by Michael Elliott
陈永国 译自”Time" May 30, 2005
Being a fan is like having your own personal time machine。
It was a little after 5 a.m in my home in Hong Kong when Jerzy Dudek, the polish goalkeeper of Liverpool Football Club, saved a penalty from Andriy Shevchenko, a Ukranian playing for AC Milan. The save ended the most exciting sporting event you will ever see, secured for Liverpool the top European soccer championship for the first time in 21 years, and allowed me to breathe. Within seconds, my wife had called from London, and the e-mails started to flood in- the first from TIME’s Baghdad bureau, others from Sydney, London, Washington and New York. In my fumbled excitement, I misdialed my brother’s phone number three times. Then Steven Gerrard, Liverpool’s captain, lifted the trophy, and behind the Cantonese chatter of the TV commentators I could just make out 40,000 Liverpudlian voices singing their club’s anthem, You’ll Never Walk Alone. And that’s when I started to cry.
Apart from the big, obvious things-love, death, children-most of the really walloping emotional highs and lows of my life have involved watching Liverpool. There was the ecstasy of being in the crowd when the club won the European championship in 1978, and the horror of settling down in my office for a 1985 European championship game-only to watch Juventus fans get crushed to death when some Liverpool supporters rioted. Through long experience, my...