...no. I'm trying anyway.
My dad said a while ago that he'd made a deal with God, and that he'd be alive the next time Liverpool won the league.
He will be.
He's not making the next time though, even in a best case scenario on all fronts.
I was going to come to the parade. The last one my dad and I were going to go to, I got it all booked, and we all know what happened. This time I had it arranged to go with my kid, but now I need to go earlier and be with my dad instead, help my mum out.
Hes been telling all these stories I should have asked him about years ago. I think the game that made him a red was with his uncle Huey during the war. 1944 or 45 and he was sitting on industrial latex that the war effort had stored under the stadium roof to keep dry. 5-0 win against the mighty Southport. Liddell bagged a brace, and the adulation is still there when he says that name.
Why would a god owe him a league anyway? It's pure greed. He saw what for most of my life seemed something I'd never see. A Liverpool that the footballing world was envious of. Went home and away from 2nd division right the way up to the stratosphere.
No wonder his heart is fucked. Still, uncle Huey could have been a blue, and now my dad has another title. A deal is a deal. The Lord giveth and he taketh away.