my nickname was Barney Rubble,
from the Flintstones. Maybe it was
because I was one of those players
who looked after everybody else
because that’s what Barney Rubble
did. Maybe it was because I looked
like him, maybe I ran like him, I
don’t know but I do know I was
really happy the Kop called me that
— and they still do to this day.
I have a ticket for tonight’s final
and hopefully I’ll be travelling back
on Sunday with the cup in my hands.
Well, I am waiting for the invitation
to be able to do that! We did not see
much of Paris in 1981 but what we
saw was enough. It was about the
football and winning the game.
Andy Robertson is a hero with the
fans and a hero with me. He’s an
established player now, he has
matured into his position. Liverpool
saw him at Hull City and invested in
a player they could improve and they
have turned him into a really
fabulous full back.
My manager was Bob Paisley and
he was very like Jürgen Klopp in that
they are both winners. When Paisley
took over from Bill Shankly, he knew
what he had to do, get in new
players, change the formation, and
Klopp is exactly the same. They both
get the best from their teams. You
don’t just produce something special
in a cup final, you have to have been
producing it every week.about, but we won and that was
important.
We had lots of respect for Real,
every one of us had to work hard on
a diabolical pitch but the fans were
fantastic and when I scored the goal,
I ran towards them. They were
trying to get on the pitch and I was
trying to get off it! I didn’t mind thatwalk your dog on. It was a rugby
pitch and rugby had been played on
it the week before.
Real were a great football team,
like us, but you could not distinguish
who was the better team because
all our passes were going where
they shouldn’t have gone. The
actual game was not worth talkingworried in case I broke it again
because I’d been told another break
would mean I would be out for three
or four months.
It finished 1-0, and people called it
a boring final and I don’t blame
them. I would never want to watch it
again. Every player from both teams
would tell you the pitch was not fit toI always felt that I could score goals
for Liverpool, that instead of passing
to a player in better position I could
give it a go and, on this occasion,
against Real Madrid, fortunately it
went in.
If there was a tactical plan, then it
was simply to win the game. When
Ray Kennedy picked up the ball for
the throw-in, he saw my run and
that I wasn’t being marked. I ended
up inside the box with the ball at my
feet thinking, ‘What am I doing
here?’ You have to make your mind
up pretty quickly. I could see my
options. Kenny Dalglish was out of
position as he had gone to receive
the throw-in. David Johnson was
in the box, so he was in the back of
my mind, but I wanted desperately
to shoot.
I would suggest that the unlikely
scorer this time against Real Madrid
would be Alisson, the goalkeeper. He
has already scored for the team,
against West Bromwich Albion last
year, so you can picture him towards
the end of the game in Paris, with
Liverpool needing a goal and him
going up the pitch and heading in.
Before our final in 1981 the doctors
advised that I could play but with a
plastic cast on my wrist because I
had broken it a few weeks earlier.
The cast was allowed in England but
when I got to France I was told that
Uefa had said I could not play
wearing one.
Instead, I wore a bandage that was
applied very tightly. In the footage of
the match, you can’t tell I’m wearing
strapping but in some close up
photos you can see what looks like a
wrist band. Subconsciously, I wasI was thinking, ‘What am I doing here?’
12 1GG Saturday May 28 2022 | the times
Full back Alan Kennedy
on being the unlikely
goalscoring hero when
Liverpool beat Real in the
1981 European Cup final
Kennedy scores the only goal of the game in Paris 41 years ago before celebrating with the European Cup, above rightFROM THE ARCHIVES
A look back at some of the greatest moments in sporting history
December 4, 2013, 4.50pm. Upper
Anfield Road Stand. I look to my
eldest son: ten years old, recovering
from his first Anfield experience.
Liverpool have beaten Norwich 5-1.
Luis Suárez has scored four. “It’s
not always like this,” I tell him with
a grin.
Five years later: May 2018. He and
I are trudging mournfully through
night time Kyiv, flanked by hundreds
of other quietened Liverpool
supporters, after defeat in the
Champions League final. It’s a long
way to come to have a dream bargedoff you. Earlier, we’d sat in a sun-
blasted Shevchenko park, as it filled
with red flares and fan songs. Now,
as we walk through this beautiful
city, my phone buzzes with a text
from the Ukrainian owner of our
Airbnb: “We cry with you.”
I grew up on Merseyside. Now we
live five hours’ drive from Anfield.
Every home match is an away fixture
for us, requiring planning, time and
mileage. Who’s going, how do we get
there, can you revise on the train?
But these journeys, with my sons, on
trains, in the car, are highlights of mypast decade, as much as the matches
themselves. Playlists and podcasts
are shared, line-ups are predicted,
scores are forecast.
We get to have conversations we’d
never quite have at home. It may
only be three sentences here or an
emotional check-in there, while
staring out the car window. But they
have become our rhythms and
rituals. A literal example of Virgil
van Dijk’s recent exhortation to
“enjoy the ride”.
What a time for my boys, growing
up in the Jürgen Klopp era. They
have seen Europe come to Anfield —
Paris Saint-Germain, Borussia
Dortmund, Bayern Munich, Roma,
AC Milan, Benfica. And Barcelona,
of course. “We’ll still go, and see
Messi,” I say after Liverpool went
3-0 down in the away leg. “You’ll be
able to tell your grandkids you saw
Messi play”.
But they won’t. They’ll say they
saw Trent, and Gini, and Divock, at
one of the great comebacks, one of
the greatest matches, of all time. Mo
Salah, not even playing, in his “Never
Give Up” top. Barcelona send us to
Madrid, and another final where, asDivock slots the second, me and my
youngest son (there’s a rota for who
goes) are hugged by bouncing
strangers in the Wanda
Metropolitano. I have stopped
saying: “It’s not always like this.”
It’s become very much like this,
due to Klopp. The boss you wish
you had. Reluctant to take credit,
happy to shoulder blame. He’ll
defend the city, the fans, the club,
while calling them out when thingsaren’t right. No leaving early, no
ticket price rises. He’s made it fun.
And he’s funny. How many
managers can you say that about?
Using humour to defuse and deflect,
to protect and inspire. In his second
language, for goodness sake.
He’s built a fluid, passionate team
full of players you want to be your
mates, as impressive off the pitch as
on, from Jordan Henderson’s
PlayersTogether for the NHS,
through Divock Origi’s Liverpool
University scholarships, to Salah
bringing Mo’men Zakaria, an
Egyptian player diagnosed with
amyotrophic lateral sclerosis in 2020,
into the Liverpool dressing room to
share FA Cup celebrations. A team
of captains and ambassadors;
modern role models.
My ten-year-old son from 2013, is
off to university this autumn. His
first-choice university is 30 minutes
from Anfield. I’m hoping he’ll want
to meet at the match still. Thanks
Jürgen, thanks lads. For giving us the
journeys of our lives, for showing us
how to navigate through: believe,
don’t doubt. Don’t leave early. Never
give up. Enjoy the ride.FAN OF
THE WEEK
SPECIAL
Messi was overshadowed in the
semi-final game at Anfield in 2019Chris Chibnall, creator of ITV drama
Broadchurch, on the joy of Klopp
and his Liverpool life lessonsAnswers: 1) 11, 2) Manchester City, 3) Wimbledon, 4) 1960, 5) Romania and Yugoslavia, 6) 1974, 7) 1997, 8) 1993-94, 9) 42, 10) Inter Milan, 11) Parc des Princes, Paris 12) Zinedine Zidane