Tag: Tottenham

adventures in british football: a 2-nil liverpool win in DAR-bee

Why is the word “derby” pronounced “darby” by Premier League fans and British sports announcers? Why don’t they call it a local rivalry instead of using the word Americans associate with horse racing?

When my Chelsea-fan son kept referring to the Oct. 21 Liverpool match against Everton as a Merseyside “Darby,” I initially thought I misheard him. It was easy enough to think I’d misheard him on the morning of the game seeing as though when I woke for the 7:30 start, I had one of my horrific migraines and felt as though my brain functioning was impeded by thick sludge. (Medicine and coffee helped clear it up by halftime.)

I later learned that there are so many English football teams which play in such close proximity that when they face one another it’s referred to as a derby. (I’ve yet to learn what’s up with the weird pronunciation.) I didn’t realize that Liverpool FC (which stands for Football Club) is not the only Premier League team in Liverpool, England. Less a mile from Anfield, where the Reds play, is Goodison Park, home to the Everton FC. This seems crazy to have two teams with stadiums so close to one another playing in the same league. In New York City — whose population dwarfs Liverpool’s — there are two baseball teams but one plays in the American League (Yankees) and one in the National League (Mets). When they face one another, it’s nicknamed the Subway Series and takes place at one of their stadiums which are roughly seven miles apart. In Chicago, the stadiums of their American League team (White Sox) and their National League team (Cubs) are about eight miles apart.

This Merseyside (the county in which Liverpool is located) rivalry dates back to 1894, according to the Bleacher Report. There was “a falling out between Everton and the owner of Anfield, Mr. John Houlding, in 1892,” the Bleacher Report said. “Having been the original tenants of Anfield, the Blues were forced to move across Stanley Park and found Goodison Park, which remains their home ground today.”

In England, I was shocked to discover that there are seven Premier League teams in London alone. That’s a lot of teams from which to choose. Factor in the practice of relegating teams to lower professional football leagues and promoting teams from lower leagues to higher leagues, and the potential for adjacent neighborhood teams to regularly play one another is high. That’s something around which I’m still trying to wrap my American brain.

My Chelsea-fan son tells me that, in addition to my lack of understanding of the importance of derbies, I likewise don’t really understand the depths of the passion British football team fans have for their clubs. This fervor, he says, pales in comparison to heated American sports rivalries, including the Red Sox-Yankees rivalry which hit its recent apex in the mid-2000s. (This past season the teams were duking it out for last place in the American League East. We’re far removed from the days of on-field fisticuffs of the Jason Varitek-Alex Rodriguez variety. See above pic.)

My son may be entirely right. In U.S. sports, we don’t tend to erect physical barriers between fan sections nor do we mandate that if you’re sitting in the “home team” seats you are prohibited from wearing an opposing team’s gear and colors. (A recent Red Sox-Los Angeles Dodgers game I attended at Fenway Park in late August saw multitudes of Dodgers-gear-wearing fans intermingled with Sox fans as the supremely vocal Dodgers crushed the hometown team.) The realization that the rules are different with professional soccer first hit me years ago when I bought tickets for my Premier League-loving family to see Liverpool play Sevilla in Fenway Park. While online, I had to designate for which team’s section I was seeking tickets. Once I selected Liverpool, there was a disclaimer that ticketholders in that section couldn’t wear Sevilla gear. Part of the reason, I’ve learned (courtesy of my son and the Welcome to Wrexham documentary), is due to the intensity of English football “hooliganism” and the deadly violence that can ensue at international football games is the reason for these protective measures. (I’ll tackle this in a subsequent post.)

However, on the rainy October morning of the Liverpool-Everton match, as I sat on the sofa wearing my candy-apple red Liverpool jersey and blue pajama bottoms bearing multi-colored cartoon sheep and moons, I wasn’t thinking about the intensity of a derby or football hooligans. I could only sip multiple cups of coffee, pop migraine medicine, enjoy the fact that two of my three adult kids were home for a visit, and pray for my head and eyes to stop throbbing.

All I have in my notebook from the scoreless first half of the much-touted derby when my migraine was at its worst, are snatches of conversation like this:

“I like Trent [Alexander-Arnold] with longer hair.”

“Why don’t you send him a letter?”

There were lamentations about Mo Salah’s performance such as, “Salah’s been a dead-end today.”

The banter was as lackluster as the first half which concluded with even the announcers nakedly trying to manifest something interesting to occur.

By the beginning of the second half, my head cleared and the pain was almost gone. I was much more engaged in the game, which really didn’t pick up tempo until the previously proclaimed “dead-end” Salah secured both of Liverpool’s goals. Before those goals (in 75th and 97th minutes), an announcer labeled the match an “unmemorable derby,” adding that it was “crying out for someone to make their mark.”

There was some yellow card action when Liverpool’s Ibrahima Konate practically tackled an Everton player in the 50th minute. Sixteen minutes later, Konate (below) was lucky he wasn’t tagged with a second yellow for running into another Everton player, which would have resulted in a red card and left Liverpool with one fewer player for the remainder of the game. (Everton fans and its coach vigorously protested the call. Liverpool coach Jurgen Klopp pulled Konate immediately after Everton’s failed free kick to avoid just such a scenario.)

My Chelsea-mad son (who currently lives with us) didn’t join the rest of the family until the 69th minute, after Darwin Nunez took the field. “I only came downstairs because [Jurgen] Klopp stopped his anti-Darwin hate campaign,” he said while sporting a cobalt blue Chelsea jersey amid the sea of Liverpool gear on everyone else.

Two plays went to VAR (video assistant referee), but, unlike with the Tottenham game, these calls went in Liverpool’s favor, with one leading to a penalty kick which Salah shot into the net to break the nil-nil tie. This seemed to energize the Reds because they got off several more shots on goal — including one by Harvey Elliott that an announcer said “was hit with venom” — as the weather in Liverpool shifted from sunny to a torrential downpour.

After a Darwin breakaway down the pitch, followed by a crisp pass to Salah who sunk it into the goal, time was called and Liverpool won 2-nil.

My headache was gone. I had my three adult children in the same room. Our two dogs were deliriously happy to snuggle up alongside them as the rain fell outside our window, saturating the bright New England foliage. What a great way to start the day … migraine notwithstanding.

Image credits: ESPN, Google, Getty Images via Liverpool.com.

adventures in british football: of red cards, VAR & live-streams in a church pew

Okay, so the Reds have fallen into a teeny, tiny slump as of late. In Premier League play, they fell to Tottenham 2-1 in a hotly-contested match filled with more cards than a stationery store and, a week later, they tied Brighton 2-2 in a game in which they had the lead until late in the contest. In Europa League group stage play, they beat Union Saint-Gilloise 2-nil.

Tottenham: I watched that dreadful, aggressively-officiated Sept. 30 Tottenham game between two unbeaten Prem teams (there were a dozen cards issued during this match!) from my living room, where I shouted repeatedly when Curtis Jones received a yellow card 26 minutes in, but, after the officials reviewed it via VAR (video assistant referee), the braintrust decided Jones actually earned himself a red card and a time out … which will last for three games. (An appeal of that ruling failed.) This also meant that Liverpool had to play Tottenham with one fewer player on the pitch.

After Liverpool goalie Alisson Becker made two tremendous saves in a row, fans’ spirits were on the upswing. They were thoroughly lifted in the 34th minute when Luis Diaz scored a quick shot. Jubilation. Celebration … wait … what? The on-field ref said Diaz was offside so the goal was “disallowed?” Reader: Diaz was most definitely on side and the goal should have counted.

In what ESPN called “the biggest error the Premier League has seen” when it comes to officiating, the refereeing team miscommunicated and the on-field official misconstrued what the VAR folks were saying and gave the ball to Tottenham for a free kick. VAR realized that the goal was actually legit, but the on-location official misunderstood. “Seven seconds later,” ESPN reported, “the VAR team realized their error. Panic set in, but they decided they couldn’t go against protocol, so they let play continue.” Seriously? They knew Diaz’s goal was legit, but decided to let “protocol” — which is supposed to assure fairness and accuracy — triumph in the face of a nakedly obvious error?

My mood darkened even further when Liverpool was forced to play with only nine players (instead of the usual 11) because those sterling officials hit Diogo Jota with a second yellow card in the 69th minute, after awarding him a yellow card in the 68th minute. According to Prem rules, when you receive two yellow cards, like Jota did, that equals a red card and you get sent off the field.

To make matters exponentially worse, in the 96th minute, Liverpool’s Joel Matip scored an own goal (meaning he accidentally hit the ball into his team’s net) giving Tottenham the 2-1 win, an atrocious cherry on top of that wretched Tottenham sundae.

While I ranted on social media along with Liverpool fans about the disallowed Diaz goal which would’ve made the difference between a loss or a tie, Liverpool’s club issued a statement saying that the erroneous Diaz offside call “undermined sporting integrity,” while Liverpool Manager Jurgen Klopp said the game – which would’ve been 2-2 if Diaz’s goal counted – should be replayed, sparking mockery from Liverpool haters everywhere. (The VAR refs who handled this call weren’t allowed to officiate games the following day, so the refs knew they screwed up.)

Honestly, I’m still kinda salty about the whole affair, even a week later. While I spent more time than I would have liked debating my Chelsea-fan son (who agreed the offside call was wrong) by saying that, in the face of such a costly error (think of the monetary and business implications), the Prem should remedy the mistake, he kept telling me it was a pipe dream. But they know it was a mistake, I kept saying. They had it within their power to fix it. They could, like the Olympics does when it’s revealed that someone was doping or a judge was bribed, modify the results to reflect the new information. Apparently, according to my son, I’m a naive idiot for thinking this way.

Europa League Group Play: The next time a Liverpool game was on TV was the Oct. 5 Europa League group stage match against USG (the Belgian Royale Union Saint-Gilloise team). This wasn’t a good day for me. By game time, I felt drunk and high. And not in a good way. I’d received a combo flu and COVID vaccines the previous day and the cumulative effects, coupled with the insomia I experienced, hit me with unexpected force yielding chills contrasted with bursts of heat, muscle achiness, severe foggy-headedness, weakness, and lightheadedness. I spent the morning of Oct. 5 feeling not-at-all-right while I laid in bed listening to CNN anchors and reporters discuss the chaos inside the US House of Representatives after the Republican party booted its own speaker. I was proud of myself that, despite feeling ill, I remembered there was a Liverpool game on TV that afternoon. But, because I was feeling so lousy and didn’t want to fetch my laptop or the Roku device, I opted to watch the game on a channel that broadcast in Spanish (a language I do not speak) because that was the only station on which I could watch the game from my bed.

In spite of the haziness of my brain, I was still able to take handwritten notes on what I witnessed. My notes say I was impressed by Jota’s 92nd-minute goal after he outran his opponents and blasted a shot into the bottom corner of the net with his left foot, afterwards, celebrating by pantomiming pulling back on a bow and releasing an arrow into the crowd. Why? I have no idea. Did I, in my post-vaccine fog, imagine all of that? No, an online search revealed, I did not. My notes were indeed correct, at least about the Jota bow-and-arrow thing. Liverpool won, 2-nil. And, unlike with the card-mad Tottenham game, officials tagged players with a grand total of … zero cards.

Brighton & Hove: By the time the Oct. 8 game at Brighton & Hove started on a Sunday morning, I was already dressed, ready for church, and had informed those who use our family streaming account that I planned to watch the game on my phone. Luckily, during there were no issues with streaming access. Unluckily, Brighton drew first blood in the 20th minute with a triumphant goal, however, by the time I was ready to leave the house, good old Mo Salah evened it up. Salah then added a second goal to the scoreboard via a penalty kick just before halftime. Two-one, Liverpool.

The second half began five minutes before I pulled into a parking spot next to the church in downtown Westborough, Mass. With the game streaming on my phone, I turned the volume off as I stepped into the 19th century building and chatted with one of the greeters for several minutes. I resisted the urge to turn my phone over — I’d pressed the screen into my thigh — so I could check if the score had changed. When I finished the conversation, I felt proud of myself for being completely present during that exchange and then felt relief that the score was unchanged.

Once I settled into one of the pews in the back of the sanctuary, I found it difficult to prop the phone up so I could clearly see the tiny screen. I didn’t want everyone to notice that I was watching British football during church; I was trying to be subtle, respectful. I opted to rest the phone atop my right leg which was crossed over my left, as I tried to angle my face toward the pulpit and only use my eyes to look at the phone. However when the minister began to read the statement the president of the Unitarian Universalist Association released about the murderous attacks in Israel that took place the day before, I put the phone on the pew cushion beside me and gave the minister my full attention. It just felt wrong not to do so.

After that, I left the device upon the crushed, red velvet pew cushion in order to rise and “sing” — I can’t really carry a tune all that well — a hymn. (I have yet to figure out a way to record streaming Liverpool games so I don’t have to multi-task.) Once the hymn concluded, I was relieved to see that the score hadn’t changed … until the 78th minute when Brighton tied it up. Unable to shout to express my disappointment, I silently clenched and unclenched my free hand and screamed internally. Game officials handed out two yellow cards by the end of the game – one to Joe Gomez (only six minutes after he entered the game), one to a Brighton player – and the match was over by the time the collection plate was passed. A 2-2 tie.

After I got home, my Chelsea-fan son gleefully informed me that people online were mocking Klopp by sarcastically asking if he would demand to replay the Brighton game as well as the contested Tottenham game. Ha, ha.

It was eight weeks into this season, and Liverpool still ranked significantly above Chelsea in the Prem standings. I let him yammer on while I kept that little dagger of truth to myself.  

Image credits: ESPN, The Sun, and Reuters.