My Liverpool Story: It Was Always Liverpool
When asked to reflect on my own Liverpool story, a poignant inflection point you may crave as a reader is missing. The indoctrination was more chemical burn growing from the inside out than a bolt of lightning striking me down. In my Reds story, there is no love and loss, no heirloom jersey, nothing like that. Just an appreciation that started as a contained burn and quickly spread like wildfire into identity.
READ MORE: My Liverpool Story: Following Footsteps by TJ Andrews
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Soccer (erm…football – sorry, won’t make that mistake twice) wasn’t a part of my childhood beyond a brief foray into rec league at the age of eight…a season that I spent running away from the ball and the shrieking mass of my classmates chasing after it.
Finding The Entry Point
I didn’t have my first “aha” moment with the game until 2006. I was coming out of my freshman year of high school. For some reason that still escapes me, a friend and I spent the entire tournament glued to the TV screen in his basement watching the World Cup. A grasp of rules and tactics lagged behind my gut instinct that this was a hell of a game.
It wasn’t until eleven years later, when the FIFA games were a staple amongst early 20-somethings, that I got my first real taste of Liverpool. They immediately became my team. Knowing nothing of the club, the history, or the culture, I just knew that I wanted to play with the side that had Bobby, Mo, Virg, and Gini. The seed planted then didn’t bear fruit immediately, beyond an otherwise unremarkable preference towards a squad in a video game.
At the time, I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of supporting a club across the ocean in a seemingly incompatible time zone. Better yet, I’d have to outsmart the internet to tune in to games. American sports fans of American sports teams are spoiled with both choice and accessibility. I wasn’t ready to put the effort in. So the seed lay dormant.
Local Inspiration
Shortly thereafter, Minnesota (my home state) got its own MLS team. Admittedly, I wasn’t engaged with the NASL version of the Loons and can’t claim the glory that those supporters can. In peak American form, my interest was only piqued once the team “made the big time”. The early years of the Loons taught me how to be a proper football fan. They grew my love for the game itself beyond pummeling the goal with Bobby and Mo in a video game. But what about Liverpool?
In recent years, my life has changed a lot. I traded late nights for early mornings, chaotic restaurant life as a chef for (still chaotic) running my own boutique mortgage business, and American football for the beautiful game. To this day, I still try to convince the NFL fans in my life that they could watch the most popular game in the world with no in-game commercials and be in and out in just about two hours flat. Tucking into a match at 6:30 am on a Saturday with a coffee and my cats is the absolute best way to start a weekend.
Still…we haven’t gotten to the Reds.
Bucking A Trend
I had always kept half an eye on the club, and the successes of 2019 and 2020 felt like confirmation bias. Of course, Liverpool were winning big trophies. They’re one of the biggest teams in the world! What I was missing at the time was a true understanding of the dark times and moments of heartbreak.
THE MY LIVERPOOL STORY SERIES
A couple of years ago, when I decided to convert to proper football, I tried really hard NOT to be a Liverpool supporter. If you know anything about Minnesota sports, you’ll know we’re generational losers. Our local men’s teams (Loons, Twins, Timberwolves, Vikings, and Wild) haven’t won a title since 1991…the year I was born. The only team on that list to EVER have won a trophy is the Twins. They’ve done it just twice in their 60+ year history.
The Lynx, the local WNBA team, is legendary, but that winning mentality hasn’t permeated local culture. It feels
weird to “choose” a team that is historically great and very much one of the biggest clubs in the world. So I tried to pick another team. Wikipedia and YouTube deep dives taught me a lot about each club in the Premier League. I tried hard. But I had my own Virgil moment and realised that it was always Liverpool.
The history, the culture, the people, the songs (my poor wife), You’ll Never Walk Alone, a Liverbird upon my chest, so on and so forth. No amount of resistance from my mind could overcome what had grown in my heart without my consent or knowledge. Everything I was looking for had been there the whole time.
Earning Stripes
I don’t have the stripes that many supporters of the club do. I wasn’t an avid fan during the dark times or even the glory days of the Klopp era. But when my heart and brain align on a passion, I let it consume me. I got to appreciate Klopp’s last days and sing with tentative optimism in the early days of Slot-o-mania. So much of that campaign was spent worrying about the departure of Mo and Virg. I was content in my expectations that Trent would bid farewell. I got to witness number 20, both the player and the cup.
SHOP THE AMERICAN SCOUSER COLLECTION TODAY
Every Premier League morning, I can be counted on to serenade my wife awake with songs of adoration for our club. I get a bit crabby during international breaks and anxious before a derby like any other Red. Work and social commitments get scheduled around matches without fail. In the last handful of years, Virgil has taught me about leadership. Mo has taught me what it means to be a true savant and master of mind, body, and soul. Endo has taught me how to star in a role and be irreplaceable without a name on the marquee. Liverpudlians have taught me resilience, joy in the face of grief, and that we all rise as one.
As I grow in support of our club, I can’t wait to be a part of the next chapter. It just happens to look as bright as any. To the history that made us and the one we’re writing. Up the Reds. Can’t wait to see you at Anfield one day soon.