rish will always be drawn to fields of Anfield Road By Vincent Hogan Monday September 14 2009 I grew up in a house where a devotion to anything other than Tipperary hurling was interpreted as some kind of vitamin deficiency. In my grandfather's pub, no heroes existed beyond the blue and gold. Every Saturday, the snug would operate as a creche while my mother got the weekly groceries, us kids peering giddily through the glass as old customers recycled fond stories, as if they were seated at wooden looms, pedaling softly. It was always hurling they talked about and, almost always, Tipp. By the time I was nine, I'd lived through seven All-Ireland final appearances for the county, five of which they'd won. Tipp were ubiquitous. Better still, two of that great '60s team -- Donie Nealon and Mick Burns -- happened to be friends and neighbours of the family. But just months before Tipp won again in '71, I was led astray. A short TV clip in the build-up to that year's FA Cup final turned this kid's head like an ice-cream van passing a playground. It featured a handsome, scholarly young man who had begun to electrify Liverpool's season. And two things about this flying winger left me smitten. One, his surname was wonderfully apposite for his position. Two, he was Irish. When Steve Heighway scored an improbable near-post goal against Arsenal in extra-time of that final, he seemed just about the most glamorous creature alive. Liverpool would lose the game eventually, but the media flapped like hysterical birds at the arrival of a new star. shrine And in Nenagh a bedroom wall was about to become a shrine. Just as Tipp's hurling fortunes slipped into terrible decline, Liverpool and Heighway began to run amok. Over the next 12 years, they would win four league titles, three European Cups, two UEFA Cups, two League Cups, an FA Cup, four Charity Shields and one European Super Cup. Over roughly the same period (between '73 and '83) Tipp would endure a wretched time without the consolation of a single Championship match victory. Soon enough, my infidelity found acceptance within the family. After all, following Tipp ran the risk of thieving all optimism and humour from a child. Better to worship a foreign god than a busted one. So those great, now lamented BBC radio commentators, Bryon Butler and Peter Jones, became my eyes on the sporting world. Micheal O Hehir may have been wonderful, but the news he peddled was -- from a Tipp viewpoint at least -- endlessly maudlin. Butler and Jones, by contrast, saw Liverpool lose about as often as they moved house. I sometimes feel guilty about that obsession now. Nick Hornby could, at least, justify eating, sleeping and drinking Arsenal by the fact that he was brought up within 20 miles of Highbury. The first time I set eyes on Anfield was as a professional journalist at the age of 26. Yet, a new book arrives now as a welcome palliative. 'The Irish Kop' is written, ironically, by a fellow Nenagh man, John Hynes. It explores the strange hold that Liverpool FC retains on people this side of the Irish Sea, interviewing former players, celebrities and an assortment of what might euphemistically be termed 'fans with typewriters'. The result is a remarkable compendium, awash with famous Irish sporting names. Colm 'Gooch' Cooper, for example, describes himself as a "die-hard fan" whose fondest wish -- outside of victory against Cork next Sunday, of course -- is to visit Anfield. Limerick dual star, Stephen Lucey, tells of finding himself at the wrong end of the stadium in Istanbul, stranded among AC Milan's Rossoneri, the night Liverpool came from three goals down to win the 2005 Champions League final. He reveals that his first game at Anfield was the '08 Champions League victory (4-2) against Arsenal in the company of Limerick team-mates, Donal O'Grady and Sean O'Connor. Mayo footballer, Conor Mortimer, reveals a family devotion to the club that took himself and brothers, Trevor and Kenneth, to Istanbul that same, extraordinary night in '05. They, literally, followed the crowd afterwards, flying back to Liverpool to savour the celebrations. Two years later, the Mortimers overcame late ticket dramas in Athens only to see Milan exact revenge. Conor reveals, remarkably: "Even though I play Gaelic most of the year, I prefer soccer; always have done and always will." This column was actually in the company of Dara O Cinneide at last year's Champions League tie against Chelsea at Anfield, so the inclusion of Kerry's All-Ireland winning captain of '04 doesn't constitute a surprise. Mind you, his admission that, as a kid, he "used to follow Liverpool more than the Kerry team" might. Former Leinster rugby star, Felipe Contepomi, cannot explain his devotion to Liverpool beyond the fact that, back home in Argentina, "Independiente were all red too". He recalls watching the '05 Champions League final in Madrid airport, awaiting a delayed connection to Buenos Aires. The book has an enveloping warmth, if it also -- unwittingly -- throws a light on the irrationally high regard we have for professional footballers in this country. After all, isn't it quite a thought that an airplane seat a journeyman pro could have found objectionable en route to Cyprus last week wouldn't cost a second thought to Gods of the GAA, like Henry Shefflin or the Gooch? No matter, 'The Irish Kop' is beautiful in the innocence of what it transmits: love of a team without the logic of a geographical imperative. In this neck of the woods, it has -- at least -- assuaged a small lifetime of guilt. Even if the suspicion grows that Tipp might be a better bet for the future. - Vincent Hogan Buy The Irish Kop in all good book stores or at http://www.merseyshop.com/products/details/liverpoolfcbooks/1308/2865/
LKDave posted a link to this a few days ago too: http://www.irishkop.com/forums/showthread.php?t=11350 Great read!!!