I continue my trip down Memory Lane, recounting my memories of our beloved Anfield stadium....
Part Four. The mighty Kop
By the time Bill Shankly dismantled his great sixties team and a new Liverpool took on a new decade, my granddad had passed away. His seat at the back of the Main Stand remained though and by now it was shared by his three grandsons –(Our Kid #I, Our Kid #II and Yours Truly)
So two out of three weeks I would be on the terraces. This particular Anfield Road-ender had graduated to fully fledged Kopite by 1973 and there I would remain for the next two decades. There was a knot of about half a dozen of us who used to go to the games together. Everyone on the Kop would have their own favourite ‘spec’ on the Kop in those days. Even those who have never been lucky enough to stand on the Kop will know that it was basically a monolithic terrace of concrete steps approx 75mm deep with cast iron barriers arranged across it. In the sixties and early seventies there was a lot fewer barriers than in later years, as more were added as a consequence of the Ibrox disaster in 1971.
Roughly half way up the Kop was a walkway running the full length of the terrace. We used to access the Kop via the turnstiles in flagpole corner paying four bob (20 pence in today’s money) on the gate. It was usual to get in around two o’clock (for a 3pm kick off) in order to get your preferred spot. Having assembled, once through the turnstiles, we would climb the concrete steps to the rear of the Kop and then would progress along the central walkway. Once we were roughly level with the edge of the six-yard box to the right of the Kop goal we would duck under the first couple of barriers and we were there. Unlike today, the crowd would swell early and by half two most people were in situ, and the time until Kick-off would be spent singing.
There was a particular way of standing, as ludicrous as it sounds. As I stated the barriers were relatively sparse then compared to later years and as a result there was a lot of movement in the crowd. You would go five yards to the right or left, and it was not uncommon to spill down twenty steps as part of the fluid mass of humanity. For obvious reasons you could not stand casually with your hands in your pockets. No, you needed to have your hands up high to restrain yourself against the movement, so the default position would be to carry your hands high against your chest, usually gripping your coat lapels or resting on the bloke in front. This also enabled the above head clapping which was an essential part of chanting and singing.
Everyone has heard of the wet-echo method of relieving bladders on the Kop. I can’t honestly say that I had first-hand experience of this phenomenom, although it was not unusual for a large gap to open up next to you to enable a fan to ‘let it flow’. Having arrived at the game with my mates, once the game started it would be every man for himself. By half time we would be separated across an area up to twenty metres apart. Half time would be a time for squeezing back through the gaps in the crowd to get together again to discuss the first half action, before play would start again and off we would go once more.
At the end of the game it was a straight choice. Out via the side exits or up to the back of the Kop and down the steps to the rear on to Walton Road. It was basic to say the least. The staircase to the rear was merely a steeper version of the Kop on the inside. A cascade of steps, deeper and steeper than the terrace inside, with longitudinal handrails provided as a cursory aid to safety. It was a similar design to that at Ibrox Stadium, where at the end of the New Years Old Firm game in 1971 sixty six fans died on the exit stairs. The tragedy occurred as a result of supporters falling and being crushed by the sheer volume of people pouring down the steps.
When you look back on the similarities between the Kop and Ibrox in terms of exits, it is clear that the disaster could just have easily taken place at Liverpool as Glasgow.
As a result of the Inquiry into the Ibrox disaster the ramshackle stairs to the back of the Kop were replaced in the mid-seventies by an encased staircase, complete with regulation stairs and landings.
Later on in the eighties additional barriers were installed on the terraces to reduce the crowd movement. If you look at old photos of the Kop you it is easy to identify the newer barriers as they were square section in contrast to the older circular tube section barriers. This newer design of barriers was much more comfortable for those youngsters who would sit upon them.
It was whilst carrying out the installation of these barriers that a huge void was discovered beneath the concrete terrace which necessitated Liverpool postponing the first three home games of the 1987-8 season. Most people are aware that the original Kop was merely a huge mound of earth onto which the concrete step terracing had been cast directly. As such, the earth beneath the terrace acted as a foundation supporting the concrete terrace. The barriers were merely bolted to the terracing at their base.
The installation of the new barriers required piled foundations up to 4 meters deep in order to meet the loading regulations of the time, and it was during these piling operations that the cavern beneath the Kop was found. There was a land drain running under the famous old standpoint which was uncharted and dated back to the mid 19
th century. Somewhere over the passage of time the drain had developed a leak and over a century this had washed away the ground around the drain. Although it was played down at the time, the potential for disaster here was very real. For years thousands of supporters had been massed on an unreinforced concrete slab with a gaping chasm directly beneath them. The mass fill which was assumed to be supporting the weight of those thousands of fans had long since been washed away, and we should be thankful that the concrete suppliers in the early 1900s had not skimped on the grade of concrete or the consequences do not bear thinking about.
My Kop years would see me celebrating several League title wins, a couple of classic UEFA Cup Final first legs, and countless brilliant games. There was a sense of belonging too. Belonging to a unique brotherhood, brought togather by a common bond: a love for Liverpool Football Club. There was also a speciallove for the famous Kop upon which we stood. It was basic. It smelt. It was sweaty. But every one of us was proud to declare ourselves a Kopite.
Anyway, I have done it again. This ‘chapter’ of my recollections was supposed to be about Kevin Keegan, Kenny Dalglish and fishy goings on in a cup-tie, but I have gone off on a tangent again.
Next time it’ll be back to football... I promise.
