*I HAVE never known hatred like Manchester United's and the poison dripping
from their fans never ceases to shock me.*
Growing up in Huyton, I was taught to loathe United, their fans, players,
manager, kit-man, mascot everyone associated with Old Trafford.
And during 90 minutes of football I want United to die.
Everton fans have grown to despise me because I score against them so
regularly and because I keep saying I love beating Everton.
They loathe me but I think they respect me as a player. At Old Trafford it's
different. Everyone there hates me because I'm Liverpool. Visiting Old
Trafford is like negotiating an assault course as it rains vitriol.
A winter's day trip there in 2000 was no different.
Liverpool's coach was belted and the United fans were jumping up at the
windows, their faces contorted by sheer hatred.
We got the full welcome: V-signs, w***** signs, knife signs. "F*** off,
scum!" they'd shout. "We'll f****** kill you!" And they sang: "In your
Liverpool slum..."
S***, the United fans really loathe us. Bang! A window splintered and a
brick nearly bounced off my head. Here we go again. I ran for the dressing
rooms. I almost couldn't hear the first whistle because of the booing. "F***
me." I thought, "This is show time. Get on my game or get f*****."
As a kid I once wore a United shirt with Bryan Robson's name and seven on
the back.
*Loathed*
I detested United with a passion and loathed the idea of putting on one of
their strips, but this was different.
A mate of mine owned this Robson top, the old blue-and-white one with
dashes. I asked him whether I could be Robson.
I put on the Robson one. It felt fantastic. I wore it for an hour, charging
all over, flying into tackles, scoring brave goals, pretending I was Robson.
Because the shirt had Robson's name on it, I forgot about the United bit.
It didn't seem like treachery, more homage to an England god. Unfortunately,
Dad looked out the window and went ballistic. "Get inside now!" he screamed.
Scarcely through the door, I ran into a right grilling. What the hell are
you playing at, wearing a United shirt?" he asked.
"But Dad, it's Bryan Robson's shirt!" I explained. Dad couldn't have cared
less. "You should know better," he said. Dad was not having any son of his
dragging the Gerrard name through the Huyton gutter. What would the
neighbours think?
Honest to God, I thought I was going to have to move house! I was only a
baby, but was convinced Dad would kick me out for putting on that shirt. At
14 I put on a United shirt again! I wore the red of United in two trial
matches.
After doing well in those games, United offered me a three-year pro
contract.
* Awe
*
I even met their legendary manager. A group of trialists had dinner with Mr
Ferguson, as he was then.
Michael Owen was meant to be at the meal, but didn't turn up.
We sat and listened in awe to one of the managerial greats. He had heard
about me and desperately wanted me to sign, but I was never going to sign
for United. I looked around other clubs partly to pressure Liverpool into
giving me a YTS contract.
But almost 20 years of being conditioned to hate Man U went up in smoke on
my first England call-up. The other Liverpool boys introduced me to the rest
of the squad. The last table I visited belonged to Manchester United. Phil
Neville, David Beckham, Andy Cole and Paul Scholes looked up and smiled at
me.
What the hell was going on? Shock-waves ripped through me.
These people were supposed to be my enemy. We don't smile at each other. We
snarl. I was thinking: "But they hate me and I them."
But they didn't hate me. They were brilliant at putting the new boy at ease.
I ran out the next day for practice, looking for any sign of an ambush.
Surely this would be normal United versus Liverpool, in a neutral venue? No.
Again, the United lads were fantastic.
I spoke to Gary Neville about the tension between his United and my
Liverpool.
At the time, Gary was getting stick for something he was supposed to have
said about Liverpool supporters. He got misquoted. What Gary actually said
was: "I have been brought up in my area to hate Scousers." The same way
Liverpool fans are raised to hate Mancs.
But it was printed as "I Hate Scousers."
I don't know whether Gary was telling me to get the message across! He
certainly got on with this Scouser. But the biggest, and probably only,
compliment someone from United ever paid me came from Sir Alex Ferguson in
the papers.
"I couldn't believe my eyes as I read his view of me. 'Gerrard is physically
and technically precocious, has a good engine, remarkable energy, reads the
game and passes quickly. I'd hate to think Liverpool have someone as good as
Roy Keane.'
For Ferguson to compare me with his captain was some accolade.
After reading Ferguson's comments, I just wanted to prove him right, to let
him know Liverpool did have a Keane of their own.
[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
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