Liverpool Team Quotes

If you have a dad who supports Liverpool you always fucking think you can turn anything around. You know! Ever since that Champions League final.

This city has two great teams - Liverpool and Liverpool reserves.

When fair-play and the interests of the team conflict with each other, which one should you choose?

The eccentric passion of Shankly was underlined for me by my England team-mate Roger Hunt's version of the classic tale of the Liverpool manager's pre-game talk before playing Manchester United. The story has probably been told a thousand times in and out of football, and each time you hear it there are different details, but when Roger told it the occasion was still fresh in his mind and I've always believed it to be the definitive account. It was later on the same day, as Roger and I travelled together to report for England duty, after we had played our bruising match at Anfield. Ian St John had scored the winner, then squared up to Denis Law, with Nobby finally sealing the mood of the afternoon by giving the Kop the 'V' sign. After settling down in our railway carriage, Roger said, 'You may have lost today, but you would have been pleased with yourself before the game. Shanks mentioned you in the team talk. When he says anything positive about the opposition, normally he never singles out players.' According to Roger, Shankly burst into the dressing room in his usual aggressive style and said, 'We're playing Manchester United this afternoon, and really it's an insult that we have to let them on to our field because we are superior to them in every department, but they are in the league so I suppose we have to play them. In goal Dunne is hopeless- he never knows where he is going. At right back Brennan is a straw- any wind will blow him over. Foulkes the centre half kicks the ball anywhere. On the left Tony Dunne is fast but he only has one foot. Crerand couldn't beat a tortoise. It's true David Herd has got a fantastic shot, but if Ronnie Yeats can point him in the right direction he's likely to score for us. So there you are, Manchester United, useless...' Apparently it was at this point the Liverpool winger Ian Callaghan, who was never known to whisper a single word on such occasions, asked, 'What about Best, Law and Charlton, boss?' Shankly paused, narrowed his eyes, and said, 'What are you saying to me, Callaghan? I hope you're not saying we cannot play three men.

we neared Liverpool’s Lime Street station, we passed through a culvert with walls that appeared to rise up at least thirty feet, high enough to block out the sun. They were as smooth as Navajo sandstone. This had been bored out in 1836 and had been in continuous use ever since, the conductor told me. “All the more impressive,” he said, “when you consider it was all done by Irish navvies working with wheelbarrows and picks.” I couldn’t place his accent and asked if he himself was Irish, but he gave me a disapproving look and told me he was a native of Liverpool. He had been talking about the ragged class of nineteenth-century laborers, usually illiterate farmhands, known as “navvies”—hard-drinking and risk-taking men who were hired in gangs to smash the right-of-way in a direct line from station to station. Many of them had experienced digging canals and were known by the euphemism “navigators.” They wore the diminutive “navvy” as a term of pride. Polite society shunned them, but these magnificent railways would have been impossible without their contributions of sweat and blood. Their primary task was cleaving the hillsides so that tracks could be laid on a level plain for the weak locomotive engines of the day. Teams of navvies known as “butty gangs” blasted a route with gunpowder and then hauled the dirt out with the same kind of harness that so many children were then using in the coal mines: a man at the back of a full wheelbarrow would buckle a thick belt around his waist, then attach that to a rope dangling from the top of the slope and allow himself to be pulled up by a horse. This was how the Lime Street approach had been dug out, and it was dangerous. One 1827 fatality happened as “the poor fellow was in the act of undermining a heavy head of clay, fourteen or fifteen feet high, when the mass fell upon him and literally crushed his bowels out of his body,” as a Liverpool paper told it. The navvies wrecked old England along with themselves, erecting a bizarre new kingdom of tracks. In a passage from his 1848 novel Dombey and Son, Charles Dickens gives a snapshot of the scene outside London: Everywhere

And remember, Liverpool reserves are not just any team. Liverpool reserves are the second-best team in the land, son. The only team better than the Liverpool reserve team is the Liverpool first team.

I know you are all disappointed, boys. I know you are all hurt. I can see it in your faces, boys. In every one of your faces. But what is done is done, boys. What is lost is lost. And so you must not let that disappointment, you must not let that hurt, devour your belief and eat your confidence. Because you are still the best side I have ever seen play, boys. You are still the finest team in England since the war. And so you must believe in yourselves and believe in each other, boys. You must have confidence in yourselves and in each other. And then you will win again, boys. And again and again. That is the only answer to disappointment, that is the only way to deal with hurt. To win, boys. And to win and win again. Until you have won the League. Until Liverpool Football Club are the Champions again. That is the only answer now. To win and win again, boys. And to be Champions. Champions again, boys!

The success of Liverpool Football Club is no one-man affair. We are a team. We are a working-class team! We have no room for individuals. No room for stars. For fancy footballers or for celebrities. We are workers. A team of workers. A team of workers on the pitch and a team of workers off the pitch. On the pitch and off the pitch. Every man in our organisation, every man in our team. He knows the importance of looking after the small things, he knows how the small things add up to the important things. From the chairman to the groundsman, every man is a cog has functioned perfectly. In the team. Every man has given one hundred per cent. For the team. And so the team has won. The team are champions, a team of champions. We are all a team of champions! We are all a team.

My erstwhile lady-love would have had a field day analysing the defensive interaction in Brendan Rodgers' Liverpool team last season. Now there was a bunch of men with communication issues.

The goal keeper doesn’t concede the goal but the team does it.

I need young people who are ashamed of the current situation of the team.

Basle in Switzerland. The next season, Juventus was in the European Cup. In the first round, it played the Finnish team Ilves-Kissat and won six-nil. It won the second round, and in the quarterfinals played Sparta Prague: again a victory for Juventus. The semifinal was against Bordeaux. It wasn’t until the final that Juventus played an English team again, the first time since Manchester United visited Turin. The team was Liverpool; the stadium was Heysel in Brussels. Juventus won one-nil; the goal was a penalty kick. Before the match began, thirty-nine people died; six hundred were injured.

By the early seventies I had become an Englishman - that is to say, I hated England just as much as half my compatriots seemed to do. I was alienated by the manager’s ignorance, prejudice and fear, positive that my own choices would destroy any team in the world, and I had a deep antipathy towards players from Tottenham, Leeds, Liverpool and Manchester United.

I could hardly sleep and even when I did drop off, I awoke to a grim thought: I’m disgusting. I can’t play any more. I went to bed with Dudek and all his Liverpool team-mates.

Guardiola would ring him to express his doubts to him, whether they be about the use of space by his players or the behaviour of those off the ball. Rodolf Borrell, now at Liverpool FC, was a coach with one of the Barcelona youth teams at the time, and each week Guardiola went to his defensive training sessions to observe and learn.

It’s the same in England,’ they’d tell her. ‘Wherever you’ve got Catholics and Protestants in the same place.’ Manchester had United (Catholic) and City (Protestant), Liverpool had Liverpool (Catholic) and Everton (Protestant). It only got complicated in London. London even had Jewish teams.

1892 is not only an ordinary date, but it is the time of existence of a football giant, a rare legend of the 21st century that does not smell of blood and tears. It is the date of birth of a team which wrote a history that not only must be read, but must also be memorized. A little after its foundation, it became the nightmare of first the Premier League clubs and then other clubs around the World. There was no team it didn’t defeat and no fun group it didn’t upset. Within 125 years, it won 18 league championships, 5 European cups, 7 FA cups, 8 league cups, 3 UEFA Super Cups, 15 Charity Shield Cups, ve 3 FA Youth Cups. As the club began to win cups, it got richer and its support group expanded. It conquered the hearts of about 600 million people around the World, its name and its song was chanted everyday by its supporters. Joy and sorrow, night and day, death and life always follow each other like victory and defeat. By the early 1990s the ship began to leak. Its popularity diminished around the World as it weakened and its opponents strengthened. That made its management hopeless, its supporters sad and its players pressured. Infrequent derby victories became only a consolation and past memories and childish dreams became the only sanctuary for its supporters. However its love has never ceased and will not. Because it is not only a football team, it is an excitement, a desire for victory, a passion, a love. Yes, it is a love, a red-white love. And this book is a message thrown into the ocean of the future within a bottle to highlight the expectations and dreams of lovers of red-white colors. Will the bottle reach the shore, will anyone read its message, will the message mean anything for the people? No one can predict this.

Tank looked at Grace again and he could see the concern in her eyes. Fine lines creased the black skin on her forehead, which showed she was worried. Tank broke her intense gaze and looked directly at Major Stanley Timms. The Major and Tank were waiting for an opportunity to enter Soviet territory with a crack team of Special Forces, with the direct backing of both American and British governments. This was their chance to do it without causing a serious political crisis. Chechnya and Dagestan were Islamic extremist strongholds, but more importantly they were the last known whereabouts of the nefarious Yasser Ahmed. The time had come to collect on a debt. CHAPTER

Sir Alex Ferguson explained to me the importance of coaching: We take coaching very seriously at this club. Players do not choose what to do in training. At other clubs, left to their own choice, the players would choose to have a kick around. They can play six-a-side at Liverpool. Not at our place. We coach them, drill them and they practise … We start skills coaching as early as six years old. Character coaching becomes critical between sixteen and eighteen. Players have to learn about failure. We cannot guarantee every Academy player makes the first team. Ninety-two current players in the league came out of our Academy. But remember, they can get injured; they can hit a run of bad form; they may never make it. For those who don’t, at least we trained them in character.

The Kop didn't care where you came from - once they saw you cared for your team as much as they did for theirs they gave you respect.