I went to the banks of the Mississippi River on my first visit to NOLA 20 +/- years ago. It is iconic. I like to use landmarks to set my directional bearings. It almost always helps me navigate an area new to me. To feel comfortable, even confident. As you face the Mississippi River at the foot of Canal Street (my first vantage point) it clearly flows right to left. So I assumed this meant south was to my left. It had to be the 2nd or 3rd visit before I realized this wasn’t true.

Last week on our steamboat excursion the captain served as our tour guide that narrated as we began our journey downriver. As we began he briefly mentions Algiers Point on the West Bank. Huh? I thought I had misheard. We headed downriver a fair distance and turned around and headed back upriver to complete the out and back. As we neared the French Quarter and docking, the captain mentioned Algiers Point and the West Bank again. I hadn’t heard incorrectly.

Algiers is very clearly to the east of the French Quarter and what most people consider central NOLA. So, why is Algiers Point considered the West Bank. Could this be a result of river navigation? I would have loved to have asked the captain.

Glen alluded to approaching the “end” of our time here in New Orleans. It’s no different than many other “endings” that we as humans experience. There’s a sense of loss and of sadness. And yet, there’s also excitement at the thought of returning home. Home to family and friends. To the comfort of a place that I love.

AND this time, there’s also a sense of urgency because you see…we will be home for something like 26 days before we head out again; this time for our longest and furthest journey…

So what do we do in my last days here? I return to the places I have loved and I continue to do some of the things that are still on the “list”.

Yesterday, my something “old” was a return to Bywater Bakery with Dug. We wandered through the neighborhood enjoying the architecture, the people, the flora and fauna. Then we had an especially enjoyable breakfast chatting with others seated around us. What fun to have become the “semi-local expert” as everyone seated around me was visiting and they were asking me for recommendations which I am always happy to share! And bonus – then…the “bacon” lady came out to give Dug his treat. I love the neighborhood aspect of the Bywater. It’s very welcoming and friendly and I find myself returning again and again. On our return to the apartment, we chose to walk through Crescent Park and enjoyed the eternal breeze that comes off of the Mississippi River. I guess Dug didn’t really have a say in the direction, but he’s like a cow going home when we head back…it’s hard to slow him down! One thing of note…this city is a late-rising place; I guess largely due to the late nights that people enjoy. So even at 10:30, there were few people out and about as we strolled home along the great Mississippi.

For my something “new” I went on the “Secret Gardens” tour hosted by a local charity. Seven French Quarter homes opened their gardens (and three opened their homes) to raise funds for their annual “caroling” event that is held in December. I learned about this event from a woman who is renovating an apartment in the building next door to us. She gave us a great restaurant list and this hot tip. (She’s in the business and is opening a restaurant a couple blocks away later this summer.)

As I have been wandering the streets of New Orleans, I’m always trying to get a glimpse into the courtyards and even into the homes to see how they live. For the latter, it’s easier to be a voyeur at night when the interior lights are on! While it was a super hot afternoon to be hoofing it around the streets of the Quarter, this tour gave me a great sense of how these homes and gardens provide the residents an incredible oasis from the heat, noise and even smells of this city.

A highlight was a Creole cottage that’s actually in Marigny just a couple blocks from us. I’ve passed it bunches of times and have as it’s an historical landmark, I’ve always thought that behind its walls, there were a lot of secrets, a lot of stories, and a lot of history. When I arrived and realized that it was on the tour, I was excited to get a peek into the home, the yard and its owners, past and present!

Bernard de Marigny was born in 1785 and died in 1868. His French family was wealthy, owning a plantation just outside the French Quarter. His father died when he was 14 at which time Bernard inherited the estate. He was sent o London to be educated and be trained in the ways of running the family fortune, but he did not apply himself and was brought home.

As the population of New Orleans grew, he realized that he was sitting on a gold mine and started selling the plantation off as plots for homes. He named the community Faubourg Marigny. Faubourg means false city in French which alludes to it being a suburb of a city. Some say that this development was the first suburb in America.

So back to the Creole cottage. One thing that Marigny did bring back from England was his love of gambling – be it cards or dice. It is said that he brought the English game, Hazards to New Orleans where it was called crapaud which means frog. I’ve read a couple versions of how it got its name. One thought is that it was named for the French in New Orleans who ate frog legs and another thought is that it was named after the Americans who began moving south from Kentucky and who were looked down upon as being inferior, therefore frogs or possibly after the frog-like squat that a craps player takes while throwing his dice. All for a good story!

So here’s where the house comes in…Bernard de Marigny may have used this house (or one like it) for his quadroon. A quadroon was a free-woman of color who was a mistress to an elite man. By law, men were allowed one quadroon and they had to provide for her and her children as if he were married to her, including educating the children. It was here that his friends came to play craps. (Note that there is growing discussion that the number of quadroons in New Orleans was not as large as the story goes. And in fact, historians are debunking the story because records indicate that free women of color married at the same rate as white women and were successful businesswomen and pillars of the community.)

This Creole cottage is now owned by a lovely couple who have lovingly and beautifully created an oasis and finally…here are some photos of their incredible back yard. And mind you, the size of this yard is an anomaly in New Orleans. The house sits on a corner and sort of wraps around it which creates a “C”-shaped house wrapping around the yard.

I really feel my own adaptability increasing. It is great to experience. This morning, we headed over to Brennens for breakfast without a reservation (adaptable point #1) . Our plan (some things still held onto tightly) was to arrive as they opened. AND if we were not able to get a table, we’d head over to Cafe Du Monde. A plan within a plan. My happiness. While we were outside queued up behind a few others, a hostess came out and told us that they were “closed” this morning as they had a wedding. Nothing on the website. Oh well. Pivot. We headed over to Cafe Du Monde. Tomorrow we’ll try again (adaptive point #2)

We’re coming to the end of this adventure. We hadn’t yet been to Brennens for breakfast during this stay. Our last visit was 7 or 8 years ago before they remodeled. So, we’d really like to go to breakfast. They, purportedly, “invented” Eggs Benedict. Our adaptation to Cafe du Monde was our fifth visit during this stay. Once every 10 days seems about right to us. Is it a cliche? Yes. AND a bit more than a bit more.

We’re really enjoying watching a little bit of the French Open early mornings. We’re at the beginning of the second week of the grand slam event. It is my favorite time of slams. The chaff has been eliminated. Round 4, the final 16 remain. AND at the 2022 French Open 8 of the top 9 mens seeds have advanced.

We are at Cafe Du Monde. Our usual routine. I snag a table, clean it off (whole separate post) and set up camp. Seems especially busy. JDT points out later – holiday weekend – Memorial Day Weekend. Weekend? Memorial Day? Huh? Oh yeah! I so much enjoy the dynamic of being there. The often combustible intersection of locals and tourists. I realize I am an agitator. I believe the common perception of agitator is negative. As one, I perceive differently. Is it sometimes negative? Of course. Is it often times negative? Perhaps. Is it always? NEVER!

I think about the difference in the way I engage people on the street in NYC and NOLA. I was out wandering the other morning and overtook a grandma, mom and daughter. As I passed them a military jet passed overhead. A fairly normal occurrence here. And I quipped, “Don’t worry, they will not bomb US?” And their reply? Crickets! Nothing! Had I done this in NYC, I’m reasonably certain I would have received some kind of reply. Mind you, I DON’T CARE WHAT THE REPLY IS! I JUST WANT ONE!! Noted. This morning, as we began our walk back to 913 GNS, we walked through Jackson Square. Jackson Square is this very complicated scene that includes performance art, painters and their works, psychics of all kinds, the homeless, etc. We came across an artist that was standing some 30 feet or so from his work in process. I quipped – “amazing how much standing back and observing helps.” He smiled, we had a brief moment of interchange and we head back. I SMILED.

While we were eating our beignets at Cafe Du Monde, I was on my phone checking live results at the French Open. Coco Gauf bageled Mertens in set two to win. And the Rafael Nadal – Felix Auger-Aliassime match had begun. I gave JDT an update or two. JDT loves Rafa. LOVES! AND we saw Felix play while at the US Open last year. And like most, when you see someone in person, you tend to become a fan. JDT said, I’d rather have Rafa lose to Felix than play and likely lose to “the one she hates”. That be Novak Djokovic. I agitated on this a bit. BTW – I can be a bit like Dug with that beef short rib bone we gave him a bit over a month ago. And then is when JDT said it – “I don’t care, I’m just a hater.”

I GET IT!

Started this beautiful day by getting all dressed up (just means a shower, pants and a blouse instead of a baseball hat and shorts) and walked down to Brennan’s. No reservation so we wanted to be first in line for a walk in…sadly, the host came out at 9:00 and said they were closed for a wedding. What the heck? Maybe a note on the website? So Plan B was to go to Café du Monde.

And in general, New Orleans has some of the best people-watching I’ve ever found. This morning was no exception.

Glen got us a table and I got in line. It was a long line on this holiday morning, but it moved quickly. I usually get in the wrong line (bad line karma), but today I guessed right. As I gathered our order and arrived at our table, I heard the tail end of a conversation Glen was having with the woman at the table next to him. She said, “At home, restaurants serve you. I’m not used to standing in line.”

What? She said this as she was seated with her Ritz Carlton plastic to-go cup with orange juice and…vodka? Champagne? Her hot pink outfit made her pretty hard to miss. (I have some snarky adjectives I could add, but it’s Sunday.) Shortly after I arrived, her husband arrived with their order saving her the awful pain and inconvenience of standing in line.

But wait! Don’t you travel so that you can experience other ways of doing things? So that you can experience other cultures? Don’t you travel because you learn about other people and places? Isn’t the point of travel to experience new and different ways of life? If I wanted New Orleans, or anywhere else to be like home, then I’d f’ing stay home! I only wished I’d thought to ask her why she travels.

As I sat down and tried to “unhear” that comment, I observed a couple as they came to another nearby table. They talked quietly and then the woman left to get in line. As she returned a short while later, she said to her husband, “Beignets are all they have.” They got up and left in a huff, probably looking for scrambled eggs. Do your damn homework.

Wow. Those two interactions put me in a bad mood – or in a push which is just another way of saying that I had a negative reaction to an experience .

And yet, our beignets were the best we’ve had because they were piping HOT!!! Glen says that’s because of the volume that they were producing to meet the holiday demand.

And the band that perennially sits right outside the seating area at the Café was playing a bluesy jazz which is my favorite. And then they had to go and play Amazing Grace which got me out of my push and a bit tearful. How lucky are we to get to live this life? To experience and learn about different ways of doing things. To talk with different people, even when they are annoying. To eat different food. To walk different streets. To learn. To experience “different”. That’s why I travel.

GAT –

AMEN SISTER!!

Jason Kidd and Jurgen Klopp beware!

Over the course of the last two plus days I’ve experienced wildly swing emotions around sports. Truth? I am unable to enjoy or even manage my emotions around sports. I get emotional.

My ability and inability to watch some and not others fascinate me. Makes me wonder. MUCH!

When “my side” prevails I soak in the highs. Even when I can’t get myself mentally stable enough to watch, I awake and go straight to my phone and the Bleacher Report app to gobble up everything in sight.

Then yesterday happens. Champions League final. The two most prolific sides in the long history of European Cup competitions were the combatants – Liverpool v. Real Madrid. Between them they have won nearly 1/3 of all such Cups awarded. Liverpools history is complicated. On the pitch, the Reds have not always been their current “Mentality Monster” best. AND off the pitch, few sides have experienced their heartache. 1989 Hillsborough Disaster! (I encourage you to read the history.) For those of you old enough (I think that is most of our demographic) to remember the 1979 Who Concert Disaster, Hillsborough was 8 times worse! Yes 8 times!! AND to make it all worse, it took nearly 30 years for the “truth” to emerge. For those 30 years “officials” had asserted it was the fault of the Reds fans. The “TRUTH”? ALL of the responsibility lay at the feet of the “officials”. Yesterday? Less than an hour before kickoff, troubles with Reds fans entering Parc Des Princes. Then UEFA (“officials”) issued a statement that said, and I paraphrase, troubles are emerging due to late arriving LFC fans. Hmmmm? Then an official 15 minute delay to kickoff. Then another 15 minute delay. The match finally kicked off 30 minutes after the originally scheduled time. LFC could not have been unaffected by this. Impossible. The essence of who they are includes Hillsborough. There would be no YNWA without Hillsborough. AND if you’ve ever been to Anfield (Reds home pitch) like I have, you can begin to understand YNWA.

I forced myself to go on Bleacher Report this morning. It wasn’t just the disappointment of the loss. How could anyone truly be disappointed by a season of 63 matches with 4 defeats. A measly 4. It was the reminder of Hillsborough and UEFA’s apparent pivot to now saying that it was caused by Reds fans that held fake tickets. UEFA laying blame at Red’s feet. This AGAIN? It is way too early to fully understand what happened. To be UNTANGLED. AND it is revealing to see that UEFA isn’t taking a neutral position while this settles.

NOISE comes in multiple formats. Surely it is audible. And it is so much more. I consumed two articles during my last two mornings. Both were about the “losers” (Dallas and Liverpool). Both specifically quoted the managers using the term “noise” focusing on the failure. How would anyone with a healthy perspective describe as such. IMPOSSIBLE. Both of the JKs made their attempt to beware the noise that would surely exist. Hell, already existed, largely on the seemingly unending supply of social media.

I’m getting somewhere! Me personally, not this blog post (never ending?). I mostly thrive on the audible noise. My essence enjoys most chaos. I mostly love making sense out of a seeming senseless world. NOISE to others, is often quite soothing to me.

Then there is social media. Make no mistake, it is my NOISE!

I headed out on a wander this morning. Sometimes, it is all I can do to get my mind to calm and not get started before my wander. I really enjoy the mental aspects of my wanders. It is why I so enjoy doing them alone, while being occasionally “poked” by those I come across. Most of the time, my mind wanders all over the place with the thoughts often intersecting. This morning? My mind kept coming back to the title of this post (Just like when I was a child in the late 60s listening to my 45s on a cheap record player and they hit a skip. The record got stuck and endlessly replayed. You had to give it a nudge to get past the skip. Should I here? Nope.) I really didn’t know what it meant. Then I came across the above street sign – Marais Street. AND Le Marais – the neighborhood we’ll be “staying” in Paris this coming August.

Again, I didn’t force it, I just wondered. A sadness started to come over me. Quite recognizable with Mom’s recent passing. I’ve learned not to push it away. I made several posts midway through this stay that played with the notion that we are likely done with NOLA. And that may be true. Our time here is quickly approaching its end. Both NOLA and The South are complicated. Anything that would define them simply or without nuance would simply be a cliche. And most of them are extremely tired.

So, I embrace the sadness. I almost enjoy the sadness. It is a part of our adventures. It is a part of life.

Then my mind flashed to Charles . . . and I just smiled.

IT WILL ALWAYS BE LIKE THIS!

Streets. Cities. Communities. Neighborhoods. What is it that we are “doing” this past year? Glen and I have talked about the appropriate term for what we are doing as we spend extended periods of time in different locations. Glen recently posted that in a conversation with Charles, our Uber driver, they agreed that “staying” worked for them. Me, not so much. To me, “staying” doesn’t imply “living” and I think that we are really trying to “live” in the community in which we are…dwelling?

A few posts ago, I wrote about my observations of the patrons in the café where Dug and I were enjoying a pastry and coffee. I mentioned the immediate surroundings outside, but it wasn’t until I left that I talked with a gentleman whose “office” appeared to be the sidewalk. He was about my age, wearing khaki cargo shorts, spectacles and he was sitting criss-cross applesauce on the sidewalk with his backpack and bike next to him and his laptop in his lap. I stopped to chat with him and opened the conversation with…I like your office! He proceeded to share that it all started when COVID came and he had to have a vaccine card to sit INSIDE the café. Since he didn’t have the vaccine, he got his coffee and “sat” across the street. He’s been doing it ever since even though you don’t need a vaccine card to sit inside anymore.

Today when I walked by he was there and I told him that I loved his story and asked if I could take his picture. He obliged and then shared more about his office and “officemates”, the sparrows. Over time, the sparrows that live in the eaves above him began to notice him and he began share tidbits of his breakfast with them. He continued to tell me that he now can differentiate between the birds because they interact with him differently and the way in which they eat his offerings is different, too. As winter turned to spring, he has watched them feed their babies – first by chewing and regurgitating the food into the mouths of their young and eventually, breaking up the seeds and taking them to them to eat on their own. (By now you are probably singing, “Feed the Birds”. I know I was…)

It occurred to me as I was chatting with him, that this is what it means to “dwell” in a place. You spend enough time in a location to learn about the inhabitants, to notice the patterns of behavior, for people to recognize and greet you, to know that you have a place – though it may still be temporary – in a community.

As I shared about my time in NOLA and explained what we were doing, I tried to define it for him – is the word for what we are doing live? stay? dwell? My “bird man” and I agreed that his story is a metaphor for what we are doing. As he “dwells” under the eaves and we “dwell” in our new community, we are both learning about our “birds”.

PS It’s ironic that as I’m writing tonight about our desire to be “one” with a community; today we did the most touristy – least “dwelly” thing that one can do in NOLA. We went on the Jazz Riverboat cruise on the Mississippi. 😉 And this also makes me think about the fact that as a native Californian, I’ve never been to Alcatraz. I guess everyone should be a tourist in their own community from time to time.

First, and absolutely most important, thank you Allison for the gift (idea) you gave to Joyce and me. Exciting!

JDT has suggested it might be a good notion to slow down on my number of posts. She’s almost always right. AND how do I turn off my brain. I’ll compromise. I’ll write AND leave them as drafts and trickle them out. At least it feels that way to me.

Streets, it seems to me, are big things in the cities I have visited. You have your famous streets, your streets of commerce, and your neighborhood streets. I’ve heard people say, “oh! you lived on Del Playa?” (shut out to my Isla Vista friends).

We are “staying” quite near the intersection of Dauphine Street and Governor Nicholls Street. As you know, this is on the edge of The Quarter adjacent to Treme and The Marigny. Both of these run through The Quarter with Gov going into Treme and Dauphine heading into The Marigny. Two wonderful and very different neighborhoods.

So, why the quotes on “staying”? I struggle with how to label our time here. We jumped in an Uber on our way to dinner (Irene’s) last week. AND as always I made some quip to the driver (Charles) with the intent to fuel a conversation. Boy did this one work. It started with us “out positive mind setting each other”. Took a turn or two and I asked, “Charles, may I ask you a question?” What ensued landed this “ride” in my top 5 of our seemingly endless (50ish) Uber rides here in NOLA. First, a bit of a u-turn. Most of our rides here average 12 to 15 minutes. This really leaves little time for the conversations. So, best not be wasting. Back to the ride. I told Charles (most of my questions require an introductory explanation – duh!) we were in NOLA for 51 days. And that I was struggling how to label. Charles was game for my little game and we played tennis with our words. It was a blast. WE LANDED ON STAY. We were then about 1/2 way to our destination. Somehow we got on the concept of genius and I brought up Robin Williams – we agreed. Charles then told JDT and me how he had spent 2 hours with RW during an earlier stage of Charles life. At the end of the time, RW handed him some money as a gratuity in an environment where a tip was unexpected. AND Charles proceeded to find three separate homeless people (not hard to find here in NOLA) and handed each a crisp new Benjamin. Charles realized then the value of that 2 hours was so much more than the $300 and wanted to pay it forward.

One of my favorite improvements made to Uber over the years is the ability to provide a tip to the driver. It isn’t sufficient for me just to click 5 stars. I now rarely give nothing. It is almost always at least $3 on these mostly $10 to $15 fares. And quite often $5. For Charles, my tip? Let’s just say it exceeded the fare, by some margin (yet, I’m no RW). I know the chance that my path ever crosses Charles again is slim (however, I can stay hopeful). AND I AM 100% CONFIDENT THAT CHARLES KNEW WHAT I MEANT WITH MY TIP.

I’M SURE OF IT!

Rage. Don’t tell me that the “leaker” should be prosecuted. Don’t tell me, “Trust in the Supreme Court has been weakened by the leak.” Don’t tell me, “The Supreme Court Justice candidates didn’t lie during their hearings.” Bullshit. It’s not about “Christian” values. It’s not about the life of a child. It’s about control and power.

Rage. I’m still raging about the real possibility of Roe v. Wade being overturned and then Buffalo happened. An outright White racist man, fueled by hatred, killed ten loving, caring mostly senior Black community members. Don’t tell me the murderer was “mentally ill”. Don’t tell me that Fox News doesn’t fuel this hatred. Don’t tell me that a “good guy with a gun” could have stopped the “bad” guy. Bullshit.

Rage. And now Texas. Thirteen innocent children and a teacher have died. Don’t tell me we “can’t talk about this yet”. “It’s too new.” “Law enforcement needs to do their work.” Bullshit. Buffalo is STILL holding services for those ten lives that were lost and now Texas has fourteen (no, it was just announced it’s fifteen) deaths due to GUN violence. The NRA OWNS the GOP and a few Democrats. It’s all about money and has NOTHING to do with human life and our Constitutional rights. It’s not even about “freedom”.

Don’t tell me that I’m too emotional. Don’t tell me that it’s too complicated. Don’t tell me I’m not a gun owner so I don’t know what I’m talking about. And don’t think that calling me a liberal or “woke” is an insult.

Don’t tell me that we have to live this way. We are the ONLY country that lives like this.

WE DON’T HAVE TO LIVE LIKE THIS.

RAGE.

134 children ages 0-11 killed by gun violence in 2022. It’s only May.

RAGE.

202 mass shootings in the USA in 2022. It’s only May.

WE DON’T HAVE TO LIVE LIKE THIS.

RAGE.

I have spoken of my love of sports. I have spoken of how sports and my brain and my life intersect. I’ve also spoken of my recently found fondness of Liverpool Football Club (LFC).

I have also spoken of my current inability to watch Warrior games in full. There is something that occurs in me that just makes it TOO hard.

This past Sunday the English Premier League (EPL) played its final match of its very long (10 month – 38 match) season. The EPL is a force. The 1960s brought us “The British Invasion”. I believe the 2020s are bringing us, in a sports context, a 2nd British Invasion, the EPL. AND the EPL, warts and all, gets IT. Championship Sunday is played out over 10 matches involving all 20 sides that kickoff at the same time. BTW, not surprising this is at 11 AM EDT / 8 AM PDT. And, when it is imagined by the marketing staff, the matches matter on multiple levels. You see, there is the championship itself. And there is the Champions League qualification, Europa Cup and Europa League qualification AND, perhaps biggest, the battle to stave off relegation. All of these contained a high level of drama. Incredible.

My side, LFC, were in it for the quadruple (there are four “cups” competed for by the top EPL sides – Premier League, Champions League, FA Cup and League Cup). No side has ever “held” all four at the same time. NONE! And no side had ever made it to this point in a season with the possibility still alive. UNTIL this past Sunday. LFC won the League Cup and FA Cup in the past month by the narrowest of margins – shootouts won against the same side Chelsea (I refer to them as Chelskey – a moniker I use to deride their ownership, Roman Abromovich). Could they capture the EPL crown?

So what happened? How did it play out? At halftime (remember these matches occur nearly simultaneously) LFC were tied at 1-1. AND Manchester City, the machine owned by the sovereign nation wealth fund, were trailing 0-1 to Aston Villa (if you need further context and drama, “Villa” are managed by LFC legend Stevie Gerard). AND as the matches proceeded toward the 75th minute “City” fell behind 0-2, while LFC were still knotted up 1-1. LFC were pressing and simply needed a goal and results to hold for them to “raise the cup”. AND IT WAS NOT TO BE. At least for me. City, in the way that true CHAMPIONS do, went on to score an amazing 3 goals to win 3-2, while LFC got their winner and an extra and won 3-1.

What is truly amazing for me to observe? ME. Yep. I watched it play out in its entirety. It reminded me of the boy I was at 10 when I was blessed to watch amazing wins and crushing defeats (I was that child crying in his Dad’s arms in the stands) by Da Raiders at the Oakland Coliseum with Dad and Steve and Mike. No angst at all. Just the sheer joy and the crushing sadness that I enjoyed and was crushed by as a child. I’m not really sure why, just yet. Is it my newness to LFC and EPL? Is it the lack of expectations I have that worry more about the agony of defeat versus the thrill of victory (shoutout to the Wide World of Sports!)?

My morning started again early. And as is my tendency (still dark and too early to wander), I went on my phone to catch up on Bleacher Report (perhaps my favorite App?). And I’m spending a lot of my time there enjoying the noise around the Dubs and LFC. I made my way through several clicks and found my way to a 5+ minute video interview of VVD, the beast (Virgil Van Dyke – LFC Center Back). He might be the hub in the LFC wheel. He was being interviewed by Rio Ferdinand (retired Manchester United (MU) center back legend). He was VVD before VVD was VVD! AND that is not easy for me to say about a Red Devil, as MU are LFC’s most despised rival. Greatness knows greatness. For those of us watching, we can only imagine. The interview is really well done. It meandered and found its way to a discussion of the quadruple. And this is where the magic occurred for me. VVD answered the question of how much time LFC spent discussing the quadruple in the “changing room”. He said, none. And went on to explain this was due to the Boss (Jurgen Klopp). Sure, they all were hopeful. Yet, they can only do their best. Results are not guaranteed. And regardless of outcome, “WE GO AGAIN”.

Maybe, just maybe, I will be able to watch all of tonights Dubs game?