red, red, red in my head, head, head

i worked the bar at Anfield tonight, where Liverpool played Chelsea, and won 1-0. tonight's game was a big deal, and i had no idea just how big, until Luis Garcia scored a goal within the first five minutes, and the crowd roared like i have never heard a crowd roar before. honestly, i thought the ceiling was going to fall on our heads. emotions ran high nearing the end of the game, and when it was certain that Liverpool had managed to hold its own, everyone erupted into the Liverpool anthem: "You'll Never Walk Alone", and various other Kop anthems. and Aboo would kill me for saying this but when 40,000 people get really emotional about their team, it wasn't that long before i found myself cheering and singing right along with them when they won. i can't really describe the atmosphere, it was something that i've never seen before. on the way back from Anfield, the whole bus was still singing away, and commenting (rather loudly) on how sports critics predicted that Chelsea would win, and look who got the last laugh now. walking back to the apartment, i saw strangers high-five-ing each other, the only thing they had in common was their support for the Reds. even as i'm typing this right now - it's 2.23am, the pubs and bars have just closed - i can still hear people in the streets shouting "Liiiiiiverpool, Liiiiiiverpool" - drunk on their victory (and possibly, more than a few beers).

i used to be a "big" football fan (soccer to ye Americans) when i was little. *flashback* to me, aged six-ish, struggling to keep my eyes open to watch the game on TV. because of the time difference, the live matches were always on really late - sometimes past midnight, i.e. way past my bedtime. i'd know when the matches were on, and i'd beg my mum to let me stay up to watch it. she'd always say No, but Dad let me stay up anyway, because he knew that i'd be well asleep before half-time. i don't remember what my fascination was with the game; why i loved it so much. apart from knowing the basic concept that each team's objective was to get the ball into the other team's net, i didn't really understand it. i didn't really know the rules, or the technical terms like 'off-side', or what happened when one of the centre guys went into the goalkeeper's box or whatever. the truth is that watching football was my way of having my very own personal time with Dad. he worked all day, and when he got back he'd work on the garden, or some other work that he'd brought home with him, and i hardly ever saw him. he refused to play my games - chasing the dogs, climbing the rambutan* tree, playing house with cardboard boxes, picking berries to play masak-masak** - i had to join him at his. so i'd fight my drowsiness, insist that i wasn't sleepy, force my eyes to stay open and alert, seemingly engrossed in the game. and 10 minutes later sleep would win. my dad would carry me to my bed and tuck me in, and then turn the TV off, and go to bed himself. because, as i found out a few years ago, he never really liked football anyway.

*this is a rambutan
**masak-masak : cooking

now playing : Sex and the City theme by Groove Armada from the Sex and the City soundtrack