Rob Gutmann’s preview ahead of Norwich City v Liverpool at Carrow Road, and it’s a particularly poignant trip to start the new season…
Predicted 11: Alisson; Trent, Matip, Van Dijk, Tsimikas; Fabinho, Elliott, Keita; Salah, Jota, Mane
‘…AND we’re back…’
Football is life, death, religion and everything in between. We know it to be so. I labour this relentlessly, drudgingly, in this column.
Sometimes, though, it really is truly one of these things.
My friend Paul – Granty – Grant doesn’t support Liverpool. Paul is a lifelong Blue. An Evertonian. “A good one,” he says. “I don’t hate Liverpool!”
He doesn’t hate Liverpool.
Paul is very much a good one. Paul has been to more Liverpool aways with me than any Red I know. He likes the day out. We like each other’s company. We love each other’s company. Paul offers to drive. I offer to drink. It works for us. When we win, he applauds politely. “I’m happy for you and the boys, Rob”. When we lose, he smirks. My boys get annoyed. Paul, hands up, plays innocent. Paul is a good Blue.
Paul adores Norwich City away. As we’ve got older, we’ve done less aways together, but Norwich away is sacrosanct. Paul loves Norwich. He has a good friend in Norwich which helps, but he also just loves Norwich. I do too. It’s a special place. A great town. I have come to think of it as ‘our’ town.
Norwich is actually mine and Paul’s happiest place. Liverpool usually win there, and Paul and I always have a lovely time there. We get to go to great pubs, we eat well, enjoy old friends. Everything goes well for us in Norwich.
In June, when the fixtures were announced, I book hotel rooms in Norwich for me, my boys and Paul. I did not hesitate. A dream start to a season. I messaged Paul. We were both hugely excited. Being back in grounds. As if that alone wasn’t enough. In an actual ground, in Norwich! Life doesn’t get much better.
A week later though, our worlds spun disturbingly on their axis. Paul hadn’t felt right for a couple of months. Couldn’t sleep. Felt bloated and uncomfortable. He had tests, all seemed broadly OK. Just running repairs afoot.
Then Paul felt much worse. He got more thoroughly checked out. He called me to tell me he had cancer. Not good news. It’s OK mate, you’re not alone, we’ll beat this. We will. You and me. These things happen. What will be will be.
Within 10 days, more tests, and Paul gets informed it’s bad. The bad cancer. He has three months to live. He phoned me to tell me this. Not a conversation I can process, even now.
Three weeks, not months, later, Paul died. We don’t get to do Norwich.
I’m not sure how many people actually read or enjoy this preview column I write, but I was always sure that at least one human being did. My Paul.
He’d harangue me if it wasn’t posted up early enough. He got all of my shitty jokes. He’d tell me that I was invoking Kierkegaard even when I just thought I was just second guessing Jurgen Klopp. Paul was Norris Green’s greatest ever philosopher. I wrote every preview I’ve ever written for him. For me and him, for us. I always will do.
I can’t really process Paul not being around, not going to the pub every week, not going to Norwich with me. I’m angry at him for dying. Really really exasperated and angry. I’m not entirely sure I’ll know what I’m meant to do on the planet, or in fucking Norwich, without him. I’ve shared more pints, more jokes, more minutes with Paul in the 27 years since we first met, then I have with anyone, save for my family.
I will, of course, be in Norwich on August 14th. We go again. I’m praying for a Reds win. I’ll drink Norwich dry if it happens. I’ll cry me a river for Paul before I slump into drunken sleep. I miss him and ache for him, for his company, more than I can ever clumsily express here.
Before he died, I asked him to promise me that if there was an afterlife that he’d send me a sign. He knew how much I craved a knowledge of something beyond this mortal coil. Paul promised me he would. I’ll take three points as my friend waving to me from his heaven. He’d find that sweet and funny. Which is what he always was.
I feel so very much more lonely without him. Rest in peace, mate. I will think about you every day.
And we will always have Norwich.
—
Reading this back I feel bereft with regrets. And I’m not a big regretter. I wanted to write the above for Paul and present it to him before he died. But even though he had accepted his fate, I still couldn’t find the courage to so boldly hold a death mask mirror up to him.
I badly wanted to tell him how much I loved him, how much I was going to miss him, but I thought that the finality of that ‘confession’ might only more brutally make him confront his imminent demise. I prevaricated. It seemed too cruel. Meanwhile, he just died. I should’ve told him. I fucking shoulda just told him.
For Paul Grant (1966-2021)
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So sorry for your loss and thanks for that post-script which I will try to learn from, those conversations are so hard but I’m sure he knew.
Beautiful Rob. All you boys go enjoy the fucking hell out of Norwich for Paul and all the Pauls we’ve all lost in the last 18 months.
This has absolutely floored me Rob. Beautifully written. I feel your pain. YNWA.
RIP and May god bless you. I’ll be in Norwich – and I’m sure Paul’s spirit will be too. Wishing you strength and peace.
Well done Rob. Wonderful writing which will give comfort and resolve to many, many people.
You didn’t have to tell him. He knew.
In tears here mate, the memories will stay with you.Cherish the friend you had and enjoy every game you go to for him.
Rob, all my thoughts are with you. I read these. I look forward to and enjoy these. And this one? I chuckled heartily and then knew what was coming and had all the feels. I do now. Sorry man, and sorry Paul. Come on the reds, eh?
I just lost my Dad on 7th August, I didn’t tell him properly the way I shoukda for the same reasons but the lads above are right – he knew. I loved this article – it made me cry. I’ll be in the pub on Sat night with a load of reds who all will have read this article and we’ll raise a pint to Granty. You will always have the memories. Thanks Rob.
Lovely article Rob he’ll be there with you in Norwich as we all will be after reading this.ynwa
Up the reds 3 points please
Great column really heartfelt I’m sure we’d all like to be able to write that well about someone in our lives , sorry for your loss
Beautifully written Rob. Gutted for you both.
Sorry for your loss Rob. Brought memories back of losing my best mate at the age of 28. He lost his fight 3rd time unlucky and to this day I’m gutted I never got to speak to him in person before he passed due to an illness myself and I wasn’t allowed to visit. I was also angry at him for seemingly giving up when I thought there might be other options and he said he didn’t have time or the will to fight anymore. It hit me hard and still does. It’ll be the anniversary of his passing on the 18th. I’ll raise a pint to both of them on that day. Rip wrighty and granty.
He knew
Thank you for that Rob. You all at TAW don’t know us, but we know you all. Such a true, warm, raw account of friendship, loss and life. Up the Reds and Up the Paul.
Thank you Rob for your words. I always look forward with such great anticipation for your previews and even more so with the new season just upon us. I figured something was off a bit when you started off with the predicted XI instead of having it at the end like usual.
Needless to say, I am very sorry for your loss as all of us on the TAW community must certainly do. It is a matter of Faith of course but I hope that you can take comfort in the thought and what I believe to be Reality; that your friend Paul knows how you feel and will be waiting to see you again some day. God Bless You and stay well. YNWA
Didn’t know your mate, but your words struck me and I will think of him on Saturday. Up the Reds and all of us together. YNWA
Sorry for your loss. YNWA.
I always read and enjoy these previews, Rob. Keep writing them for Paul and for your Red family.
There are no words that can console the loss of such a dear friend, but let it be known that you will always have us and you will never walk alone.
The beauty of the LFC family is captured right here in this article. It’s always been more than just football. Thanks for reminding us all once again what it’s like to be part of this red clan. Thoughts will be with you on saturday …
RIP Granty
A brave and poignant piece Rob, thanks for sharing!
Terribly sad and I’m so sorry to hear of your loss and for Paul’s family.
God Speed Paul and fly over Norwich for Rob and his boys.
Beautiful words Rob. Am in tears reading this. Had something similar in 2017 when my mother passed (she was given 9months but lasted 2 weeks – I was in Australia and she was in Wales). I also asked for a sign and got it. It was uncanny. Sending big love to you, man. They are inside your heart, they are with you and beside you always.
Lost my best mate in similar, but even more sudden, circumstances just after Madrid and your piece resonates so much Rob. Beautiful words and sentiments.
Blokes are, in general, pretty shite at conveying these things, but bloody hell, you’ve given it a good go there. Very moving.
I shall be raising a glass to both of you in the boozer tomorrow.
Wow….
I don’t know Paul, but I find myself mourning him after reading this. One of the best pieces I’ve read on TAW. Paul would (will) love that and making people who’ve never met him feel his lost is possibly one of the greatest tributes any mate could give. I’ll raise a glass on Saturday afternoon to his memory.
So sorry for your loss Rob. Such a savage way for someone to be taken, and so soon.
You’ll meet again at some point mate.
RIP Paul.
Sorry for your loss Rob, keep your chin up mate.
Why does it always feel like bad things happen to good people?
My mate (on the books at Everton) got diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer and he’d gone 3 months later. Still hurts today.
Live and love every day lads as you don’t know what’s round the corner.
Judging from how you’ve written this piece he knew how you felt about him as I guess he felt the same way about you too.
Sometimes words don’t feel enough but sometimes they’re all we have and you chosen yours beautifully.
Big love to you and to all of Paul’s friends and family.
A beautifully written piece describing an almost unbearable experience. Love to all Rob.
An unbelievable piece. I know you won’t feel that you have distilled your feelings adequately enough, but anyone reading this will agree that you couldn’t have done a better job here for your beloved mate.
I hope you feel him there with you in Norwich this weekend. I’m sure you will.
From what you’ve said of him Rob, it sounds like he knew how you felt about him. He knew. Thank you for writing and sharing this.
Your mate sent a sign, Rob. He knows
Rob I feel your pain through your words which is a gift. Your relationship with Paul sounds near perfect (lost a point for Everton fan) to have met and enjoyed each other for 27 years is not enough but more than most. Thoughts are with you. YNWA.
Thank you Rob… for being bare and honest and reminding us all that football is so much more than a game… and people make it so.
Rob, thank you for writing this
I can relate…and it hurts so much to say that
He would have loved this. He deserved these words.
I knew another Paul for 35 years and he died too.
They were both great men.