Bayer the way, did you get in?
By Glockdanny
Website exclusive
It’s half-time, we’re 1-0 down, the Greeks are defending like their national team a few months earlier and the equity-card holding Brazilian is bothering us like a wasp at a family barbecue. It’s not difficult to see why the home side looks so unsettled and lacking belief….we thought the rumours had been put to bed, but there he goes again, stirring it all up on the eve of our biggest game of the season (you know who I’m referring to… yes, ME (passing motorist - who, you?), no not me, ‘Mr. ME’). I turn to my erudite friend and proclaim ‘there is NO way we’re coming back from this – a 1-1 draw is the best we can possibly hope for’. We all know what happened in the end - yes, Steven Gerrard; The cause, and the solution, of Liverpool’s problems.
So the bandwagon rolls on. Parry rubs his hands with glee as more digits emerge in his mind (which, if you took a swab of and looked at it under a microscope, would show a balance sheet, I’m sure) and he can forget about changing his name to ‘Weetabix’* for at least a few more months. Well, he was always against it, but he heard about Jimmy White changing his name to Jimmy Brown for money and thought ‘wow, that’s interesting’.
More importantly, it’s another trip for the European ‘awayers’ and one we can enjoy without too much expectancy, having already achieved our realistic pre-season Champion’s League (CL) target of getting through the group stages. So it’s to the draw and a whole range of permutations to contemplate; Either of the Milan clubs, Juventus, Lyon and Bayer Leverkusen are our possible opponents. A brief scout around the various internet forums, exchanges of text messages and several ‘phone calls to a few closer mates and it becomes clear who we all want to get in the draw - UEFA obviously listened in to the calls, paid a visit to the TTWAR forum and were only too happy to oblige. “Oh, and, UEFA, you couldn’t do us another favour and ensure the Mancs get Milan after their group stage gerrymandering could you, sweetie? Oh you are a dear thing, thank you ! ever so…..”
The easiest place to visit, the friendliest, the least volatile police, the most civilised and the cheapest to get to? It’s time to use up another international marital ‘you owe me at least a pair of shoes for this’ excursion pass – and after much pleading with the wife, it’s game on….the lads are off to Cologne. Y’see – it’s like that in my household. In working out how much the trip will cost me, I have to add on the spouse appeasement tax…. Why is it always at least £50?!
Now, getting the best deal for flights is in itself one of the dark arts. A connoisseur of the modern-day European awayers will no doubt give short shrift to that suggestion - but the trouble is, you see, some of us have lives! The perfect scenario is to be poised at your keyboard with an ISDN 2mb connection, on ! your 3.4 ghz PC whilst the CL draw unfolds live on Sky Sports News inches away on another monitor. Only, I’m not that kid on ‘War Games’ and I have to do really inconvenient things, like, going to work for example. Said ‘geek’ then taps away like someone playing ‘Track ‘n Field’ in an amusement arcade in 1985 and books up Liverpool – Cologne return for 7 pence. Once the RAWKites have booked all the cheap seats, the Easyjet / Ryanair / Airfix computers see the rest of us coming and, us not being able to speak fluent binary, the prices spiral out of control. Within an hour or so of the draw being made, the return flight prices are over £100.
For once, following our great club AND living in the south for me, has an advantage. Given that by far the largest proportion of our travelling support are looking to fly from Liverpool or close-by, myself and (most of my) travelling companions are free to take a more relaxed approach to booking the flights - having to book within a few hours, rather than minutes, basically. By 5 o’clock I am left with a choice; £51 return with German Wings (an airline with a name that is surely inspired by a porn-film) or wait…….
The dark shadows and spirits of the budget airline pricing structure start to whisper in the corners of the room – only I can’t understand any of it because it’s all in binary - it’s like trying to understand how a woman’s mind works…..it’s witchery I tell you! The theory is, if you book too early, you can end up paying too much. If you book too late, you can end up paying too much. If you book just after it’s too early and just before it’s too late, the price comes mysteriously tumbling down and you’ve nailed it, but if anyone knows exactly when that is – please let me know. If they made a film about someone waiting exactly the right amount of time before booking on Easyjet, I’m sure the lead character would be played by Clint Eastwood; Poncho over the head, chewing on a cheroot, on the phone to Ryanair: ‘Question is, how many seats have you ! got left? Is it 5 or 6? Truth is, I can’t quite remember myself’ – except he would remember of course, and he’d get it right and pay about £25 return all in. I couldn’t be arsed with all that and just paid the £51.
Announcing ourselves on the various forums as the ‘TTWAR collective’, myself, Mart Le Taxi, BetterRed (Al), BetterBread (Dan), Ste (erm, Ste) and our mates Ken, Lol and Gary make the booking and tell the world we’ll be there…. The RAWK forum regulars ignore us, obviously – my ‘51 posts, park drinker’ simply fails to even register in their conscience.
Beset by injuries, suspensions and poor form, the Cologne trip initially looks like the football will be an irrelevance before we meet Bayer in the first leg. Expectancy is low as the reds face the form team in Germany at Anfield without numerous key players – most fear that the side that beat Real Madrid 3-0 will be too strong for us (even without the injured Ramelow) – However, if there’s anything consistent about us it’s our inconsistency, and a great performance sees us heading to Rhineland with a 3-1 aggregate lead. So it really is game on…
9th March and that buzz is in the air again. With 3 hours sleep, it’s up at silly o’clock for the trip to Gatwick. I’m running late again and we get to the check-in at 7am with 15 minutes to spare. Now, that wouldn’t normally be a problem, apart from the fact I previously cost the lads £40 each to catch a later flight to Spain for the Deportivo trip….because I cut it too fine AND misread the check-in cut-off time. I complain about feeling bleary-eyed, until we meet Ste, Lol and Gary who have just driven down from Liverpool through the night! We make our way to the boarding gate and there’s reds scattered all over – ‘alright lads’ seems to be the customary exchange on all the trips when you’re flying back and forth – nothing more, nothing less. You would think though, wouldn’t you, that folks who travel to European aways are the most dyed-in-th! e-wool Liverpool fans and have a complete mutual understanding of the sentiments of other reds? Well, I was amazed and dismayed to see a ‘fan’ waiting to board the plane sitting and reading the Sun. Seeing his Liverpool scarf and shirt I didn’t hesitate to point out ‘you shouldn’t be reading that shite, mate’ – he gave me a rather sheepish look and replied ‘I know, mate’…..but carried on reading it. Incredible.
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Once the journey is underway, it’s time for some of the others to contemplate my ‘performances’ on this season’s previous two Euro away trips. Much to their amusement, I had managed to become rather ill as a result of a ‘tad’ too much ‘Estrella Galicia’ and ‘Kronenbourg’….I didn’t make it down to breakfast on either occasion, put it like that. Of course, being in a continental hotel room does bring some consolation – a leaf through the ‘TV & film services’ leaflet reveals something you (ahem) don’t usually get on offer in Britain. Whilst the (more adept at dealing with copious amounts of ale) lads went off sight-seeing etc. I had been left to recover, and I’m afraid the compulsion to press ‘E7’ and ‘Okay’ – whilst parting with some silly amount of money – became too much. Besides, I wouldn’t want to deprive the lads of a good laugh when it comes to check-out time and the receptionist checks! the bill with me - and here we are, heading to the ‘oooohh, ja ja’ capital of the world… this is surely going to cost me again.
The passage from aircraft to taxi is smooth and swift. We manage to source a 7-seater and bundle in. The driver looks at our scarves and tops etc. and proclaims in perfect English ‘I see you are all Everton fans, then’. Who said the Germans don’t have a sense of humour? The driver is charming and graceful, embarrassing us as we are unable to reciprocate his command of another language. ‘Danke’ – well, we managed that, at least, as he drops us outside the door of the Leonet Hotel. A rather functional establishment – shades of the ‘Linton Travel Tavern’ - aaaah, but could we order an Irish coffee at 3 in the morning? Well, we couldn’t even get a coffee with milk and sugar at 2 in the afternoon – so probably not.
The receptionist is friendly and helpful. He hands us a guide to the city, which contains, amongst other things, a whole section on ‘erotic clubs’ – which in turn provides us with their ‘prices per half hour’. Who said the Germans don’t have a sense of humour? Well I thought it was hilarious, anyway. Setting off on a bit of a sight-seeing walkabout, I continue paying homage to the genius that is German ‘adult entertainment’ and begin to read out random names of shops and road signs…..in a ‘German porn’ style voice. Simply add on ‘oooooohhh ja, ja, fantastiche’ on the end and you’d swear you’d heard it before one of those ‘films’. Go on, try it yourself. ‘Rubenstrasse, Rubenstrasse! Ooooooohhhh, ja, ja, fruhstuck, fruhstuck, veranstaltungsraum! Oooooooohhhhh’ (Apologies to any German readers who may understand that I’ve just enthusiastica! lly exclaimed that there is a separate function room available for breakfast) . If you add some of the quirky shop and restaurant names - ‘Bastard’, ‘Fuchs’ and ‘Schmuk’ to name but a few, you’ve a group of grown men reduced to a playground level of intellect…..or was it just me? (ahem)
Cologne itself is graceful and somewhat indignant. Grand, gothic facades stand proud on the face of the ancient city with a sombre past. Cobble-stoned streets and quaint drinking dens welcome you with a warmth that is in contrast to the modern, industrialised sectors of the city. A few minutes spent at a shop selling detailed photographs of the devastation caused by the war leaves us in contemplative mood; Cologne is steeped in history. Founded by the Romans, Cologne is Germany’s oldest city and the Kolner Dom cathedral is testament to its grandeur. You would expect to see a plethora of Romanesque and mediaeval remnants and buildings – truth is, there once was, only this city suggests we take heed to the adage that in war, everyone loses. A look at the aforementioned photogra! phs provides graphic depiction of the damage and destruction suffered. Standing elegantly and somewhat postured, the Dom is a symbol of hope amongst the crumbling walls and twisted steel all around it in those black and whites from 1945. The Dom is seemingly unblemished, but every single building for miles around it is unrecognisable but for the colour of the bricks laying scattered on the ground where they once stood. Luckily for the cathedral, British bombers were told specifically to avoid hitting the Dom – but inevitably it took some damage, losing its roof during the raids. Arriving at the foot of the 500 feet tall twin spires on the western façade, you can only stand in awe. The cathedral is the tallest Gothic building in the world and is painstakingly detailed – little wonder then that it took 600 years to complete, finished as recently as 1880. The 509 steps are well worth the ascent and the view doesn’t disappoint. The splendour of the interior arches and meticulously ! crafted stained-glass windows would leave even the most atheistic with a sensation of divinity.
A trip to Cologne for me, amongst other reds, deserves a pilgrimage to a special place where the trainee label of trainee labels might call home. It seems that Adidas is the shoe of choice for Liverpool fans who identify with and revere the 78-82 terrace fashion era, myself included - so a trip to the Adidas originals store on Breite Strasse has me in trainee ecstasy. The store is like some sort of three-striped oasis. Almost every trainer is there – Forest Hills, the original 60s Sambas, Grand Prix, Gazelles etc. etc. There are some items so rare they are in glass display cabinets in the middle of the open-plan store. After around 45 minutes of walking around in a jaw-dropping haze, I hand the assistant a pair of brown German Chile 62’s and ask for a ‘UK 10’. She comes back around 30 seconds later with a 10, 11 and a 10 in a different colour.! When was the last time you had service at a shop like that in England? Fast forward another few minutes and the trip has now cost me another £82.
Aside from the obligatory splattering of culture, we get on with doing the more serious job of drinking, singing and generally spreading the word that we are, indeed, the greatest supporters in the world. It seems that on any trip to Europe watching the reds, if you are unsure as to where to find your compatriots – head for the town square. In Cologne’s case, it’s more of a rectangle and it’s the Alter Markt in the old town (Aldstadt). There’s reds in all the bars around it and the usual flags are all there. The local Kolsch beer is befitting the fine atmosphere building…..and I would add that beer is something else the Germans do very well. We warm up for the journey to Leverkusen in Papa Joe’s – a pub with rather bizarre mix of tradition, quirkiness and slapstick. There are costumed dummies on the wall and they’re playing Elvis and the Beatl! es on the accordion…...as you do, obviously. After a short pub crawl around the immediate vicinity, there’s a regular theme occurring – ‘have you got any spares, mate?’ Now there are 8 in our group and we’ve got 3 tickets. There’s another 10 lads we were chatting to who were all without tickets. We glean from talking to a number of folk – locals and reds - that there’s 3,000 of us who’ve made the trip, but only 1,100 tickets. It seemed that an awful lot of people were going to be disappointed (not me, though, one of the three was definitely mine!). After a flurry of phone calls (why is it you only worry about your mobile bill when it comes in? Too bloody late then!) and a few ‘sworn to secrecies’ it emerges that some tickets will be on sale at the ground at 6pm. So that’s our deadline to be there. We’re soon back at the hotel for a quick freshen up.
We tell the receptionist that we need a taxi for 8 people. She makes 2 phone calls with the urgency of a kid on Christmas morning and a 9 seater turns up within 90 seconds - whilst she’s still on the ‘phone to another firm because she’s worried that the first company can’t get us a taxi quick enough!! Yes, welcome indeed to Germany. The taxi driver gets us to the ground – about 12 miles away – in less than 20 minutes, through a busy city, and charges us £4 each - now THAT is service.
The ground is set in quite pleasant and tranquil surroundings. There are specifically planted trees and shrubs around the perimeter which add a touch of serenity to the pre-match atmosphere. Relaxed though some of our group may have been, it becomes an anxious wait in the ticket office queue for the others. It seems that the attempts of some to keep the 6pm ticket sale quiet has failed as there are about 100 in the queue. Despite the joviality amongst those waiting patiently, and even an appearance in the ticket booth from Sammy Lee to lift the spirits (I kid you not!), nearly all are left disappointed as only around 6 tickets become available. It becomes too much for one or two reds, however, as the incessant grinning and inane behaviour of the Champion’s League mascot finally breaks them…..off comes his oversized costumed-head and stup! id hair, swiped by some lads as he walked past (for the umpteenth time) – their frustrations are eased as they jump up and down on the synthetic head whilst the costume wearer looks on bemused. So if you’ve ever posed the question ‘how many lads can jump up and down on the Champion’s League mascot’s head at the same time?’ well, three is the answer.
We pick a pub right by the ground for pre-match ales. It’s a homely, traditional place that seems like a cross between someone’s living room and the Cavern. It has its own ‘member’s’ section (big enough for a couple of sofas) and a little beer garden at the front. All the regulars seem to look like your favourite Uncle – quirky dress sense, a beard and a warm laugh. The over-whelming mood is one of relaxation – everything about this place seems so, well, orderly. At least it was, until a few more reds come in and the singing starts…..about time too. The middle-aged landlady tells us loudly to ‘sssssshhhhh!!’ So, of course, the singing got louder. The nearing kick-off came as welcome relief to her, I’ve no doubt.
Inside the ground, everyone is buzzing. The singing is unabated from the red corner. There’s simply no set of supporters in the world that so fittingly proclaim their pride in the memories and glories past. The flags and banners are all heart-felt, profound, inspired and I’m proud to be a red once again. There’s even time to honour one of the genuine greats of the game; Rinus Michels gave the world ‘total football’ – he was the architect and founder of one of the greatest club sides and football ethos there has been – of course, within the next two or three years, Liverpool were soon playing their own brand of ‘total football’ as we staked our claim to be one of Europe’s immortal giants. A minute’s silence turns to warm applause in recognition of Michels’ gifts to football, and the reds around me follow the lead and adopt the European customar! y way of showing respect.
Going into the game, our away form is patchy to say the least and opinions are mixed as to whether we’ll get through the tie. A certain knowledgeable TTWAR forumite assured us before the trip that we’d score in the first twenty minutes and the tie would be over. He’s almost bang on as an early goal settles the nerves and sends the travelling faithful into raptures – little pockets of Liverpool fans scattered all over the ground start leaping about. If it was possible, the singing became more fevered and we belted out one of our ‘greatest hits’ after the other. I’m still stood on top of a barrier singing in celebration of the first as Gerrard comes towards us to take a corner – he’s given another tumultuous reception, proving that there’s no way he can ever have the cheek to blame the fans for ‘forcing him out’ if and when he does leave us. We ! score the second after Biscan nods down Gerrard’s corner and it’s flicked in by Garcia – I can’t jump up and down as I’m on the barrier, so it’s some sort of crazed shaking of fists. 5-1 up on aggregate, Bayer need 5 themselves now, and it’s game over – it’s party time.
And party we did. The rest of the game is like a carnival in our end. There’s a lad wearing nothing but a red thong and a black ‘Showaddywaddy’ wig on top of the fence at pitchside, standing there high up for all to see for at least 20 minutes. Almost the full repertoire of songs are shown off – you can tell it’s a special day when ‘Liverbird Upon My Chest’ gets past the first verse. There’s scarves swinging round the head ‘continental styley’ and the songs keep coming. Half-time is something of an irritation but the festivities continue in the second-half. At 3-0, the Bayer fans seemed to make more noise than at any other time and, lest I forget, they were a credit to themselves and their club throughout. I’d ! like to think they were inspired by the noise from our end – whatever it was, they provided a spectacle of colour and sound which made you realise what a privilege it was to be there that night – that’s what makes it so special watching your team abroad, the spirit from the Germans was in abundance and it was certainly in mutual resonance. In full knowledge that the tie was over, the red masses shifted their focus on willing Bayer to score a goal – fitting reward for their fans. Five minutes from time that moment came, and the away end cheered just as loudly as the home fans. One of the best moments of the night followed – In response to their goal, the booming PA speakers blasted out ‘Rockin’ All Over the World’ by Status Quo. This was met with a simultaneous collective appreciation of irony and humour from ALL the Liverpool fans – and so it became the anthem of the entire trip in an instant - ‘And I like it, I like it, I like it, I like it, I la-la-la-like it, la-la-la like here ! we go-oh, rockin’ all over the world’ would be heard long into small hours and beyond, throughout the bars of Leverkusen and back in the fair city of Cologne. After a wait outside the ground, during which we enjoy a bit of friendly humour and banter with the excellent local police (who I’m sure were wearing American football gear), we filter away into the night. There’s still plenty of partying to be done, however, as we descend upon another Leverkusen pub near the ground. Our goodwill is reciprocated by the locals as they join in with some of our songs. They buy us drinks and they let us dance on their tables, apart from Ken whom, I’m afraid, it all becomes too much for – he falls asleep at the same table that others dance on….payback for me given the stick I endured for my previous weak stomach. The rest of the night becomes something of a happy blur as I’m sure you’ll understand. My final memory is of around 3am in Jamieson’s late night bar – singing ‘whoever we get, we’re avin’ a! laugh’ – we were indeed as it doesn’t get much better than this when you’re following the reds.
The sense of euphoria continued through the next day. I felt that the street below needed to hear me sing the bridge to ‘ring of fire’, whilst dressed only in boxer shorts and waving my scarf out of the second floor hotel bedroom window – so I was happy to oblige. By some miracle, I have awoken without the usual hangover and, by some further miracle, I resist the temptation to press ‘E7’ and ‘Okay’, thus depriving the lads of another laugh. It doesn’t last, however, as the airport terminal offers the enticement of a certain type of shop with blacked out windows – ‘I’m having some of that’ I mutter to myself and push my way through the beads hanging in the doorway. I’m greeted by about half a dozen grinning Liverpool fans all appreciating today’s ironic moment. £3.50 for a hard-core DVD? In an airport terminal? With my reputation? Only in Germa! ny - ’and I like it, I like it, I like it, I like it’………
* Rick Weetabix – This name has been lent to me by its founder and owner, Steven Kelly, for the purpose of this article.
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