by David Peace
On the bench, the Anfild bench. Among the banners, among the songs. The red banners and the red songs. Bill watched a sea of incessant movement, Bill watched a world of strong meat. The red movement, the red meat. The free kick by Stevenson out on the left. The free kick finding Strong. Strong streaking in from the right, Strong out-leaping the whole field. Heading the ball square to Lawler. A defender to a defender. Coming in fast to dive forward, diving forward to the ball. Into the net, into a goal. In a sea of incessant movement, in a world of strong meat. Red movement, red meat. The lazy back-heel from Del Sol. Lawler robbing Del Sol, Lawler feeding Callaghan. Callaghan crossing, St John rising. The ball coming loose, the ball coming back. Back out to Strong. A defender at the edge of their penalty area, a defender with a rocket for a shot. Into the net, into a goal. In a sea of incessant movement, in a world of strong meat. The red movement and the red meat. Among the banners, among the songs. The red banners and the red songs. Juventus Football Club had nothing to hold onto, nothing to protect. Juventus Football Club had been beaten from the back, beaten by two goals from two defenders. Juventus Football Club had been beaten at their own game. Liverpool Football Club had learnt their lesson. And Liverpool Football Club had taught Juventus Football Club a lesson –
The pupil now the master.
…
Under the stands, among the boots. Bill, Bob, Reuben, Joe and Albert each had a piece of paper in their hands. On the piece of paper was a list, a list of names: Alf Arrowsmith, John Bennett, Phil Chisnall, Roy Evans, Bobby Graham, Brian Hall, Alan Hignett, Geoff Long, Thomas Lowry, Ted McDougall, Grant McCulloch, Kevin Marsh, William Molyneux, Ronnie Moran, John Ogston, Steve Peplow, Ian Ross, John Sealey, Ken Walker and Gordon Wallace. The names of players, the players in the Liverpool Football Club reserve team –
Bill saw the reserves play as often as he could. Bill had seen the reserves play seven times this season. But Bill had not seen the reserves play since Monday 20 September, when the reserves had drawn three-all with Wolverhampton Wanderers reserves –
Under the stands, among the boots. Bill, Bob, Reuben, Joe and Albert discussed each player in the reserve team. Their strong points and their weak points. Bill, Bob, Joe, Reuben and Albert discussed every game the reserve team had played. The good points and the bad points. The reserve team had played seventeen matches this season. They had won six games and they had drawn six games. And they had lost five. They had scored twenty-eight goals and they had conceded twenty-one goals. Phil Chisnall was the leading scorer in the reserve team with five goals. Bill put down the piece of paper. And Bill said, How about Ronnie Moran? How’s Ronnie doing?
He’s doing very well, said Joe. Training as hard as ever, playing as well as ever. And he’s helping the younger lads, too. With a word here and with a word there. Showing them how it’s done, showing them what it takes, Boss. Helping them, teaching them.
Bill smiled. And Bill said, That’s good to hear, Joe. That’s great to hear. It’s what I hoped you’d say, what I thought you’d say. But you never know, you can never tell. It’s a terrible thing when you have to step down, down from the first team. We all know it is. We’ve all been there. There’s nothing worse in football. Nothing worse in life. The feeling your best days are behind you, the knowledge you’re on the way down. On the way down and on the way out. To the knacker’s yard, to the glue factory. I wouldn’t wish it on any man, not on any man. That feeling, that knowledge. But it comes to us all, it comes to us all. In the end, Joe. In the end.
…
Down the corridor, the Anfield corridor. Bill tapped on the office door. The office door of the club secretary. Bill opened the door. Bill saw the bags of mail standing on the floor. The bags and bags of mail. Bill glanced at the corner of the office. The corner where a camp bed had once stood. No camp bed in the corner now. Only more bags of mail. More bags and bags of mail. Bill looked at the desk. Bill saw the stacks of letters on the desk. The stacks and stacks of letters. And Bill saw the new club secretary sat behind the desk. Among the letters. The stacks and stacks of letters. Bill smiled at Peter Robinson. And Bill said, It’s getting late, Peter. You should get off home. Home to your family. And leave all that for tomorrow …
Peter Robinson looked up from his typewriter. From the stacks and stacks of letters. And Peter Robinson smiled –
I will, said Peter Robinson. I will soon, Bill. I’ll just finish off these last few letters and then I’ll be off.
Bill said, That’s good, Peter. Are there any letters for me?
Only two, said Peter Robinson. Only two.
Then let me have them, Peter. And I’ll get them done now.
Peter Robinson pointed at two bags of mail. Two big bags of mail in the corner. In the corner where a camp bed had once stood. And Peter Robinson laughed –
Only two bags, said Peter Robinson. Those two bags over there.
Bill laughed. Bill went over to the corner. The corner where a camp bed had once stood. And Bill picked up the two bags. The two big bags of mail. Bill carried the bags over to the door. Bill turned back to Peter Robinson. Bill smiled. And Bill said, Jesus Christ. These are heavy bags. I best be making a start on them now. But you make sure you get off home soon, Peter. You promise me you won’t stay all night now. Promise me you’ll go home soon, Peter …
I will, said Peter Robinson. I promise.
Bill smiled. And Bill said, Well, I’ll be checking. So you make sure you do, Peter. Make sure you do …
I will, Bill, I will. Goodnight, Bill. Goodnight.
And goodnight to you, Peter. Goodnight …
In his office, his Anfield office. Bill closed the door behind him. Bill put down the two bags of mail beside his desk. Bill sat down in his chair behind his desk. Bill reached down to the first bag of mail. Bill opened the bag. Bill put his hand inside the bag. Bill took out a letter. Bill opened the letter. Bill read the letter. And Bill smiled. Bill put down the letter on his desk. Bill opened the top drawer of his desk. Bill took out a piece of paper. Across the top of the piece of paper were three big words. In bold, in red. LIVERPOOL FOOTBALL CLUB. Below these three words were five more words. In italics, in red: and Athletic Grounds Co. Ltd. Bill closed the top drawer of his desk. Bill threaded the piece of paper into his typewriter. Bill turned the platen knob. And then Bill began to type:
Dear People, Received your letter, thanks very much indeed. Also thanks for the invitation to your son Robert’s birthday party on the 26th of next month, which is the night before we play Leeds United. In actual fact the players, the trainers and myself will be in special preparation for this vital game. I am sure you will understand how important it is, especially Robert, who is a member of the greatest place on earth ‘THE KOP’. We all wish Robert the best of luck on his Birthday. Yours sincerely,
Bill stopped typing. Bill took the letter out of his typewriter. Bill put down the letter on his desk. Bill put his hand inside his jacket pocket. Bill took out his pen. His red pen. Bill unscrewed the top of his pen. Above the word Manager, Bill signed the letter B. Shankly. Bill put down his pen on the desk. Bill opened the top drawer of his desk. Bill took out an envelope. Bill closed the drawer of his desk. Bill picked up his pen. His red pen. Bill addressed the envelope. Bill put down his pen. Bill picked up the letter. Bill folded it. Bill put the folded letter into the envelope. Bill brought the letter up to his mouth. Bill stuck out his tongue. Bill licked the two gummed strips on the underside of the back flap of the envelope. Bill put down the envelope on his desk. Bill pressed down the palm of his hand on the envelope. Bill picked up the envelope. Bill put it to one side of his desk. Bill reached down to the first bag of mail again. Bill put his hand inside the bag again. Bill took out another letter. Bill opened the letter. Bill read the letter. And Bill smiled. Bill put down the letter on his desk. Bill opened the top drawer of his desk. Bill took out another piece of paper. Bill closed the drawer of his desk. Bill threaded the piece of paper into his typewriter. Bill turned the platen knob. And Bill
began to type. Again. Bill began to type. To type and to type and to type. To type and to type and to type. To type and to type and to type. Letter after letter after letter. Letter after letter after letter. Letter after letter after letter –
To type and to type and to type. To type and to type and to type. Letter after letter after letter. Letter after letter after letter –
To type and to type and to type. Letter after letter after letter.
…
In the house, in their front room. The lights on the Christmas tree blinked on and off in the corner. On and off, on and off. In the quiet house, their warm room. Bill had just lost again at Scrabble. Ness was putting away the tiles, the racks and the board. Bill looked at his watch. Bill smiled. And Bill said, I think I’ll just give Don a quick ring, love. Just to wish him and his family a merry Christmas.
It’s a bit late, said Ness. Don’t you think he’ll be in bed, love?
Bill shook his head. And Bill said, Not Don, love. No. I know Don, I know Don. He’ll be fretting and worrying about the game tomorrow. He’ll be a glad of a chat. He’ll be glad of a call, will Don.
Well, I’m going up, love. So try to keep your voice down.
I will, love. I will. Goodnight, love. Goodnight.
Bill picked up his address book from the arm of the chair. Bill went out into the hallway. Bill switched on the hall light. Bill found Don Revie’s number in his address book. Bill picked up the receiver. Bill dialled Don’s number. Bill listened to the phone ring. And ring. And ring. And then Bill heard Don say, Hello? Hello? Who is it?
And Bill said, It’s me, Don. Only me. It’s Bill. Only Bill. I just thought I’d give you a quick ring before the game, before the match tomorrow. Oh, it’ll be a great game, Don. A great game. A big crowd, too, Don. A very big crowd. They’ll be wanting to see a repeat of the Cup Final. Well, our lot will be. Not your lot, I suppose. But I hope you are as ready as we are, Don. Because we are ready for you. I can tell you that, Don. Tell you that for nothing. And I tell you another thing, Don. I’ll tell you this. I think we are a better side now than we were last season. To be very honest with you, Don. And not to be arrogant, Don. Just to be honest with you. I think we are going to walk the League. And the Cup. And the Cup Winners’ Cup. That’s my feeling, Don. That’s my feeling. Because I tell you, Don. I think this is the finest side in England since the war. The very finest. I don’t know what you think, Don? But I can’t see a weakness in us. Not one. From the back to the front. I think we have it all. And we are improving. Improving all the time. Every game. That’s the incredible thing to me, Don. The wonder of this team to me. I think I’ve seen the best of them. But no, Don. Oh no! The next game, the next match. They are even better. Better than the last game, the last match. Much, much better. I know Tommy Lawrence has his critics. But for me, Don. For me, he is the finest keeper in the League. I’m sure you agree, Don. I’m sure you agree with me. And the younger boys we have. Lawler and Smith. I tell you, Don. I tell you. Those two would walk into any side there has ever been. Any side. And make that side a better side. A much, much better side. And then when you combine that youth and that enthusiasm with the age and with the wisdom of the likes of Gerry Byrne and Gordon Milne, Ronnie Yeats and Willie Stevenson. Well, it’s not fair, is it, Don? Let’s be honest, Don. It’s just not fair on the other teams. On other sides. And as for the front four. Well, what can I say, Don? What more can I say? Really, truly, what words are there left to say about those four? Callaghan, Hunt, St John and Thompson. Yes, there might well be individuals who are as talented. Individually. There might be, yes. Perhaps. Your Jimmy Greaves, your Denis Law. But come on, Don. Come on, man. As a team. Well, there is not a better balance, not a better combination. Not a better team than this Liverpool team. And we both know that’s what it’s about, Don. What this game is all about. Teams. The balance and the combination. Not the individual, not the superstar. Because this is a team game, a team sport, is it not, Don? Is it not? It’s about how you play as a team. Not as an individual. With a good game here and a good game there. It’s about the team. Week in, week out. Game after game, match after match. How the team plays. And so I tell you, Don. I tell you this. I have simply not seen a better team than this one. This Liverpool team. Not with my eyes. Not in my lifetime. Well, Don. I won’t keep you. I won’t keep you up. I’ll see you tomorrow, Don. I’ll see you at Anfield. So you sleep well, Don. Sleep well. Goodnight, Don. Goodnight …
On the bench, the Anfield bench. In bitter air, in biting wind. Bill heard the carols, the Christmas carols. Fifty-three thousand, four hundred and thirty folk singing carols, Christmas carols. To thaw the air, to warm the wind. To boil the air, to burn the wind. But on the ground, the frozen-solid ground, on the pitch, the rock-hard pitch. There was no cheer, no Christmas cheer. And there was no goodwill, no seasonal goodwill. There was only battle and there was only fight. Body against body, man against man. Red man against white man. In bitter air, in biting wind. Bone and muscle, earth and leather. Grinding bone and straining muscle, white earth and black leather. In bitter air, in biting wind. Minute after minute. In the fourteenth minute, Reaney hit the ball straight at Lawrence. Lawrence beat the ball away. Yeats ground bone, Yeats crossed earth. Lorimer strained muscle, Lorimer found leather. In bitter air, in biting wind. Lorimer shot. And Lorimer scored. And in bitter air, in biting wind. Leeds United Association Football Club beat Liverpool Football Club one–nil. It was the first defeat for Liverpool Football Club in ten matches, the first defeat since Saturday 23 October, 1965. And in the bitter air, in the biting wind. Bill walked down the touchline. The Anfield touchline. Bill shook Don Revie’s hand. Bill half smiled. And Bill said, Well, never say I never give you anything for Christmas, Don. Merry Christmas to you, Don. And I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Don. Tomorrow …
On their bench, their bench at Elland Road. Across the bone-hard ground, over the sand-coated pitch. The black ice and the driving snow. Bill watched and Bill waited. And in the forty-eighth minute, Thompson turned. Thompson beat his man. Thompson fed Hunt. Hunt jumped Charlton’s tackle. Hunt reached the byline. Exact and precise, low and diagonal. Hunt passed to Milne. Milne shot. And Milne scored. And Liverpool Football Club beat Leeds United Association Football Club one–nil. Away from home, away at Elland Road. And across the bone-hard ground, over the sand-coated pitch. The black ice and the driving snow. The only voices were the Liverpool voices. Rising from the banks, reaching into the sky. Into the sky, the black, winter sky. Red voices, germinal voices. Holy voices …
On their bus, their Liverpool bus. Through the streets, the Leeds streets. Bill stared out through the window, the bus window. At these streets, these Leeds streets. And on these streets, these Yorkshire streets. Bill saw some boys, three young lads. Red scarves around their necks, thin coats upon their backs. Their white faces to the road, the deserted road, their blue thumbs to the sky, the empty sky. And on their bus, their Liverpool bus. Bill stood up. And Bill called down to the driver, Pull up. Pull up!
The driver stopped the bus. The driver opened the doors. And Bill got off the bus. And Bill called to the boys, Climb on board, lads. Climb on board! We’ll take you home, boys. We’ll take you home.
Bill brought the boys onto the bus. Bill made space for the boys on the bus. Bill got them sandwiches. Sandwiches from the players. Bill got them autographs. Autographs from the players. Bill asked the boys about the game. Bill asked the boys about the team. Bill asked the boys what they thought about the game. Bill asked the boys what they hoped for the team. Bill listened to the boys. Bill listened to them. All the way back to Liverpool, all the way back home. And when their bus, their Liverpool bus, reached the city centre, the Liverpool city centre. Bill checked the boys had enough money now. Enough money now to get to their homes, their Liverpool homes –
Thank you, said the boys. Thank you for everything …
Bill shook his head. And Bill said, No, boys. No. You don’t have to thank me, boys. You have nothing to thank
me for. It’s me who should be thanking you, boys. Thanking you for travelling all the way to Leeds today. In the ice and in the snow. Wearing your red scarves, your Liverpool scarves. To support Liverpool Football Club. So I thank you, boys. I thank you. For supporting Liverpool Football Club. Because we could do nothing without you, boys –
We would be nothing without you.
21. THE OLD ENEMY
On Saturday 1 January, 1966, Manchester United came to Anfield, Liverpool. That New Year’s Day, fifty-three thousand, nine hundred and seventy folk came, too. That New Year’s Day, the gates were locked hours before kick-off. Hundreds of folk, thousands of folk, locked outside Anfield, Liverpool. Hundreds of folk, thousands of folk, among the policemen, the mounted policemen. Refusing to disperse, refusing to go home. Hundreds of folk, thousands of folk already home. Outside Anfield, inside Anfield. In one voice, just one word: LI-VERPOOL. Over and over, in one voice, again and again, just one word. One red word: LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL –
The word ignited the air, the word scorched the wind. But within the first two minutes of the game, Gregg cleared high and far into the air. Law sniffed and chased the wind. Law beat Yeats to the ball, Law dodged Byrne in the tackle, Law sidestepped Lawrence at his heels, Law shot. And Law scored. But the word did not retreat. The word did not surrender. LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL. Now the word tore through muscle, now the word drilled through bone. LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL. And a shot from Hunt. And a shot from Stevenson. And a shot from St John. And a shot from Smith. All rained down on Gregg beneath his crossbar. There was no shelter from the word. There was no respite from the word. LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL. In the thirty-ninth minute, Byrne passed to Smith. Smith shrugged off two tackles. Smith took four more strides. And Smith shot. From twenty-five yards out. Fast and hard and low. In off the post. Smith scored. LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL. But the word was not finished. The word was not satisfied. LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL. The word insatiable, the word voracious. LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL. In the last two minutes of the game, St John shot again. Gregg saved again. The ball flew back out of the ruck. Byrne drove the ball back into the ruck. And Milne diverted the ball. Into the net, into a goal. LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL. The word triumphant, the word victorious. On New Year’s Day, 1966, Liverpool Football Club had thirty-six points. That New Year’s Day, Liverpool Football Club were first in the First Division.
