May 2009 Archives

I have to see this show tonight.

I promised my six-year-old daughter I would take her.

Seemed like a good idea at the time.

I will somehow get through it.

I cannot though, say the same about Aston Villa v Newcastle United on Sunday. That will be too harrowing. My beloved Newcastle are on the brink.

I have had open heart surgery.

This may be my last post.

I got over my blind terror to play at Anfield last night.

I managed most of one half and managed not to make a complete fool of myself as the Echo beat Radio City 5-2.

It was an absolute privilege - to go into the players' lounge, to shower in the dressing rooms, to walk down and out of that famous tunnel under the This is Anfield sign.

I realise most diehard reds will never have the opportunity to do what I did last night and it makes me very humble.

What strikes you most is the sheer size of the pitch - so wide. And the quality of the playing surface where every ball runs true. A far cry from the cratered mudbaths of the Consett Sunday League (Second Division).

It was a night I shall never, ever, forget.

I am playing football tonight.

My last competitve match (not 5-a-side) was for Dipton in the Consett Sunday League (Second Division) 19 years ago.

Tionight I am playing at Anfield. Yes Anfield. For the Echo against Radio City in a curtain raiser to the Kenny Dalglish-organised Hillsborough memorial game to raise money for wife Marina's cancer appeal.

I am terrified.

I am fat, old, slow. People will see. People will laugh.

They are coming to watch Dalglish, Shearer, Rush, Lawrenson in the main attraction.

Hopefully they will arrive near kick-off when our liitle match has ended. I cannot eat. I am truly terrified.

My boots are lost. My sons have aluminium studs and you can't wear those at Anfield, I'm told. I have bought new ones. Aged 47. (Me, not the boots), I will never wear them again. If I get on for the last five minutes, even at Sports Direct's knockdown £18 they will have cost me £3.60 for every minute I wear them in action.

I asked for the cheapest boots in the shop. They had a pair at £10 but they were size 5. Should have got them anyway and put up with the pain.

To play at Anfield is a dream, an honour, a privilege. So why is my stomach in knots?.

Our website liverpoolecho.co.uk took a major step forward this week.
We now have the facility for readers to comment on stories as they read them.
We're trialling it on different channels so please check it out and let me know what you think of it.
When I read a story online I like to express my views there and then rather than log onto a separate forum, perhaps going through password protection before I can do so.
Our new facility 'Pluck' allows this instant interaction.

So here I am on holiday in Portugal with Lynne and Morgan, my six-year-old. We are down by the pool and she says 'dad, I want to go to the toilet.' 'There's the ladies over there,' I reply.
'Dad, can you come with me,' she says, as she sometimes does.
'I can't love,' say I.
'Why not'?
'Because there might be ladies in there,' I explain.
'Dad'.... she says witheringly......'they won't find you attractive.'
Baffling. But probably a put-down nonetheless.