by David Peace
…
In his office, at his desk. Bill jumped to his feet. The telephone still in his hand, Horace Yates still on the line. The room spinning, the world turning. And Bill said again, They did what?
They’ve sold Johnny Morrissey to Everton, repeated Horace.
Bill said, I just don’t believe it, Horace. I refuse to believe it.
But it’s true, said Horace. I thought you knew, Bill.
Bill said, The bastards. The bastards.
I’m sorry, Bill. I’m sorry you had to hear it from me …
But Bill had dropped the phone and Bill was gone. Out the door, down the corridor. Into the office of the club secretary. On his feet, his arms wide. Jimmy McInnes was shaking his head –
I swear I didn’t know, Boss. I only just found out myself …
Bill said, I’m not having it, Jimmy. I’m not standing for it. Not behind my back, behind my back. I’m going up there now, Jimmy, I’m going in there now. I’m going to have it out with them now …
But there’s no one there, said Jimmy McInnes. There’s no one there, Boss. They’ve already left. They’ve all gone home …
Well, you get them on the phone. You tell them to get back here. You tell them, Jimmy. You tell them Bill Shankly wants to see them. And see them now, Jimmy And if he doesn’t see them, then they’ll never see Bill Shankly again. Never again!
Jimmy McInnes nodded. He picked up the phone. Then he looked up. But Bill was gone again –
Back down the corridor, back into the office. Back behind the desk, back in the chair. Bill took out a piece of paper. Bill put the piece of paper into his typewriter. And Bill began to type. To bang the keys, to pound the keys. The noise of the keys, the sound of the keys. Echoing down the corridor, ringing round the stadium. And then Bill stopped typing. And Bill ripped the paper out of the machine. Bill slammed the paper down onto his desk. Bill took out his pen. Bill unscrewed the cap. And Bill scrawled his name, Bill scrawled his signature. Across the bottom of the paper, across the bottom of the letter. And then Bill put down the pen. And Bill folded up the letter. Bill stuffed the letter into an envelope. Bill thrust the envelope into his jacket pocket. Bill snatched his car keys off the top of the desk. And Bill stood up. Bill grabbed his hat from the hook on the back of the door. And Bill stormed out of his office. Bill slammed the door. Bill went down the corridor. Bill went out of the stadium. Bill went across the car park. Bill got into his car. Bill turned the key. And Bill drove. And Bill cursed. The bastards. The fucking bastards –
The treacherous fucking bastards.
In his office, at his desk. Matt Busby put his teaspoon down in the saucer. And Matt looked up from his cup –
When I’d just become the manager here, Bill. When I was still very raw in the job. I was sat in the directors’ box. And this one director he was sat behind me. And during the game, he leaned forward, this man, and he said, said in a voice so that everyone could hear, why didn’t you do so-and-so, Busby, why didn’t you do this and why didn’t you do that? And I sat there and I thought, Shall I turn round now and give him a blast? Because I wanted to, Bill. I wanted to. But I thought about it and I bit my tongue and I waited. And then, at the right moment, the moment that was convenient to me, which just happened to be in the gents, very convenient. I went up to this man, this director, and I said, Never dare say anything like that to me when other people can hear you. And this director, this man, he went pale and he never did say anything again. He never did. But at the next meeting, the next board meeting. I put it on the agenda. The very top of the agenda. No interference by directors. That’s what I wrote …
But Matt, they’ve sold Morrissey! Bloody Morrissey.
Let me finish, Bill, said Matt Busby. Let me finish. Because that was not the end of it. That’s just the legend. The story I always tell. But there was more. More battles than you know. And this one will make you smile, Bill. Even today. Feeling like you do. It’ll make you smile. Because back in the 1947–48 season, we were having a bit of an indifferent spell. As everyone does, as every team does. And Jimmy Gibson was still the chairman then. And you know what Jimmy was like. He was always anxious, he was always worried. And he thought the answer to our troubles was to sign somebody. Anybody. And he was right, we did need somebody. We did. But not just anybody. But every time he saw something in the paper, about some player being on offer, he would come and ask me if I was going to buy this player. And each time, I’d tell him no. Because it was not the player we needed, not the man I required. But finally, one day, he comes to me about this Newcastle player. I can’t remember who, but the man was transfer-listed. The man was available. And so Jimmy comes to me and asks me if I’m going to sign him. And I said, No. He’s no good for us. And Jimmy snaps. He says, Well, I’m not asking you to sign him. I’m telling you to sign him. To sign him and to play him. But I said, No, Mr Gibson. I will not sign him. And I will remind you of two things. I am here to manage the club and part of management is giving you advice. And the second is that I lived long before I ever saw you. So my answer is no and let that be the end of it. Well, Bill, I tell you. I thought the man was going to have a fit. He started to brandish that stick of his about. You remember that stick he had? I thought he was going to hit me with it. But he stamped off out of the room. And I’ll be honest with you, Bill. I thought maybe I had overdone it. I thought maybe this time I had gone too far. But, anyway, fifteen minutes later, there’s a knock on my door. And in he comes. And he says, Mr Busby, you are a very strong-minded person. You know what you want. And I like that. And I respect that. And so I have come back to say I am sorry this has happened. But it will not happen again. We will carry on as we were. And from that day, he neither interfered with my decisions nor brooked any interference from anyone else. And even when he was sick, even when he was dying, Jimmy Gibson would send for me and he would ask me, Is there anybody interfering with you, Mr Busby? If there is, then the man will have to go. That man will have to go …
Bill smiled. Bill nodded. And Bill picked up his cup.
But it didn’t happen overnight, said Matt Busby. Not overnight, Bill. There were still many more battles. And there are still many battles. There are always battles. Always battles. But I never resigned, Bill. I have never resigned. Because I would never let them force my hand. I would never let them dictate the terms to me. So I never resigned, Bill. I’ve never resigned. Because I would never give them the satisfaction, Bill. I would never give them that satisfaction. And so that is my advice to you, Bill. Never give them the satisfaction.
…
In the boardroom, the Anfield boardroom. In the chair, the chair at the end of the long table. Bill stared down the long table at the directors of Liverpool Football Club. And Bill waited.
But Morrissey did not play a single game last season, said the directors of Liverpool Football Club. Not one in the season in which we were promoted, in which we were Champions. A’Court played in his position. In every game. So we thought Morrissey was not needed. We thought he was surplus to our requirements. We thought you would not mind, Mr Shankly. We thought you would not object.
Bill said, Well, you were wrong. You were all bloody wrong. Because I do mind. And I do object. Because he was far from surplus to our requirements. He was needed. He is only twenty-two years old. He is a fine prospect. And Harry Catterick obviously agrees. Obviously agrees with me. That is why Everton Football Club have bought him. That is why they have paid ten thousand pounds for him. And that should tell you everything. That should tell you what a mistake you have made. Against my wishes. And behind my back.
We did not realise you would feel so strongly about this, said the directors of Liverpool Football Club. But now the deal is done.
Bill nodded. And Bill said, Aye. The deal is done. But I still feel very, very strongly about it. Very, very strongly that you have made a mistake. A very, very grave mistake. And let me tell you another thing I feel very, very strongly about. Let me tell you this: if you ever g
o against my wishes again, if you ever go behind my back again. Then it will be the last time. The very last time. Because I am the manager of Liverpool Football Club. And so I decide who stays and who goes. Who plays and who doesn’t. And if anyone in this room, if anyone around this table, does not accept that I am the manager of Liverpool Football Club, does not agree that I am the man who decides who stays and who goes, who plays and who doesn’t, then they should say so now, they should speak up now. And then I’ll be gone. I’ll be on my way. So speak up now. Speak up now …
In the boardroom, the Anfield boardroom. There was silence.
And in the boardroom, the Anfield boardroom. At the end of the table, the long table. Bill got to his feet. And Bill walked out of the boardroom, the Anfield boardroom. Bill went back down the stairs. Bill went back into his office. Bill closed the door. And Bill sat back down. At his desk, in his chair. Bill took out the envelope from his jacket pocket. Bill opened the bottom drawer of his desk. And Bill put the envelope in the drawer. And Bill shut the drawer. For now.
11. IN THE BIG TIME
On Saturday 18 August, 1962, on the first day of the 1962–63 season, Blackpool Football Club came to Anfield, Liverpool. That afternoon, fifty-one thousand, two hundred and seven folk came, too. Fifty-one thousand, two hundred and seven folk to watch Liverpool Football Club’s first game in the First Division for eight seasons –
Before the whistle, the first whistle of Liverpool Football Club’s first game in the First Division. In the dressing room, the home dressing room. Jim Furnell, Gerry Byrne, Ronnie Moran, Gordon Milne, Ron Yeats, Tommy Leishman, Kevin Lewis, Roger Hunt, Ian St John, Jimmy Melia and Alan A’Court sat on the benches. In their kits and in their boots. Jim Furnell, Gerry Byrne, Ronnie Moran, Gordon Milne, Ron Yeats, Tommy Leishman, Kevin Lewis, Roger Hunt, Ian St John, Jimmy Melia and Alan A’Court waited for Bill Shankly. In their kits and in their boots. Jim Furnell, Gerry Byrne, Ronnie Moran, Gordon Milne, Ron Yeats, Tommy Leishman, Kevin Lewis, Roger Hunt, Ian St John, Jimmy Melia and Alan A’Court heard the footsteps in the corridor outside the dressing room. The fast steps, the heavy steps. And Jim Furnell, Gerry Byrne, Ronnie Moran, Gordon Milne, Ron Yeats, Tommy Leishman, Kevin Lewis, Roger Hunt, Ian St John, Jimmy Melia and Alan A’Court looked up from the benches. And now Jim Furnell, Gerry Byrne, Ronnie Moran, Gordon Milne, Ron Yeats, Tommy Leishman, Kevin Lewis, Roger Hunt, Ian St John, Jimmy Melia and Alan A’Court saw Bill Shankly. Bill Shankly in his hat and coat, Bill Shankly on pins and needles –
What a day, said Bill Shankly. What a day this is, boys! Can you hear that crowd? Can you hear them, lads? They cannot wait and I cannot wait. Because this is what we have been waiting for, boys. This is what we have been working for. The Big League, lads! This is what we have been dreaming about and what the supporters have been dreaming about. Playing in the Big League, boys. This is what it’s all about. And so this is where it all starts, lads! Today …
In the eightieth minute, Kevin Lewis scored. But Liverpool Football Club lost two–one to Blackpool Football Club. In their first game in the First Division and for the first time since New Year’s Eve of 1960. At home, at Anfield. Liverpool Football Club had lost.
On Wednesday 22 August, 1962, Liverpool Football Club travelled to Maine Road, Manchester. And Liverpool Football Club drew two-all with Manchester City. On Saturday 25 August, 1962, Liverpool Football Club travelled to Ewood Park, Blackburn. And Liverpool Football Club lost one–nil to Blackburn Rovers. That evening, Liverpool Football Club had one point from three games. That evening, in the first published League table of the new season, Everton Football Club were joint top of the First Division with Wolverhampton Wanderers. And that evening, Liverpool Football Club were joint bottom of the First Division with Leyton Orient.
On Wednesday 29 August, 1962, Manchester City came to Anfield, Liverpool. That evening, forty-six thousand and seventy-three folk came, too. In the third minute, Ian St John scored. In the fifty-fifth minute, Roger Hunt scored. In the sixty-fifth minute, Alan A’Court scored. And four minutes later, Hunt scored again. And Liverpool Football Club beat Manchester City four–one. At home, at Anfield. Liverpool Football Club had won their first game in the First Division. In the Big League –
In September, 1962, Liverpool Football Club beat Sheffield United. Then they lost at West Ham United, then they lost at Nottingham Forest. Then they beat West Ham United at home, then they drew with Ipswich Town at home. Liverpool Football Club were now eleventh in the First Division. Everton Football Club still second in the First Division.
…
In the night, they came. With cans of paint, through the park. Between the houses and over the walls. In the night, they came. Into Goodison Park, with cans of paint. To paint the goals and to paint them red. The Everton goals, they painted them red –
The Everton goals, at Goodison Park –
On Saturday 22 September, 1962, seventy-two thousand, four hundred and eighty-eight folk came to Goodison Park, Liverpool. Seventy-two thousand, four hundred and eighty-eight folk to watch the first League meeting of Everton Football Club and Liverpool Football Club for eleven years. Not since 1951 had these two football clubs played each other in a League fixture. Not until today. Today the shops of Liverpool were empty, today the streets of Liverpool were deserted. But there was no peace, there was no quiet. The ground shook, the air roared. Back across the city, out across the river. The ground shook and the air roared. It shook and it roared with the voices of the seventy-two thousand, four hundred and eighty-eight folk packed inside Goodison Park, Liverpool –
Before the whistle, the first whistle. In the dressing room, the away dressing room. In their kits and in their boots. Jim Furnell, Gerry Byrne, Ronnie Moran, Gordon Milne, Ron Yeats, Tommy Leishman, Ian Callaghan, Roger Hunt, Kevin Lewis, Jimmy Melia and Alan A’Court were shaking, too. Not with nerves, but with laughter –
And it’s taken them all bloody morning to repaint those goals, said Bill Shankly. So it’s no bloody wonder Harry Catterick’s looking glummer than usual, lads. By, he’s a miserable man is Harry. And I’ve just seen him, lads. In the corridor. And he’s looking even glummer today, lads. Even more miserable than usual. And I know why, lads. I know why. Because I said to him, I said to Harry, All that money you have and the only player you can find to buy is one we don’t want. A player we don’t need. That lad Morrissey. I said to Harry, You know why we don’t want him, why we let you have him? Because he’s only got the one leg has Morrissey. His right leg. And he needs that one to stand on. So he was no use to us. That one-legged lad. And so you did us a favour, Harry. Taking Johnny Morrissey, poor Johnny Morrissey. So thank you, Harry, I said, Thank you very much, Harry. It was very good of you, Harry. It was very kind of you …
But in their kits and in their boots. Jim Furnell, Gerry Byrne, Ronnie Moran, Gordon Milne, Ron Yeats, Tommy Leishman, Ian Callaghan, Roger Hunt, Kevin Lewis, Jimmy Melia and Alan A’Court were no longer listening to Bill Shankly. Now in their kits and in their boots. Jim Furnell, Gerry Byrne, Ronnie Moran, Gordon Milne, Ron Yeats, Tommy Leishman, Ian Callaghan, Roger Hunt, Kevin Lewis, Jimmy Melia and Alan A’Court were listening to the voices of the seventy-two thousand, four hundred and eighty-eight folk inside Goodison Park. In their kits and in their boots. They were listening and they were trembling. Not with laughter, now with fear. Their faces pale and their legs shaking. They could hardly stand, they could hardly walk. Out of the away dressing room, down the Goodison corridor. Onto the pitch and into the arena. Into the arena. The arena waiting,
waiting and baying, baying for blood,
their red, red blood –
In the first minute, the very first minute, Jim Furnell collected the ball, his back to the Park end, the noise from the Park end deafening, Furnell still trembling as he bounced the ball once, trying to steady himself, steady himself to kick the ball back up the field, the referee already running back up the field, his back to Furnell, Furnell bouncing the ball, Furnell dropping the ball, t
he ball running loose, Roy Vernon nipping in, Vernon saying, Thank you very much, Jim. Thank you very much as he rolled the ball into the net, into the net as the crowd roared with laughter, roared in celebration as Furnell held his head in his hands, his head in his hands and the ball in the goal –
Now the referee turned. Now the referee blew his whistle. And the referee shook his head. The referee disallowed the goal. The referee awarded a free kick to Liverpool Football Club. A free kick for an infringement by Vernon on Furnell. And now the crowd roared, roared with indignation, roared with injustice, shouting of cheat and deceit, of robbery and theft, baying for righteousness, righteousness and the blood of the referee, his red, red blood –
