Wasn't it just? We'd be in the paddock, as I remember, and there was no way of getting back to town without walking past the Kop end. Kids'd stand around outside in groups, casually like, and just ask you the time as you went past. As if they didn't know the fucking time! It was in your interest to keep your mouth shut. Their radars were on for the Manc accent, of course.
I'd have been alright, mind, being a Bloody Southerner. Mind you, they'd probably have beaten me up just for good measure. City fans would have piled on, too.
I've posted this on here before, but I was in a football special out of Lime Street that was bombarded with breezeblocks being hurled down from the first bridge after the station. Made a thunderous sound on the roof, but luckily none came through.
I'm not making this stuff up. Anfield was a hell hole in those years, a massive kennel for rabid dogs. I've talked about it with supporters of other clubs, and everyone agrees.
Elland Rd was a place where you had to watch your back, too.
