Lovebitesandeveryfing
Well-Known Member
Terrific article, Stephen. I kept nodding and nodding as I read it. I remember the unutterably boring games, too, and being happy just to be there, even for those. It was the place to be.
A meaningless, end-of-season game against Sunderland, I think. I got soaked with a downpour (must have been too near the front, or it might have been on the long walk up Dickinson Road, anybody ever notice the blue plaque dedicated to Elizabeth Gaskell on one of the houses on that road, by the way?) but then the sun came out gloriously at the end, and the lads invaded the pitch, and you felt glad and sorry, thinking, what the fuck am I going to do with my summer?
I must have had a stronger bladder than I do now, because I don’t ever, once, remember having to use the ‘facilities’ at the Kippax. Thank God for that.
Of all the places that I’ve been on this planet, one of those, perhaps the one, in which I felt most alive. Simply.
A meaningless, end-of-season game against Sunderland, I think. I got soaked with a downpour (must have been too near the front, or it might have been on the long walk up Dickinson Road, anybody ever notice the blue plaque dedicated to Elizabeth Gaskell on one of the houses on that road, by the way?) but then the sun came out gloriously at the end, and the lads invaded the pitch, and you felt glad and sorry, thinking, what the fuck am I going to do with my summer?
I must have had a stronger bladder than I do now, because I don’t ever, once, remember having to use the ‘facilities’ at the Kippax. Thank God for that.
Of all the places that I’ve been on this planet, one of those, perhaps the one, in which I felt most alive. Simply.