I have a friend who struggles to find the city of Liverpool on a map, but would give the life of his newborn grandchild to attend a home match. In fact, any game.

 He is unable to explain the depth of his obsessive hyper-fandom, which borders on a mild psychiatric condition. On any Saturday he will be dressed in frayed team colours, his voice becoming more scouse-like the closer to kickoff, lubricated by specially bought cans of Carlsberg Lager, once a shirt sponsor...

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