A White Hot night still burns bright 25 years on
GP writes: In January 1993, third-tier Bolton Wanderers humbled the mighty Liverpool at Anfield in a huge FA Cup shock – and I was there. So when the Bolton News asked fans to file their memories for a 25th-anniversary special issue, it was a pleasure to oblige.
The 1992/93 season was a time of huge changes - the Premier League, the Champions League, the first Sky deal, the abolition of the backpass law and the arrival of Bruce Rioch. The latter had the biggest effect on Bolton Wanderers, but it would be a lie to paint his first season as a time of unbridled optimism: at one point in autumn we were 18th, having gathered just three points in eight winless league games.
Astute signings like David Lee and John McGinlay turned that tanker round, but after Liverpool had hauled Wanderers back in at Burnden from a 2-0 lead – years before it was alleged to be the most dangerous score in football – there were a fair few Wanderers fans who elected not to part with their hard-earned for the replay at the home of the FA Cup holders. Curiously, many of those who went were not optimists but pessimists: those who feared we might never again get the chance to visit such stadiums.
We stashed the motor, safely away from the veiled threats of “Mind your car for a fiver, mate?”, and walked across Stanley Park to the welcoming Wednesday-night glow of the floodlights. At the grand old age of 18, I’d never seen Bolton at Anfield, and it was a pleasure to check out the sights and to soak up the atmosphere as a fan with nothing to lose.
On the other hand, Graeme Souness had much more to lose than his temper. At Burnden, he’d sent the half-time tea-cups flying; for the Anfield return, he’d made four changes to his starting XI. The defence looked particularly patched-up: with Steve Nicol absent, Souness selected left-back Stig-Inge Bjornebye at centre-back, England right-back Rob Jones at left-back and midfielder Mike Marsh at right-back. The only player in his natural position was Torben Piechnik, and he was awful.
By contrast, Bruce Rioch’s unchanged side immediately clicked into gear and roasted the Reds from the off. Phil Brown won the toss and sent Liverpool attacking The Kop in the first half – but only theoretically, because most of the action flowed toward the away end. Roaring down the main stand touchline, David Lee had Marsh on toast and plopped an undefendable cross right onto the forehead of John McGinlay, straining every sinew to nod it home then celebrating with a wild abandon matched by the fans who were growing to adore him.
With British football teams still almost exclusively playing 4-4-2, Bolton had a simple plan: get it down, get it wide, get it across and get it in. Freshly signed on a permanent deal from Southampton, former Bury winger Lee was unplayable in that first half, three times beating Marsh before shooting ineptly. Might we rue those missed chances?
Lee was certainly quieter in the second half, not least because Souness spared the crockery and switched Rob Jones to right-back. But still Bolton stroked the ball around with the more composure of the two teams, aided by a snapped Achilles ending Michael Thomas’s season.
Now the Reds’ central midfield duo of Don Hutchison (21) and the teenage Jamie Redknapp were being comprehensively out-thought by their much savvier opponents Tony ‘Zico’ Kelly (28) and Mark ‘Gizmo’ Patterson (27). The away-end nerves were beginning to dissipate in sheer enjoyment, and one photo captured Liverpool’s frustration as a snarling Redknapp slid in on the skipping Lee.
But it was from the other flank that Liverpool were undone for good. With 12 minutes to go and the home side pushing desperately on, Wanderers won the ball and worked it to McGinlay, running the hard yards down the right wing. Glancing up, he found his mate Andy Walker in front of the Kop-end goal and the former Celtic striker, hardly the tallest, was “up like a salmon at the back post” to make it 2-0.
On the Liverpool bench for the first time, a 17-year-old kid called Robbie Fowler couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “It didn’t occur to me we might lose,” he later admitted. “I was glad I never got on.” But others were savouring every moment.
Up at the back of the away end, under the rafters of the Anfield Road roof which had just been all but lifted off, we wondered who we’d most like to score a third: Lee, as just reward for his excellence? Scouser Kelly?
In the end, it stayed 2-0, and the better for it: not a cakewalk hammering, but a hard-earned win, one rightly rewarded by the Kop end applauding our heroes from the pitch. If nothing else happened in the 1990s, this would be enough. But the story was only just beginning.
