IF you’ll allow me something of an indulgence, I’d like to talk to you about what’s really important.
I didn’t go to the Chelsea game. I haven’t seen the game, neither live nor on Match of the Day. I haven’t seen the goals, I haven’t seen any match reports, haven’t followed the obvious Twitter explosion (a nailed on penalty apparently?) and haven’t read any of the undoubtedly fine analysis on this site.
I was supposed to be there. Main Stand, my Dad’s season ticket. My brothers, Keith and Kevin, were supposed to be on The Kop. They weren’t. We didn’t sell our tickets on, didn’t pass them to our mates; there were three empty seats at Anfield on Saturday.
We spent Saturday and Friday and most of Sunday in Fazakerley Hospital with our Dad and a great deal of extended family and on Sunday, as our Keith put it: “on a sunny Sunday Liverpool afternoon, at two minutes past two, our Father and best mate passed away.”
Robert Salmon –– Bob, Bobby to his brothers, sisters and workmates –– Dad, was born in 1935. 20th of Feb 1935. 79 years old, going to the match since the 50s. A season-ticket holder for nearly 60 years. He’d seen it all. He’d seen some rubbish in the early days, the second division days, but he’d seen the glory. He saw Shankly build a team, he saw Shankly build HIS team, the team we were given, the team we follow. He saw the birth of all we hold dear, he saw the empire start. He named me for two of the foundation stones of the empire, he named his first son for the men who built the glory.
He holidayed in Butlins in Pwllheli in (1960 I think), impressed by the fact that Jimmy Melia and Bobby Campbell and Johnny Morrisey were holidaying there. The fact that he and his friends were also associating with a singer called Rory Storm was less notable. Rory’s drummer was even less noted. Lad called Ringo.
He was there in ’65 at Wembley when we brought home that first FA Cup; that holy cup, the one that started everything, the one we’d wanted for so long. He was there when the lads still went the match in suits and overcoats. When they went to the match in overcoats in May.
He was there at the semi final when there was a pitch invasion, when the last whistle brought a joyous pitch invasion with the knowledge that Wembley beckoned. All the time that our Father stood as a role model for us we knew that he’d kept the copy of the Echo that contained a photo that featured him as a member of the army that invaded the pitch. We loved him all the more for that. One of the many, many things that we loved him for.
He did the homes, he did the aways. With his mates, with our Uncles; Lenny, Dave, Jimmy. With his mates. He did the hard miles in the years before motorways. Sunderland in winter without motorways? He did 74 to watch us ram Supermac’s words down his throat. He did the leagues, all those leagues, all those glorious leagues that we took as birthright, he saw them all. He saw such things, such wonders. He saw the glory which was Rome. He stayed sober for three days (he always claimed he did anyway) in order that he could see the city and enjoy the city. He ate nothing but ice cream for three days because he was a simple Liverpool lad; an Everton-born Liverpool lad who didn’t trust that fancy foreign food. When he found a menu which contained the word ‘spaghetti’ (which one would imagine would be plentiful in that particular city) he ordered it and was amazed at ‘this white stuff’ that arrived having fully expected it to be of the tinned Heinz variety. That’s what he told us, we believed him, you believe your Dad on these things.
Bruges in 78 by boat. Back by boat. Nearly back to Bruges by boat. The ‘no-drinking’ concept firmly abandoned, he had decided to get back on the boat to (and I quote) ‘thank the captain for a nice ride.’
He drank in the Park Hotel in Netherton after home games in the 70s and 80s. Drank with Roy Evans and Ronnie Moran and Ronnie Whelan and Ian Rush and that period of stardom and greatness (and if the dates are wrong or the players were others then it’s because the legend has become bigger in my mind ––Evo’s a definite though).
Paris. Three European Cups. He was at three European Cup wins. Not bad that, is it? Not many teams can do that can they? And he’s one of so many that can claim that. His story, his footballing story, is the same as yours, or your Dad’s or your Granddad’s, it’s what we all share, it’s what unites every one of us. My Dad was one of us. Unique and wonderful and brilliant and one of us, one of this big thing that we all have in common. In love with the game, in love with the club.
He was at Hillsborough. He was in the stand and he watched as the stretchers came past, powerless to do anything and waiting to see if the next one had either Keith or Kevin on it. He was lucky. We were lucky. Our family came home but he knew how close it could have been, knew how lucky we were. He didn’t talk about what he saw, we didn’t discuss the details very often. One of the guys that went there on the coach that my Dad went on was one of the 96. The coach waited, had to leave without him, had to come back not knowing. We don’t know who it was. When the phone call came through that evening that told him that it was the first time that I’d ever seen my Father cry.
And he brought us up on this club that he loved, this game that he loved. The three of us. Keith and Kevin before me. I came to the game relatively late on but I got there. Late 70s, through the 80s, educated the right way. The Paddock first. For us. Back when it was a big gap between the main stand and the pitch. Then the Kop. But he was the Main Stand. As long as I can remember, the Main Stand. Where the grown ups sit. I’m older now than he was then but the Main Stand is where the grown ups sit. I’m not a grown up, I never will be. At heart I don’t think he was either. But he was Main Stand and we were Kop. And we’d go together and we’d split up when we got there and we’d agree one thing, always one thing (and this is where the tears start) “We’ll meet you at the wall after the match”.
The wall. Facing the corner where the The Kop and The Main Stand meet. That’s where we’d meet them; my Dad, Lenny, my Granddad (his best mates, reunited with his best mates now), we’d meet them by the wall. Gone now. Gone for years, replaced by a fence but still it was “We’ll meet you by the wall”. The fence has gone now, it’s just ground waiting for the expansion but we were “meeting by the wall” up until about a month ago when Dad became too weak to go anymore.
Walking had been an issue for a while but he’d done his damnedest to keep going. We hoped for more, hoped to get him to the game, hoped for the Madrid game, for possibly one last big European night, spoke to the club, asked if we could arrange to bring him in a wheelchair, get him to his seat, store the chair somewhere (they offered up a space under the Kop, they were as excellent as you’d want them to be) and get back to him at the end of the game.
But he was too tired and the weather was foul and it was cold. It didn’t happen. Chelsea maybe? Maybe we could get him to the Chelsea game? He had oxygen at home, if we could get a portable version? If we could find a space where he could watch from the wheelchair?
We didn’t get to ask the question. He was hospitalised a week before the Chelsea game and on the day before the match he started to go downhill.
So we didn’t go the game. We didn’t see the coverage, we didn’t watch Match of the Day. We possibly never will because, whatever happened in the game, it doesn’t really matter.
I found out a few years ago that my Dad’s ambition had been to be a sports journalist. I’ve somehow, luckily, in a pretty unlikely turn of events, managed to do some of what he wanted to do. I’m delighted by that fact. Delighted, proud and comforted. Something of him is here, always here, in my opinions, in the way I voice them, in the fact that I do it at all. In the fact that I go to the game.
My Dad’s story is the same as yours, as your Dad’s as your Granddad’s as all of us. One of the many thousands of us whose name you never know but you might have passed by as you walk to your seat or in the street before the game. I’m lucky enough to be able to tell you it here because of everything he gave me. Because of the love and the passion and the allegiance and the faith in the team.
I hope I’ve done him some justice here, I’ve not even covered the things that made him truly special; they’re unique and indescribable. His fight to stay with us over the last three days has been immense and inspirational. It allowed us all to say our goodbyes, to tell him how much he was loved. And God he was loved. By so many people. He was that most wonderful of things; a truly good man.
As we were with him we played him You’ll Never Walk Alone. Twice on that last morning. A song to support him, to let him know that we were there, to let him know that he wasn’t alone. He knew. He wasn’t. He was never alone. The Palace game is going to be difficult, I may not be able to handle the minutes before kick off. It’s always an emotional song, obviously it’s always an emotional song, this time it’s going to be a million times more powerful. This time it’s for my Dad, for every time from now on, it’s for my Dad.
We told him this. And we told him one other thing. One of the last things that we told him; to let him know that we know we’ll see him again, to let him know that he’ll see his friends again, those that went before him who he’d missed and whose lives had contained as much of the passion for this great thing that we all share as his had.
We told him this:
“We’ll meet you by the wall after the match.”
And we will.
Good night, Dad.
YNWA.
Really sorry to hear about your loss mate. Your dad sounds like a top bloke. It was nice to read about him
Moving. Poignant. Incredible piece.
Very well said. Supporters like your dad built the club and its reputation. They were the professional supporters of which Shankly spoke. RIP
That was lovely. I’m so sorry for your loss. You have written something really beautiful here, and like Robin says above, your dad sounds like a legend.
“We’ll meet you at the wall after the match”. Lump in the throat that.
It’s our meet up point too, thoughts will be with you and yours after the Stoke game.
RIP. YNWA.
Really sorry to hear about your loss Ian. Echoing Robins comments, your old man sounds a top bloke, and it was nice to read about his experiences whilst supporting the Reds. Thanks.
That’s some tribute. You done him proud.
I read that with a lump in my throat. I lost my Dad 3 years ago, he too started following Liverpool in the 50’s and after Hillsborough was also the first time I saw him cry. We both had season tickets in the Kop and our shout was “meet you by the time capsule” The one in the middle of the floor on the concourse under the Kop. I still can’t get through You’ll Never Walk Alone without choking up and I always shake my fist up to the sky whenever we score. I don’t know if he’s up there, but by doing so in my heart I feel that he’s there with me. I’m sure you and your brothers will find some way of keeping your Dad’s spirit with you too. Condolences to you all at this very sad time. You’ll Never Walk Alone.
Brilliantly Written. You’ve done him proud.
RIP Bobby Salmon. YNWA.
A fine, touching tribute. Very sorry for your loss. YNWA
A beautiful piece.
Sympathies for your loss.
RIP. YNWA.
Beautiful piece, so sorry for your loss.
God bless him and all your family. X
Brilliant, you’ve done him really proud.
So much of what you said reminds me of my old man.
R.I.P
YNWA
Amazing eulogy. Had me near tears myself. YNWA.
I’m deeply sorry for your loss. This is a lovely tribute to your father.
That was brilliant thats exactly what we would say to our mates we progre ssed from boys pen to the cop then the main stand we would allways say meet you by the wall the same one corner of the cop and main stand rip your dad
A wonderful heartfelt tribute to you Dad. I’m sure there are many who can identify with your feelings. Feel proud when you hold back the tears when you sing YNWA
deeply inspiring piece
sorry for your loss
YNWA
Sorry for you loss, mate (and thanks for embarrassing me at work). Sounds like he was one of the good guys and took everything he could from life. If you’ve got your family and your football, you’ve got everything you need.
RIP Robert Salmon. Liverpool supporter.
Really sorry to hear about your loss mate, wish you guys well in these difficult moments
Thanks for taking the time to share those memories. My dad passed away in 2001, like yours ‘old school’ and a match goer (the Paddock) until the last. He ‘retired’ to the seats from his spec on the Kop and we’d say to him ‘See you by the tree after the match’, the tree being at the entrance to the park opposite the Arkles. Whenever I walk past it I think of him. I suspect there are many such places dotted around Anfield.
I am a Red because of my dad from the paddock to the Kop to Leicester away Wembley cup finals he gave me so many first experiences following our club.
A wonderful piece by our kid sums him up a true Red but a true gent he will be missed by many but remembered by all who met. All that was good about our wonderful city and club.
Thanks for all who comment there are loads of people like us if people just look.
A Liver bird upon my chest we are men of Shankly’s best!
YNWA Bob Salmon
No words to match that amazing, beautifully written tribute, just our heartfelt condolences to the Salmon’s.
Paula and Gary (J’s cousin )
Deepest condolences, Keith
Condolences but your father would be rightly proud of this tribute. Fantastic.
Lovely piece. RIP.
Really sorry for your loss,
The experiences you share will resonate with all who associate with this great club and all those that made it great like your late father.
RIP YNWA
I met your dad once or twice through knowing Keith. He was a lovely fella.
He had 3 great lads, you’re all proof of what a top red and a boss fella he was.
sorry for your loss.
YNWA Bob x
A fine and memorable tribute to your dad. I’m always in awe and respect of the fans in your dad’s day who traveled to the away matches and supported the team at home week in week out. I’m convinced it’s your dads type of fan who inspired the Shanks/Paisley teams to play the way they did. Hats off and salute Robert Salmon –– Bob, Bobby – a Liverpool fan for ever.
Sorry for you loss,
Thank you for sharing those memories, a great tribute to your father.
Really moving piece. You’ve done your dad proud.
Y.N.W.A
Very moving and a beautiful piece. I’m sure you’re old man read that up on the spiritual plateau and he;s proud. Very sorry to hear about the loss mare. Godbless
I’m just a southern Liverpool fan sitting in a pub in London waiting for my girlfriend to turn up, never commented on anything here before. Reading the your tribute absolutely choked me up, you couldn’t have written anything better, he would have been proud.
Wish there were words that could somehow ease your pain, he sounds like a great man. I will just say that You’ll Never Walk Alone and hope you gain some sort of strength from someone thinking of you.
So very sad to hear of your loss Ian, He sounded a great guy,a true scouser and a true Red, our family have walked down the same path. Meet you behind the goal on the kop, that was my dad’s saying ,way before all the seating. Then our Bob this year another true red, gone but never forgotten, next time your on the kop mate,and you hear you’ll never walk alone, shed a tear there’s many on there doing the same thing.
I would love to of met your dad, if he was like you and your Keith then he as left a great legacy,please give my condolence to all your family, RIP ,YNWA
Blue from Jersey
Tears in my eyes as I finished this. Beautiful piece. Amazing; from the heart, wonderfully touching.
RIP
Wonderful and moving read. Cherish those memories and your dad will always be with you.
YNWA
Great piece from Ian,
As always,
Condolences to your good self and all concerned.
A wonderful piece. I saw Keith and Nikki in Marks today. I told Keith I’d finally finished his book. I obviously didn’t know your dad but feel like I do now through Keith’s and your words. You’ve both done him proud. Rest in peace Bob.
So very sorry to hear about your dad, he truly will never walk alone . You and your brothers are a credit to him God Bless you.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us…..
God Bless & RIP
“You’ll Never Walk Alone “
Lovely piece. So sorry for your loss. You should be proud of such a wonderful tribute. God bless.
Sorry for your loss, Ian. Welled up after reading that – I’m sure your Dad would be proud of such an incredible tribute.
A lovely tribute to your father, the type of man who built the club. Keep on doing him proud, mate,
Wonderful tribute Ian, heartfelt and moving. Rest In Peace.
Remarkably poignant piece Ian. Moving. Your Dad would be proud. YNWA
Well said lad, the paddock in the early seventies was where I received my real education. No doubt your dad was one of the sages I listened to as a youngster. Great people, and so proud to be scousers, they where an inspiration and great fun to be around. No doubt he would be proud of your eulogy, well done.
Beautiful.
Touching.
That’s a lovely piece.
Really touched me.
YNWA
Fantastic piece of writing. Sorry, just got a bit dusty in here …
What a powerful piece of writing about the fabric of a son, father, supporter and inspiration to a generation of liverpool football clubs fans. The symbolism of the wall is so poignant and powerful that it underscores why we believe! The wall is what holds us all up and behind the club – your wall, our wall, my wall …. our prayers and blessings are with you and your family and our hearts are with your Dad! He is sitting in the main stand as even i and others write our little piece to you all! The main stand where he finally belongs watching us all.
I am in tears reading this. You spoke for so many men who are heart, sons. Sons of gentlemen like your father. This is a time of grief but he has left you and your family with so much to treasure, grief and pride is yours. You have done him proud too. Beautiful writing.
I don’t think anyone could ask for a more moving tribute, Ian. I didn’t know your dad, but he sounded like one heck of a fella! You’ve done him proud with this. Very sorry for your family’s loss.
Such a moving and emotional story.. I never met your dad , Keith , but if he was anything like you then he must’ve been a great man and a great red… Be proud of your dad cos reading that article he sounds like an incredible person.. Pass on my regards to your family.. You’ll never walk alone
Cheers Tony and to everyone else who have left such wonderful comments. The beauty is my dad was like many working class heroes and their sons try to carry on their work.
Ian wrote the piece and I couldn’t be prouder.
Not an indulgence. An extraordinary piece of writing. I’ve never known you or your dad, but I read this with tears in my eyes. A wonderful expression of love. I hope you get some comfort from the comments on here.
You most certainly will never walk alone.
The song.
I will always remember Bob. Liverpools number 12 for many years!! YNWA Peter
Cheers Pete, see you Monday mate
Thank you all so much for all the kind comments, they’ve been a source of incredible comfort for all of us. YNWA
He was my great uncle bob, and man was he a GREAT uncle bob.
What an absolutely brilliant article about an unbelievable man! RIP
Ian,
Different Class mate. So many wonderful memories flooding back looking at the pictures of our Dad’s here together .. i bet there up there now rattling off all the stories of all the great laughs they had whilst away watching the reds.
One of my favourites : Two fellas sitting in the Park Hotel having a brown over bitter after the match
One says to other “We really need new carpets in our house but it’s gonna cost me an arm an a leg”
The other fella says ” That’s easy! Just do what i did spill a can a paint on the carpet, get a dog to run the wet paint round the house and then get the insurance to pay for your new carpets”
The one fella replies ” But I haven’t got a dog!!
That one fella was your Dad … honest as the day is long and funny without trying to be. A hero to us all.
See you on Monday.
Brought tears to my eyes, a wonderful article. That last story is classic RIP, YNWA
Beautifully written Ian, very sorry for your loss.
So glad I read this even if it did male me well up a little. Brilliantly written and done your dad proud. YNWA.
Saw this article shared by a fellow Evertonian on Facebook. I understand why he shared it.
A beautifully written tribute.
RIP
So sorry to hear about your dad, sounds like a real character, I would like to offer my sincere condolences.
Rest in Peace Mr.Salmon YNWA
Ian, I don’t know you, and I didn’t your dad. I think I would have liked to.
One thing of which I am certain; he would be a very proud and grateful father if he had the opportunity to see in your words how much you loved and appreciated him.
Much love and all condolences.
Amazing celebration of your Dad loved it. Wish my Dad was the same.
An amazing tribute to a dad, granddad and son of Liverpool & Liverpool FC, gone but not forgotten.
RIP Bobby Salmon YNWA
What an absolutely wonderful story. My heart just melted a little. What fantastic memories you have. Thank you for sharing them with us. My thoughts go out to you and your family at this difficult time. YNWA xxx
A great piece of writing and a fitting tribute. YNWA
Very emotional piece, written from the heart, your family are in our thoughts and your dad sounds pure class.
YNWA
A wonderful reminder of what’s important in our football and family life. Best times with my Dad going to matches. Being half way around the world makes me miss him even more. Beautiful piece Ian and what a treasure trove of memories. YNWA!!
RIP Bobby
YNWA
When I read stories like this it reaffirms why I am a red and what I believe in. Fantastically written and from the heart and a story that everyone should read. Forever in our thoughts
I am from India… A Marine Engineer…
LFC Fan since 1988, when I first saw them live on TV, while at sea.. off the coast of Dubai.
I watched the game with a Liverpudlian shipmate. Liverpool lost the FA Cup to Wimbledon that year. But watching the fervour and the excitement of my shipmate, who was there with his LFC headband, jacket, beer mug et al, and the grace with which he accepted the loss, completely blew me away. I was sold on the club that day !!!
William Bjelland is the name of my Shipmate, Scouser to the core.. He passed away too in 2012…
Over the years, I have grown to love LFC immensely. The one thing that always pulled me to LFC were the fans. The Spirit of the Kop. I’ve never been to Anfield, and I’ve never seen any EPL footbal Match live in a stadium. But thanks to the Internet and videos, all of LFC’s glory years from Shankly to Paisley to Fagan to Dalglish have become a part of me. Also the disasters of Heysel and Hillsborough have touched me deeply. Great BBC documentaries like the one made on the Kop just before Terraces were finished in Premier League Footy, Hillsborough documentaries, the 20th Anniversary Commemorative Service at Anfield, all these have shown me one thing which NO other club has… The BEST FANS IN THE GAME by a country mile !!!!
Ian, the brilliant Eulogy/Tribute that you have written for your Father, is a glowing example of a LFC family. It makes me extremely proud to be a LFC fan and a part of the larger family of LFC
In this time of grief, you have managed to share something so close and personal, in such a poignant and beautiful way.
Wherever your dad and his mates are, they are smiling, with tears of pride streaming down their cheeks. You are a true son of Liverpool Ian, and your Dad must be mighty mighty proud.
RIP Bob Saloman
YNWA
PS : My voice always quavers during YNWA as I sing it out loud while watching us live on TV, but during the Palace game, Ian, you your dad and your family will be in my thoughts.
Thank you for sharing a moving and brilliant piece of writing in memory of your Dad. All the very best to you all from Bristol.
So sorry to hear about your Dad. He is so proud of you and you have an angel looking over you. This article was beautifully written and brought many memories back to your friends and family, plus gave new insight to others. Wishing your heart healing and try and enjoy the game.
Ian, that was truly wonderful.
Read it twice. First time brought tears. Second time brought hope, light, comfort and I say this respectfully, laughter. Just the memories, as like others have said I also lost my father, a great Red.
I was too young to go to the game with him before he departed. But got to see him in the pub with grandad and his mates getting “prepped” for the game (think it was the Carradock, Bootle?) before the old lady dragged me out back home. So pleased for you that you had the opportunity to spend that time with him.
It may not mean much now Ian but time is a healer and you will become even more closer to him in his absence.
My thoughts are with you and your family.
So sorry to hear of your loss. Lost my dad in 1996 but we were lucky enough to scatter his ashes at Anfield so he never misses a home match.
My dad passed away today..
I was queuing for a drink before kick off in the Wanda when I bumped into Ian.
I didn’t mention mention this article specifically when I complimented his writing skills .. but what a beautiful piece.
A top guy is Ian.
RIP Dad…