by David Peace
That was either a penalty or a goal, said Bill Shankly. We should have had either a penalty or a goal. You must agree we have been robbed. You must agree you’ve been very lucky, Frank …
Frank O’Farrell shook his head. And Frank O’Farrell said, It was never a penalty, Bill. And Graham was clearly offside. So I don’t agree you were robbed, Bill. In fact, I think you were very lucky to get a draw. I think we were the ones who were robbed. The way we played in the second half. It was men against boys. Men against boys, Bill.
Bill Shankly shook his head. And Bill Shankly walked away. Down the touchline. The Anfield touchline. Down the tunnel. The Anfield tunnel. Into the darkness. Into the evening –
That evening, some of the supporters of Liverpool Football Club threw bottles and bricks at the Manchester United team bus. That evening, some of the supporters of Liverpool Football Club broke the windows of the Manchester United team bus. That evening, some of the players of Manchester United were injured by broken glass. And that evening, Sheffield United were still first in the First Division. And Manchester United still second in the First Division. Derby County third, Manchester City fourth, Leeds United fifth, Arsenal Football Club sixth and Tottenham Hotspur seventh. That evening, the new Liverpool Football Club were eighth in the First Division. The new Liverpool Football Club still nowhere –
Still bloody nowhere –
Still not even close, not even fucking close.
38. RED YOUTH UNDER DIFFICULT CIRCUMSTANCES
In the house, in their kitchen. Bill got up from the table. Bill picked up the plates. Ness got up from the kitchen table. Ness walked out of the kitchen. Bill put the plates in the sink. Bill walked back over to the kitchen table. Ness went into the front room. Ness sat down in her chair. Bill picked up the salt and pepper pots. Bill put them in the cupboard. Ness picked up her packet of cigarettes from the arm of the chair. Ness lit a cigarette. Bill walked back over to the table. Bill took the cloth off the table. Bill walked over to the back door. Bill opened the back door. Bill stepped outside. Bill stood on the step. Bill shook the cloth. Bill stepped back into the kitchen. Bill closed the door. Bill folded up the tablecloth. Bill put it in the drawer. Ness finished her cigarette. Ness stubbed out her cigarette. Bill walked back over to the sink. Bill turned on the taps. Bill squeezed washing-up liquid into the sink. Bill turned off the taps. Bill picked up the scrubbing brush. Bill washed up the plates. Bill washed up the pans. Bill washed up the knives and forks. Bill put them on the draining board. Bill pulled out the plug. Bill dried his hands. Ness picked up the newspaper and her pen. Ness turned to the crossword. Bill picked up the tea towel. Bill dried up the pans. Bill dried up the plates. Bill dried up the knives and forks. Bill put the pans in one cupboard, Bill put the plates in another. Bill put the knives and forks in the drawer. Ness put down her pen. Ness lit another cigarette. Bill walked back over to the sink. Bill picked up the dishcloth. Bill wiped down the draining board. Bill turned on the taps again. Bill rinsed the dishcloth under the taps. Bill turned off the taps. Bill squeezed the water out of the dishcloth. Bill put the dishcloth down next to the bottle of washing-up liquid. Bill turned around. Bill looked round the kitchen. Ness finished her cigarette. Ness stubbed out her cigarette. Bill turned back to the sink. Bill bent down. Bill opened the cupboard under the sink. Bill took out a bucket from under the sink. Bill bent back down. Bill opened a box under the sink. Bill took out a Brillo pad from the box. Bill closed the cupboard door. Bill picked up the bucket. Bill put the bucket in the sink. Bill turned the taps on again. Bill filled the bucket half full. Bill turned off the taps. Ness put her pen in her mouth. Ness stared down at the crossword. Bill took the bucket and the Brillo pad over to the cooker. Bill put the bucket down in front of the cooker. Bill opened the oven door. Bill looked inside. Bill saw the darkness. Bill smelt the fat. Bill knelt down on the kitchen floor. Bill unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. Bill rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Bill picked up the Brillo pad. Bill sank the Brillo pad into the bucket of water. Bill pulled the Brillo pad back up, out of the water. Bill squeezed the water from the Brillo pad. The wet, steel wool. Bill squeezed it tighter. Bill put his hand inside the oven. Into the darkness. Amongst the fat. Ness put down her pen again. Ness lit another cigarette. In the kitchen, on his knees. Bill began to scrub. On his knees, Bill began to scour. Bill began to clean. To clean, and to clean, and to clean. And Bill heard Ness begin to cough. To cough, and to cough, and to cough. On his knees, Bill knew flesh aged. Flesh strained and flesh tore. In the damp. Bill knew bones aged. Bones fractured and bones broke. In the dry. Bodies aging. Bit by bit. Older and older, weaker and weaker. Bodies dying. Bit by bit. Hour by hour, day by day. In the damp and in the dry. Bill knew that was the battle. That was the war. The battle against age, the war against death. The battle you could not win, the war you could never win. But the battle you must try to fight. Hour by hour. The war you must try to win. Day by day. In the damp and in the dry. On his knees, Bill knew you had to fight against age. Hour by hour, day by day. In the damp and in the dry. On his knees, Bill knew you had to try to beat death. You had to try, you had to try.
…
On the bench, the Anfield bench. Bill and thirty-eight thousand, five hundred and ninety-one folk were watching the new Liverpool Football Club play Servette Football Club of Geneva in the second leg of the First Round of the European Cup Winners’ Cup. Tommy Smith was playing and Kevin Keegan was playing. Tommy Smith injected with cortisone and Kevin Keegan injected with cortisone. In the twenty-seventh minute, Emlyn Hughes scored. And in the sixtieth minute, Steve Heighway scored. But Kevin Keegan was limping, Kevin Keegan was struggling. And in the seventy-first minute, Bill took off Kevin Keegan. And Bill sent on John Toshack. In the eightieth minute, Tommy Smith tackled Barriquand of Servette Football Club of Geneva. And Tommy Smith won the ball. But Barriquand’s studs raked down the right shin of Tommy Smith. And the referee blew his whistle. And the referee awarded a free kick to Liverpool Football Club. Tommy Smith got up. Tommy Smith took the free kick. And Tommy Smith kept on playing, Tommy Smith kept on running. But the players of Servette Football Club of Geneva were not playing. The players of Servette Football Club of Geneva were staring at the right shin of Tommy Smith and now the players of Liverpool Football Club were staring at the right shin of Tommy Smith. And Tommy Smith looked down at his right shin. His red sock. His Liverpool sock. Torn in two. The red sock. The Liverpool sock flapping loose. The support bandage and the surgical tape ripped apart. The bandage and the tape. Loose. The skin torn and the skin ripped. Loose. And red. And black. Red and black with blood and mud. Red and black. And white. White with bone. The white bone of his shin poking through the torn skin. Through the ripped skin. And now the referee was staring at the right shin of Tommy Smith. The referee white with shock. The referee blowing his whistle. Pointing to the bench, pointing to the tunnel. And in the eighty-fourth minute, Bill took off Tommy Smith. And Bill sent on Ian Ross. And the new Liverpool Football Club beat Servette Football Club of Geneva two–nil in the second leg of the First Round of the Cup Winners’ Cup. Three–two on aggregate. At home,
at Anfield. The thirty-eight thousand, five hundred and ninety-one folk had all gone home. But Tommy Smith had not gone home. And Joe Fagan had not gone home. Tommy Smith and Joe Fagan were in the treatment room at Anfield. Joe Fagan told Tommy Smith to lie down on the physio bench. Joe Fagan took off the right boot of Tommy Smith. Joe Fagan stared down at the right foot. The right shin. The right leg of Tommy Smith. And Joe Fagan shook his head –
We best wait for the doc, said Joe Fagan.
John Reid, one of the club doctors of Liverpool Football Club, came into the treatment room. John Reid looked down at the right foot. The right shin. The right leg of Tommy Smith –
That’s the worst cut I’ve ever seen outside of theatre, said John Reid. We best wait for my brother Bill to get here, Tommy.
Bill Reid, the brother of John Reid and the other club doctor at Liverpool Footba
ll Club, came into the treatment room. Bill Reid looked down at the right foot. The right shin. The right leg of Tommy Smith. And Bill Reid shook his head –
Fucking hell, Tommy.
On his back, on the bench. In pain. In the treatment room, at Anfield. In fear. Tommy Smith looked up at the two doctors –
What are you going to do, docs?
I’m going to clean it up, said John Reid. And then I’m going to try and stitch it up, Tommy.
Try? What do you mean try? Either you can or you can’t …
Well, I’m not going to lie to you, Tommy, said John Reid. It’s not going to be easy and it’s not going to be pleasant …
John Reid took out a pair of scissors. And John Reid cut away the red sock. The Liverpool sock. From the right shin of Tommy Smith. And John Reid cleaned up the right shin and the right ankle of Tommy Smith. And then John Reid took out a needle. A giant needle. And John Reid stared down at the right shin of Tommy Smith. And John Reid brought down the needle towards the right shin of Tommy Smith. But then John Reid took away the needle. John Reid wiped his brow on the back of his hand. And John Reid turned to his brother –
Go get Tommy a brandy, Bill. And go get one for me, too. A bloody large one, Bill. Bloody large ones for the both of us.
On his back, on the bench. In pain. In the treatment room, at Anfield. In fear. Tommy Smith waited for Bill Reid to return. And Bill Reid returned with two brandies. Tommy Smith declined his brandy. John Reid drank both brandies. And then John Reid picked up the needle again. The giant needle again. And John Reid stuck the giant needle into the right shin of Tommy Smith. And John Reid filled the wound in the right shin of Tommy Smith with penicillin. And then John Reid began to stitch. To try to stitch –
Have you washed your hands, John Reid asked Joe Fagan. Are they clean, Joe? Your hands?
No, doc. Not very.
Never mind. Just put your finger on the knots, Joe. So I can tighten them, will you? Put your fingers there. And keep them there.
Joe Fagan put his fingers on the knots in the stitches in the right shin of Tommy Smith. And Joe Fagan looked away from the stitches in the right shin of Tommy Smith. Joe Fagan looked up at the ceiling.
There you go, said John Reid. All done, Tommy. All done.
On the bench, in the treatment room. Tommy Smith raised himself up on his elbows. And Tommy Smith looked down at his right shin. At the stitches in his right shin. The stitches and the knots –
Are you sure that’s right, asked Tommy Smith. Those are big gaps between the stitches. There must be an inch between each stitch.
Well, I’ll pack the gaps with some more penicillin. How about I do that for you, Tommy? Will that make you feel better, Tommy?
On his back, on the bench. In the treatment room, at Anfield. Tommy Smith nodded. And Tommy Smith stared up at the ceiling.
Joe Fagan patted Tommy Smith on his shoulder –
I’ll be back in a minute, Tommy. I’ll give you a lift home.
Joe Fagan walked out of the treatment room at Anfield. And Joe Fagan saw Bill Shankly. Bill Shankly pacing up and down in the corridor outside the treatment room at Anfield –
And Bill said, How is he, Joe?
It’s bad. It’s very bad, Bill. Tommy’s going to be out for quite some time. Quite a long time, Bill …
…
In the house, in their front room. In the night and in the silence. Bill threw his book onto the carpet. His book of names, his book of notes. The names of injured players, the notes on their injuries. And in the night and in the silence. Bill cursed. And cursed again. Bill remembered when Tommy Smith had severed his kneecap against Vitoria Setúbal two seasons ago. And Bill remembered how Liverpool Football Club had struggled without Tommy Smith two seasons ago. Without his drive, without his leadership. And Bill knew Liverpool Football Club were going to struggle again. Without his drive and without his leadership. In the front room, in his chair. Bill picked up his book from the carpet. His book of names, his book of notes. Bill opened the book again. The book of names, the book of notes. The names of injured players, the notes on their injuries. Kevin Keegan was injured, too. Pains in his left foot, the bones of his left foot. But no one seemed to know how. No one seemed to know why. But in the night and in the silence. Bill knew Liverpool Football Club struggled without Kevin Keegan. Without his spark, without his fire. Bill knew Liverpool Football Club needed that spark, Bill knew Liverpool Football Club needed that fire. And in the night and in the silence. Bill was determined not to lose that spark. Bill was determined not to lose that fire. That spark and that fire. In the front room, in his chair. Bill closed his book. His book of names, his book of notes. Bill put the book down on the arm of his chair. And Bill stood up. In the night and in the silence. Bill heard Ness cough upstairs. In their bed, in her sleep. And cough again. And in the night and in the silence. Bill sat back down in his chair. And Bill coughed, too.
…
In the corridor, the Anfield corridor. Kevin Keegan knocked on the door of the treatment room. Kevin Keegan opened the door of the treatment room. Kevin Keegan limped into the treatment room. Kevin Keegan saw Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley standing in the treatment room. Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley waiting for Kevin Keegan –
Bill coughed. And Bill said, Take off your trousers, take off your socks. And lie down on that table, son. And let’s be having a look at you. Let’s be getting to the bottom of this, son …
Kevin Keegan took off his shoes. Kevin Keegan loosened his belt. Kevin Keegan unzipped his trousers. Kevin Keegan took off his trousers. Kevin Keegan took off his socks. And Kevin Keegan lay down on the treatment table at Anfield.
Bill and Bob walked over to the treatment table. Bill and Bob stared down at the left foot of Kevin Keegan. Bill shook his head. Bob shook his head. And Bill said, There’s not a bruise on you, son. Not a single mark. What the hell is wrong with you, lad? What on earth is it?
I don’t know, said Kevin Keegan. But I know I can’t play on it. It hurts when I walk, Boss. Let alone when I run. Or when I kick a ball.
Bill said, But there’s no bruise and there’s no swelling, son. So it wasn’t a tackle. It can’t have been from a tackle now, can it?
No, said Kevin Keegan. I don’t think so.
And you’ve not gone over on your ankle, have you, son?
No, said Kevin Keegan again.
And you’ve not been skiing or anything daft like that, have you, son? Not behind our backs. Without telling us? Nipping off to the slopes? For a quick turn on the slopes, son?
No, laughed Kevin Keegan. Not in Liverpool, Boss.
Bill shook his head. And Bill said, It’s no laughing matter, son. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of what’s bloody wrong with you.
I’m sorry, said Kevin Keegan. But I’ve not been skiing.
What about a bike? You been riding a bike, son?
No, said Kevin Keegan. I’ve got a car. I drive.
What kind of car, son?
A Capri.
A Capri? The last time I looked you had a Cortina?
Well, I bought a new Capri …
When?
A couple of weeks ago, said Kevin Keegan.
Bill said, A brand-new one?
Yes, said Kevin Keegan.
Bill looked at Bob. Bill shook his head. Bob shook his head. And Bill said, Well, that’ll be it. It’ll be your fancy new car. I bet the clutch is stiff. And you’ve been pressing down on it too hard. And so that’s how you’ve done your foot in. Jesus Christ. You fool, you bloody idiot. More money than sense. That’s you, son. That’s you …
It can’t be the car, said Kevin Keegan. It can’t be.
Oh, and so now you know better than me, do you? Well, I’m telling you, it’s your car. Your fancy new car, son. Because we’ve seen it before. Too many times before. And so you won’t be driving that car again, son. And you’ll be coming to Stoke and you’ll be playing against Stoke. So get your trousers on, son. And get yourself on that bus. I�
�ve had enough of your bloody malingering …
Kevin Keegan sat up on the treatment table. Kevin Keegan got off the treatment table. Kevin Keegan pulled on his trousers. Tears in his eyes, hurt in his throat. Kevin Keegan looked at Bill Shankly –
I’m not malingering, Boss. It hurts when I walk. So I’m not going to Stoke, Boss. Because I can’t play. I’m going home!
Bill and Bob watched Kevin Keegan limp barefoot out of the treatment room. Bill and Bob listened to Kevin Keegan slam the door on his way out of the treatment room. And Bob looked at Bill. Bill winked at Bob. And Bill said, Let him go, Bob. Let him go. He’ll be back, Bob. He’ll be back. But be sure to take that car off him when he does come back. Be sure to take his bloody car.
…
On the bench, the bench at the Victoria Ground. Bill watched Ray Clemence try his hardest for Liverpool Football Club. Bill watched Chris Lawler try his hardest for Liverpool Football Club. Bill watched Alec Lindsay try his hardest for Liverpool Football Club. Bill watched Ian Ross try his hardest for Liverpool Football Club. Bill watched Larry Lloyd try his hardest for Liverpool Football Club. Bill watched Emlyn Hughes try his hardest for Liverpool Football Club. Bill watched Brian Hall try his hardest for Liverpool Football Club. Bill watched John McLaughlin try his hardest for Liverpool Football Club. Bill watched Steve Heighway try his hardest for Liverpool Football Club. Bill watched Bobby Graham try his hardest for Liverpool Football Club. And Bill watched Ian Callaghan try his hardest for Liverpool Football Club. But Bill saw no drive. Bill saw no leadership. And Bill saw no spark. Bill saw no fire. And Bill saw no goals. And on the bench, the bench at the Victoria Ground. Bill watched Liverpool Football Club draw nil–nil with Stoke City –
