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Justice for the '76
And so we turn to the penultimate chapter of this most entertaining of Premier League seasons. Today, Liverpool travel to Norwich. Many commentators seem to think that the title is theirs, but I'd caution them to make no assumptions -- even if they win today.
It was delightful to see rivals Chelsea lose at home to Sunderland yesterday, but that did more to weaken their chances than strengthen Liverpool's. The other challenger, Manchester City, despite losing at Anfield last Sunday and dropping 2 points against team-of-the-week Sunderland a few days later, are still a threat.
But the biggest threat to Liverpool is themselves and the need to maintain their recent form. I've seen no trace of triumphalism from them; no arrogance, no assumptions. The over-confident predictions have come from the ever-gabbling media and from third-party fans whose ability to express opinion as though it were fact would see them well able to walk into a job writing editorials at most of the UK's esteemed national newspapers.
As Liverpool travel to East Anglia today, what resonates for me is the memory of the same journey I made as an 18 year old QPR fan, on the corresponding weekend in 1976. On the 18 April 1976, following a run of 6 or 7 straight victories, the team had pushed itself back to the top of the table. A victory at Norwich would have virtually guaranteed us the First Division title (Premier League equivalent) for the first time in our history.
The terraces at Carrow Road were packed solid with more blue and white hooped shirts than I recall seeing at any other away league game. The noise and the sense of expectation was immense -- helped, no doubt, by the beer and the strong sunshine. I don't remember feeling anxious, though I probably would have been, or should have been. All I recall before the game was optimism, excitement, noise and heat.
With the help of YouTube, today, for the first time in 38 years, I've relived the desolate agony of that day. In terms of the game, all I've ever been able to recall was the magnificent equaliser from Dave Thomas just before half-time. What I'd no recollection of was the comical cock-up in our defence to give them their first, and especially sad to see that our greatest ever full-back, the no. 2, Dave Clement, normally so dependable, was responsible for the terrible misjudgment.
Clement, the most elegant but solid of defenders, played nearly 500 games in the hoops, starting as a schoolboy and going on to play a number of times for England. When he was forced to retire through injury in 1982, he couldn't cope, lapsing into a debilitating depression. In March of that year, aged 34, he climbed into his bath and drank a can of weedkiller.
The title that year remained unresolved until the final few minutes of the season. QPR had already played their final game (a fine 2-0 victory over Leeds) and had to wait until the following Wednesday, when Liverpool played at Molineux, needing to draw to overtake QPR again at the top. Wolves meanwhile, had to win to stay in the division -- and very nearly managed it, leading 1-0 until the last 14 minutes, when Keegan broke the nation's heart --
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Who knows what will happen today, when this time it's Liverpool who travel to Norwich. Me? I'm looking for revenge. Justice for 1976. But it's not Liverpool I want to see suffer for the pain they caused me, but Norwich.
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