I'm so jacked for this game. I'm throwing on the Carragher and putting a huge chip on my shoulder before heading to a dive bar with a few of my friends around 1 PM my time to get the booze in me. The game starts at 2:30 local time and I'll be right and prime to catch an ass whoopin as I cant fight at all. Most likely no one will give a sh*t about some asshole wearing a collared football jersey due to the fact that I live in small town VA. Therefore me and the boys will get to watch the game in peace.
Anyways, I want to see our best team on the pitch for this one, but with Mo sick who knows if he can even play? Anyways.....
Karius
Matip Lovern
Gomez Roberston
Can Hendo Couthino
Salah Mane
Firmino
With Mo being sick maybe we move Mane on the right and Phil on the left. If that's the case I almost want to see the Ox pop in to the midfield. Gini needs a rest and this is why we got the Ox, aint it? Lets go Redmen, give em the full pecker. 3-1 FTW
YNWA boys
Forgive the off-topic story - but one of my most memorable experiences of trying to watch football in a public place in the U.S. came in Winchester, Virginia in about 2001. I moved on a Saturday and we wouldn't get TV services until the following Monday. The U.S. MNT had a World Cup qualifier on the Sunday so I had been asking if there was a sports bar in this relatively small town (but bigger than Appamattox). I was given an address and I walked into this sleepy pub, with just two or three 2 o'clock drinkers not really watching one of the 2 or 3 TVs (it was not a sports bar per se). I asked if I could get the game on and the waitress obliged. I think I'm in the clear and watching the first few minutes of the game.
Then I hear some very loud voices approaching and the door bursts open, brilliant sunlight streaming in. I look over and this hulking figure of a man stands, a dark figure with the sun at his back and a giant golden beard stretching down in front of his orange hunting coveralls. He breaks off his spirited monologue in mid-sentence, immediately casting eyes on the small TV set with the game on it. After the briefest pause he starts in with a redneck accent (different than Southern - they are two different things) and loud, combative voice "Soccer?!?! Who the haaaaaillllll's watchin' soccer?!?!?" I instinctively slouched down in my booth but the waitress cheerfully replies "Why, this nice man right here." as she motions to me.
"You're not from around here are you?" - the man guffawed, followed by "We don't watch soccer in here. Get some NASCAR on that TV!!!"
The lady looked at me sheepishly and I motioned it was OK as I moved to a remote corner of the place and a set that actually was more in place for the kitchen help, both of whom were Spanish-speaking men. The waitress put the game on that set and I stood on the entrance to the galley, sipping my drink and watching the game (to a backdrop of auto racing sound) with my two new amigos.
Things have gotten better re that in my lifetime, thankfully. Here's hoping for the chance to watch a world-correcting LFC win today.
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