Watching Liverpool at Paddy’s

Tap lines at the bar.

Take your typical American sports bar, switch out your familiar American beers and sports for more European options, and you get Paddy O’Sheas–Beijing’s only Irish Bar. It’s a beacon for weary expats looking for a pint and a small slice of home.

Scarves, trophies, and other sports memorabilia were hanging from the walls and ceiling. Light jazz played in the background. Patrons watched whatever sport had their attention.

Pints are priced a bit higher than what I’ve come to expect in Beijing. But this is a bar frequented by foreigners that ultimately caters to their needs. Thus, the products are priced at a premium. The tap lines run the gamut of typical European beers–Guinness, Mahou, Estrella, Brew Dog, and Carlsberg.

The chatter of patrons nervously waiting for the match nearly drowned out the music from the speakers overhead. They sipped their beers in between comments and as they tried to listen over the din of other conversations.

Traffic along Beijing’s embassy row was audible through the open windows at the front of the bar. Patrons sat along either side, taking in the late summer weather. A light breeze circulated through the room.

“I imagine you’re here for the Liverpool game,” a patron asked as he nervously approached. He picked me out of the crowd because I wore an 08-09 Xabi Alonso away kit.

“Yes, but I’m not sure which tv,” I said.

“You know this is an Irish Bar, and they’re playing rugby now, so I have to be cautious,” he said in a West African inflection. He chuckled nervously.

“Lads, don’t worry, it will be on all the TVs,” a second patron said after overhearing our conversation, his accent distinctly from the UK.

The smartly dressed West African gentleman headed toward another section of the bar. And I never saw him again. I hope he was able to catch the match.

As it drew closer to kickoff, the bar began to fill with more patrons. A handful yelled out some disparaging remarks about Liverpool. Some others started conversing about and weighing the merits of Mo Salah’s potential departure to Saudi Arabia.

An older Irish gentleman slid in next to me, and while sipping on cognac to settle his stomach, he began chatting about Beijing, the bilateral relationship with the US, and about the family members he had there. He was hoping to catch the Ireland vs. Tonga rugby match before he left the following day. We decided it may be tough for him to do so.

When the match finally kicked off, all the TVs switched over. Precisely as the interloper had mentioned a half hour before. My Irish neighbor asked about Quansah, where he’d come from, etc. And when the Reds started slowly, he said something about being a tough match but that Wolves were always up for a fight.

I periodically scanned the crowd, looking for pockets of Liverpool fans among the expats there for a drink in familiar surroundings. They were few and small. But, I realized this was more like an American sports bar near a college campus than I had anticipated. Viewers were there as part of their own cliques and not as some well-organized watch party.

The Irish businessman sitting next to me and I added a few more years to the crowd's average age. I’m not old, mind, but the bar flies floating around me were much younger. College grads, young expats looking for a bit of fun on a gap year, or finding work abroad filled the space. They intermingled with locals, giving hopeful smiles and throwing out a handful of Mandarin phrases. Their interests seemed a bit more sensual than the prosaic football match taking place in the West Midlands.

My neighbor left and was replaced by an expat from New Zealand. He was a proponent of the rave scene in Beijing and made a half-hearted attempt to convince me that I should check it out, too. If I were twenty years younger, maybe I’d be interested. I failed to impart that he and I were both far too old to be out that late. He ate some food, told me about his hellish experience in Washington, DC, and then bounced for something more up his alley. However, I did see him running around the joint a little later. I suppose he didn’t give up on Paddy’s after all.

On the bar stool on the other side of me was a local fella. He came in wearing a gray Chicago Cubs baseball hat. When he sat down, I apologized for wearing my St. Louis Cardinals cap (they’re bitter rivals). “I’m sorry, I just like the hat,” he said. “I’m here for the Liverpool match.”

“Same, my friend, same.” I had to remind myself that folks here wear MLB baseball hats as a fashion statement and that it’s rare for any of them to actually like the teams.

I don’t have to rehash the first half of the Wolves match. It was a terrible forty-five minutes of football. The folks among the melange of patrons watching the match were either grumbling their disapproval or satisfied that a top 6 team was struggling and likely to drop points.

It was around this time that two young Scousers came into our orbit. They were in town for work, helping on a project in some city far away from Beijing. One didn’t really care too much about the match, even if his family were Liverpool fans. Though he did care more about giving his mate stick for being an Evertonian.

I tried to keep up with the banter, but it was loud, and the accents were a bit tough to follow. As I imagine mine would be if my mates from Kentucky came around and we were several pints deep. We did the best we could, and I think the general sentiments came across.

Fans mill about after the matches.

As the match went, so did the rest of the evening. Liverpool sorted themselves, found another level of play, and grabbed all three points. Robbo with a rare goal. Mo continued his run as provider. These were the types of wins that were absent last year. Mentality Monsters 2.0 continue to emerge.

I had a choice to make, and it was one that would affect the direction of this piece. I could continue the night’s festivities and end up with something akin to Hunter S. Thompson’s essay on the Kentucky Derby. While it would probably have made for a great story, I didn’t believe it was in my best interests to roll those dice here in Beijing.

Instead, I went home. Making a note to look those two fellas up the next time I’m on the east side of the Mersey.

If I am honest, I was hoping to find a bigger contingent of Liverpool fans at Paddy’s. There is a group that goes, but nearly all were away for this past weekend. I did find, however, that the local OLSC does meet at a different bar. It is dedicated to the club with organized watches for most matches. That is next on my list.

Collapsing into bed after my Didi (China’s Uber) ride home, I fell fast asleep. My old bones sent every signal that I’m not cut out for late nights any longer.