When Jim Magilton was a trainee at Anfield, it was hoped that the boy would be able to break into the first team. Instead he found himself transferred to Oxford, having been as close as any Ulsterman to turn out for the Reds since the 1930s. It is now over 70 years since a Northern Irish International has played a senior game for Liverpool, and the prestige of playing for both belongs to only three men. However what Liverpool may have lacked in quantity, they made up for in quality.

Billy Lacey was no stranger to success. A member of Liverpool’s title winning teams of 1922 and 1923, he was also an integral part of the 1914 British Championship team. It was the first time the honour had come to Belfast, and it didn’t return until a Noel Brotherston goal against Wales in 1980 saw Billy Bingham’s men lift the trophy. Born in Co. Wexford at a time when the Irish FA could select any player from the whole island, Lacey went on to win 23 caps, scoring 3 times. He didn’t represent the FAI until the ripe old age of 37, and remains their oldest player to make a debut and their oldest player of all time on his last appearance, aged 41.
A tricky winger, he made 230 league appearances for Liverpool after his transfer from local rivals Everton. Not renowned for his goal-scoring ability, scoring only 18 league goals, he clearly had an affinity with the FA Cup, scoring 11 times in just 28 matches. Lacey left for New Brighton in 1924, leaving behind his international colleague, Elisha Scott, arguably the greatest goalkeeper to play for the Reds. Joining Liverpool in 1912, he remains the longest serving player in their history, playing for over 20 years. His ability cannot be questioned, nor should it be forgotten. One contemporary reporter wrote of him; “He has the eye of an eagle, the swift movement of a panther when flinging himself at a shot and the clutch of a vice when gripping the ball.” He was held in high esteem by the Kopites, and in 1924 when he pulled off a spectacular save against Blackburn, one supporter ran onto the pitch to kiss him! He had a good friendship with record breaking Dixie Dean, who was a great goal-scorer for Everton. Their battles on the pitch were great spectacles and well anticipated, much like the great Ian Wright versus Peter Schmeichel contests of the late 90s. One story tells of Scott and Dean meeting each other in town one day. When Dean nodded to Scott in acknowledgment, Scott dived through a shop window to save the imaginary ball! After leaving Liverpool he returned to Belfast as player manager of Belfast Celtic, and was in charge of their farewell tour in America in 1953, where they famously beat Scotland – A feat the international team of that time couldn’t achieve.

Aghadowey-born Sam English completes the trio of connections. Having scored 44 goals in the 1931/32 season for Glasgow Rangers, a club record which is still held today, he left Scottish football after a freak accident with Celtic goalkeeper Johnny Thomson which left the latter dead. Hounded out by opposition fans who refused to recognise his innocence, the centre forward joined Liverpool in August 1933, and went onto score 26 goals in 50 appearances. His goal ratio carried through to international football, being capped twice by the Irish FA and scoring once, against Wales.

Next time you find yourself on a plane to Liverpool; don’t expect to be travelling with some local footballers, ready to make their mark at Anfield. Somehow, I don’t think Rafa Benitez is planning on using his Dubai investment to send some scouts over to Linfield versus Limavady. Apparently the Spanish don’t like Windsor Park . . .

Ahh, the FA Cup 3rd round. The REAL Theatre of Dreams. Where crowds sit and watch the Chelsea’s and the Man Utd’s battle against the Tamworth’s and Kidderminster’s of this world. And occasionally, you get the hard hitter. The early clash. And this one was a peach.

Liverpool vs Arsenal. Now Arsenal have absolutely dominated the FA Cup over the last 5 years, winning 3 times out of 5. They must be experts. But Liverpool are the holders, after Gerrard almost single handedly piloted the win last year, with a gunman’s shot that ripped open the intestines of West Ham and lay their entrails to the Gods. That still sends glorious shivers up my spine.

So the match started at the Liverpool stronghold, Anfield. Almost an unfair advantage, considering that once Liverpool didn’t lose in that magical stadium for 3 years. But as the scarily tanned Gary Lineker introduced the players walking onto the pitch, I felt pretty good.
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This guy has me puzzled. A skinny Bambi on ice like stature is not one that is widely accepted as a typical footballing build yet this young man has seen his career rise and rise over the previous couple of seasons reaching a climax with his appearance as England’s new and only hope in the 2006 World Cup. I’m just wondering how all of this happened because as a footballer I really don’t rate him much at all. I was surprised that Sven decided to rest his hopes and dreams on the shoulders of Crouch and then failed to bring the sparkling talent that is Jermain Defoe.

It seems to me that Peter Crouch has just bundled his way into the Liverpool and the England team. The guy is plain awkward and I’m not just remarking on his frame, I’m talking about his general game. I’m astounded as to how he has infiltrated the top levels of the English game. In my view he pulls a spectacular goal out once every season and he’s back in the good graces with the Liverpool faithful and the England support. That plus a crap robotic dance of course! The fans, the managers and the media seemed to be sensing that Peter Crouch may not be the great footballer that they had made out pre World Cup but with a wonder goal from an over head kick at the weekend he has soared back into everyone’s hearts, and teams!

I’m not an England fan, I’m not a Liverpool fan but I am a football fan and Peter Crouch just annoys me. As a player I find few redeeming traits, he’s tall so he should be able to head the ball well but then so could I if I was seven foot. I’m just at a loss to establish what exactly he brings to a team. I am open to enlightenment. No-one questions his ability and that I find strange, the media have basically left him alone since the World Cup whilst other players have been put under the magnifying glass. Is it that he is an unquestionable talent or that no-one is interested?

In the forty-six years since its inception the Football League Cup has flirted its way through some six sponsors, helping sell more than the odd pint of milk, coke, lager and bitter to the British Public along the way. You may never experience quite the same stirring in the blood as when you hear the Champions League anthem on European nights (although I?m sure they?re singing ?LASAGNE!?), but for the Liverpool supporter with good memories of the eighties, the League Cup will always be regarded with more than a little fondness. ?If the FA Cup is football?s Ascot, then the League Cup is its Derby Day? were the bold words of Football League visionary Alan Hardaker back in 1960, quite forgetting that the real daddy was and always will be the Grand National.
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He had the grace in the end to fall on his own sword, and, as he clears out his desk and heads for the door marked exit, many Liverpool supporters may well be left feeling that?s the best that can be said for him. But as Noel White ponders the quiet life following his leaving of Liverpool, you can?t help but wonder whether the man may actually have done everyone concerned a huge favour. This season?s ambitions had been in danger of slipping beyond reach, but Saturday?s showing suggested that the necessary voltage for resuscitation might just have been delivered. Even if Benitez had a quick pep-talk planned for ten to three, it?s easy to picture the Reds shoving him aside in their haste to get out of the dressing room and onto the pitch, so great seemed their determination to prove all doubters wrong by quarter to four.
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When Liverpool last travelled down the East Lancs Road to their theatre of nightmares, a performance of great promise went unrewarded thanks to a last-gasp header from Rio Ferdinand. Roll on the end of the season and that goal was to prove all the difference between the rivals as United edged Benitez? men into third spot. Bragging rights to Anfield, however, as the Reds went on to claim the FA Cup, dumping United out en route and leaving them with only the Carling Cup to show for a season?s toil. A cursory glance at the two teams? respective midfields was enough to confirm any United fan?s worst fears for the following season, with the future looking bright on Merseyside. Ferguson?s team have not so much improved as got the bit between their teeth, and this time round it was Ferdinand again who applied the coup de grace, only with a touch more aplomb, leaving Liverpool?s watching millions to wonder just where it had all gone so spectacularly wrong.
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John Charles remains a colossus in the minds of all those fortunate enough to have seen him play the game and, two years on from his death aged 72 in 2004, remains so - even in the minds of those able only to read of his exploits on the field. The Gentle Giant, described by many as the finest centre-forward and centre-half ever seen, can be looked upon to this day as arguably the most eminently successful of all British footballing exports to the continent. Loved and admired by all who saw him play, the Welshman described by Jack Charlton as ?half the team in himself? has a place in the annals of Leeds United for all time, but it is perhaps in the minds of his adoring Italian public that he looms largest of all, and in the hearts of those devoted to Juventus he lives on as a king.

In Italian football, history is paid its dues and young and old alike, whether fan or club official, know their respective clubs? stories in a way that puts some (but one hopes not all) of their English counterparts to shame. In 2001 Charles was bestowed an unheard of honour when he became the first foreigner to be admitted to the Italian hall of fame, ahead even of Maradona and Platini. On a visit to the Stadio Delle Alpi that same year his ears rang to the chants of ?Giovanni! Giovanni!? from the massed tifosi, and a walkabout in the small town of Biella, nestled an hour from Turin at the foot of the Alps, prompted scenes of near hysteria as adults and children alike greeted him as ?Il Re! Il Re!? The King?
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When the fixture list for this season was published back in July even those Liverpool supporters suffering from the most virulent strain of optimistic amnesia (widespread among fans of most persuasions at that time of year, and I count myself among them) might have noticed one detail sure to curb their enthusiasm, if only just a tad ? the opening away games looked pretty tough. You can rest assured that if the job of picking the Reds? early-season away-days were to fall to the fans due to FA super-computer failure, then the names of Sheffield United, Everton, Chelsea and Bolton would hardly be first out of the hat. An opener against one of the newly promoted sides, all bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and eager to please the Premiership-starved faithful followed by a trip across the park to the jealous neighbours is one thing. But then a trip to the champions, and how about a day out at the Reebok too? Well? thanks, but no thanks. And that?s before Sky got their hands on the fixtures.

Thanks to whoever makes the programming decisions, Liverpool are yet to kick off away from home before one-thirty and though you can be sure no excuses are on offer (from me or the team), you can?t help but feel that the schedule hasn?t exactly helped matters any. However, even the more cautious among our number back in July might now baulk at the points tally reaped from four road trips to date. One solitary point in all is simply not good enough and though Anfield remains a fortress intact, there remains the bleak prospect that any close involvment in the title race come the business end of the season may already have been fatally undermined by all-too-familiar early season stumblings.
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Not that we’d ever stoop to using outdated regional stereotyping in a serious post about European regneration grants but I’m sure that car owning away fans who travel to Anfield ever other Saturday could be rather pleased to hear that the area around Stanley Park and the surrounding area will be getting a major facelift with a ?9m grant from the European Objective One project.

Liverpool Football Club guaranteed ?160m of investment in a new stadium and the Objective One committee couldn’t wait to write out a cheque for a further ?9m to pay for restoration of Stanley Park, where the new Liverpool stadium will be built, and the creation of a shop-lined plaza on the site of the current Anfield ground.

None of the ?9m will actually be spent on the ground itself but there will be a few “calm down’s” heard in the vicinity this evening as the locals get wind of the regeneration plans for their area.

Liverpool and Objective One really do have to be congratulated on this initiative though because in this day and age of new, out of town, soulless stadia it’s good to see a football club staying close to it’s roots and helping improve the local area for the local people who have been it’s main supporters over the years. Too many clubs are desperate to get out of their old environment and into a shiny new stadium so as to attract more corporate sponsors but at least in Liverpool they’ll get a new stadium instead of their park and a new row of shops.

Should Everton be jealous?

When asked once what visiting teams could expect from a trip to Liverpool, Bill Shankly?s reply was, as ever, to the point and destined for perpetuity. Put simply (and to paraphrase), he suggested that opponents expecting anything more than a comprehensive defeat followed by a nice cup of tea were on a hiding to nothing. The current vintage may have stuttered on travels near and far this season, but it seems that business as usual has been restored in the hospitality suite at Anfield. A least Messrs Roeder and Jol would have enjoyed their respective cuppas before the long trip home. Doubtless Jermaine Jenas was after something a little stronger altogether, though a clip around the ear courtesy of Edgar Davids may have been all he ended up with.

Battered and bruised after a humiliating derby and a luckless encounter with the champions, Liverpool may have been hoping that both Newcastle and Spurs would be practically sitting up and begging to be beaten given their indifferent form. And while they didn?t exactly roll over and play dead, both duly obliged in the end. Both managers may have been left cursing referees and missed sitters over their brews, but will have agreed on the quality that left them pointless. After all much of it came from one man that both clubs pursued enthusiastically but ultimately in vain ? a certain Mr. Kuyt, whose name is rapidly becoming a fixture in this column and doubtless several others too. Shortly before Liverpool captured the Dutchman, Roeder had voiced concerns over Kuyt?s pace. One can only surmise he knew the race to sign him was already lost.

Roeder may have muttered darkly again into his tealeaves when recalling Alonso?s virtuosity on Wednesday night, claiming bad luck on behalf of his keeper Harper. He may also have acknowledged in private, however, that it was the Spaniard?s vision and technical excellence that forced the unfortunate understudy to back pedal so calamitously in the first place. Meanwhile Alonso himself can reflect on another footballing hole-in-one to cherish, and one that puts him in elite company (with the exception of Nayim, perhaps). Few will have thought he could top his strike at Luton Town but while that effort bounced and bobbled on its merry way goalwards, this latest effort sailed sweetly over the flailing custodian concerned and bounced obligingly on the right side of the line ? just. Even the usually sober Mr. Benitez had to praise his number 14, though not before gently berating his failure to pass to a well-placed Gerrard, of course.
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