The Match
A short story by Peter Etherington
of The Beatles, Gerry and the Pacemakers, The Merseybeats and The Fourmost could be said to be the lifeblood of Liverpool, then football was surely it’s beating heart. "Peter do you want to come to the match with us ?", Smudge said. Of course I wanted to go to the match with them, they had talked about nothing else for weeks. They were: Smudge, Timmy and Pilch. I had heard all the stories from them about the Kop: the singing, the noise and the atmosphere. The problem would be getting the money off my Mam. "Yeah, how much do I need ?", I replied. "A shilling to get in, fourpence on the bus there, fourpence on the bus back and fourpence for a programme. So two bob altogether." "Right, I’ll ask my Mam", I said "what time are we going ?" "Twelve o’clock, we’ll have to get there early, there’s always loads of queues." Smudge had done this before. Two shillings was a king’s ransom to my Mam. I had two brothers and two sisters, so Mam did not have a lot of money to spare, even though she did have two jobs; one in Chung’s restaurant, the other in Reid’s tin works, and Dad worked every hour he could in Mersey cables. I was going to have to earn the money. My ten-year old brain was ticking over with thoughts of how to get the Holy Grail without having to earn it. "Mam, can I have two bob to go to the match ?", I screeched in boyish excitement. "Shush, your Dad’s in bed, he’s been on nights." "Oh please Mam, go on, if Liverpool win today they win the league." I might as well have been telling my Mam that I needed the money to get a rocket to the Moon. "You’ll have to earn it", she said. What a surprise ! "What do you want me to do ?" "Go to Harry Wilson’s pawnshop on Marsh Lane and get your Dad’s suit out, before he realises it was in there in the first place." 
Harry Wilson’s pawnshop was a dark, dank place. I hated going into there, the smell was awful and Harry used to frighten me rigid. I was going to have to try to get out of this one. "Ah ay Mam, I hate going there, can’t I do something else ?" "No, he needs the suit for tonight. We’re going out. He won on the horses yesterday, so we’re going to the Corry first, in the best side, and then to Harland’s." Nothing else for it; the pawnshop it was going to have to be. "Okay, give me the bus fare." "Ay, less of your cheek, you’re getting two bob. You’ll have to walk there and back." This was getting worse. A twenty-minute walk into the toughest area of Bootle, where gangs would take money off kids and beat them up for not having enough money on them! Then, encounter the most frightening, bad-tempered man in the world, a twenty-minute walk back, with just one hour to spare. Mam gave me the two shillings, plus a pound to get the suit out of hock. One pound and two shillings; what I could have done with all that money. If Mam had given that money to my brother, John, he would have been off with it, and away for a week. I put the money in my sock. I hoped this would foil the thieving vagabonds of Marsh Lane. I would still have got beaten up, but at least I would have my match money. Surprisingly, for a Saturday morning, Marsh Lane was strangely quiet. No gangs; this was going too well. I prayed it would stay that way! 
It was a clear, bright, sunny April day, but not a shaft of natural light entered the dark portals of Harry Wilson’s pawnshop. I entered the pawnshop with all the trepidation of a man going to the electric chair. # Harry was behind the counter, with a smile on his face! No it couldn't have been a smile; he must have had wind. Either that or a funeral procession had just passed. "Hello lad, how's your Mam?" "Err-err f-fine mister Wilson", I stammered, more frightened than I had ever been when he was bad-tempered. "How about your Dad ?" "Er, yeah, s-smashing Mister Wilson." "Big day today lad, Liverpool are gonna win the League." "Er, yeah I know Mister Wilson, I'm going with my mates", I said with growing confidence in my new friend. "Yeah, so am I." My heart sank. The prospect of meeting Harry at the match was too awful to contemplate, even in his newfound good mood. The pawn ticket and a pound were exchanged for Dad's suit: if only he knew. I was out of the shop quicker than a scared rabbit, with Harry's voice trailing behind me, "Ta ra lad, tell your Mam and Dad I was asking about them. I might see you at the match." "Not if I see you first", I muttered under my breath. |
A quick glance around to make sure there were no gangs, then up Marsh Lane, still in scared rabbit mode. The twenty-minute walk became a ten-minute run. My little legs couldn't carry me fast enough as I legged it all the way home. I arrived home in one piece, physically if not mentally, deposited the suit on the couch and was halfway out of the door before my Mam grabbed me back by the shirt. "What time will you be home ?" Mam asked. "I dunno, about six o'clock I think Mam." "Well make sure you are. Your Dad and me are going out at six o'clock. You're looking after John, Mark and Collette. Our Pauline's gone to your Granny Martha's." "Okay Mam. Harry Wilson said to tell you he was asking about you and Dad." "What, that miserable old sod ?" Getting off the bus at Spellow Lane and walking up to Anfield I could not believe what I was seeing. There were people everywhere! "Fab, isn't it ?" Smudge said, "Wait 'til we get in the ground, it's even better." We queued for two hours, but I didn't mind. The sight of people going in and out of the Albert pub, the smell of onions, the sound of people in the ground singing Beatles songs, the size of the big police horses, all left me completely enthralled. Finally I got to the front of the queue. A shilling handed over, a push and a click of the turnstile. I had entered the 'Promised Land'. It was a world I had heard about but not yet seen. My first sighting of fifty thousand people all gathered together, twenty eight thousand of them on a swaying, singing, bouncing Spion Kop, is something I will remember forever. "You'll never walk alone", sang the masses in a moving, colourful display of togetherness. I was in the Boy's Pen, which was a steel cage structure built high into a corner of the Kop. It afforded a marvellous view of the people below and also of the football on the pitch. It would have been easier to escape from Colditz than to climb the fence that separated us from the Kop, where the admission price was three shillings and sixpence, but there were streams of foolhardy lads attempting it. "Come on Timmy, let's bunk in the Kop", Pilch said. "Alright Pilch, let's go." Timmy had been waiting for somebody else to suggest it. "They do that every match and always end up getting thrown out by the coppers", sighed Smudge, who knew what he was talking about. Pilch and Timmy were the same age as myself. Smudge was two years older than we were. He was twelve and in big school. I looked up to him, as, even at my tender age, I realised he had to grow up very quickly. His Dad had died in a gas explosion at Harland and Wolff shipyard a year earlier. "Liverpool, Liverpool, Liverpool." "She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah." How could twenty eight thousand people all sing in unison? Liverpool won the match five-nil and Arsenal were lucky to get nil! "Ee-aye-addio, we've won the league." "Shankly, Shankly, Shankly", sang my fifty thousand comrades. 
I arrived home just before the appointed hour of six o'clock. "Alright son, I believe you've been to the match", said Dad. "Yeah Dad, it was brilliant." "Good lad, you're a Red now. Once a Red always a Red." My Dad and Harry Wilson both in a good mood on the same day! Something must have been drifting in the air from the Mersey. "Here's two bob. Get yourself some lemonade and sweets. You can have your mates in as long as you behave yourselves." Definitely something in the air! Smudge came around at about seven o'clock, followed an hour or so later by Pilch and Timmy. "Fantastic game wasn't it ?", I said to Pilch. "Don't know, we got thrown out", said Pilch. "Yeah, before the kick-off", moaned Timmy. Smudge smiled. What a perfect day! Liverpool had won the League, money off my Dad and I'd managed to avoid Harry at the match! It couldn't get any better. My mates left at about eleven o'clock. Pilch and Timmy were still moaning. I fell asleep shortly after; my belly full of crisps, cream soda and sweets. Harry threw a big red flag over a police horse. Pilch and Timmy jumped on it and rode off along Walton Breck Road. Smudge and me went in to the Albert where we met my Mam and Dad. Along with about two hundred other people we sang, laughed, danced and drank copious amounts of beer until we all fell down in a drunken heap. I was woken from this most lucid of dreams by the sound of Mam and Dad crashing up the garden path. The strains of 'Ee-aye-addio, we've won the league' filled the cool, clear, spring night air. "Lily, next time you pawn my suit make sure you take the ticket off before putting it back in my wardrobe", laughed Dad. "Come on John, let's go to bed", chuckled Mam. © Peter Etherington, 2000 Email Peter here |