Football and inherited hate

I have the rare privilege of knowing my enemies. Dipo Opatola. David Bamgbala. Tunji Oni. Marvin. Bolaji Pedro. They are childhood mates. Sadly, they have sold their souls to the Spirit Of Shankly. They are irredeemable Liverpool fans. Sprites that stick little daggers in my sides anytime Man United loses.

The good thing about knowing these enemies is that I know to ignore their phone calls when Man United loses. They are not calling to check if I’ve taken my medicine. They call to kick me at my frailest. Scousers. Evil people.

But there is an enemy I cannot dodge. One that lives under my roof.

My wife.

She is a Liverpool fan.

I have been sleeping with the enemy.

Begat children by her.

I did not read the fine print before saying “I do.” Now I cannot un-Do.

If I have any joy, it is that my daughters have not drunk of her treachery. Red is the blood that courses through their veins.

But man, I detest Liverpool. Since Sir Alex left, they’ve been pulling our pants down with glee and spanking us with sadistic gusto. In the manner Tom spanks Jerry. The 3-0 loss last weekend still smarts and the agony of the 7-0 mutilation at Anfield last year will last a millennium. Mo Salah has scored more goals at Old Trafford in two years than Marcus Rashford, Garnacho, Hojlund and Antony. That is pathetic. They now call Old Trafford ‘Mo Trafford.’ Egyptians are never up to any good. They enslaved God’s people for 400 years.

But why do I and other Mancunians hate Liverpool so? After all, other clubs have given us a good hiding in recent years. Barcelona has robbed us of two Champions League trophies. The din from the blue half of Manchester is deafening. And Real Madrid has displaced us in global appeal and followership. So, why aren’t we mad at this lot?  Why does Liverpool bear the brunt of our ire?

It started first with off-pitch rivalry before moving to the field. Here’s a little history.

Off-pitch rivalry

It was in the mid-1840s. The Industrial Revolution was well on its way. The cities of Manchester and Liverpool thrived. Manchester was “Cottonopolis” because of the abundance of textile factories in the city. Liverpool, on the other hand, was a prosperous port city, benefitting from tremendous quantities of goods passing through its docks. As the two most prosperous cities in the English North West, petty rivalry was not alien. Liverpool prided itself as the “first port in the world” and regarded Manchester as “a town of mechanics.”

Yup. The scousers had it coming.

The city of Manchester hated the perceived high fees charged by Liverpool’s port and railway. It was considered even more burdensome when the long depression of the 19th century hit. They had to do something. Manchester merchants began working on how to bypass Liverpool’s port.

And boom, in 1894, the merchants built the Manchester Ship Canal.

Ships could now transport their goods to Manchester via the canal and out of the UK without needing to dock in Liverpool. Vessels would carry on through the Mersey River into Manchester’s new canal and bypass Liverpool.

With the disintermediation, numerous businesses in Liverpool went under. Hundreds of people lost their jobs and income. And to rub salt into the wound, Manchester eclipsed Liverpool in prosperity and cultural significance. Everyone in Liverpool hated Manchester.

On-pitch rivalry

Despite Manchester’s economic growth, Liverpool was the football powerhouse. A European and English juggernaut. It dominated English football in the 1970s and 1980s.

Between 1963 and 1990, Liverpool won 13 league titles, four UEFA Champions League, four FA Cups and two Europa League trophies. In the same period, Man United only won two league titles, one UEFA Champions League, five FA Cups and zero Europa League. Liverpool now had something to taunt their neighbours with. And they never ceased to.

But things changed in 1986 with the appointment of a certain Scot – Sir Alex Ferguson. Fergie turned United’s fortunes around. Between 1986 and 2013, he racked up an impressive haul: 13 League titles, two UEFA Champions League, six FA Cups and one Europa Cup. In the same period, Liverpool was about as productive as a man with a vasectomy.

Sir Alex knocked Liverpool off their arrogant smug perch. The taunts swung in favour of United.

Here is a quick quiz for you: between 1990 and 2020, there was one ship that never berthed in the port of Liverpool. Know what the ship was called?

The Premiership!

A young Liverpool fan once asked Ryan Giggs for an autograph. The enthusiastic Ryan Giggs brought out a paper, signed on it and gave it to the eager lad. The lad took the paper and tore it to shreds in front of Giggs. Such is the beef.

Former Liverpool keeper, David James – or – “Calamity James”, once explained:

“I could never say I hated any United players just for being United players… But the rivalry became a habit, I suppose; on England trips, Liverpool lads would eat at one table, United boys at another. There was tension there and we avoided one other”.

Yeah, the beef is meaty.

An interesting trivia: Phil Chisnall in 1964 was the last player to transfer directly between either side. Players never move directly between the two clubs. It never happens. Not if you want to live a peaceful existence.

So, that’s the origin of the Man United-Liverpool rivalry.

But, history aside. The point of this piece is to introspect, for academic reasons,  if I, Jide, have a basis for detesting Liverpool FC. Sure, I am required to disrelish Liverpool as a Man United fan with the simple syllogism:

All Man United fans are to hate Liverpool FC.

Jide is a Man United fan.

Therefore Jide is to hate Liverpool FC.

But do I have skin in this bitter rivalry? Am I inheriting a hate I have no business joining?

When I started supporting Man United in 1997, I didn’t know about the bitter rivalry between United and Liverpool. United played some amazing football in both legs of the Champions League semi-final tie against Borussia Dortmund. They lost both legs 2-0 on aggregate but the football was breathtaking. I sympathised with them and told myself “I like this club. I’m supporting this club from now on.” That was it. I didn’t know anything about the Manchester Ship Canal or Phil Chisnall. I didn’t know about the despicable Hillsborough and Munich chants. Didn’t know Fergie was scheming to knock Liverpool “off their f**king perch.”

But now, I have joined in the vitriol. I identify as Mancunian. But I’m not Bury-, Salford-, Trafford- or Altrincham-born. I’m from Alimosoho Local Government. In fact, I’m no more Mancunian than I’m a zebra.

I deride Nigerian Liverpool supporters as “nonsense scousers.” But they don’t speak Scouse, do they? They are not from Knowsley, Liverpool, Sefton or Wirral. They are from Imeko, Iragbiji, Ilisan-Remo, Oshogbo, Lagos Island and other podunk places. But they too consider themselves Liverpudlian. They are about as Liverpudlian as they are orangutans.

This introspection impinges on the seeming disdain with which some English fans regard their club’s global fanbase. It is often argued that if you are not born in or live in say, Manchester, you cannot be a ‘real’ Manchester United fan. You are a “plastic fan.” I am a plastic fan, never mind that I’ve travelled to watch United a couple of times, bought club jerseys and merchandise and emotionally invested in the club. My money is good enough for the club but not my fealty.

But hey, who cares about origins? Who cares about history? We hate Liverpool but love Everton. Let us all jump on this hate wagon and ride it till the wheels come off! Glory glory Man United!