Ah, Kippax memories flooding back. 1981, aged 11. Liverpool at home in the League Cup semi final. Evening match. A seemingly never ending labyrinth of alley ways and side streets until reaching the ground. Large queues to get in. Dad's with long coats pushing young children under the rickety turnstiles. Then into the ground to look for a program seller. Need to see the team sheet. Is Tueart playing ? Another queue to get a Bovril. Then walking down the tunnel trying to jump up and touch the overhead concrete beams. The first site of the pitch, the smell of the grass. Taking my seat on a metal rail with the other youngsters. Kick off. Excitement. Goal ! Kevin Reeves. Still cheering for 5 minutes until my dad tells me it was disallowed. Alf Grey.
Sammy Lee goes down way too easily. Free kick. Into the box. Goal for Liverpool.
Trudging away after the game, gutted. Old men with The End is Nigh signs. I agreed.
Don't worry, son, they'll be plenty more finals over the years, my dad said.
Long walk to the Princess pub to get the 262 home.
