The RETURN of European Anfield

Idiot wrote:lol he said bar, i thought russia

Harry Redknapp wrote:I am hearing Zenit fans in Liverpool got their asses kicked tonight.

Looks like it was pay-back time

As we head back into the metro we’re getting a lot of very nasty looks and Zenit fans passing us on the opposite escalator start taunting us with threatening gestures. This feels bad now, and we’re heavily outnumbered. I am starting to feel very, very nervous amid the growing feeling that this could all turn very nasty.

Matt and I have been keeping our heads down and we’re at the changeover stop on the metro when a roar from behind us makes us look around. About 50 nutters, most of them with skinheads charge past us. Something tells me they aren’t looking to make a particular train. I’m pretty shaken up now and we keep walking with our heads down, meeting Andrew (Longworth) at the platform, just as a train absolutely rammed with these phycos is getting ready to depart “Get the next one.” Is the consensus, one mad Russian Bangs on the train doors as it’s moving off, his mates kick them open and he leaps on as the train is already halfway out the station. Andrew turns to me
“Did you see that then?”
“No what happened?”
“About forty of them attacked a few of our guys, they got completely filled in, knuckle dusters and everything.”
“Where’s your group mate?”
“We got scattered – everyone did.”
Matt Andrew and I get on the next train looking to get back somewhere quiet as soon as we can. I notice one individual on our coach who looks every each a *bleep* murderer. He sees me steal a glance at him and cracks his knuckles. “*bleep* you.” We avoid looking at him. “HEY! HEY *bleep* LIVERPOOL.” His mate looks like he’s equally phycotic and he’s now taking an interest as well. “You fight!” He puts his hands up and leers at us.
“We don’t want any trouble.” Andrew says. The nutcase turns to him, mimicking the open hands/no trouble gesture and sneering.
“You *bleep* die.” I notice he’s wearing leather gloves, the kind that make it look like he’s come ready to hit somebody. “SHIT YOU!” He turns back to me laughing and threatening me with his fists now. I look into the carriage and the public are all looking at the floor – nobody wants to get in his way. His mate shows us his hat – it has a United badge on “Glory glory Man United. Pussy. *bleep* you!” He cracks his knuckles and makes a throat slitting gesture.
As the train is pulling into the Nevsky Prospect stop it becomes apparent that these thugs want to get off here too, and Andrew says what I’ve been thinking “I reckon we don’t get off here, lets swing round and come back.” The first one stands in the doorway for a moment, as if deciding whether to stay on the train to attack us, or to find somebody else. Finally he throws a punch, but pulls it and laughs manically as I flinch away.
“*bleep* YOU!” He says as he swaggers off. My heart is going like a drum but I think the worst is over now, then Andrew stands up and says
“Okay lets get off.”
“No mate *bleep* that, lets go back round.” I say. The Andrew jumps off the train and starts off after these two phycopaths. I scream at him to come back, to which Andrew replies (I swear to god this is what you said mate, but correct me if I’m wrong)
“I have to see them off here.” I yell at Matt that we can’t leave him, I jump off the train, I yell and Andrew to come back, Matt yells at me to get back on the train and I get back on for a moment
“We have to go with him!” But it’s too late – the train is moving again. We swap at the next station and head back – it probably takes 8 minutes to return to Nevsky Station which is a bit quieter now. All we can do is wonder and hope that Andrew hasn’t got himself killed. Walking back to the hotel we pop into 24 hour chemist, thinking that although they probably don’t sell alcohol, it’s worth a shot, and we’ll get some water anyway. We both now fancy just getting back to the room and having a few cans as it’s *bleep* grim out in the city. Twenty seconds after walking in however, and Stalin’s grandson is back – I don’t know if they understood what we said to each other, that we’d return to this metro stop, or if they followed us, but either way, they’ve found us again.
“Leave us alone lad. We don’t want to fight you.” I’m very scared now, there is no way out of this shop and the only member of staff is an elderly woman, behind some glass. He advances on me and demands I open the bag. He starts shouting in Russian at the woman behind the glass, who is pleading with him to leave – I can only assume he’s saying something about Matt and I having started something. He raises his fists again and threatens to hit me. “Your shirt, show me your shirt.”

I tell him to *bleep* off and say yes we are Liverpool fans but to leave alone and we don’t want any trouble. He’s right in my face now and I’m amazed he hasn’t hit me yet – then I realise why he won’t back off, a little sliver of Red is showing from my Kenny t-shirt underneath everything else. As we’ve backed into a corner the manager of this pharmacy suddenly appears holding a truncheon. The two hooligans are forced out of the shop, but hang around in the doorway indicating that they aren’t finished with us yet. While this manager stands over us with his nightstick I shout that he needs to call the police, and he refuses. Matt explains that we’re not going back out there with these idiots waiting for us and the man tells us one word “security”. Suddenly two more Russians turn up, both of them armed with smaller nightsticks and prowl around the entrance, remonstrating with the hooligans. Ten minutes later and these two nutjobs seem to have disappeared, but we thought that once already. Matt and I refuse to leave without the escort, and after showing them how close our hotel is on a little card they agree to take us there. We are put in the back of their car and driven round the corner – I have never been so relieved to get back to a hotel room, not even in Naples.

I’m lying in bed thinking about all the shit that’s gone on and Matt is on the hotel wi-fi. His tweets about being threatened and chased have been picked up by the Daily Mail and he’s got some journalist on twitter wanting to interview him. The guy phones him up and I give him the details, before the two us turn our attention to RAWK and checking that everybody is back safely.