Today is the day millions of men long for. No, it’s not Sports Illustrated’s annual swimsuit edition, its the start of the Premier League season.
I am a Liverpool FC fan.
I am not from Liverpool.
I do not own a season ticket.
I do not bleed red.
Ok, maybe I do, but not in the sense of… nevermind…. I think you know what I mean.
I am not a distant third-cousin of midfielder Jay Spearing (who by the way, bares a stark resemblence to Brain from the kid’s show Pinky and the Brain).
I just like the club, love the stadium and enjoy getting down to a couple of games at Anfield each season.
One time, I even saved a copy of Jamie Carragher’s biography someone tossed in the street and took it to my flat. True story. It’s still there.
Some fans however, take supporting their club rather more seriously.
Allow me the pleasure of introducing you to one fellow Liverpool supporter. While some fans buy shirts or wave scarfs, this guy must have sat down with his nearest and dearest and thought about how he could truly display his love for LFC.
Season ticket? Nah, I sometimes work Saturdays.
Buy a brick at Anfield? Nah, I prefer to chuck bricks at the Toffees.
Name your first born “Pepe Luis Jamie Rafa Kenny Gerrard”? Nah, already did that. Donate to the Liverpool FC Academy? Nah, they seem pretty well off.
Get a full-colour tattoo of topless Liverpool greats reenacting a scene from the movie ‘300’ with a giant bird watching over, across your entire back? Bingo!
p.s. Stop clicking the Sports Illustrated link.
*Photo courtesy of WhoAteAllThePies.tv