Liverpool 3-3 Manchester, 1994.
My best pal, a big Liverpool fan, gave me her spare. My husband’s advice was simple: “Keep your head down love.”
In Anfield, I was reading the programme before the match and my pal piped up.
“See Giggs is playing for you,” she said.
At least 100 pairs of hostile eyes turned to me and I remembered those words, ‘keep your head down love’.
Brucie scored with a brilliant downward header to put United 1-0 up. I squeaked but sat still, listening to the abuse for my team all around me.
‘Keep your head down love’ I kept thinking.
Eleven minutes later, Giggs evaded Wright’s desperate lunge and floated a gorgeous left foot shot over Grobbelaar. I squeaked again, louder this time but still sat on my hands and listened to the fury of the crowd as my mate elbowed me hard in the ribs.
‘Keep your head down love’ I repeated once again.
Then Ruddock went in with all the grace of a clog-wearing wrestler on Keane and gave United a free-kick. Irwin obliged and belted it high to Grobbelaar’s right.
Before I knew it, I was on my feet cheering as we’d just gone 3-0 up at Anfield and in that same instant, the reason for my husbands advice became clear.
I was pelted with anything the Scousers could lay their hands on. Pies, beer, programmes – they chucked the lot. Ace.