Motty
the only place you were 21 in 1978 was your neck size mate
And so the Tony Gaiter story
====================
Tony "Ali" gaiter was a mate of mine when we both lived in the sticks (Halton)
Although he was a manc, he was a useful friend when it came to getting tickets for OT, or when we needed a plasterer.
And after he had duly obliged in above game it was only fair that I sorted him out on the return at Anfield.
It was the middle of April when the return leg was played, a nice spring day from memory.
So off we all headed to Anfield.
Four reds and a manc.
Rather than do our usual journey by train, Ali promised he would take us in his car.
This was great, more time for booze before and after the game.
We arrive at the ground bang on opening time, even in those days my reputation for being first in pubs was well known.
Ali sat in the corner sipping halves as he was driving, he looked worried. Sitting in the Arkles with about 200 reds could do that to any man, let alone a manc.
He nervously edged his way to where I was stood, frightened to open his gob in case all the woolyback twang came sprawling out.
With his hand over his mouth, he whispered
"what part of the ground are we in"
The Anny of course, I don't stand anywhere else.
"Is that a good place"
It is for us, but I'd deffo keep yer trap shut while were in there, if I were you.
Into the ground we went.
Six pints down the shoot but only two for Ali, he looked scared shitless when we entered the ground.
Up the stairs we climbed to our usual position at the back close to the away fans.
We'd only been stood there about 2 minutes and the baiting between the two sets of fans was well underway.
and then come Tony's moment.......
One of the Mancs saw him and recognised him.
"Tony, Tony" he shouted, I burst out laughin.
Would Tony have the balls to wave back
"Tony, Tony it's me"
Poor Tony was shrinking so fast, I decided to help him out.
"Who the fuck are you talkin to" I shouted back
"Not you" he returned "that lad there"
"What ? theres a fuckin manc in here with us"
Tony growled and looked at everyone around him, who could this mystery person be.
I've seen red faces in my time but Tony's face was a picture, I'm convinced he was on the verge of shitting himself.
We flung the hieght of abuse back towards Tony's long lost friend.
Some friend, he could of got him killed.
The game was a cracker Dalglish and Neal secured the points in a very end to end game.
Dalglish scored
Tony jumped up and down with the rest of us
Neal scored
Tony once again joined in with the celebration.
Anything less than full commital may well have been noticed by the fans still tyring to find the mysterious manc in our end.
We got out of the pub and went to the Clarence where the car was parked.
Tony runs the bar and orders a large scotch and four lagers. By the time the second pint was on the bar Tony ordered another large scotch.
Coming back from the bar Tony had his third large scotch in his hands with our pints.
"Fuck me mate, you alright" I asked
Tony was shaking like a willow in a force nine gale.
"You Bastard, you could have got me killed"
Dont foget your driving Tony
"Fuck off yuse are all walkin"
Come on mate, no need for that, you asked for a ticket.
"Not in the fuckin Lions Den I didn't"
After another couple of scotch's Tony drove us home to our local pub, The Croft.
I suppose I always knew Tony had the odd one over the limit, but today he was wobbling.
A few scotch's later and he's off around the bar telling all that would listen about his adventure in the Annie Road End.
He was waving his arms around like a windmill, I dont know how the story was going, but I guess he had reached the part were, he flung his arms up to celebrate King Kenny's goal.
A little smile crossed my face, all the worry had disappeared now, you could see the relief on his face.
I was having a chat with the pub manager about how the game went and heard a massive thump.
As we all looked around, there was Tony's long lost mate sat on his arse nursing his eye.
Tony stood above him
"You fuckin tosser, yer could have had me killed"
We just pissed ourselves laughin as Tony continued to scream at the fellah.
We dragged Tony away to where we were stood,
"leave it mate, he couldn't have meant it"
Tony helped himself to one of the three lined up scotch's he had put in front of him.
Tony began to laugh, none of us knew what he was laughin about, it was probably more relief he was feeling, cos he was alive.
We left the pub at closing time, all well worse for wear.
Tony could hardly walk, only the Lord and he knew how many Scotch's he supped.
"Right" he says, "get in"
WHAT ?
"get in the car, I'm too pissed to walk home"
Tony, yer avin a fuckin laff mate yer cant see.
"I can see better than I can walk, Get in"
Fuck off, I said, I only live down the road, you could get me killed.
"Thats the fuckin idea smart arse, get in"
I was off, he had a look in his eye that saught revenge.
Come on I said, its only 200 yds to mine and 400 to yours, leave the car here.
Nothing I could say was going to change his mind, so off he drove.
We stood on the car park sorting out the venue for Sunday afternoon.
The Leg-Iron it was decided was the best venue, so off we headed home.
When I got to the end of our road I could see Tony's car halfway between mine and his.
I thought, he must of come to his senses and parked up 100 yards short of his front door.
30 minutes later his wife was on the phone.
"Have you seen my Tony" ?
Yes love he left ages ago, I saw his car outside yours.
"Thats what worries me, his cars there but he aint come home"
Visions of Tony shaggin the bird three doors up made me bust with laughter, had he gone to the wrong house.
Dunno love, he was ok when he left us.
The phone clicked
Not even a fuckin goodnight, she always blamed me for getting Tony pissed and for that matter so did he.
6am the following morning, there was a knock on the door.
There stood Tony in all his glory.
"Where the fuck have you been" I asked
IN THE FUCKIN NICK replied Tony
"What"
Remember when I left last night, well I went through the red light on our estate and the Bill pulled me over.
"Good evening sir, have we had a pint" ?
No says Tony
"Are we sure about that"
Yes says Tony
"Whats yer registration number" questions Plod
quick as a flash Tony shouts
WA7 4HZ
"very good sir, says plod, now we have your postcode have you anything else to say before we take you in"
Ah FUCK ! says Tony
Tony never did come to a match with us lot again, in fact we seen very little of him at all.
His wifey poo grounded him for weeks after that.
the moral of the story ?
Don't drink and Drive
or
Never trust a Scouser to get yer match ticket
or
If in doubt, say Fuck all !
