinting they may well vote against a military response led by the United States, the United Kingdom and France, I fear that may well not be forthcoming.

The next few days are going to be very important indeed for the lives of millions of people in the Middle East.

It certainly puts other things into perspective... although Big Ron's latest faux pas is pretty important too, eh, Mr Desmond?

Guilty Pleasures #2

MANY issues are discussed and dissected on the sports desk at work.

Some, nay, virtually all are not fit for repeating on this blog, largely as I definitely could not afford the legal fees the associated lawsuits would inevitably bring...

But one thing that did get a brief mention today was a movie that those distributing the Academy Awards in the spring of 1965 decided should be given the coveted title of Best Picture.

Alongside this film in the nominations for that category almost half a century ago now was the melodrama set on a liner on its way from Mexico to Nazi Germany in 1933, Ship Of Fools starring amongst others Vivien Leigh and Lee Marvin; the movie version of a play about a comedian, A Thousand Clowns, which earned Martin Balsam the Best Supporting Actor Oscar; Darling, a relationships drama in which Julie Christie received the celebrated golden statuette for Best Actress; and the epic Doctor Zhivago which brought together Omar Sharif and the incredibly-talented Christie in David Lean's critically-acclaimed version of Boris Pasternak's famous romantic tale set in Russia before, during and after the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution.

All, according to those voting in the Academy, were equally worthy of winning the Best Picture Oscar for that year.

Except they didn't.

The movie that won the honour that evening in 1965 remains for me one of the most uplifting pictures I have ever seen.

It's been shown countless times on television and I daresay the majority of you reading this blog will have seen it.

I also know a fair number of you will swiftly dismiss it as simply three hours of sentimental rubbish laced with huge dollops of saccharine from first reel to last.

But for me, the unforgettable mix of nuns and Nazis plus some of the most memorable songs ever written by two of the last century's finest musical collaborators - Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II - makes The Sound Of Music one of my all-time favourite movies.

The cinematography is just outstanding, starting with a magical opening sequence in which the focus is on the truly breathtaking majesty of the Austrian Alps.

I'm sure most of you are all-too aware of the movie so we won't head down the plot-explaining route.

What I do recall as a child was sitting through a film that lasted a lot longer than the usual one-and-a-half to two hours - and not becoming restless.

I was completely taken in by the story - which is loosely based on an incredible true tale - and thoroughly enjoyed what was being played out in front of me.

The performances in the movie are terrific, led, of course, by the Oscar-nominated Julie Andrews as Maria.

Andrews was right up there as one of the leading theatre and cinematic draws of the mid-1960s. Twelve months before she had won the Academy Award as Best Actress playing the title role in Disney's much-loved musical Mary Poppins. And as in that "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" movie, she's on top form throughout.

For all he despised The Sound Of Music - and he did from a number of accounts - Christopher Plummer plays the role of the former German naval officer Captain Georg von Trapp marvellously. The scene towards the end of the picture where he tries to sing Edelweiss before being helped by Maria is one of many highlights. Yes, Plummer's singing voice was dubbed for the film, but it's nevertheless a standout moment for me.

The final ten minutes of the picture where the dark side of the story is re-enacted as the family are being hunted by the Nazis remains absolutely riveting while the conclusion is so uplifting it can go a long way in helping to counter any miserable feelings you may be experiencing in your life.

Oh, and why was The Sound Of Music being discussed on the sports desk? Well, a colleague of mine admitted he had never seen it.

That was some confession.

But definitely not as open as this one...

Our Luis cannon

LUIS SUAREZ has courted controversy wherever he has gone.

The first time I became aware of him was in the 2010 World Cup quarter-final clash between his country, Uruguay, and Ghana.

Funnily enough, I had pulled out Ghana in the office sweep and the African team were doing me proud after first negotiating their tricky group stage before earning a place in the last eight of the tournament with a 2-1 win over the United States.

Then came that quarter-final match against the South Americans.

Biased? Of course I was. Like most "neutrals", I was rooting like mad for Ghana to reach the semi-finals - and not just because a couple of quid was riding on their progress!

Sadly for them - and for me - it wasn't to be. As most football followers who read this blog will recall, Uruguay made it through after a penalty shoot-out.

But not before Suarez had been in the spotlight - and not for the first time in his career - for all the wrong reasons.

He handballed a goal-bound effort that led to a spot-kick that could have won the game for Ghana and was shown an automatic red card.

Fortunately for Suarez and his Uruguay teammates, the penalty was missed. Suarez was picked up by the TV cameras celebrating the miss with a fist-pump as he walked down the tunnel towards the dressing rooms.

That endeared himself forever to the Uruguay nation while doubtless alienating millions of football followers around the world.

Uruguay went on to beat Ghana - ironically via penalties - and the African dream of having a nation in the last four in the World Cup finals was dashed, for another four years at least.

Months later, my club, Liverpool, went out and bought Suarez for somewhere in the region of £23m - and he immediately became a Kop icon.

His debut off the bench against Stoke City resulted in a pivotal goal in front of The Kop and he was off and running.

So much has happened between that moment and where we find ourselves now with the forward it would take too long to recount here.

There have been plenty of ups - the FA Cup leveller at Wembley against Everton in 2012 quickly springs to mind as I was there with Matthew to witness it - but as far as I am concerned, the downs outnumber them by a hefty margin.

And now, today, August 7, 2013, we find ourselves in this dreadful mire with the player.

Already banned for 10 matches for biting an opponent - again - Suarez is, via his agent, seemingly attempting to engineer an exit from the Reds.

He apparently had a "foot injury" which ruled him out tonight's tour match in Norway. A foot injury? C'mon, were all Liverpool fans born yesterday? What a load of utter bollocks.

The fact is, he wants to go. Liverpool publicly claim they don't want to sell him but privately can't wait for a club to come in with a big enough offer for them to say: "Ta very much. Adios Luis. And don't forget to shut the door on your way out."

While this saga has been going on for what seems like forever, I've been wondering all the time what the club's most important man in their entire history would have said.

I reckon it would have been something along the lines of this: "Arsenal, son? Ye say Arsenal? If you want to play for another team in red I'll drive the bloody car for you to London. I don't want you at this magnificent club. And these fans wouldn't want you either."

Yes, leave Anfield for God's sake, Suarez. Frankly, I really couldn't care less where you end up.

All I know is you're dragging our great club through the mud yet again.

And as a Liverpool supporter of more than four decades, I know club legends when I see them - and believe me, you ain't fit to lace their boots.