Red Or Dead
Page 24
…
On Saturday 22 January, 1966, Chelsea Football Club came to Anfield, Liverpool. That afternoon, fifty-four thousand and ninety-seven folk came, too. Fifty-four thousand and ninety-seven folk to watch Liverpool Football Club play Chelsea Football Club in the Third Round of the FA Cup. In the second minute, Roger Hunt scored. But in the seventh minute, Osgood equalised. And in the sixty-seventh minute, Tambling scored. And Liverpool Football Club lost two–one to Chelsea Football Club. In silence. The holders of the FA Cup had let go of the Cup. And in silence. Chelsea Football Club took the FA Cup back to London with them. Back to Lancaster Gate, to the headquarters of the Football Association –
For safe keeping.
After the Cup, out of the cup. Bill Shankly closed the dressing-room door. The home dressing-room door. Bill Shankly looked around the dressing room. The Liverpool dressing room. From player to player. From Lawrence to Lawler, Lawler to Byrne, Byrne to Milne, Milne to Yeats, Yeats to Stevenson, Stevenson to Callaghan, Callaghan to Hunt, Hunt to St John, St John to Smith and from Smith to Thompson. Bill Shankly nodded and Bill Shankly smiled –
I know you are all disappointed, boys. I know you are all hurt. I can see it in your faces, boys. In every one of your faces. But what is done is done, boys. What is lost is lost. And so you must not let that disappointment, you must not let that hurt, devour your belief and eat your confidence. Because you are still the best side I have ever seen play, boys. You are still the finest team in England since the war. And so you must believe in yourselves and believe in each other, boys. You must have confidence in yourselves and in each other. And then you will win again, boys. And again and again. That is the only answer to disappointment, that is the only way to deal with hurt. To win, boys. And to win and win again. Until you have won the League. Until Liverpool Football Club are the Champions again. That is the only answer now, boys. That is the only way now. To win and win again, boys. And to be Champions. Champions again, boys!
…
After, later. Liverpool Football Club beat Leicester City one–nil and Liverpool Football Club beat Blackburn Rovers four–one. Then they beat Sunderland Football Club four–nil and then they beat Blackpool Football Club four–one.
On Saturday 26 February, 1966, Liverpool Football Club travelled to Craven Cottage, London. Fulham Football Club were bottom of the First Division. Liverpool Football Club were top of the First Division. That afternoon, thirty-one thousand, six hundred and twenty-six folk came, too. Thirty-one thousand, six hundred and twenty-six folk to watch bottom versus top. Last play first. That afternoon, Ian St John punched Mark Pearson. St John hit Pancho Pearson with a left hook. St John was sent off. And that afternoon, Liverpool Football Club lost two–nil to Fulham Football Club. Away from home, away from Anfield. The bottom had beaten the top, the last had beaten the first.
…
After the dismissal, after the defeat. At Lancaster Gate, in London. At the headquarters of the Football Association. Bill Shankly and Ian St John walked past the FA Cup. The FA Cup on display, in safe keeping. Bill Shankly and Ian St John sat down in the corridor at Lancaster Gate. Bill Shankly in his best suit and red tie, Ian St John in his best suit and red tie –
Come!
Bill Shankly and Ian St John stood up. Bill Shankly and Ian St John adjusted their red ties. Bill Shankly and Ian St John stepped through the door, into the room. And the head of the FA Disciplinary Panel said, Sit down, Shankly. Sit down, St John.
Bill Shankly and Ian St John walked down to two chairs at the end of a long table. Bill Shankly and Ian St John sat down in the two chairs at the end of the long table. Bill Shankly and Ian St John looked up the long table at the members of the Disciplinary Panel. And the head of the Disciplinary Panel said, Well then, what do you have to say for yourselves? In answer to the charge of violent conduct?
Plenty, said Bill Shankly. Because I have evidence to present to you which I believe will prove the innocence of my player. Evidence that will exonerate him. This evidence is on film. And so, as you are aware, I have arranged to show you a film. To prove the innocence of my player. And to exonerate him of the charge against him.
The head of the Disciplinary Panel said, Go on then, Shankly, show us this little film of yours then.
Bill Shankly got up from his chair at the end of the long table. Bill Shankly walked over to the wall. Bill Shankly switched off the lights. Bill Shankly walked over to the projector. Bill Shankly started the projector. And Bill Shankly showed his little film. His film which showed Mark Pearson of Fulham Football Club pulling the hair of Ian St John of Liverpool Football Club. His film which showed Ian St John turning around and punching Mark Pearson. His film which showed Ian St John hitting Pancho Pearson with a left hook. His film which then showed Ian St John being ordered off the field of play.
After his film, Bill Shankly stopped the projector. Bill Shankly walked back over to the wall. Bill Shankly switched back on the lights. But Bill Shankly did not sit back down in his chair at the end of the long table. Bill Shankly paced the room. The courthouse –
As you can clearly see, said Bill Shankly. See as clear as day. My player was clearly provoked by the ungentlemanly and unsporting behaviour and conduct of the other player, of the Fulham player. And as I am sure you will all agree, such behaviour, such conduct has no place in the game, in the modern game of football. My player was clearly provoked. My player then simply reacted. And so the charge against him is unfair. The suspension unjust. The most unfair and most unjust in the history of the world. Because my player is an innocent man. The most innocent man in the history of the world!
The members of the Football Association Disciplinary Panel looked down the long table at Bill Shankly and Ian St John. The members of the Football Association Disciplinary Panel shook their heads. And the head of the Football Association Disciplinary Panel said, The Football Association will not tolerate violent conduct on the football pitch. The charge is justified. The suspension stands –
Close the door on your way out, Shankly.
Bill Shankly and Ian St John walked back to the door. Bill Shankly and Ian St John stepped through the door, into the corridor. Bill Shankly and Ian St John closed the door behind them. Bill Shankly and Ian St John walked down the corridor, past the FA Cup, into the street. Bill Shankly and Ian St John stood on the pavement outside the headquarters of the Football Association. And Ian St John said, I am sorry, Boss. I am very sorry …
And so you should be, said Bill Shankly. Next time you make sure you get your retaliation in first. When the referee is not about. So the other feller knows you are about. And then he’ll keep away from you. Because he won’t fancy another taste. Another taste of that retaliation. So just remember, son. Always get your retaliation in first.
…
On Monday 28 February, 1966, Liverpool Football Club flew to Brussels, Belgium. Then Liverpool Football Club flew to Cologne, West Germany. Then Liverpool Football Club flew to Budapest, Hungary. To the City of Football, the home of Honvéd Football Club. Honvéd Football Club were the Hungarian Army football team. Ferenc Puskás, Sándor Kocsis, József Bozsik, Zoltán Czibor, László Budai, Gyula Lóránt and Gyula Grosics had all once played for Honvéd Football Club. These players had been the nucleus of the Mighty Magyars. In 1953, the Mighty Magyars beat England 6–3 at Wembley Stadium. In 1954, the Mighty Magyars beat England 7–1 at the Népstadion, Budapest. On Tuesday 1 March, 1966, Liverpool Football Club came to the Népstadion, the People’s Stadium, to play Honvéd Football Club in the first leg of the Second Round of the European Cup Winners’ Cup. That evening, sixteen thousand, one hundred and sixty-three folk came, too. Under giant floodlights, before an electric scoreboard. In a stadium that could seat one hundred thousand folk. To a constant chorus of shrill whistles, against a talented but inexperienced Honvéd side. On a perfect pitch, in an all-white strip. Liverpool Football Club drew nil–nil with Honvéd Football Club in Budapest, Hungary. The City of Football.
O
ne week later, Honvéd Football Club travelled to Anfield, Liverpool. To another City of Football, to the New City of Football. That evening, fifty-four thousand, six hundred and thirty-one folk came, too. In the twenty-eighth minute, Callaghan won a corner. The corner was cleared. Thompson crashed the clearance against the post. And Lawler headed home the rebound. In the forty-seventh minute, Callaghan won another corner. Callaghan took a short corner to Thompson. Thompson crossed the ball. The ball eluded a line of Honvéd defenders. But at the end of the line, from the sharpest of angles, St John headed home the ball. And Liverpool Football Club beat Honvéd Football Club two–nil in the second leg of the Second Round of the European Cup Winners’ Cup. That night, Liverpool Football Club were through to the semi-final of the European Cup Winners’ Cup. In the semi-final of the European Cup Winners’ Cup, Liverpool Football Club would play the Celtic Football Club. Away and then home. Folk had hoped this tie might be the final, folk had dreamt this tie might be the final. But it was still a dream tie. The tie all of Britain had been hoping for, the tie all of Britain had been dreaming of. The tie Bill Shankly had been dreaming of, the tie Bill Shankly had been praying for. One of his dreams, one of his prayers. His many dreams, his many prayers.
…
On Thursday 14 April, 1966, Liverpool Football Club travelled to Parkhead, Glasgow. That night, seventy-six thousand, four hundred and forty-six folk came, too. Seventy-six thousand, four hundred and forty-six folk to watch the leaders of the Scottish First Division play the leaders of the English First Division in the first leg of the semi-final of the European Cup Winners’ Cup. Seventy-six thousand, four hundred and forty-six folk to watch the Celtic Football Club versus Liverpool Football Club. At Parkhead, in Glasgow. Seventy-six thousand, four hundred and forty-six folk in full voice, in full cry. Their war cry: CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
CEL-TIC!
Before the whistle, the first whistle. In their dressing room, their dressing room at Parkhead. Bill Shankly closed door. The dressing-room door shaking. Bill Shankly looked around the dressing room. The Liverpool dressing room trembling. Bill Shankly looked from player to player. From Lawrence to Lawler, Lawler to Byrne, Byrne to Milne, Milne to Yeats, Yeats to Stevenson, Stevenson to Callaghan, Callaghan to Chisnall, Chisnall to St John, St John to Smith and from Smith to Thompson. Bill Shankly saw the fear in their eyes, Bill Shankly heard the terror in their ears –
CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
CEL-TIC!
Don’t be afraid, said Bill Shankly. Don’t be afraid, boys. You have nothing to fear. Nothing to fear, boys. This is paradise. Football paradise, boys! This is what we dream of, this is what we pray for. Playing at Parkhead, playing in paradise. So enjoy it. Enjoy it, boys. This taste of Parkhead, this taste of paradise. Because remember. Remember, boys. This is only one half of paradise, only one half. Five days from now, Celtic Football Club will be sat in the away dressing room at Anfield. And they will be shaking and they will be trembling. Five days from now, Celtic Football Club will be playing in our paradise. At Anfield. In our paradise, boys …
CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
CEL-TIC!
In the fifty-second minute, Murdoch hammered the ball low along the Liverpool goal line. At the left-hand post, Chalmers back-heeled the ball to Lennox. And Lennox stabbed the ball into the net, into a goal. And the whole of paradise, the whole of Parkhead cried out, CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
CEL-TIC!
After the whistle, the final whistle. Bill Shankly walked down the touchline. The Parkhead touchline. Bill Shankly shook the hand of Jock Stein, the manager of the Celtic Football Club –
Well done, John. Well played. Though I am sure you had your groundsman polish the pitch before the game. But well played, John. Well done. And we’ll see you next Tuesday …
Jock Stein laughed. And Jock Stein said, Thank you, Bill. And yes, I’ll see you next Tuesday. In England, Bill. In England.
No, you won’t, said Bill Shankly. You’ll see me at Anfield, John. And Anfield is not in England. Anfield is in Liverpool. And Liverpool is not in England. Liverpool is in a different country, John. In a different country, in a different league.
…
On Tuesday 19 April, 1966, the Celtic Football Club came to Anfield, Liverpool. In the mud and in the rain. That night, fifty-four thousand, two hundred and eight folk came, too. Liverpool folk and Glasgow folk. In the mud and in the rain, in the steam and in the sweat. Thousands and thousands of Glasgow folk. With their banners and with their flags. Their green and white banners, their green and white flags. With their voice, with their cry. Their war cry: CEL-TIC –
CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
CEL-TIC!
And the Spion Kop saw the supporters of the Celtic Football Club. Their green and white banners, their green and white flags. And the Spion Kop heard the supporters of the Celtic Football Club. Their voice, their cry. Their war cry: CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!
And the Spion Kop shouted, RANGERS! RANGERS! RANGERS! And the Spion Kop sang, GO BACK TO IRE-LAND, GO BACK TO IRE-LAND, GO BACK TO IRE-LAND …
The Spion Kop heaving, the Spion Kop surging. Body crushing against body, body clambering over body. In their steam and in their sweat. The Spion Kop falling onto the pitch, the Anfield pitch. The Spion Kop flowing up to the touchline, the Anfield touchline. In the mud and in the rain. In one voice, in one cry,
full voice and full cry, one word,
one cry; one war cry –
ATTACK!
And in the eye of this hurricane of fury, in the centre of this storm of sound. In the mud and in the rain, in the steam and in the sweat. The players of Liverpool Football Club attacked and attacked and attacked. But the players of the Celtic Football Club built a fortress on the pitch, the Anfield pitch. And defended and defended and defended. But in the fury and in the sound, in the mud and in the rain, in the steam and in the sweat, the Liverpool attack was ceaseless, the Liverpool onslaught endless. And in the sixty-first minute, Smith burst out of midfield. Three Celtic defenders took him down. Smith won a free kick. Smith took the free kick. From twenty-five yards out. Smith shot. And Smith scored. LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL. And before the players of the Celtic Football Club could get off their knees, before the players of the Celtic Football Club could find their feet. In the sixty-seventh minute, Stevenson passed to Milne. Milne passed to Thompson. Left to right. Thompson dummied. Thompson flicked on to Callaghan. Callaghan boxed in. Callaghan found an inch. Callaghan crossed. Strong leapt, Strong rose. With a damaged cartilage, on an injured leg. Strong headed the ball. Into the net, into a goal. LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL. EASY! EASY! EASY! But in the fury and in the sound, in the mud and in the rain, in the steam and in the sweat. In the eighty-eighth minute, Murdoch swept a ball over to McBride. McBride knocked the ball down. From five yards behind Yeats, Lennox reached the ball first. Lennox shot. And Lennox scored. Into the net, into a goal. An away goal, a goal that would count double. That would send Celtic through, into the final of the European Cup Winners’ Cup at Hampden Park, Glasgow. But the flag was up, the goal disallowed. Lennox offside. And now bottles and cans rained down onto the pitch, the Anfield pitch, from the supporters of the Celtic Football Club, from the back of the Anfield Road end, onto their fellow fans, the fans at the front, glass arrows into hair, metal blades into skin. And the Spion Kop laughed, HOOLIGANS! HOOLIGANS! HOOLIGANS! The Spion Kop sang, BEHAVE YOURSELVES, BEHAVE YOURSELVES, BEHAVE YOURSELVES. But the re
feree stopped the game. And the police took to the pitch. Until order was restored, until glass was removed. The bottles and the cans. And then the referee started the game. The referee looked at his watch. And the referee blew his whistle, his final whistle. And in the fury and in the sound, in the mud and in the rain, through the steam and through the sweat. The referee and the linesmen ran for cover. Down the tunnel, into their dressing room. They fled.
After that whistle. That final whistle, that last whistle. Bill Shankly walked down the touchline. The Anfield touchline. Bill Shankly walked up to Jock Stein. Bill Shankly held out his hand towards Jock Stein. And Jock Stein looked down at Bill Shankly’s hand. Jock Stein shaking with fury, Jock Stein trembling with rage. And Jock Stein hissed, That was never offside, Bill. Bobby Lennox was onside. That was clearly a goal, Bill. A perfectly good goal. You never beat us, Bill. The referee beat us. You never beat us, Bill!