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Sunday, May 31, 2020

Three May Babies - and their sporting soundtracks




In non-pandemic times, May is always a very special sporting month. The English and European football seasons come to a conclusion, with the Premier League, FA Cup and Champions League all finally decided. For a small number of supporters, this means smug bragging rights for the summer and for the vast majority it means a few months to forget the disappointments of the season gone by and to fantasize that the season ahead will be the one to make everything right. And while football is winding down in May, the GAA inter-county championships in Hurling and Gaelic Football are just heating up, with supporters of counties in both codes briefly full of irrational expectations that this summer will be theirs.

Far more important than the sporting ecstasy of the month, our three children were all born in May, each three years apart. 

And for each of their arrivals, there is a unique sporting background soundtrack.

Our first baby related sporting soundtrack was the absolute pinnacle of Liverpool ecstasy when, less than three weeks after bringing home our firstborn in 2005, I watched the miracle of Istanbul on a small television in our first (very small) house in Dublin, where we were living at the time. I can’t add much quality to the countless words that have been written about that match except to add my one baby related incident. When Vladimír Šmicer scored Liverpool’s second comeback goal and that strangely ecstatic feeling descended on me that we were going to win, I jumped up and screamed. The Blonde was sitting on the couch beside me, holding our new bundle of joy, who promptly and perfectly understandably burst into tears and started her own screaming. The ladies excused themselves and I watched the footballing miracle unfold alone, through to the climactic penalty shootout.




Vladimír Šmicer scores - May 25th 2005, 56 minutes into the Champions League final and the precise moment I made my daughter cry 




Liverpool - European Champions for 2004-2005



The second baby related sporting soundtrack comes from almost exactly three years after the first, and this was not such a happy one. As The Blonde started to feel the first pangs of labour, we checked in to the hospital and I remember mixed up in all the tension and excitement of the evening that my phone was lighting up with text updates from various friends regarding the Champions League Semi-Final between Liverpool and Chelsea. In the end, our second daughter hung on to maintain the family 'May baby' tradition and waited until the following day, May 1st, for her arrival. Chelsea won the tie 4-3 on aggregate. To add insult to injury, they lost the subsequent Champions League Final to, of all teams, Manchester United. 




Champions League semi-final second leg, April 30th 2008: Fernando Torres with Liverpool's equalizer that would take this humdinger of a game to extra time



And then three years later again, towards the end of May, our son arrived. Of the three, he had the most remarkable backing sporting soundtrack. The weekend of his birth featured three matches in different codes where my team came out on top each time. Sporty types will tell you that such weekends (when all your teams win) are rare and special. As The Blonde entered the agony of labour again, we had the distraction of the Celtic League Final in rugby, which we watched on the television in her hospital bedroom. Munster beat Leinster in a match that was taking place less than a mile away in Thomond Park. Neither of us are big fans of rugby but it's always nice to see Munster beat Leinster. 




Munster: Celtic League Champions for 2011, after beating 
arch-rivals Leinster in the final



A few hours passed and, being quite useless and getting in the way, one of the Midwives kindly suggested that I leave the Labour Ward for an hour or two and get some food. So while The Blonde's agony went on, I leisurely consumed a bag of chips and a fish burger in the nearby Supermacs while watching on their television as Barcelona beat Manchester United in the Champions League Final. As a Liverpool fan, a defeat for Manchester United is almost as good as a win for Liverpool. And our son timed his arrival to perfection. As Eric Abidal (who only a few months beforehand had had major surgery to remove a liver tumour) raised the cup for Barcelona, my mobile rang and the Midwife told me to return quickly because 'things are happening'. 




Lionel Messi performing his usual wizardry in the Champions League Final, May 28th 2011 - someone born that night would grow up to idolize him




Eric Abidal lifting the Champions League trophy for Barcelona, May 28th 2011 - the precise moment when our son announced his imminent arrival 



And then to top it all off, Tipperary played Cork the following day in the Munster Hurling Championship. Never ones for hanging around hospitals too long, we asked to leave early with the little man, safe in the knowledge that we were now seasoned parents of three and able to cope with any eventuality. I watched the hurling on the television in our hospital bedroom while waiting to get our discharge papers. And just as we left that room, with the new baby all wrapped up and bags packed, Benny Dunne rattled in Tipperary’s third goal of the afternoon to seal a very pleasing win.




May 29th 2011: Benny Dunne scores Tipperary's third goal in a comprehensive win over Cork in the Munster Hurling championship, and it's time to take the baby home






Sunday, May 24, 2020

'Gascoigne' - my review of a disappointing documentary





Jane Preston’s 2015 documentary on Paul Gascoigne clearly demonstrates one thing at least - the grim reality behind the epigram of that Greek philosopher Heraclitus, on your character being your destiny. So in contrast to the clean-cut, eloquent and always impeccably behaved Gary Lineker, who was famously never booked in his playing career and who went on to carve out a successful broadcasting career after hanging up his football boots, Paul Gascoigne’s playing career was marked by a few heady highs that demonstrated extraordinary levels of footballing potential and then lots of lows, many of them self-inflicted, both on and off the field.





Heraclitus (535 - 475 BC), Greek philosopher and a man who predicted a challenging life for Paul Gascoigne, two and a half millennia before he was even born



Most of Preston's documentary is based on a lengthy interview with Gascoigne himself, with some very supportive pro-Gascoigne opinions and soundbites thrown in by Jose Mourinho, Wayne Rooney and, most of all, by the ever polite and genial Gary Lineker.

As someone who never supported any of the teams that Gascoigne played for, my knowledge of and interest in him during his playing career in the 1980s and 1990s was somewhat limited and probably dominated by his reputation for partying and play acting. So I went to this documentary (partly driven by the COVID-19 lack of sport spectating options) to see what the story really was with Gascoigne. 

Unfortunately, Preston’s documentary provides very little new or revealing information on Gascoigne. And instead of a balanced and in depth analysis, we get a superficially polished hagiography. In fact, the almost condescending levels of kindness to Gascoigne combined with the willful blindness to his many deeply frustrating faults and failings means that this documentary ultimately does Gascoigne a disservice.

So even though I could never claim to have had a great knowledge of Gascoigne’s playing career or personal life, I learned very little new information from this documentary and instead came away with a sense that it was some kind of propaganda piece designed to help restore his image and rose-tint the memories of this once ‘national treasure’ (yes: that awful term is used to describe him at one stage in this documentary).



Gascoigne's footballing story (and a little bit about his life)

The documentary takes us on a chronologically straightforward biographical journey from Gascoigne’s childhood, growing up in late 1960s and 1970s poverty in Gateshead, just a few miles from Newcastle United’s home ground of St. James’s Park and from where he could hear the crowds cheering in the Gallowgate End on a Saturday afternoon, through to his early footballing years with Redheugh Boys Club and then on to his signing with Newcastle United at the age of sixteen. We get a few insights into those early years, but nothing earth shattering. He played football in the streets with friends and sometimes on his own, starting with a tennis ball until his father bought him his first leather football at the age of seven. There is no doubt that he loved football and he was not easily parted from that leather ball. 




A boyish Gascoigne 



Apart from the standard 'jumpers for goalposts' stories, Gascoigne also recounts a terrible early tragedy during this time, when the younger brother of a friend of his was hit by a car and killed. Gascoigne was ten at the time and the accident happened after they had run out of a shop. Gascoigne felt awful guilt as a result and he recalled that after the funeral he spent three days in the room where the boy’s coffin had been kept, before going on to develop what sound like involuntary tics and facial grimaces, possibly as a psychological reaction to the trauma. He had some brief psychiatric input at that stage.  

His apprenticeship years with Newcastle United were happy and productive, but he was already getting some attention for being a somewhat unconventional athlete, being described by one commentator as looking like ‘he plays for your local Sunday pub team…wearing T-shirt, anorak, jeans…and a diet of Mars bars and brown ale’. He had tough treatment from hard managerial men such as Arthur Cox and Jack Charlton, but nothing out of the ordinary for the times. And he seemed to enjoy every minute of this phase of his career. 




With Joe Allon and the 1985 FA Youth Cup in his early days at Newcastle United



Clips from those early days show a strong and agile player. He used his upper body strength and arms to 'protect' himself and through his football he seemed to enjoy expressing his own personality and style, in a way that was and still is quite unusual for English footballers. There was ‘a lack of fear in his game’ and he was undoubtedly a show off, as are so are many great players in their early days at least.  

There’s a brief review of his clash with Vinnie Jones of Wimbledon in 1988 which began with Jones screaming at Gascoigne in the tunnel at the start of the match: ‘Me and you, fat boy: I can’t play football and neither can you today’. The clash of Gascoigne’s skill against the brute bullying force of Jones culminated in one of the most infamous football images of all time. 




Vinnie Jones 'marking' Gascoigne, Plough Lane, 1988





Jones and Gascoigne doing a reenactment of the 1988 incident



Soon after this, Gascoigne was off to Spurs, after turning down the (as yet relatively unsuccessful) Alex Ferguson of Manchester United. It seems that Gascoigne was swayed in his decision by Spurs’ promise of a house and car for his parents and a sun-bed for one of his sisters. In an act of typical Fergusonian bitterness, he refused to talk to Gascoigne for six years after the rejection. But we are left to wonder if Gascoigne might have prospered professionally and personally had he gone to work under the grumpy disciplinarian at Manchester United as opposed to the comparably warmer and cosier character of Terry Venables at Spurs. It would have been a useful question to put to Gascoigne in this documentary.

His years at Spurs were marked by some of his greatest achievements and some of his biggest mistakes. During this time, he got his start for England, reaching the semi-final stage of the World Cup in Italy in 1990, England's loftiest level of progression since 1966. In the semi-final, he picked up his second yellow card of the tournament, for a rash challenge on the German Thomas Berthold, thus famously crying copious amounts during and directly after the match, realizing that he would be unable to play in the World Cup Final should England advance. Whether it was genuine puzzlement or a faux innocence, Gascoigne professed not being able to understand Berthold's writhing and screaming after he had fouled him, saying that ‘When I get kicked I take it as a compliment’, thus implying that he should perhaps have been thanked by the German for administering such a crushing tribute.

It was decided by England manager Bobby Robson and Gascoigne that he ‘didn’t feel right to take a penalty’ in the ensuing shootout at the end of that German semi-final, and England lost 4-3, thus starting a long sequence of penalty shoot-out heart-breaks that only came to an end at the 2018 World Cup against Columbia. Gary Lineker, in reflecting on Gascoigne’s non-participation in the 1990 shoot-out says he ‘wishes he had’ taken a penalty and again one wonders what other teammates would have thought of Gascoigne’s overwhelming self-pity and tears on the day and his lack of participation in the shootout.





Tears in Turin - World Cup 1990



Back in England, he won a much coveted (at that time at least) FA Cup winner’s medal with Spurs in 1991, after knocking out arch rivals Arsenal in the semi-final and scoring a 30 yard pile-driver free kick in the process. This was one of his most special footballing moments so it warrants a video link:





Thwack!



A brief clip from a post-match interview, with Gascoigne's adrenaline still in full flow, shows him at his very boyish best, when he tells a reporter: ‘I’m now away to get my suit measured’ (for the FA Cup Final).  

And then things took a turn for the worst. Despite helping Spurs to that 1991 FA Cup Final with his wonderful free kick, he was stretchered off early in the first half because of a wild kick/tackle on Gary Charles of Nottingham Forest that resulted in Gascoigne rupturing the cruciate ligament of his right knee and putting himself out of the game for eight months, thus delaying his planned transfer to Italian club Lazio in the summer. His Spurs teammates brought the FA Cup to him in is hospital bed. 

There are three interesting snippets from this documentary, new to me, that come from these two years. The first is purely footballing. As Gascoigne placed the ball on the ground for that FA Cup semi-final free kick against Arsenal, Gary Lineker ran purposefully towards him and said ‘Have a go’. Gascoigne may already have had the idea in mind or he may have taken Lineker’s advice. Either way, the ball ended up in the top corner of the Arsenal goal, and it serves as a perfect example of his fleeting brilliance and perhaps too the wisdom of the technically less gifted Lineker.

A year earlier, Lineker also imparted some advice to Gascoigne that was (to Gascoigne at the time at least) somewhat obtuse and lost on him. As the England team plane arrived home after their World Cup journey in Italy, Lineker said to him, sensing the media frenzy and hype that was about to envelop Gascoigne: ‘Paul – be careful’.

The third interesting snippet is from soon after arriving back from that World Cup when Gascoigne was interviewed on television by Limerick’s own Terry Wogan. Wogan outlined in his usual avuncular tone to a grinning Gascoigne how he was living every young man’s dream right now but, with a cautionary tone, he added prohpetically that ‘it could turn out to be a nightmare’.

As with the turning down of Manchester United, one has to wonder if Gascoigne might have had an easier journey had he listened more carefully to both Lineker and Wogan.




Gary Lineker notices Gascoigne's tears in Turin. Gascoigne's Spurs and England teammate always seemed to have an inkling as to his vulnerability





Terry Wogan demonstrated Heraclitean levels of wisdom 
when he hinted at potential for a future 'nightmare' for Gascoigne



Dotted in among the football sequences are brief examples of Gascoigne’s playfulness that sometimes went a little over the top, e.g his taking an ostrich to a training session to shock his team-mates or his asking Princess Diana for a kiss as she met the teams before the FA Cup final and, when she shyly refused, cheekily kissing her hand.




Stealing a kiss from Princess Diana at the FA Cup Final, 1991



After Spurs and recovering from his cruciate injury, Gascoigne went on to play for Lazio in the then furnace of Italian football, scoring a rare headed goal in front of 105,000 spectators in the Rome derby against Roma. At Lazio he sustained another significant knee injury, this time in training and resulting again in a further sustained period out of the game.

Gascoigne then left Lazio in a club record (4.3 million pounds) signing for Glasgow Rangers and enjoyed his most successful time as a player, in terms of silverware at least, winning two league titles, a Scottish Cup and League Cup. It was also during this period that he scored his most famous goal for England, against Scotland in the Euro 96 championships. The goal itself was sublime in its execution, so I have included a video link below. It was also tinged with extra significance because he was earning his living in Scotland at the time.






Gascoigne fires home against Scotland at Euro '96





And the famous 'dentist's chair' celebration after the goal



And here's a video link to the goal - well worth a watch

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evnXFu744uY



The ‘dentist’s chair’ celebration after that genius goal tells the other side of Gascoigne. The celebration was Gascoigne's and the England team’s way of having a go back at the media, who had outed their partying before the championships, with Gascoigne and other team members being administered shots in a bar while lying back in a 'dentist’s chair'.

Another standout moment during the Rangers years was his goal celebration where he mimicked playing a flute (as in an Orange parade), thus attracting the ire of an Irish republican who sent him death threats that were verified by the police as being serious and which were not lifted for six months. Gascoigne’s poor judgement for this choice of goal celebration was only compounded by his apparent disbelief that it could have caused offense.

After Rangers, he had brief spells with Middlesbrough, Everton, Burnley, Chinese club Gansu Tianma and Boston United, before retiring in 2004. 


The documentary - not enough warts

This documentary is either very sparing or completely lacking on some key issues. Gascoigne’s alcohol and drug use is mentioned almost in passing and in a ‘nod and wink’, ‘boys will be boys’ kind of way. There is absolutely no mention of Gascoigne’s relationships, his marriage or his daughter. And although he frequently hit the headlines in the 1990s as Gascoigne’s partying sidekick, there is no mention of Jimmy 'Five Bellies' Gardner. Very little is revealed in terms of Gascoigne's family of origin, apart from early allusions to poverty and, much later, his sister ‘sectioning’ him to a psychiatric hospital because of increasing paranoia and chaotic behaviour. He mentions being ‘close to death’ on two occasions but, frustratingly, no further detail is elicited or provided.

And then it all ends up rather neatly. Gascoigne’s paranoia (most probably not helped by prolonged and heavy alcohol and drug use) is almost excused as being reasonable and vindicated because of the hacking of his phone by journalists for 11 years up to 2005. At best, this is an oversimplification of those years of his life, although he was undoubtedly treated very badly by certain journalists.

To add to the frustration of watching this documentary, the contributions of Jose Mourinho and Wayne Rooney are trite, glib and delivered with a lack of real conviction. Rooney in particular is underwhelming in his comments. His main contribution is to say, at least three or four times, that Gascoigne was ‘the greatest player that England ever had’. The irony is that, even just among the three England players featured in this documentary, Gascoigne's contribution to his country comes in a distant third. And regarding the performance statistics for his particular position, he is not even close to being England's best midfielder, let alone 'the greatest player that England ever had'. The average England caps of Bobby Charlton, Steven Gerrard, Frank Lampard and Paul Scholes are 98 and their England goals average is 28. Gascoigne's England caps are 57, with just 10 goals. No amount of cheeky smiles and fancy turns can cover up these stats and one has to wonder if Wayne Rooney was having an off day in terms of his knowledge of English football history when this documentary was being made. 

Despite the obvious shortcomings of the documentary, however, there is no doubt that Gascoigne's likeability and boyish innocence comes shining through. 

And although too few in retrospect, his most memorable exploits on the football field mean that he is destined to go down as one who could have been one of England's greats.





Saturday, May 16, 2020

Physics, football and the Bundesliga




Some physics

So as part of my COVID-19 reading, I got around to having another go at Carlo Rovelli’s deceptively simple looking and brief book called ‘Seven Brief Lessons on Physics’. Written in elegant prose and conveying complex ideas about physics and the universe, I still don’t understand half of it. However, I can now casually drop into conversation direct quotes from Rovelli that, if chosen at the right time, can prove to be killer lines with jaw dropping levels of profundity, e.g. ‘The difference between past and future only exists when there is heat’ or ‘What is the present? In physics there is nothing that corresponds to the notion of the now’.




Rovelli's mind bending book - don't be deceived by the elegant and accessible writing style and the manageable looking 94 pages



And any guilt or shame I have at my lack of understanding many of the concepts in Rovelli’s book is easily assuaged by that old (mind boggling) maxim: ‘If you think you understand quantum mechanics, you don’t understand quantum mechanics’. Ultimately, my understanding of physics is limited to witty one liners from Sheldon and his friends on ‘The Big Bang Theory’, one of our primary family COVID-19 television viewing interests.






The Big Bang Theory - funny physics that I can (mostly) understand



Physics, football and a fling with the Bundesliga

Another mind bending notion covered by Rovelli is that of multiple alternative existences or universes, i.e. the multiverse. And, strangely enough, this got me thinking of football. Because while we have all been pining for a return of Premier League football since that abrupt cessation in early March (with Liverpool on the cusp of glory), domestic seasons have been ploughing on in some parallel footballing universes, such as Belarus and Nicaragua. Likewise, football has recently restarted in South Korea and the Faroe Islands. Most significantly of all, however, is the return today of the mighty German Bundesliga, albeit with no fans attending and played 'behind closed doors'. 






A vaguely 'multiversal' image



So while Project Restart continues, teasing us with hints at potential dates for a return of the Premier League (June 12th being the current promise), why not jump across the sporting multiverse, have a look at the Bundesliga, pick a team and have a brief fling with them for the next few weeks until your own team gets back in action?

The BBC website has already devised a system for choosing a Bundesliga replacement for your Premier League team, based on various parallels and comparisons; https://www.bbc.com/sport/football/52632680

But how will you pick your team? The BBC approach is rather obvious and boring, and I’m not just saying that because they beat me to the idea. Instead, I suggest that you can use any number of either logical or completely arbitrary guides to your choice. For example, if you’re a supporter of Norwich City, why not just give yourself a break from relegation depression and go with Bayern Munich, who currently hold a 4 point lead and look likely to grab an eighth consecutive Bundesliga.

Alternatively, if you support a top team such as Liverpool (on the verge of being crowned Premier League champions, just to clarify), you could immerse yourself in a parallel universe where you’re in a relegation battle, in which case you’re looking at e.g. Paderborn or Werder Bremen.

You could also choose a club that (unless you're a German speaker) sounds funny when you try and pronounce it, e.g. Borussia Mochengladbach.
And why not just chose a team based on their kit design or the colours of their crest? Maybe you can find one that closely matches your GAA club or county.




Bundesliga colours - pick your kit






Or find a crest that appeals to you...




And then you can be guided by geography. Just mentally transpose a map of your country onto the Bundesliga club map below and support the club that’s nearest to your home.






The geography of Bundesliga clubs




For my choice of Bundesliga club, I am applying a tincture of logic. Now that Jurgen Klopp is starting to cement his position as (so far) Liverpool’s second greatest manager, I am going with the club he managed last, Borussia Dortmund. Dortmund are the last club to win the Bundesliga since Bayern’s complete takeover of the competition in recent years, and they currently lie in second place and just four points off those brilliant Bavarians. And, excitingly, I see that it’s less than four hours until ‘our’ home game this afternoon against FC Schalke 04 (whoever they are).

So have a look at the table below, apply some completely arbitrary criteria and chose your own Bundelsiga club. 

The only downside to my supporting Dortmund is that their colours are worryingly close to the black and amber of the Kilkenny hurling team.

Ah well, you can’t have it all, and I guess things can get a bit mixed up when you transition across the sporting multiverse.
















Sunday, May 10, 2020

May 10th, 1986




The 'magic' of the FA Cup

In the long history of the FA Cup, the world's oldest football competition going all the way back to the 1871-72 season, there have been only two periods of cancellation, during the first and second world wars. But now the 2019-2020 FA Cup looks in jeopardy, being frozen at the quarter final stage since COVID-19 restrictions started and so this month will be the first May in over seven decades without an FA Cup Final.






Royal Engineers, who lost the first FA Cup Final in 1872 by a goal to nil against Wanderers, whose team photo is unavailable!


However, in comparison to the endless discussions and proposals regarding the restart of the Premier League, the lack of any significant concern for the FA Cup highlights just how far down it has gone as a priority in the minds of many football fans. That hackneyed phrase 'the magic of the Cup' is now nothing more than a lazy tagline used by the BBC to drum up some interest in television viewing and the 'Cup fairytale' of some obscure 'giant-killer' club getting all the way to Wembley is nothing more than just a fairytale, with West Ham's win of forty years ago being the last time a club from outside the top flight won the FA Cup. 

But I do remember a time when the FA Cup had not just magic but real footballing importance, and this was especially the case in those grim years after the Heysel Stadium disaster when English clubs were banned from European competition and, after the First Division Championship, the FA Cup was the second most important show in town. 

My club Liverpool has always had a slightly strange and unsatisfactory relationship with the FA Cup. Despite multiple successes in all other domestic, European and (as of 2019) world competitions, the FA Cup has proved somewhat elusive and slippery for Liverpool. In fact, the FA Cup was almost a century in existence before Bill Shankly's heroes of 1965 finally won it for Liverpool for the first time. Since then, there have been six more successes, but Liverpool's standing on the FA Cup roll of honour is lower down than for any other major competition. 



Intermittent reinforcement

And now for a psychological segue and the phenomenon known as intermittent reinforcement, whereby experiences that are only occasionally and randomly rewarding are the ones that most grab us and can lead on to addictive levels of interest and pursuit. So for every hundred crushing losses and disappointments, a gambler will always have a story from their past of at least one euphoric victory that is enough to keep them hopeful that their next golden triumph is just around the corner. And in the world of sports fandom, I’m sure that intermittent reinforcement has a big role to play in driving grown adults to pursue their unpredictably successful teams from childhood and onwards over the decades of their lives.



May 10th, 1986

As a Lifelong Liverpool fan, for me the first really big dopamine-releasing pulse of winning intermittent reinforcement was the 1986 FA Cup Final against Everton. My interest in Liverpool had been building for a few years, so I remember watching in confusion the tragic European Cup Final at Heysel just the year before and I have a vaguer memory of the 1984 European Cup Final, the highlight being the wonderful and gutsy wobbly legs antics of Liverpool goalkeeper Bruce Grobbelaar in the penalty shoot-out victory over Roma. 



   
Bruce Grobbelaar doing his shaky legs routine and putting off the Roma players in the 1984 European Cup Final penalty shootout



But Saturday May 10th 1986, when I was 12 going on 13, was a kind of early sporting Nirvana for me. I try not to spend too much time looking at actual footage from the match as that only brings home to me how mediocre even the great players were back then in comparison to the near perfection of today’s footballers, while seeing players as young men who are now ageing managers or television pundits is always tinged by grim reminders of human mortality. And although YouTube can instantly provide a video retelling of the entire match, nothing can recreate my unique excitement from that day.

Liverpool and Everton were the undisputed top dogs of English football at the time and had just slogged out a tough league campaign with Liverpool coming out on top at the end by two points, the title not decided until the very last day of the season, on May 3rd. I remember watching that last Liverpool game of the league season in our sitting room with my father and brother. It was a tense game, away to Chelsea at Stamford Bridge. A win would guarantee us the title and a draw might have been enough, with goal difference on our side. Defeat would lead to the unthinkable scenario of Everton leapfrogging us into the champion’s spot on the last day of the season. 



Kenny Dalglish (the man who Roy Race wanted to be) wins the league for Liverpool

1985-1986 was Kenny Dalglish's his first season as Liverpool’s first ever Player Manager (there's a role we don't see too much anymore) and, like something from a film script, he scored the only goal in that match at Stamford Bridge to secure the league title. Dalglish was a real life Roy Race type character, Roy being the hero and at one stage Player Manager of Melchester Rovers, as featured in the comic Roy of the Rovers, an essential piece of weekly reading in our house back then. In fact, such were Dalglish’s levels of skill, leadership and overall superhuman heroism that I used to wonder if the writers based Roy’s exploits on the living legend Dalglish.






Player Manager Kenny Dalglish after scoring the only goal against Chelsea at Stamford Bridge on May 3rd 1986, to win the league title for Liverpool






Roy Race of Melchester Rovers - a great player but not a patch on Kenny Dalglish





And Dalglish again - note the similarity to Roy Race...





And Roy again - this time demonstrating his deadly left foot, 
known as 'Racey's Rocket' - this will become more 
relevant towards the end of the blog...



With the league wrapped up at the last minute, it was on to Wembley for the FA Cup Final a week later, with Everton again standing in our way of glory. I remember newspaper articles billing the game as a kind of Wild West shootout between the team’s two top strikers, Gary Lineker of Everton and our Liverpool hero, Ian Rush. Everton had led the league for most of the season and they had beaten Liverpool 2-0 at Anfield in the league in February, so they were probably slight favourites going into the final. 





Billed as a shootout between Gary Lineker and Ian Rush, the 1986 FA Cup Final 
did kind of turn out that way...


Peter Shilton, Jack Charlton and Bobby Mimms

A key event in the build-up was Everton goalkeeper Peter Shilton breaking his ankle while playing in an international friendly for Wales against Ireland at Lansdowne Road the previous March. This was Jack Charlton’s first game in charge of Ireland. Shilton was regarded as one of the greatest goalkeepers in English football at the time. Also on that Wales team was Liverpool’s Ian Rush. So even though I felt strange about it at the time, I remember supporting Wales for that match, because of Rush’s presence on their team - they wore all red for the game too so Rush looked like his normal Liverpool self. 

Rush scored the winner, a headed goal where I remember he admitted that, due to lack of pressure from the Irish defence, he had his eyes closed when he rose unchallenged and nodded the ball in. From this inauspicious beginning, Jack Charlton would go on to lead Ireland to unprecedented levels of success - little did we know at the time. But from a Liverpool viewpoint, Shilton’s injury was hugely significant, as it meant that he would not be able to play in the FA Cup Final and Everton's replacement goalkeeper would be the 22 year old Bobby Mimms. 







Everton's star goalkeeper Neville Southall, who broke an ankle while playing for Wales against the Republic of Ireland on March 26th 1986, 
thus missing out on the FA Cup Final



The build-up...

I distinctly remember the night before the FA Cup Final. We had been visiting friends and I was wound up in anticipation for the match, to the extent that I would have been happy to hear if it was called off. No one in my vicinity seemed even aware of what was happening the next day, so I felt I was shouldering all the Liverpool hope and anxiety alone. As we were leaving our friends’ house I heard a news headline on the television: ‘Liverpool will win tomorrow’s FA Cup Final by two goals to one’. My heart jumped. Then the newsreader continued: ‘According to a computer simulation, tomorrow’s FA Cup Final…’ I’m not sure what type of simulation was done, or how scientific it was, but I took some solace from it.

The morning of the FA Cup Final was warm and sunny. I must have got a lift to the village with my parents as I was serving at Saturday morning Mass as an altar boy. Then I walked halfway home but got a lift with a neighbour for the last part of the journey. We chatted about the match. He had no real interest and he certainly wasn’t supporting either team. ‘I suppose ‘twould be good if the other crowd won this, since Liverpool won the league’. I was quietly horrified at such a casual oversimplification of things. This crack at the league and FA Cup double would make the Liverpool team immortal. Spurs had done the double in 1961 and Arsenal in 1971 but no team had managed it in my lifetime and Liverpool had never managed it. The league and FA Cup double was as good as it got, especially considering the European ban at the time. This was Liverpool's chance at perfection. 



Kick-off...

The next thing I remember was sitting in front of the television and the game starting. Derealization is a very technical psychological term, but it’s the only word I can think of that comes even close to describing my feelings - everything felt disconcertingly unreal, and vaguely unpleasant. Then straight to my first memory of the match, with Peter Reid of Everton sending a long through ball towards Gary Lineker, whose first shot was blocked by Bruce Grobbelaar in the Liverpool goal, but Lineker knocked in the rebound to put Everton ahead. I remember a sense of utter emotional deflation, and a bit more of that derealization.






Gary Lineker puts Everton ahead



Half-time team talk...


The next thing I remember was half-time and going into the bedroom that I shared with my younger brother and taking some quiet time to gather my thoughts. I looked up at the Liverpool squad poster for the 1985-1986 season that I had stuck on my wall. That poster had been my guide and inspiration since the start of the season the previous August. The Liverpool players in the photograph looked happy and strong and full of confidence. Unusually, they had no trophies to display from the previous season, with Everton having won the league of 1984-1985 and Manchester United winning the 1985 FA Cup. But these were seasoned players who had won many domestic and European titles before. 

I started to think about the FA Cup - I hadn't been born for the first Liverpool win and I was not old enough to remember the second win in 1974. Maybe Liverpool were somehow jinxed when it came to the FA Cup. Maybe the FA Cup was for more glamorous clubs, such as Tottenham and Manchester United. I remember looking at the poster one last time, quietly imploring and reassuring the players that they had it in them to turn this game around, before going back with a sense of helpless dread to watch the second half.






The Liverpool team photo from the start of the 1985-1986 season



Second half...

And so Liverpool did turn the game around, in some style and with some of the aforementioned 'FA Cup magic'. The record shows that it was on 56 minutes, but it felt like it was straight after the start of the second half that Ian Rush got the equalizer. 






Ian Rush equalizes, with young Bobby Mimms on the ground



Then it seemed like it was all Liverpool, surging forward in a sea of red: Jan Molby of Denmark, Craig Johnston of Australia, Ronnie Whelan of Ireland, Steve Nicol of Scotland.

And soon after the equalizer, Craig Johnston put Liverpool in the lead. 






Craig Johnston puts Liverpool 2-1 up...



And then the delirium was complete when Ronnie Whelan set up Ian Rush to bang in Liverpool’s third, knocking down a television camera behind the goals in the process. 





Ian Rush scores Liverpool's third goal, to secure 
the League and FA Cup double and deliver football Nirvana



I don’t remember much afterwards, except for a sense of being very pleased with myself, as if I had masterminded the win with my own bedroom half-time team talk delivered to the Liverpool team photo. For a young Irish boy, an added bonus to the victory was the fact that Liverpool was a completely non-English team, apart from the unused substitute Steve McMahon (but with a name like McMahon, he must have had Irish heritage). On the first eleven there were the three Irish internationals (Mark Lawrenson, Jim Beglin and Ronnie Whelan), four Scots (Alan Hansen, Kevin McDonald, Steve Nicol and Roy Race himself, Kenny Dalglish), the Welshman Ian Rush, the Australian Craig Johnston, the Dane Jan Molby and, most exotic of all, the Zimbabwean goalkeeper Bruce Grobbelaar. In contrast, Everton were altogether more conventional looking, with seven English players on their team.



A lifetime of intermittent reinforcement...

Since 1986 there have been countless lows and a fair few highs as a Liverpool fan, ensuring lots of intermittent reinforcement and helping cultivate my addictive fandom. The Champions League Final of 2005 was a true footballing fairytale. In contrast, the 1988 FA Cup Final loss to Wimbledon and Michael Thomas winning the league for Arsenal at Anfield with the last kick of the season in 1989 are footballing hells that I have never been able to watch again, as was losing the FA Cup Final to Manchester United in 1996, thus handing them their second league and FA Cup double.

But the arrival of Jurgen Klopp in 2015 has finally turned things around for Liverpool, with the partial and ultimately false dawns of the Souness, Evans, Houllier, Benitez and Rodgers eras now feeling like distant and dull disappointments (not to mention that nightmarish period when the manager of Liverpool Football Club was Roy Hodgson). 



A lifetime of LIverpool FA Cup Finals...

Regarding the FA Cup itself, Liverpool have won it four times since 1986 but, unlike the league championship or the European Cup, they have never made their own of the competition. 

I have very clear memories of where I was for each of the FA Cup Finals since 1986. I watched the 1989 final at home, with my brother and cousin. Featuring Liverpool against Everton again, it was highly charged emotionally, coming only a few weeks after the Hillsborough Stadium disaster. As a result, the two sets of spectators came together for the city of Liverpool. The game itself was an absolute humdinger, going to extra-time with Liverpool winning out 3-2, Ian Rush scoring Liverpool's two extra time goals. And yet despite the emotion of the build-up and the excitement of that game, I remember very little of it. 

The 1992 FA Cup Final win was over Sunderland, by two goals to nil. I watched that one alone on a small black and white portable television in a little flat in Dublin, at the end of my first year in college and living away from home for the first time. Liverpool were managed by Graeme Souness at the time and were just at the beginning of a major decline from the glory years of the 70s and 80s so the victory felt a little hollow. Four of the 1986 heroes were on the team, including Ian Rush, who scored Liverpool's second goal. Again, however, I don't remember much of the game itself. 

By the time of the 2001 final, I was properly grown up. During that match, a 2-1 victory of Arsenal, I was in the air with the Blonde and flying to Malta to make plans for our upcoming wedding. 

I didn't watch the 2006 final either, because of a close relative being very unwell in hospital at the time. Steven Gerrard led Liverpool to a penalty shootout victory over West Ham. 

And that brings us up to the most recent FA Cup final appearance for Liverpool, a 2-1 defeat to Chelsea in 2012. In many ways this should have been one that I would be keenly waiting for and watching, with Kenny Dalglish back for a second brief spell as Liverpool manager and a sense of nostalgic hope that the club was starting to recover from the doldrums of the previous two decades. But the game was played on the day of our eldest child's seventh birthday so the house was full of partying children and I only got glimpses of the television. Even if I had been able to see the whole thing, I doubt if I would have had much interest, with the footballing importance and 'magic' of the FA Cup long gone at that stage and Liverpool's long league championship title drought being much more of a priority. And even Roy Race's real life counterpart Kenny Dalglish had lost his lustre and seemed a little out of his depth up against a Chelsea team who were then in their pomp and about to become champions of Europe two weeks later.






An ageing Kenny Dalglish leads Liverpool out in their most recent FA Cup Final, 
a 2-1 defeat to Chelsea in 2012



But whatever happened to Roy Race? Tragically, in 1993 he had to have his famous left foot amputated after a helicopter crash, thus very definitively and dramatically ending 'Racey's Rocket' and his playing career (just to clarify, I had grown out of reading Roy of the Rovers by that stage). Roy made an emotional farewell to Melchester Rovers and moved on to manage another team, in a story that had some parallels with Kenny Dalglish leaving Liverpool in 1991 and going on to manage Blackburn Rovers.






1993 and the last issue of Roy of the Rovers



What does it all mean?

So after all that, any sane person who has no interest in football could quite reasonably ask why you might bother to put yourself through the lifelong emotional roller-coaster of helplessly following a football team. 

Why allow yourself to be battered by waves of alternating joy and (more often) despair when you have absolutely no control over the outcomes?

I suspect the answer to these questions relates somehow to that psychological notion of intermittent reinforcement, and for me it has a lot to do with a glorious FA Cup Final played out 34 years ago today. 






Celebrations after the 1986 FA Cup Final - note the English lads are the subs




The double of 1986 - Kenny Dalglish with the only trophies that then mattered