Memories Of Another Madrid-Manc Double Header With A Side Order Of Evertonian Humiliation Thrown In

In 2009 Liverpool won back-to-back games against Real and United but my favourite moment of that week was an exchange with a Blue who picked the wrong person to ridicule

IT’S A BIG week for Liverpool and the visit of Real Madrid to Anfield brings back memories of a similar period 15 years ago. Back then, Rafa Benitez’s team faced the Spanish giants on the Tuesday and a Mancunian side defending their Premier League title at the weekend.

The power has shifted in Manchester and now it’s City who are the dominant entity rather than United but Real are still the world’s primary football club. A decade and a half ago, the same as now, a Madrid-Manc double header was huge.

They have an attitude at the Bernabeu, a sense of superiority even at times when they are experiencing a dip. In 2009 they were in the shadow of Lionel Messi’s Barcelona but that hardly seemed to matter.

These are two of the most obnoxious clubs in the game but the differences between them are telling. Barca promote their Mes que un club ethos and act like they’re the essence of a community asset. The Camp Nou is austere and functional.

Real don’t give a toss about feely-touchiness. Their stadium radiates luxury – it’s an evil oligarch’s lair. Both clubs are cynical, rapacious moneymaking machines.

Liverpool won 1-0 in Spain and Madrid’s response was to sneer. Marca, Real’s Pravda, ran a front page that said: ‘Esto Es Anfield… ¿Y Que?’ – This is Anfield, so what?

They got stuffed 4-0.

On Saturday morning it was off to Old Trafford. United were dispatched 4-1. It felt like the cusp of a new golden age for Liverpool. However, they were not able to get over the line in either the Premier League or Champions League. The Benitez era fizzled out amid infighting American owners and the threat of bankruptcy. That week was a brief flash of joy in an ugly period.

Yet, in between those two games, there was an incident upon which I look back fondly, one that still enrages Evertonians. Despite those two results, it remains my favourite moment of the week.

I was football editor at The Times and entered an expensive restaurant near London’s Bond Street to meet Tony Adams, the Arsenal great and former England captain. Because of an earlier work commitment, I was wearing a suit – not my usual attire.

The restaurant was upstairs, above a bar area. As I came through the door, I spotted a mate holding court at a table. He was someone who was involved in The City – it was that depressing period where football writers needed to know about finances – and he introduced me to his party.

The music was just loud enough to ensure the conversation didn’t travel very far. The introductions were simple: “This is Tony, he’s football editor of The Times; this is Mike, a Spurs fan.” A nod, a handshake, move on.

Until we got to a fella whose name I’ve forgotten. We’ll call him Dixie. The introduction was a bit different. “This is Dixie, he’s a blue.” There was a moment’s pause. “Tony’s a red.”

You could see the glee on the fella’s face. As we shook hands, he said: “And where are you from? Oslo or Bangkok?” You could tell his mates had seen this scenario play out before.

How many times had Dixie done this in London? Sixty, or more? How many times had an abashed Liverpudlian replied with southern placenames? Enfleld, Beckenham or Slough…

The first words he heard me speak were “Scotland fucking Road.”

For those not from Merseyside, this is the area that was swamped by Irish refugees trying to escape the Potato Famine in the mid-nineteenth century. The district was arguably the most deprived in Europe. For the English, it is the venue for Liverpool’s supervillain origin story.

In the streets around Scottie, ‘Scouse’ was used as an insult aimed at the poorest immigrants who used soup kitchens and cheap food carts. A century or so ago that pejorative word was co-opted as a term of pride by those at whom it was directed.

The area had an Irish Nationalist MP until 1929. The anti-establishment mentality of the city grew here. Scousers were reviled by the wealthy and the loyal in post-Great War Liverpool but in the streets around Scotland Road it became a new identity.

Back to my mate Dixie. He tried to withdraw his hand but I held my grip and asked him: “Where are you from?”

“I was born in Mill Road Maternity hospital,” he said, trying to retain his rapidly diminishing dignity.

“I was born in 92a Burlington Street,” I said, “the epicentre of Scouse. You know what I’m asking. Where are you from.”

“Childwall,” he said, a well-to-do suburb on the edge of the city.

I threw his hand away from me. “Wool,” I said, dismissively, and moved on. It’s the ultimate insult to a Scouser, one that evokes the country bumpkins from the Lancashire hinterland. It is a shortened version of woolyback. The etymology of the word is obscure but one theory is that farmers walked into the Liverpool markets carrying sheep on their back. They were marked as potential victims of local robbers by the bits of wool on their clothes.

All this was done in pretty good humour. When I told this story on twitter, Evertonians reacted as if I’d stabbed the fella. He tried to humiliate me and I took the piss back. Nothing was hurt except his pride.

Hopefully he learnt a lesson. If you’re going to turn the People’s Club myth into a party piece, at least wait until you hear the potential victim’s accent.

That was it, really. He was a bit abashed and I bounced up the stairs to see Tony, rejoicing in one of life’s small victories.

Everton have a brilliant and fanatical fanbase. Like Liverpool, their support has never been exclusively Scouse. There were always plenty of Welsh, Irish and Scottish voices in the ground when I’d go to Goodison as a kid. If they are ever successful again, they will want to attract different nationalities to the Bramley-Moore Dock. Maybe even from Oslo and Bangkok.

Yeah, it was a fine few days that. Real, United and a daft Evertonian vanquished. Football’s great, isn’t it? I wonder whether Dixie’s been a bit more cautious since?

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