Red or Dead (7 page)

In the boardroom, in the chair at the end of the long table. Bill looked at the directors of Liverpool Football Club. And Bill waited.

It’s been a good season, said Tom Williams. Quite a good season, Mr Shankly. Yes, we have finished third again. Yes, we have missed out on promotion again. But we have two more points than we did at the end of last season. And so that is an improvement, Mr Shankly. A visible improvement. Unfortunately, our home gates are a little down on last season. But not by much, not so very much. And we all know Rome was not built in a day, we all know that. So keep up the good work, Mr Shankly. And better luck next season.

…

In the office, at the desk. Bill opened up the newspaper. Again. Bill looked down at the final League table for the 1960–61 season. Liverpool Football Club had played forty-two games in the Second Division in the 1960–61 season. They had won fourteen games at home, at Anfield. Lost five and drawn two. They had won seven games away, away from Anfield. Drawn five and lost nine. Liverpool Football Club had scored forty-nine goals at home and thirty-eight goals away. They had conceded twenty-one goals at home and
thirty
-seven
away. In the office, at the desk. Bill opened a drawer. Bill took out a pair of scissors and a pot of glue. And Bill began to cut out the final League table for the 1960–61 season from the newspaper. Bill did not believe in luck. Bad luck or good. Bill knew it was never a matter of luck, never a question of luck. Bill knew luck was just another excuse for failure. Bill knew luck was what men like the directors of Liverpool Football Club told men like him when things did not work out, when things did not go the way men like him wanted them to go. Bill thought the word luck should be cut out of the dictionary, struck from the English language. Banished and forgotten. In the office, at the desk. Bill heard footsteps in the corridor. Slow and careful steps. And a knock upon the door. A slow and careful knock. Bill put down the
scissors. Bill looked up from the desk. And Bill said, Yes?

The door opened. Slowly and carefully. A round-faced man in an ill-fitting suit stood in the doorway.

Bill said, Can I help you?

Mr Shankly, said the man. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, but my name is Eric Sawyer. I’ve just been appointed to the board of directors. I wondered if you had a moment?

In the office, behind the desk. Bill smiled. Bill stood up. And Bill said, I’ve always a moment. Please come in, please have a seat. And would you like a cup of tea, Mr Sawyer?

That would be very nice, Mr Shankly, said Eric Sawyer. If you have the time. Thank you very much, Mr Shankly.

Bill went out of the office. Bill went down the corridor. And Bill asked one of the secretaries to bring in a pot of tea. Then Bill came back up the corridor. Bill came back into the office. Bill sat back down behind the desk. Bill smiled at Eric Sawyer. And Bill said, The tea will be just a minute. Now what can I do for you, Mr Sawyer?

Well, said Eric Sawyer. Like most directors, I’m afraid I don’t know very much about football, Mr Shankly. Not very much at all.

Bill laughed. And Bill said, That’s a very honest thing for you to say, Mr Sawyer. In fact, that’s the most honest thing I’ve ever heard a director say in my life. Maybe the only honest thing!

But I know you know about football, said Eric Sawyer. I know you know a lot, Mr Shankly. Perhaps all there is to know about football. And so I also know you must be bitterly disappointed that we have not been promoted this season.

I am, Mr Sawyer. I am.

Well, I want you to know, Mr Shankly, that I am here to help you. I am here to help you gain promotion. To help you get Liverpool Football Club back into the First Division. That is why I have been appointed to the board of Liverpool Football Club.

There were footsteps in the corridor again, a tap upon the door now. And one of the secretaries brought in a pot of tea. Two cups and two saucers. The secretary put down the tray on the desk.

Bill said, Thank you. Thank you very much.

As you know, said Eric Sawyer, Mr Moores is the chairman of Everton Football Club. But he also has a lot of shares in this club. In
Liverpool Football Club. And so Mr Moores would like to see Liverpool Football Club succeed, too. Not just Everton, but Liverpool Football Club, too. Mr Moores believes this city deserves two successful football clubs. Not just one.

Bill poured the tea into the two cups. Bill handed one cup to Eric Sawyer. And Bill said, I am listening, Mr Sawyer. Please go on.

Eric Sawyer took the cup of tea from Bill. And Eric Sawyer said, Thank you, Mr Shankly. Now Mr Moores cannot sit on both boards of directors. Not as the chairman of Everton Football Club. So Mr Moores nominated me in his place. To sit on the board of Liverpool Football Club. I am an accountant by trade. And I have worked for Mr Moores for many years at Littlewoods. I am the executive in charge of finance at Littlewoods. That is my job.

Bill smiled. And Bill said, So you know about money then, Mr Sawyer? You are one of the money men then?

Yes, said Eric Sawyer. I am a money man, if you like. And so yes, I know about money. So I know the finances of Liverpool Football Club are a mess. I know they need sorting out. And fast.

Bill sighed. Bill put down his cup. And Bill said, So I suppose you are here to tell me there is no more money, Mr Sawyer? No more money for new players? Is that why you are here, sir?

Quite the opposite, Mr Shankly. Quite the reverse. As I told you, I do not know much about football. But I do know the players we have at Liverpool Football Club are not good enough to get us promoted to the First Division. So I know we need to buy new players. And that if we buy new players. The right players. Then Liverpool Football Club will be promoted to the First Division. And if Liverpool Football Club are promoted to the First Division, then the gates will increase. There will be no more average gates of twenty-odd thousand. Not if Liverpool Football Club are in the First Division. If Liverpool Football Club are in the First Division, then the potential is here for gates of fifty thousand or more. I know that and Mr Moores knows that. But first we have to get promoted. And to get promoted we will need to spend money on new players. So I am here to tell you that if you can find the players, the right players, then I will get you the money, Mr Shankly. I will get you the money.

…

In the house, in their kitchen. Bill and Ness cleared the table. Bill and Ness washed the Sunday pots. And then Ness made a cup of tea for her and Bill. Bill and Ness took their cups of tea into the other room. In the other room, in their chairs. Bill and Ness sat down with their cups of tea and the Sunday papers. Bill with the back pages and Ness with the crossword. Bill and Ness could hear the girls upstairs, listening to their records. Dancing and singing. And carrying on …

Bill jumped up from his chair. And Bill shouted, Jesus Christ!

Ness jumped, too. Ness looked up from her crossword. And Ness saw Bill. Bill dancing around the room, Bill waving the
Sunday Post
about, sheets of the newspaper falling onto the carpet, Bill clutching this one page and Bill saying, Where’s the telephone, love? Where is it? Where’s the phone, love?

The phone’s in the hall, said Ness. Where it always is, love.

Bill nodded. Bill grabbed his address book from the arm of his chair. Bill dashed out of the room, Bill sprinted into the hall. Bill flicked through the pages of his address book. Bill picked up the telephone. Bill read the number in his address book again. Bill dialled the number. And Bill waited. And Bill waited. And then Bill said, Mr Sawyer? Mr Sawyer. It’s Bill Shankly. You’ll never believe what I’ve just read in the paper. In the
Sunday Post
. The boy wants to go, the boy wants to leave. There’s not a moment to lose …

Back in the other room, back in her chair. Ness put down her crossword. Ness stood up. Ness came out into the hall. Ness opened the cupboard door. Ness took out Bill’s coat, Ness took out Bill’s hat. Ness opened the front door. And Bill said, Thank you, love. Thank you.

Outside their house on Bellefield Avenue, at their gate. Bill looked at his watch again, Bill looked up the street again. Bill looked at his watch again and Bill looked up the street again. Bill saw a Rolls-Royce turn into the street. And Bill ran halfway down the street to meet the Rolls, Bill waving his hat in his hand. The Rolls pulled up. Bill opened the door. And Bill said, Hello, Mr Williams. Hello, Mr Reakes. Now how fast will this thing go?

What time do we have to be there, asked Tom Williams.

Bill said, We’re already late. We’re already late.

Bill had already tried to sign Ian St John once before. At Huddersfield. Bill and Eddie Boot had driven all the way from
Huddersfield up to Falkirk. The Scotland national team were playing a Scottish Second Division select. Bill and Eddie Boot had come to watch a player called Ron Yeats. Ron Yeats played for Dundee United in the Scottish Second Division. Ron Yeats was worth the trip. Ron was a huge man, but Ron was a quick man. But that night, Bill and Eddie Boot also saw Ian St John play. Ian St John played for Motherwell in the Scottish First Division. That night, Ian St John was playing for the Scotland national team. He was punchy and he was strong. He was a box of tricks. And he gave Ron Yeats a game. What a battle they had, St John and Yeats. Bill had seen enough, Bill had seen plenty. Bill and Eddie Boot had driven back down to Huddersfield. And Bill had asked the directors of Huddersfield Town Association Football Club for the money to sign Ron Yeats and Ian St John. But the directors of Huddersfield Town Association Football Club had said, No. We cannot afford to buy Yeats and St John, Shankly …

And Bill had said, Christ! You can’t afford
not
to buy them.

On the road to Scotland, in the Rolls-Royce. Again Bill said, We can’t afford
not
to buy St John, Mr Williams. We can’t afford not to. We didn’t get Clough. Sunderland got Clough. We can’t let that happen again, Mr Williams. We have to get St John. And we can. We can. I know we can. Because he wants to leave. He wants to go. And he wants to come to England. The boy wants to play his football in England. But Motherwell are no fools. They know what they have. They know what he’s worth. So they’ll have told other clubs. Other directors. And so they’ll be in their cars. They’ll be on their way. So we have to hurry. We have to be quick. Because we have to get Ian St John. We have to buy the boy. We cannot afford
not
to buy him!

Mr Williams nodded. And Mr Reakes stepped on it.

On the road back to England, in the Rolls-Royce. Bill sat between Ian St John and his wife. On the back seat. Bill was smiling and Bill was talking. Ten to the dozen. One hundred miles an hour. Bill said, Just think of all the goals you’ll score, son. We’ll be promoted in no time. In no time at all, son. With the goals you will score. We’ll be Second Division Champions, son. First Division Champions. We’ll win the FA Cup, son. We’ll play in Europe. We’ll win the European Cup, son. We will win the bloody lot. With the goals you will score, son. We will be the greatest team in England. The
greatest team in Europe, son. With the goals you will score. I promise you we will, son. Because I know we bloody will!

…

In the house, in their front room. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill closed his book. His book of names, his book of notes. And Bill closed his eyes. Liverpool Football Club had paid
thirty-seven
thousand, five hundred pounds for Ian St John. A club record. Plus one thousand pounds, in cash, under the table to Ian St John. A week later, Liverpool Football Club had gone to Goodison Park to play Everton Football Club in the Liverpool Senior Cup. Liverpool Football Club had lost four–three. But Ian St John had scored all three Liverpool goals. On his debut, a hat-trick. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill opened his eyes again, Bill opened his book again. His book of names, his book of notes. Bill turned the pages. The pages of names, the pages of notes. Ticks and crosses. Bill had got Ian St John. And Bill had moved on Bobby Campbell, Alan Arnell and James Harrower. Then Bill had moved on Alan Banks, John Nicholson and Dave Hickson. And Billy Liddell had had his testimonial. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill stared down at the pages. The pages of names, the pages of notes. All the ticks and all the crosses. But in the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill was not satisfied. Too many crosses and not enough ticks. And no sense of satisfaction. There never was, never could be. Bill did not believe in satisfaction. That was another word Bill thought should be cut out of the dictionary. Satisfaction. Another word that should be struck from the English language. Banished and forgotten. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill could not forget Yeats. Ron Yeats and Ian St John. Their names were forged together in Bill’s mind. Forged together since that night Bill and Eddie Boot had watched the Scotland national team play that Scottish Second Division select. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill might have got Ian St John. But still Bill wanted Ron Yeats. What a player he was. What a man he was. Six foot three. A giant. A colossus. Not a man you forgot. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill closed his book. His book of names, his book of notes. Bill picked up his address book from the arm of the chair. And Bill got up from his chair. Bill went out into the hall. Bill picked up the telephone. Bill dialled a number. And Bill said, Hello,
Jerry? It’s Bill Shankly. How are you, Jerry? How’s Dundee United?

I’m fine, said Jerry Kerr. Well, I
was
fine. How are you, Bill?

Bill said, I’m fine, too, Jerry. Very fine. Thank you very much.

Good, said Jerry Kerr. That’s fantastic news, that’s great news. We’re both fine. Thanks for calling, Bill. Goodnight now …

Bill laughed. And Bill said, Not so fast, Jerry. Not so fast.

But he’s not for sale, Bill. Like I tell you every time. The man is not for sale. He helped us gain promotion. He’s helped keep us in the First Division. And we couldn’t have done it without him. We know that and he knows that. And so he’s happy here. We’re all happy.