Okay, it’s been mentioned in dispatches, it’s a famous night, I was there, so here goes....
Liverpool 3 Auxerre 0 (Agg 3-2)
UEFA Cup 2nd round 2nd leg
Wednesday 6th November 1991
I remember being excited for this one all week. My brother was in the Kop when Fairclough slotted in ‘77 and this felt like it COULD be my generations version (okay same generation, he’s my brother, but he’s 12 years older than me). A European night against a team from France needing to turn round a two goal deficit. Oh yes, I was ready for this one, tingling with excitement by the time the day arrived.
I usually got a lift to the match with my mate Jacko who I shared a house with at the time. Half 5 on the night of the match and I say to him ‘are you ready?’ And he goes, ‘I’m not feeling too good, I think I’ve got the flu..and the weather’s terrible. I’m going to give it miss’ A decision he’d regret for a long time (he still does now to be fair!).
Despite the weather, which was indeed shocking, I decided to walk. I was bubbling with nerves and excitement and i thought it would calm me down. Didn’t take long in the end, less than an hour and I got the benefit of ‘feeling it’, that unmistakable something in the air. No not that! I’m talking about that sense of occasion, the floodlights piercing a dark, moody sky, the pubs packed but now emptying noisily onto the streets as kick off approaches.
Into the ground and oh, the weather’s put a few off, lots of empty seats. But never mind The Kop’s packed, steaming and loud....VERY fucking loud! This feels special already. And it was.
I’ve been to most of the famous ones since and this is still numero uno for me. It’s a rare one where the myth doesn’t come close to matching the reality rather than the other way round which is sometimes the case. Watch the video below, and listen to the racket after the players have run out. Put some headphones in and turn the volume up and take yourself there (or back there if you were there). Hairs on the back of the neck stuff.
Songs weren’t sung that night, they were shouted. Shouted and punched into the air with fight and passion and belief. The ‘oh when the Reds’ pre-kick off has a real venom to it. The intention as always to fire up our lads and put the pure shitters up the opposition. It worked. Listen to the roar as the ref waits for an age to get the match going. The tension builds and builds and The Kop is literally baying to get on with it. An absolute cauldron. And of course it worked.
When Mark Walters scored I knew it was our Fairclough moment. The place went berserk. I’ll never forget it.
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