Red or Dead (38 page)

On Tuesday 9 September, 1969, Sunderland Football Club came to Anfield, Liverpool. That evening, forty-six thousand, three hundred and seventy folk came, too. In the twelfth minute, Geoff Strong scored. And in the thirty-fourth minute, Tommy Smith scored. And Liverpool Football Club beat Sunderland Football Club two–nil. At home, at Anfield. That evening, Liverpool Football Club had sixteen points. That evening, Derby County had fourteen points. And Everton Football Club had thirteen points. That evening, Liverpool Football Club were first in the First Division.

In the bedroom, at their window. Bill stared out through the glass, up beyond the trees. Into the night, into the sky. And up at the moon. Men had designed rockets. Men had built rockets. Men had travelled in rockets. And everybody had stood and everybody had watched. Men land on the moon. Men walk on the moon. Men plant a flag on the moon. Everybody standing, everybody watching. The ball going up, the ball coming down. Just standing, just watching. The flag on the moon, the ball in the goal. In their bedroom, at the window. Bill heard footsteps on the stairs. The bedroom door open. And Ness cough –

There you are, love. What are you doing, standing in the dark? Draw the curtains, love. It’s dark now. It’s getting late, love.

Bill smiled. And Bill said, I know, love. I know.

Bill knew if you listened carefully. If you listened closely. There was always the sound of chains. Always the sound of knives. And always the sound of spades. At your back, in your shadow. The sound of chains rattling. The sound of knives sharpening. The sound of spades digging. Rattling, sharpening and digging –

And ticking. The clock ticking.

…

On the touchline, the touchline at Old Trafford. Bill shook the hand of Wilf McGuinness. And Bill said, Well played, Wilf. Well played. And I wish you all the best for the rest of the season, Wilf.

Thank you, Mr Shankly. And the same to you, sir …

Bill nodded. And Bill looked up into the stand, the Main Stand at Old Trafford. And Bill saw Matt. Matt still looking old, Matt still looking drained. Exhausted and not smiling –

Bill not smiling. Liverpool Football Club not first in the First Division now. Liverpool Football Club third in the First Division –

On the bench, the Anfield bench. In the first minute, Bill watched Evans score. In the tenth minute, Lawler score. In the
twenty-fourth
minute, Smith score. In the thirty-sixth minute, Graham score. In the thirty-eighth minute, Evans score again. In the fifty-sixth minute, Alec Lindsay score. On his debut. In the sixty-seventh minute, Smith score again. In the sixty-ninth minute, Thompson score. In the
seventy-sixth
minute, Callaghan score. In the eighty-second minute, Graham score again. And on the bench, the Anfield bench. Bill was smiling now. Liverpool Football Club had beaten Dundalk Football Club ten–nil in the first leg of the First Round of the Inter-Cities Fairs Cup –

On the bench, the bench at Maine Road. Bill watched Doyle score for Manchester City. Bill watched Evans equalise. Bill watched Young score for Manchester City. Bill watched Graham equalise. But then Bill watched Bowyer score for Manchester City. And Manchester City had knocked Liverpool Football Club out of the Football League Cup. And Bill was not smiling now –

On the bench, the bench at the Hawthorns. Bill stared out at the players of Liverpool Football Club. But Bill did not see Ron Yeats. Yeats was injured. And Bill did not see Ian St John. St John was injured. Bill saw Larry Lloyd. And Bill saw Phil Boersma. And Bill saw West Bromwich Albion Football Club tear Liverpool Football Club apart. Lawrence save from Suggett. Lawrence save from Hope. Lawrence save from Brown. Lawrence save from Hegan. And Lawrence save from Suggett again. But then the ball fell to Astle. And Lawrence did not save from Astle. And Astle scored. But in the twenty-fifth minute, Thompson passed to Hunt. And Hunt crossed. Graham met the cross from Hunt. And Graham nodded the cross into
the goal. But in the second half, from thirty yards out, Hegan shot. And Hegan scored. And Liverpool Football Club were losing two–one. And the long minutes became short minutes. Again. Bill heard the crowd whistling. The short minutes become dying minutes. Again. The crowd whistling, still whistling. But in the ninety-seventh minute, Hughes passed to Hunt on the edge of the penalty area. The crowd whistling, still whistling and whistling. And Hunt shot. And Hunt scored. And with the last kick of the game, Liverpool Football Club drew two-all with West Bromwich Albion. And Bill saw some of the crowd run onto the pitch. Onto the field. And one of the crowd punched the referee in his face. And the police came onto the pitch. And the police escorted the referee from the pitch. From the field,

down the tunnel.

…

In Newcastle, in the hotel. In the dining room, in his chair. Bill watched the players eat their steak and chips. Bill watched the players eat their tinned fruit and cream. Tommy Lawrence. Chris Lawler. Geoff Strong. Tommy Smith. Ron Yeats. Emlyn Hughes. Ian Callaghan. Phil Boersma. Bobby Graham. Alun Evans. Peter Thompson. And the Saint. Bill heard the players joking, Bill heard the players laughing. And in the lounge, in his chair, Bill watched the players playing cards. Tommy Lawrence. Chris Lawler. Geoff Strong. Tommy Smith. Ron Yeats. Emlyn Hughes. Ian Callaghan. Phil Boersma. Bobby Graham. Alun Evans. Peter Thompson. And the Saint. Bill heard the players joking. Bill heard the players laughing. And in the lobby, by the lift. Bill heard the players say goodnight. Bill watched the players go upstairs. Tommy Lawrence. Chris Lawler. Geoff Strong. Tommy Smith. Ron Yeats. Emlyn Hughes. Ian Callaghan. Phil Boersma. Bobby Graham. Alun Evans. Peter Thompson. And the Saint. The players still joking, the players still laughing. And in his room, on the bed. Bill threw his book onto the floor. His book of names, his book of notes. And Bill stood up. And in his room, on the carpet. Bill paced and Bill paced. And Bill thought and Bill thought. About the players, all the players. About Tommy Lawrence. About Chris Lawler. About Geoff Strong. About Tommy Smith. About Ron Yeats. About Emlyn Hughes. About Ian Callaghan. About Phil Boersma. About Bobby Graham. About Alun Evans. About
Peter Thompson. And about the Saint. The games he had played and the runs he had made. The tackles he had made and the balls he had won. The passes he had played and the goals he had scored. On the Friday night, the night before the game. In Newcastle, in the hotel. In his room, his tiny hotel room. Bill paced and Bill paced. Bill thought and Bill thought. And Bill worried and Bill worried. He thought about the Saint and he worried about the Saint. About what he would do with the Saint, about what he would say to the Saint. And Bill paced and he paced. And Bill thought and he thought. And Bill worried and he worried. His jacket stuck to his shirt. The sound of the chains. His shirt stuck to his vest. The sound of the knives. His vest stuck to his skin. The sound of the spades. Until night became morning, until Friday became Saturday. The day here,

the game here.

…

In the office, at his desk. Bill heard the footsteps coming down the corridor. The angry footsteps. Bill heard the two short knocks upon the door. The angry knocks. And Bill saw the Saint burst into the office. And the finger in his face –

Why didn’t you tell me I wasn’t playing, asked Ian St John. Why didn’t you say something to me? To my face?

You weren’t in the dressing room when I read out the team. If you had been in the dressing room when I read out the team, you would have heard. You would have heard then.

But you could have told me on the Friday night, said Ian St John. At the hotel, before the game. You could have told me at breakfast. On Saturday morning, before the game. You could have told me any time before the game. Any time …

Yes, I would have told you before the game. I would have told you in the dressing room before the game. If you’d been in the dressing room before the game. But you weren’t in the dressing room before the game. I don’t know where you were. But you were not there.

I’d just nipped out to give some tickets to some mates. I was only gone a minute. But you’d already decided. You’d already written it on the team sheet. That’s how I heard about it. Not from you. From Jackie Milburn. In the bloody lobby. Looking at the team sheet. Hearing it from Jackie fucking Milburn. Not from you …

Because you weren’t in the dressing room. You would have heard it from me, if you’d been in the dressing room before the game. But you weren’t in the dressing room …

That’s not the bloody point. That’s not what I fucking mean. You should have taken me to one side. You should have told me to my face. Just you and me. That’s what you should have done …

Why? I’ve never done that with anyone before.

But I’ve never been dropped before. I’ve never been left out of the team before. This has never happened to me before. And then to hear it like I did. In the bloody lobby, from a fucking stranger. I thought I deserved something better than that. After all we’ve been through, how long we’ve known each other. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Don’t I mean anything to you? After all these years? After all these games? Doesn’t it mean anything?

Bill shook his head. And Bill said, Those games were for Liverpool Football Club. Those games you played, those things you did. They were all for the club. Not for me …

Ian St John fought back tears. Ian St John struggled to breathe. Ian St John swallowed –

I know they were for Liverpool Football Club. But they were also for you. Because you believed in me. That is why I came here. Because of you. Because of your belief in me. That is why I did the things I did. For Liverpool Football Club. Because of you. Yes, I did all those things for Liverpool Football Club. But every one of those things was also for you. To thank you. For your belief in me. And for your faith in me. Those things were all for you. All for you, Boss.

Bill opened his mouth. Bill closed his mouth. Bill looked up at the clock on the wall. Bill looked down at the watch on his arm. And then Bill stood up. And Bill said, It’s almost time for training, son. We’re going to be late. Come on, son. Let’s go …

Ian St John did not move –

Saturdays have always been the best days of my life, whispered Ian St John. But last Saturday was the worst day of my life. And these have been the happiest days of my life. Here at Liverpool, here with you. But those days are gone now, aren’t they? They are finished now.

Bill looked up at the clock on the wall again. Bill looked down at the watch on his arm again. Bill shook his head. And Bill said, No
son. No. Not yet. But it comes to us all, son. And so you have to be prepared. You have to be ready, son. Because you have to decide how you will deal with it. Will it be with grace and with dignity? Or will it be with anger and with bitterness? But only you can decide that –

Only you can know that, son.

…

On the bench, the bench at the Baseball Ground. Bill was not smiling. Bill was worried. Last season, Derby County had been first in the Second Division. And Derby County had been promoted. This season, Derby County were third in the First Division. And everybody was talking about Derby County. Everybody talking about their manager. Bill had admired Brian Clough as a player. Bill had tried to buy Brian Clough as a player. And Bill admired Brian Clough as a manager. Bill admired the things he had achieved with Derby County. The players he had bought, the way they played the game. And on the bench, the bench at the Baseball Ground. Bill knew this would not be an easy game for Liverpool Football Club. But Bill knew there were no easy games for Liverpool Football Club. And Bill was right –

In the thirteenth minute, Hinton came flying down the right. Past Thompson. Past St John. Past Graham. Past Hunt. Past Callaghan. Past Hughes. And Hinton passed to McGovern. And McGovern shot. Past Yeats. Past Smith. Past Strong. Past Lawler. And past Lawrence. Forty-five seconds later, O’Hare sidestepped Yeats. O’Hare flicked the ball to Hector. And Hector scored. But the supporters of Liverpool Football Club inside the Baseball Ground sang,
No surrender! No surrender! No surrender!
But Mackay passed to McFarland. And McFarland passed to Carlin. And Carlin passed to Durban. And Durban passed to McGovern. And McGovern passed to Hector. And Hector passed to Hinton. Again and again and again. And in the second half, McGovern passed to Durban. And Durban passed to Hinton. And Hinton crossed for Hector. And Hector dived and Hector scored. And in the sixty-eighth minute, Hector sidestepped Strong again. And Hector passed to Durban. And Durban passed to O’Hare. And O’Hare back-heeled the ball into the net. But the linesman had raised his flag. And the referee disallowed the goal. But one minute later, Durban passed to Hector. Hector rolled the ball to O’Hare. And O’Hare scored. And Derby County beat Liverpool Football Club four–nil.
It was Liverpool Football Club’s worst defeat in six years. And it could have been worse, it should have been worse. It could have been eight–nil, it should have been eight–nil –

On the touchline, the touchline at the Baseball Ground. Bill shook the hand of Brian Clough. And Bill said, Well played. Very well played indeed, son. On this form, you could beat anyone. On this form, you could win the League …

Brian Clough smiled. And Brian Clough thanked Bill. And then Brian Clough started talking. Talking and talking. But Bill was not listening. Bill had heard enough. Bill had seen enough.

…

In the corridor. The Anfield corridor. Bill opened the dressing-room door. The home dressing-room door. Bill looked around the dressing room. The Liverpool dressing room. From player to player. From Lawrence to Lawler, Lawler to Strong, Strong to Smith, Smith to Yeats, Yeats to Hughes, Hughes to Callaghan, Callaghan to Hunt, Hunt to Graham, Graham to St John and from St John to Thompson. And Bill said, Last week we were outplayed and we were outclassed by Derby County. Last week we were humiliated by Derby County. We have been written off in the press. We’ve been told we are past it. We’ve been told we are yesterday’s men. Old horses fit only for the knacker’s yard. Fit only for the glue factory. People have said we need to make changes. People have said we need new players. Fresh legs and young blood. But I believe every man should have the chance to answer his critics. I believe every man deserves that chance. And so I have not listened to what those people say, to what the critics say. Because I will not believe what those people say, what those critics say. Until you have had the chance to prove them wrong, to make them eat their words. Until I have seen with my own eyes whether or not you can answer your critics. Until I have seen with my own eyes whether or not you can prove them wrong. In front of your own people, in front of the supporters of Liverpool Football Club …