Journalist: Liverpool and Everton face battle to keep community ties strong | OneFootball

Liverpool, Everton and the shifting heart of community around Anfield and Walton

The streets around Anfield used to breathe football in a way that felt natural, organic, unpolished. Families lived there, neighbours leaned over garden walls to swap stories about matches, pubs swelled with locals on matchdays. It was imperfect, but it was home. Now, the landscape is changing. According to Simon Hughes in The Athletic, the surge of Airbnb lets, the expansion of Liverpool’s stadium, and the looming shadow of Everton’s move to the docks have reshaped two districts once defined by their clubs.

Photo: IMAGO

Airbnb and the new neighbours

Walk down Tancred Road or Sleepers Hill today and the houses still stand, but who lives in them is harder to know. Some are no longer homes in the traditional sense but short-term rentals advertised on Airbnb. The turnover is rapid, with one set of fans arriving for a Champions League tie and another taking their place days later for a league game.

A search in February, a quiet month with no fixtures, still produced 31 options for visitors wanting to stay near Anfield. Prices reflect the demand. A 10-bedroom house on Anfield Road can cost nearly £1,000 for a single night, and in some streets, one in four properties are listed on Airbnb.

Photo IMAGO

The impact is clear. Communities once stitched together by continuity now feel fragmented. As one resident put it: “Each week you wait to see who turns up next door.” For some, the extra money has allowed improvements to their homes and eased mortgage burdens. Yet for others, the sense of neighbourliness has been eroded.

Stadium expansion and the city’s direction

Liverpool FC’s expansion has been both a triumph and a source of tension. The redevelopment of the Main Stand and later the Anfield Road Stand lifted the capacity to over 61,000. Corporate hospitality areas now generate unprecedented revenue. Partnerships with companies such as Expedia push the idea of “experiencing” Anfield, drawing visitors even outside matchdays.

That money has delivered trophies, two league titles and a Champions League since 2019. But the cost to the neighbourhood has been profound. Entire streets such as Lothair Road were demolished to make way for the redevelopment. Some properties bought by the club or the council lay derelict for years, creating uncertainty that hung over residents.

The tension between growth and community cohesion is not unique to Liverpool, but it feels sharper here because of the club’s identity. The census shows around 14,730 people living in the Anfield ward. On matchdays, four times that number descend, and in the summer concerts add further strain.

Ian Byrne’s warning

Ian Byrne, the Labour MP for West Derby and a lifelong Liverpool supporter, has lived in Anfield for decades. He has watched as houses near his own have been sold and immediately converted into short-term rentals. “Every time a house goes up for sale, you are thinking, ‘Oh no, not again,’” he said.

For Byrne, the issue is not just about noise or weekend parties. It cuts deeper into the sense of belonging. “Society feels transient, these are atomised times and a lot of communities feel like they are under attack,” he said. “When you are struggling, it’s reassuring to have neighbours that you know because it makes you feel a bit safer and secure. The potential loss of this is incalculable. We need stronger communities, not weaker ones. We need more affordable housing rather than see them sold off to faceless people.”

Everton’s move and Walton’s struggle

Across the city, Everton’s departure from Goodison Park has left Walton exposed. The new Hill Dickinson Stadium on the docks was necessary for growth, offering a 53,000 capacity and modern hospitality suites. But the streets around Goodison now feel emptier.

Photo IMAGO

The Winslow Hotel, long the epicentre of Evertonian pre-match culture, faces closure. Dave Bond, its licensee, explained: “It’s all backs to the wall at the moment. I’ll carry on with the buses for as long as I can. I didn’t think it would be this bad.” His attempt to bus fans to the new ground has failed to cover costs. Trade that once relied on 3,000 pints sold before kick-off now limps along.

Walton, like Anfield, was already struggling. County Road has long been scarred by shuttered businesses. The move has shifted footfall and money to the city centre, leaving traditional neighbourhood pubs and shops adrift.

Growth and its discontents

Liverpool and Everton are global clubs now, measured by revenue streams, sponsorship deals and international reach. Their commercial strength feeds into the city’s broader reputation, attracting tourists and business. Yet beneath the numbers lies a question about what is lost.

The local councils have tried to adapt, imposing a tourist levy on hotels while recognising the distortions of short-term rentals. But enforcement is weak, and regulation lags behind reality. What is clear is that the balance of power has tilted towards market forces, with local communities left scrambling to hold on to what remains.

Anfield and Walton embody the contradictions of modern football. The clubs are engines of regeneration, yet also catalysts of displacement. They are symbols of pride, but also reminders of vulnerability. Liverpool FC tried to trademark the city’s name in 2019. That attempt failed, but it revealed something fundamental: the clubs know the value of identity, even as their expansion threatens to hollow out the very communities that gave them meaning.

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From a Liverpool supporter’s perspective, this is difficult reading. On one hand, the success of the club has been extraordinary. New stands, record revenues, global recognition. On the pitch, trophies have returned, and the club remains among the elite of Europe. But what does it mean if the cost is the slow erosion of community around Anfield?

Supporters who grew up walking to the stadium with neighbours now find themselves surrounded by strangers dragging suitcases through narrow streets. Airbnb lets may fund home improvements for some, but they strip away the familiarity that defined the area. When Ian Byrne says the loss is incalculable, he is speaking to something beyond money.

Liverpool fans are proud of Anfield as more than just a stadium. It is meant to be the heart of a community. The worry is that the heart is being hollowed out. The matchday buzz is still there, but what happens on a Wednesday morning in February? Too many houses sit empty, waiting for the next wave of visitors.

The club’s responsibility is complicated. It has to grow, compete, and win. But it also owes something to those who live in the shadow of the stands. Fans want Liverpool to dominate on the pitch, but not at the expense of Anfield ceasing to be a neighbourhood. Growth is necessary, but the community must not become collateral damage.