Red Or Dead

by David Peace

  …

  In the dressing room. The Wembley dressing room. Bill pinned a newspaper cutting to the wall. The Wembley wall. And Bill looked around the dressing room. The Liverpool dressing room. From player to player. The sixteen players of Liverpool Football Club. And Bill said, There you go, boys. That’s what Supermac says he’s going to do to us. How many goals he is going to score against us. How he is going to destroy us. And what he says about us. That we are overrated and that we have no pace. Well, he’s done his talking. So now let’s do our playing, boys. And so our team today will be Clemence, Smith, Lindsay, Thompson, Cormack, Hughes, Keegan, Hall, Heighway, Toshack and Callaghan. And our twelfth man will be Lawler …

  And in the dressing room. The Wembley dressing room. Phil Boersma stood up. And Phil Boersma shook his head –

  My days of playing for this club are over …

  And Phil Boersma walked out of the dressing room. The Liverpool dressing room. Down the corridor. The Wembley corridor. And out of the stadium. Wembley Stadium.

  …

  On the bench, the Wembley bench. Bill moved his arms, Bill moved his hands. For every ball, for every run. And every pass. And Callaghan passed to Lindsay. Lindsay crossed for Toshack. Toshack leapt for the cross. Toshack headed on the cross for Keegan. But Kennedy leapt. And Kennedy headed the ball over the bar. The Newcastle bar. And on the bench, the Wembley bench. Bill moved his arms again, Bill moved his hands again. For every ball, for every run. And every pass. And Heighway passed to Keegan. Keegan ran with the ball. Keegan beat Howard. Keegan crossed for Toshack. But McFaul got to the ball. McFaul saved. On the bench, the Wembley bench. Bill moved his arms, Bill moved his hands. For every ball, for every run. And every pass. And Smith passed to Keegan. Keegan chested down the ball. Keegan passed to Toshack. And Toshack shot. And Toshack missed. And on the bench, the Wembley bench. Again Bill moved his arms, again Bill moved his hands. For every ball, for every run. And every pass. And Callaghan passed to Heighway. Heighway ran. Heighway crossed the ball. But Howard cleared the ball off the goal line. The Newcastle goal line. And at half-time. On the bench, the Wembley bench. His vest stuck to his skin. Bill stood up, Bill got to his feet. And Bill walked down the touchline. The Wembley touchline. Bill walked down the tunnel. The Wembley tunnel. Bill walked into the dressing room. The Wembley dressing room. And Bill looked around the dressing room. The Liverpool dressing room. From player to player. From Clemence to Smith. From Lindsay to Thompson. From Cormack to Hughes. From Keegan to Hall. From Heighway to Toshack. And from Toshack to Callaghan. And Bill said, Well done, boys. Well played indeed. You’ll win three or four–nil. I have no doubt, boys. No doubt at all. Three or four–nil. You mark my words, boys. Three–nil. You mark my words …

  And back on the bench, the Wembley bench. Bill moved his arms again, Bill moved his hands again. For every ball, for every run. And every pass. And Hughes passed to Heighway. Heighway passed to Keegan. Keegan passed to Toshack. Toshack passed to Cormack. Cormack passed to Keegan. And Keegan shot. And Keegan missed. And on the bench, the Wembley bench. Bill moved his arms, Bill moved his hands. For every ball, for every run. And every tackle. And Lindsay won a tackle. Lindsay ran with the ball. Lindsay passed to Keegan. Keegan dummied the ball. The ball hit Howard. The ball bounced back to Lindsay. Lindsay struck the ball on the bounce. Lindsay volleyed the ball. Into the far corner of the net. The Newcastle net and the Newcastle goal. A goal of class, of different class. A disallowed goal. Offside. And so the goal did not count, the goal did not matter. But on the bench, the Wembley bench. Bill moved his arms again, Bill moved his hands again. For every ball, for every run. And every throw-in. And Heighway took a throw-in to Smith. Smith crossed the ball. Hall dived for the ball. The ball ran to Keegan. Keegan flicked up the ball. And Keegan volleyed the ball. Into the net and into a goal. A goal that counted, a goal that mattered. A goal that paid the rent. But on the bench, the Wembley bench. Bill was still moving his arms, Bill was still moving his hands. For every ball, for every run. And every free kick. And Cormack rolled a free kick to Hughes. And Hughes shot. And Hughes missed. By inches. And on the bench, the Wembley bench. Bill moved his arms, Bill moved his hands. For every ball, for every run. And every pass. And Toshack passed to Hall. Hall passed to Callaghan. Callaghan passed to Smith. Smith passed to Hall. Hall passed back to Smith. Smith passed to Keegan. Keegan passed to Heighway. And Heighway shot. And Heighway missed. And on the bench, the Wembley bench. Bill moved his arms again, Bill moved his hands again. For every ball, for every run. And every kick. And Clemence kicked the ball long up the pitch. Toshack flicked on the ball to Heighway. And Heighway shot. And Heighway scored. And on the bench, the Wembley bench. His shirt stuck to his vest. His vest stuck to his skin. Bill stood up, Bill got to his feet. And Bill turned to the supporters of Liverpool Football Club. And Bill raised his arm. His hand and his finger. In salute. And then Bill sat back down. On the bench, the Wembley bench. Bill moving his arms, Bill moving his hands. For every ball, for every run. And every header. And Thompson headed the ball down to Callaghan. Callaghan flicked on the ball to Keegan. Keegan crossed for Toshack. And Toshack shot. And Toshack missed. But on the bench, the Wembley bench. Bill still moved his arms, Bill still moved his hands. For every ball, for every run. And every pass. And Keegan passed long across the pitch to Smith. Smith flicked on the ball to Hall. Hall passed back to Smith. Smith passed to Heighway. Heighway passed back to Smith. Smith crossed the ball. And Keegan met the cross. Keegan hit the cross. Into the net and into the goal. The Newcastle net and the Newcastle goal. Newcastle United undressed now, Newcastle United stretched naked now. Naked and lost. In a nightmare, in broad daylight. And on the bench, the Wembley bench. His jacket stuck to his shirt. His shirt stuck to his vest. His vest stuck to his skin. Bill looked at his watch. And now Bill moved his arms one last time. Now Bill stretched out his arms. And now Bill moved his hands one last time. Now Bill waved his hands in front of him. And Bill said, That’s it. It’s all over …

  And the referee put his whistle in his mouth. The referee raised his hands above his head. And the referee blew his whistle. And Liverpool Football Club had beaten Newcastle United three–nil. Liverpool Football Club had won the FA Cup. Again.

  And on the bench, the Wembley bench. His coat stuck to his jacket. His jacket stuck to his shirt. His shirt stuck to his vest. His vest stuck to his skin. Bill stood up again, Bill got to his feet again. And Bill turned to the supporters of Liverpool Football Club again. And Bill Shankly raised his arm again. His hand again –

  His finger again. In salute again –

  And in thanks. Again –

  Bill walked onto the pitch. The Wembley pitch. And two young supporters of Liverpool Football Club ran onto the pitch. The Wembley pitch. And the two young supporters fell to their knees on the pitch. The Wembley pitch. On their knees, at the feet of Bill Shankly, kissing the feet of Bill Shankly. And Bill laughed. And Bill said, Make a good job of them boots for me, will you, boys?

  And Bill watched Emlyn Hughes lead the players of Liverpool Football Club up the steps. The thirty-nine steps. Bill watched Emlyn Hughes receive the FA Cup from Princess Anne. Bill watched Emlyn Hughes hold the Cup aloft. And Bill heard the supporters of Liverpool Football Club roar, Li-ver-pool, Li-ver-pool –

  LI-VER-POOL …

  And on the pitch. The Wembley pitch. The gentlemen of the press and radio and television crowded around Bill Shankly. And Bill took off his coat. Bill handed his coat to a television producer. And Bill said, Look after that for me, please. But if you don’t, you’ll have to pay for it. And I got it in Rotterdam. And the fare to Rotterdam is very expensive. So make sure you look after it. But Christ, after today, you should be proud to be holding Bill Shankly’s coat. Proud and humble. Because a lot of you people in the press were making predictions about the final. You were analysing our team when you hadn’t even seen us play. When you had no idea how we play. And that annoyed me. It’s like trying to analyse Jack Dempsey when you hav
en’t even seen him fight. Well, now you know how we fight. How we fight for each other. And how we play. How we play for each other. And for the supporters of Liverpool Football Club. You have seen us and you have heard them. And I’m happiest not for myself, the players or the staff. But for the multitudes. Because I’m a people’s man. A socialist. And I’m only sorry I couldn’t go amongst them. And speak to them. But I’m happy that we worked religiously. That we didn’t cheat them and that we have something to take back to them tomorrow. And so there’s nothing more to say. So if you gentlemen will excuse me, now I’m going to get a cup of tea and a couple of pies …

  SHANK-LEE, SHANK-LEE, SHANK-LEE …

  And Bill walked off the pitch. The Wembley pitch. Bill walked down the tunnel. The Wembley tunnel. Bill walked into the dressing room. The Wembley dressing room. Bill looked around the dressing room. The Liverpool dressing room. And Bill sat down on the bench. The dressing-room bench. In the silence, on his own. His jacket still stuck to his shirt. His shirt still stuck to his vest. His vest still stuck to his skin. In the silence, on his own. Bill closed his eyes. And Bill whispered, That’s it. All the arguments are won …

  All but one. Just the one.

  …

  On William Brown Street. Before the Corinthian columns of the Picton Library. With the players and with the staff of Liverpool Football Club and their families. And with the Cup. The FA Cup. Bill stepped forward again. Bill opened his arms again. And again the people, the hundreds of thousands of people, fell silent. Just like that. They all fell silent. And Bill said, Ladies and gentlemen, we have had many great memories at Liverpool Football Club during the last few seasons. But I think today I feel prouder than I have ever done before. Three years ago, I stood here and I said we would go back to Wembley. And yesterday we went back and not only did the team win the Cup, they gave an exhibition of football. But above all else, we are pleased for you. Because it is you who we play for. It’s you who pay our wages. And not only did we win the Cup on the field, we won it on the terraces as well. But now we look to the future. Because that has always got to be done. And we have a great team. They can go on from here because we have been building to this for three years. During which time we have been the best team in the country. The best team in the land. And our consistency over the last three years proves it. We’re good enough to win the League each season. If we did not have to play sixty or seventy games each season. But they are basically a young side. A side that is more than capable of winning the League next year. A young side playing great football, playing pure football. Pure football. And so there is no end to it –

  There is no end to it …

  45. AFTER THE WHISTLE, BEFORE THE WHISTLE

  After the Cup, after the parade. The speeches and the parties. There was still another game, always another game. And on Wednesday 8 May, 1974, Liverpool Football Club travelled to White Hart Lane, London, to play Tottenham Hotspur in the last game of the season. And Bill Shankly walked into the dressing room. The away dressing room. Bill Shankly looked around the dressing room. The Liverpool dressing room. From player to player. From Ray Clemence to Tommy Smith. From Alec Lindsay to Phil Thompson. From Peter Cormack to Emlyn Hughes. From Kevin Keegan to Brian Hall. From Steve Heighway to Ian Callaghan. And from Ian Callaghan to Max Thompson. And Bill Shankly walked over to Max Thompson. Bill Shankly sat down on the bench beside Max Thompson. And Bill Shankly put his arm around the shoulders of Max Thompson –

  How old are you, lad? How old are you, son?

  I’m seventeen, Boss, said Max Thompson.

  Aye, said Bill Shankly. I know, son. I know that. You’re seventeen years, one hundred and twenty-nine days old, son. Bob told me. And Bob told me you are the youngest player ever to play for Liverpool Football Club. Did you know that, son?

  Yes, Boss. Bob told me and all …

  And so are you nervous, son?

  Yes, Boss. Very nervous.

  That’s natural, son. That’s only natural. But you should be excited, too. Excited and proud. Proud to be pulling on that shirt, proud to be playing for Liverpool Football Club. For the supporters of Liverpool Football Club. And remember, son. There are fifty thousand men and boys on the Kop who dream of pulling on that shirt. Who dream of playing for Liverpool Football Club. Who dream of being in your shoes. In your boots, in that shirt. That red shirt. And believe me, son. Once you’ve pulled on that shirt. Once you’ve played for Liverpool Football Club. You’ll never want to take off that shirt again. You’ll never want it to stop, you’ll never want it to end. So enjoy it, son. Enjoy every second and every minute of it. Every single second of every single minute. Because one day it will stop –

  Believe me, son. One day it will end.

  …

  On Wednesday 8 May, 1974, early in the second half, Chris McGrath scored for Tottenham Hotspur. But in the sixty-seventh minute, Steve Heighway equalised. And Liverpool Football Club drew one-all with Tottenham Hotspur. Away from home,

  away from Anfield.

  46. THE BEST LAID SCHEMES

  In the house, in their front room. After the whistle, before the whistle. In his chair, before the television. The World Cup on, the World Cup off. Bill turned to Ness. And Bill said, I’ve decided, love. I’ll go now.

  Are you sure that’s what you want to do, asked Ness.

  Bill shook his head. And Bill said, No, I’m not, love. I’m not sure at all. But I’m not enjoying life, love. I need to get it sorted out.

  Well, if it’s making you miserable, love. If it is making you unhappy. All this talking, all this thinking. Then you have to make a decision, love. One way or the other. It’s like living with a time bomb.

  Bill nodded. And Bill said, I know, love. And I’m sorry. Because it’s hard on you, love. It’s wearing you out, too. I know that, love. I can see that. But I thought you would bite off my hand, love. I thought you would jump for joy. And say, Yes, love. Now is the time.

  I just don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, love. Football is your whole life. Liverpool Football Club is your whole life, love. I know that. And I know what a wrench it’ll be for you, love.

  Bill shook his head. And Bill said, I’d be leaving Liverpool Football Club. But I’d not be leaving the game, love.

  I know that, said Ness. And nor would I ever ask you to, love. It would be too cruel. It would be too heartless.

  47. O’ MICE AN’ MEN, GANG AFT AGLEY

  After the season, before the season. In the boardroom, the Anfield boardroom. John Smith looked down the long table at Bill Shankly. John Smith shook his head. And John Smith said, But if it’s a question of the new contract. If it’s a question of the money. Then we are willing to double your salary. We’re willing to triple your salary …

  Thank you, said Bill Shankly. But it’s not a question of money. It’s never been a question of money. When I hear of the money that’s bandied about, it makes my blood boil. There are men with tennis courts and swimming pools who haven’t even got a Championship medal. But I have never asked for money. I came to Liverpool to make a success of this job for this club and for this city. Maybe I didn’t get enough out of it for my family. I regret I didn’t give Ness more. We’re still living in the same house we moved into when we came to Liverpool. But at least it’s a home, not a house. And I’m not looking for Buckingham Palace. And Matt is the same as me. They still live in the same semi-detached house in Chorlton-cum-Hardy they have always lived in. And perhaps my family are all right after all. They’ve all got a place to live and something to eat and I’ve got five bonny grandchildren. All girls. And every one with a Scouse accent. Now what more could a man want? So no, it’s not a question of money. It is a question of time. And I have been around a long time. Twenty-five years as a manager, seventeen as a player. But during my time, I have always been so single-minded. And so my family has suffered. And I regret that. I regret that Ness has had to bear the brunt of my being away so much. And so I think I would like a rest, to spend mor
e time with my family, and maybe get a bit of fun out of life. Because whilst you love football, it is a hard, relentless task which goes on and on like a river. There is no time for stopping and resting. That is not an option. So I’m retiring. Because that is my only option. And I think now is the right time. If we had lost the final, I would have carried on. But I thought, We’ve won the Cup now and maybe it’s a good time to go. So I knew then, that day in May, I was going to finish.

  John Smith shook his head again. And John Smith said, But what if we were to offer you a position as general manager? With an office here at the ground. Where you could come in when you want. And do what you want. At a different pace. At your own pace.

  Thank you, said Bill Shankly. But that hasn’t worked at United. It hasn’t worked for Matt or for the club. They have been relegated. They are in the Second Division now. No, I’ve always said, when I go. When I leave. It will be a complete break. It must be a complete break. For you and for me. That is the only way.

  John Smith said, But the thought of you leaving. Of you making a complete break. It is an horrendous thought for us. Would you not even consider becoming a director, Mr Shankly?

  Thank you, said Bill Shankly again. But I’m not a committee man. So I could never be a director. That isn’t me.

  48. AN’ LEA’E US NOUGHT

  In the semi-detached house on Bellefield Avenue, West Derby, in their bedroom. Bill put on his shirt. His tangerine shirt. Bill went to the dressing table. Bill opened the top drawer. Bill took out his cufflinks. His gold cufflinks. Bill closed the drawer. Bill did up the cuffs of his shirt. His tangerine shirt. Bill went to the wardrobe. Bill opened the doors. Bill took out his suit. His freshly cleaned grey herringbone suit. Bill left the wardrobe doors open. Bill walked over to the bed. Bill laid out the suit on top of the bed covers. Bill took the trousers from the coat hanger. Bill put on the trousers of his suit. His freshly cleaned grey herringbone suit. Bill went back to the dressing table. Bill opened the second drawer of the dressing table. Bill took out a tie. The red tie his daughters had once given him for Christmas. The red tie he had worn ever since. Bill closed the drawer. Bill walked back to the wardrobe. The doors still open. Bill stood before the mirror on the back of one of the doors. Bill put on his tie. His red tie. Bill went back over to the bed. Bill picked up the jacket from the bed. Bill took the jacket from the coat hanger. Bill put on the jacket of his suit. His freshly cleaned grey herringbone suit. Bill walked back over to the dressing table. Bill opened the top drawer of the dressing table again. Bill took out one white handkerchief and one red pocket square. Bill closed the drawer. Bill put the white handkerchief in his left trouser pocket. Bill laid the red pocket square on the top of the dressing table. It looked like a red diamond. Bill brought the bottom point of the red pocket square up to the top point. It looked like a red triangle. Bill brought the left corner of the triangle to the right corner and then the right corner to the left corner. It looked like a long red rectangle with a point at the top. Bill folded the bottom almost to the top. Bill walked over to the mirror on the back of the wardrobe door. Bill stood before the mirror. Bill placed the red pocket square in the breast pocket of his grey jacket. Bill looked in the mirror. Bill adjusted the pocket square until just enough of the point was coming out of the pocket. The red point out of the grey pocket. Bill stepped back. In the semi-detached house on Bellefield Avenue, West Derby, in their bedroom. Bill looked at himself in the mirror. The suit too big, the tie too tight. And Bill saw a sixty-year-old man. The shadows around his eyes too dark, the lines in his face too deep. And Bill did not recognise him.