This is Anfield.. even when there’s an empty stadium! CELEBRATING LIVERPOOL FANS PARTY OUTSIDE THE CITY’S ‘THIRD CATHEDRAL’

THIS Is Anfield. Wrapped in a corset of reinforced fencing, it was still Anfield.

The Shankly Gates protected by a cordon of coppers and stewards, it was still Anfield.

With no match-day hum filling the tight, terraced, surrounding streets, telling you kick-off was imminent, it was still Anfield.

A spiritual home had become a bio-secure bubble, even for this momentous occasion, but it was still Anfield.

That is why they came. From near, from afar, Irish accents and excitable Scandinavian tones competing with the local voices. They were deep outside the Twelfth Man pub, social distancing a distant concept, man-marking in the style of Virgil van Dijk.

Touch tight.

They formed a flare-lit tunnel of love for the arriving Liverpool coach. The pleas were ignored and they came just to be in the vicinity for another landmark moment in the stadium’s great history.

Thankfully, Liverpool appear to have lessened the profile of their This Means More advertising campaign. And, don’t forget, every ground holds a place in the heart of the man, woman or child who supports the team that plays there.

Yet Liverpool fans, who have gathered here in the brightest times and the darkest times, have always seemed to consider their home the city’s third cathedral. That’s why they congregated in their numbers.

“The word fanatic has been used many times,” Bill Shankly said. “I think it’s more than fanaticism. It is a religion to them. The thousands who come here, come to worship.

“Anfield isn’t a football ground, it’s a sort of shrine.” A shrine shrouded in steel for this momentous night but a shrine all the same. The great and the good of Liverpool Football Club and its city advised people to stay away but many found the urge irresistible.

Parents brought their toddlers, veteran fans brought their anoraks just in case, pavement vendors brought their wares, likely lads and girls just sensed a bit of a party.

But Anfield was not just a cavernous arena in L4 on the night of July 22.

The surrounding streets, festooned with Liverpool flags, they were Anfield.

The pubs in the city, down by the docks, as packed as protocol would allow, they were Anfield.

For Liverpool supporters across the globe, Anfield was a state of mind.

Why would these numbers bother to come here if peering into a smartphone was the only way you could watch the match? Because of the significance of the night and because Jurgen Klopp has insisted this venue has some sort of mystical powers.

It does not, of course, but the influence of those who normally fill it surely has something to do with the champions’ remarkable home record.

They did not fill it when the first title in 30 years was formally marked by the trophy lift, instead they sang in the road behind the Kop.

Should they have been there? Probably not.

Could you blame those who worship the club? No. After all, This Is Anfield.