Posted by: mads04 | February 10, 2013

King Kenny’s dreams & Mr Serious

I grew up in the Tuebrook district of Liverpool, or as everyone called it The Brook. The baby of four siblings, two brothers and one sister. I lived in Montrose road which was a fifteen minute walk from Anfield.The home of my beloved Liverpool FC. My dad was a joiner with the corpy and anyone from the eighties who worked for the local council will tell you it was a cushy number, you could leave home at 8am, clock in and be back in the house for 9am without anyone ever realising you were gone, there were depots all over the city so you could pretty much come and go as you please, unlike today where they are based in one place. Any way my dad was a superintendent in Broadway depot, he wasn’t a boss type of man he was to laid back for that so I Imagine being a council worker under him was happy days! My mum had a couple of jobs she worked in my junior school as cleaner but she was also the manager of Tuebrook fancy goods which was a lighting shop but it sold everything from watches to costume jewellery and everyone knew my mum so everyone knew me. No one as far as I know in my family could play football but from a very early age I realised I could so me and my ball became best mates, my mum spent fortunes on footy’s over the years they were mainly flyaways which were just balloons and if you got an Adidas Tango or a Wembley trophy ball you were everyone’s best mate. We lived in a corner house with a road next to us so that was my Wembley every day and I wasn’t playing for England, I was Kenny Dalglish  and I played for the red men every day of the week. Liverpool FC was my life growing up, there were no evertonians who played with us we were all mad reds and every other Saturday me and me best mate Willy Bloomfield would go over the field at the top of our road across the railway lines and down Pinehurst Avenue and straight to Anfield. Pinehurst  Avenue is probably about half a mile long, but when your seven years of age it seems about ten miles long we used to hate walking up that road it was full of cars and there would be young lads asking to mind the supporters cars for 50 pence while they were at the match, there was the local joke that a fella  got out of his car and told one of the lads one match day that he didn’t need his car minding as he had a Rottweiler  in the back to which one of the kids asked him “But can it put out fires mate?”

We used to get to the Kop for midday as soon as it opened I would be one of the first in and after running around the kop for ten minutes I would be bored shitless for another two hours until it started filling up. It would cost me about £1 to get in the Kop a pound wouldn’t even get you a coke at Anfield now. The money wasn’t really an issue if I had no money I would just bunk in behind someone, you would wait for the person to pay in front and when he went through the turnstiles u just went in right behind him it worked every time and was called a double-click because when you went through the big iron turnstiles they made a loud clicking noise. To watch Liverpool in the eighties was like watching the current Barcelona team, we were unstoppable, and I was mesmerised by the player they called the king. Kenny Dalglish was our modern-day Messi, he could score wonder goals and tap in’s he could create goals out of nothing and would set Ian Rush up for fun. I would stand on the Kop and just watch him for 90 minutes; Dalglish was mine and the rest of Anfield’s god. Although I remember being really gutted when we sold Graeme Souness to Sampdoria, As much as I was hypnotised by Dalglish, Souness was a proper midfielder who could play and put a foot in, he would beat players before they went on the pitch, he was just so intimidating even though he looked like an advert for L’Oreal with his dark curly perm and well-groomed muzzy! Bryan Robson was regarded by Man united fans as their captain Marvel and was loved by everyone because he was England captain and to be fair he was a top player but in all the games I watched between us and them he never got a sniff against Souness who would pass him off the park and terrorise him. Ray Wilkins was another media darling who was known for his devastating side pass! And when we played Man United I would love seeing Butch (Wilkins) run away from Souness for 90 minutes. Souness ruined his hero status when he became manager later on and sold his story to the Sun newspaper just before our FA cup final against Sunderland in 1992.

In 1985 LFC got to the European cup final (again) and we were to play Juventus the old lady of Italian football with the likes of Michel Platini and Sep Boniek the Polish striker who had set the 1982 World cup alight in their ranks, now I had been all the European cup home games that year I had watched us beat the likes of Benfica and Panathanaikos who had brought the most colourful fans I had seen the whole of the Anfield road end was amass with green and white. So when the Cup final tickets were released I casually asked my mum if I had a passport. “Of course you have son we went to the south of France last year remember”. “Good” I said “I’m just on me way to Anfield to see if I can get a ticket for the final” “ok son is it at Wembley again” she asked “Err no mum it’s in Belguim”. “Mark Alfred Maddox get back here” Shit I thought, I knew from my mum giving me my full title I wasn’t going to Heysel, as I walked back into the living room she said “Do you honestly think you’re going all the way to Belguim to watch Liverpool at twelve years of age with your mates” I had a look of puzzlement on my face “Yeh why not?” was my reply. “Don’t even go their son it’s not going to happen” she told me. Bastard I thought, my plan was to get my ticket and then hope and pray my mum would let me go but let’s be honest at the height of hooliganism in football would you let your twelve-year-old son go to Europe to watch a game of football.

I moped around the house for weeks gutted because I would’ve went on my own to Heysel if I had the chance and I caused my mum many worrying times on going to watch the reds I would tell her im going the match when she was off to work “Ok son, score one for me” she would say, I would just look at her with a puzzled look on my face and think what the fuck does that mean!! There were no mobile phones in them days so when I would stroll in at 11pm she would be sat there worried sick saying “What time do you call this?” she’d say “ Sorry mum we were playing Coventry today, I forgot to tell you we were away”. If we were away on a Saturday I would walk up to Priory road by the ground and get the Barnes footy coach to the game, Barnes’s boneshakers they were called they were old bus’s and a bit shit but it got us the game. When we played at Wembley we used to get the midnight train or the royal mail train to give it its proper name from Lime street station. We would arrive at Euston station about 5am, try to get to Wembley as soon as we could. In 1989 when we were playing Everton we were all hanging around Wembley way, thousands without tickets all trying their best to get a hold of one, a man who was looking very official in his suit and obviously we didn’t know it at the time but he was the chairman of Stockport County FC was talking to his mate when he pulled a bunch of tickets out and was showing them to his mate when Ian, quick as a flash swooped on them snatched them out of his hand and was off,the sight of Ian who was about 5’7 and around 16 stone dodging in and out of people was hilarious he was like a little bouncy ball ducking and diving, when Ian disappeared in to the crowd were we all cheering him on and when he appeared again but he was being dragged by a busy(Policeman) on a horse who had him by the collar and lifted him off the floor his little feet  were going a hundred miles an hour like Scooby doo getting chased by a ghost!, he spent the whole day in a local police cell and missed the game.I still give him stick about it today and i know he’ll be reading this now thinking nice one knobhead!!

Enter Mr Serious: M N D

Motor neurone Disease is a terminal illness that has no cure and no cause, it’s not racist or sexist, it doesn’t care how old you are,how young you are, it doesn’t even care if you are straight or gay.All its sole purpose to do is to eat away at your muscles untill you can’t walk,speak,move your arms and eventually kill you. On average it gives you a 2-5 year window and trust me if you live beyond that you’ve done well!

The hardest thing about MND for me is not how long have i got to live or will it hurt or even will i still be able to get a hard on(every mans nightmare!!) No, the hardest thing about MND is my family and friends.The impact it has on them, i can live with the pain MND gives me the muscle cramps, the weakness, the head pains, the excessive saliva(im like Sylvester the cat!) I can live with the physical pain, But the mental pain is a whole different game,it tests you like you have never been tested before so it not only wants to waste your body away it wants to eat your mind and constantly remind you it’s there MND MND MND MND MND MND MND. and if it does that to me imagine what it does to my friend’s and family.I’m a loyal person and my friends i have now are the same ones ive had for over 30 years and i have made some great mates along the way. I have been with my wife for 24 years and we have 3 fantastic kids and my kids are my world. I imagine the pain i am going to cause them,I imagine never seeing my children grow into adults,I imagine never seeing my grandchildren and I imagine my little girl on her wedding day not having her dad next to her to walk her down the aisle……I imagine the pain i am going to cause them.

Have a think about it, I don’t mean to put you on a downer im just trying to be honest with you because amongst the jokes and the laughter there has to be a serious part aswell and MND is Mr Serious.I imagine every person with MND or any other terminal illness has these thoughts and it’s how we deal with these thoughts that has a knock on effect with the disease,Im convinced if you give up the fight early on in your mind your fucked.The shock to me wasnt im going to die the shock was my kids will be without their dad and that is whats got me where i am today, so when MND decided to pop up in my life im not convinced it banked on a scouser who has never took any shit in his life and certainly wont start now and as any parent will tell you when it comes to protecting your children you will fight to the death. So bring it on MND lets see what you’ve fuckin got!

Thanks again for your kind comments and continually raising awareness for Mr Serious

To be continued…..




  1. Brilliant account of your youth going to see the reds ect. You probably seen our kid there at Anfield too eh! Really enjoying reading the blogs Mark. 24 years eh with the lovely/ sound Jayne Maddox now 🙂 , remember our little gang back then at peter lloyd sportsy. Keep em coming. Tough cookie you la! X

    • I no Carla r days at the leisure! Legendary xxx #bosslittlegang x

  2. Again mate …brilliant writing.. trueful emotional account of a man living with mum who took no shit an worked in fancy goods !!!! Ha

  3. Remember when we went #fancygoods when the alarm was going off ….mum was a legend mate …….

  4. I have been checking out many of your articles and it’s nice stuff. I will surely bookmark your blog.

  5. Great reading My brother in law in canada has ALS. I think its the same as MND. He is 61. He is 5′ 7″ and used to do all sports. Played basketball and footie. Could jump higher than people a foot taller and was active in everything. Disease got him a few years ago and he is losing weight still Can’t walk to well but his head is still working! Keep writing Mads. And keep fighting! You need to be around for the great liverpool FC revival!! May take a few years at this rate. As long as they play like they played against shittlycity. And tell stevie G to stop taking penalty advice from wazza when they go on england trips eh!!

  6. Mads, I’m thoroughly enjoying reading your blog, keep it coming. Never underestimate the human spirit, just remember it’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.

  7. Good read Mark, I even read all the bits about Liverpool but strangely through gritted teeth you should have been a blue mate :p

  8. Mark, my wife’s dad had MND for 7 years, he brought her down the aisle for our wedding in July, he passed away in October. He had the same fight you have, keep it up. He fought hard to be there for her special day

  9. Actually just cried reading this!! U r a truley amazin man mark u really r xx

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