Dear Diary: Today We Won
Dear diary, today was special. Today we won the league. That’s my recap…now here’s all the details…
Remember when I started liking European football? My friend Adam strong-armed me into being a Liverpool supporter. It’s true. Like a bouncer escorting a drunk to the sidewalk, Adam did the reverse. He took me by the elbow and ignored my protests. Afterwards, he deposited me in a seat at a bar called The Field. We watched what I called soccer for an interminable amount of time. Why did the game move so slowly? Why wasn’t there more scoring? I felt a pit in my stomach.
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Dear Diary, had I signed on to a pastime that might bore me to death? And could I switch from Liverpool to a team with cooler colors? I left the pub after one match…maybe even at 90 minutes. And I thought I had enough. This sport and this team would never be in me. But Adam always means well, so I gave it another shot. My way.
The Others
There were many choices. If you speak to a Scouser, there are NO OTHER CHOICES. Yet, I was new enough that I didn’t know the rules. So, yes, I looked at other sides. As I look back, it felt like cheating. Romancing various other clubs, dynamic players, and a whole ocean of colorful kits. Best of all were the city names.
I’d never known Blackpool or Wolverhampton, or Ipswich. What could they offer? I knew Adam had shared some disparaging…nay, less-than-flattering comments about some teams. These were mainly Manchester City and Manchester United. They were called shitty and manure respectively. Chelsea and Arsenal were in there too. I think I was even warned off of teams that presented no appreciable threat.
Those were Newcastle, Aston Villa, Tottenham, Brighton, and even Leicester. I don’t know the criteria, but it’s possible that the teams I was warned away from were because of a heinous result against that side in an earlier season. So my wagon got hitched to LFC. And here we are…
Championship Sunday
Dear diary, I wasn’t even remotely myself when I woke up on Sunday, April 27, 2025. I knew exactly how I wanted the day to turn out. And I had a plan. On a day unlike so many others, I eased out of bed in a state of calm. All I had to do was collect my stuff, pick out an outfit, and punch in the destination. *On a ‘normal’ day, I wake up with a screaming bladder and a racing mind. I sometimes step on the cat on the way to the bathroom – that’s not a euphemism. And I’m not settled and focused until I take my pill. The pill is supposed to help with my ADD. Where do you think we should go on vacation this summer? KIDDING!!
Even the rain couldn’t dampen my spirits as I pulled on the yellow and red Crown Paints kit. I grabbed a matching LFC scarf from the closet and thought about accessories. A camera would be too bothersome. It might split my attention or I might lose it/break it – so why bring it? The coat could stay in the car – too bulky in case it was standing room only. I needed the phone for betting on other matches and for keeping informed on activities at other pubs around the nation. Staying informed and in touch meant there would be texts back and forth throughout the game.
The supporters I know keep a regular stream of emotional exclamations going via text or Messenger. Some host podcasts simultaneously, making watch parties wherever they go. It’s a way to be part of the supporter excitement and activity if you can’t be at Anfield or at an official LFC pub.
A Place For Everything, Everything In Its Place
Dear diary, for this important day, I decided not to travel too far to see the match. I have recently relocated 2.5 hours from my home LFC pub. It’s an official supporters’ bar, and it’s where I started watching Liverpool in earnest. Alas, the routine there – and at most venues categorized as official – is time-intensive. So I added up the seconds, minutes, and hours and decided to scrap the jaunt south. I would be spending five hours driving, 90 minutes+ in line outside the pub before doors open; and two hours inside waiting for the start; AND then three hours of off-the-hook celebrating.
It was too much. Especially if I wanted to function effectively the rest of the day and at the start of the week. While nothing compares to watching a match with others around, this would have to wait.
So I bought local. Merely 37 minutes away is a bar with Peacock (imagine that), and they have a habit of showing all international games. This includes curling, rugby, cricket, boules, and of course, football.
The rains came, but I was undeterred.
Kit – check.
Scarf – check
Directions – check
Wallet – check
Phone – check
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I arrived at Ri Ra in Portland, Maine, with plenty of time. Not an LFC pub per se, and the team they support the most is Liverpool. The owners are from Ireland and live right near keeper Caoimhin Kelleher. If I lived near Kelleher, I wouldn’t have had those dalliances with those other teams. It was destiny, karma and good luck all rolled into one. Plenty of space at the bar; various matches on – but the primary big screen was LFC. And the clientele was comprised of Liverpool fans.
They weren’t as rabid as the usual crew, but these were folks who didn’t know about FSG owning the team. So they were less informed and as excited as I was. As we dismantled the already ailing Tottenham, my smile grew and my inner calm appeared. I love this team. I love the people who love this team.
Maybe I should have started this by saying…
Dear diary, I’m in love. May all your adventures be as happy and fruitful as my trip to Ri Ra. Watching a match becomes something bigger when Liverpool is involved. See you next month, calm until August! Phew.
#YNWA