Reds' away fans teach pub guard dogs a lesson!

Of course, most Liverpool fans have a story to tell about one away game or another – mine comes from right at the very start of the 1983-84 season.

‘Let’s go to Wolves tomorrow’ was the consensus of opinion in The Talbot on the Friday night. Of course, come Saturday morning at 10am, there were just three of us – heading down the M6 in my rusty Fiat.

If you’ve ever been to Molineux, then you’ll know exactly which pub I’m on about when I say that we stopped at the first drinking house on the main drag off the M6 heading towards Wolverhampton. I had only just opened the car door when the landlord appeared, with a huge Alsation shackled to each wrist. He wasn’t going to let us in so we threw half a dozen oranges at his dogs and sped off (as fast as a Fiat could possibly speed).

How many (innocent) match-goers had that pan-faced Black Country arse turned away in his tenancy? So, I presume like every other one who had faced the wrath of the pub dogs, we sought a pint elsewhere. The next pub is only a mile down the road and we were welcomed with open arms, and it was still two hours to kick-off. It was only when pulling out of the car park to head for Molineux did we see the barman, who had just served us copious amounts of Skol, or some other cheap lager, heading for the bus stop with a Liverpool shirt on!! Yes, of course we gave him a lift.

As for the game itself, Rushie scored with a deflected shot as the main group of travelling Liverpool fans performed what looked like a rain dance in the top three rows of the Main Stand. It finished 1-1.

Rush scored one, Rush scored two, Rush scored three and....

We managed to round up about 150 Reds as we headed back home but, before slipping back onto the motorway, we called at ‘the dog pub’ again. Hopelessly outnumbered, the Alsatians whimpered and the landlord, whose name was (and still is) Barry, had no choice but to let us all in. We taught him a lesson he’ll never forget!!! We bought, and drank beer. We were all extremely polite and we all graciously thanked him for his hospitality as we left. Barry’s poor dogs weren’t so lucky. One wag had concealed a lump of the very best Lebanese black in a meat pie and fed it to ‘Bootsy and Snudge’. The sight of a pair of Black Country Alsatians completely stoned, wandering around listening to Bob Marley on the jukebox and continually falling over is something I shan’t forget.