Ring of Fire

by Simon Hughes

  ‘A lot of the success was a consequence of repetition. Getting it, giving it – it became a natural act. When I stepped up to the reserves, all I could hear from the touchline was Ronnie screaming, “Give it early!” I was a midfielder originally but I remember shouting back to Ronnie, “I haven’t even got it yet!” Ronnie wanted things to happen before it was humanly possible. Ideally, it was done in one pass, without the need for a controlled first touch.

  ‘We didn’t have a term for it but it was this simplicity that I believe formed the Liverpool way. Others tried to complicate it. When the lads later got together for former players’ games, it was as though we still had Ronnie on the touchline. Someone would pass it to me and straight away I’d shift it to Phil Neal. The Everton and United players, they’d try to do tricks and run through the middle of the pitch, holding on to possession for too long. At Liverpool, only the wingers – Steve Heighway, Cally [Ian Callaghan] and Peter Thompson – were allowed to run with possession. Everyone else – get it, give it.’

  Thompson evolved into a central defender, having spent his teenage years in midfield.

  ‘By the time I reached the reserves, I was more of a holding midfield player but I still scored seven or eight goals a season. My biggest asset was being able to read the game and be in position at the right time, before things happened. I knew what was going on.’

  An injury to the hulking Larry Lloyd presented an opportunity for Thompson but not before others were selected first, reflecting again that Thompson’s route to the top was not an automatic rite of passage.

  ‘There were other boys rated higher than me at the time. It disappointed me that I was behind a few of them but I took it on the chin and cracked on with it. You see so many lads sulking when that happens now.’

  In the second half of the 1973–74 season, Shankly began to regularly pair Thompson with Emlyn Hughes in the centre of defence. Thompson considers this decision to be the making of a ‘modern’ Liverpool, where defenders, rather than merely being stoppers, were expected to take on extra ball-playing responsibilities.

  ‘Emlyn and myself were very similar. He was more of a rampaging midfield player but was a good reader of the game and could play in most positions. In our first game together, we beat Coventry City 2–1 at Anfield and we were 2–0 up. They scored a consolation late on and I remember feeling absolutely gutted. After that, we went seven games without conceding a goal.

  ‘People say the 1974 Dutch team at the World Cup were the first to play so-called “Total Football”. No they weren’t. We started it. Holland played with two smallish centre-backs in Arie Haan and [Wim] Rijsbergen. As we know, the Dutch were great observers of the game and I think they saw Liverpool and thought, Wow. Me and Emlyn were the first to prove that you didn’t need a monster at the back. We could play. I’ll argue with anyone that Liverpool invented “Total Football”, not the Dutch.’

  Thompson’s first cup final came a few months after his first game in defence. Even at twenty years old, he did not suffer from nerves and in the hours before the 3–0 victory over Newcastle United, he remembers lying on the couch watching the BBC’s Road to Wembley programme while teammates like Brian Hall were ‘biting their nails’.

  ‘The confidence came from the fact it was what I wanted to do and knowing that Liverpool seldom lost. The bigger the game, we’d win it. I didn’t lose a Merseyside derby for seven years, for example. In my time at Liverpool, we lost just one cup final and that was the FA Cup final of 1977 against Manchester United. And I was injured that day by the way . . .’

  Thompson’s supreme conviction led to two European Cup final appearances, and Liverpool won both. In the second, in Paris in 1981, Thompson was the captain. He marked the achievement of beating Real Madrid by taking the trophy back to the Falcon in Kirkby, allowing all of his friends to drink from the prize.

  ‘It was the greatest night of my professional life,’ Thompson smiles. ‘When I lifted the cup, I could see the Falcon lads across the Parc des Princes with the Kirkby flags. There was a gang from the Kingfisher pub as well.’

  Earlier in the season, after winning the League Cup in a replay with West Ham United at Villa Park, Thompson was told off by Peter Robinson, Liverpool’s secretary, for leaving the trophy in the coach after travelling home from the Midlands. On that occasion, his plan to take it back to the Falcon was disrupted by his wife-to-be, Marg, who, having drunk so much on the open-top-bus parade around Liverpool, needed to use the toilet at a house on Utting Avenue near Anfield. The distraction meant Thompson had to catch up with the bus by hailing a ride in the back of an ice cream van.

  ‘When the parade was over, I hid the European Cup in a red velvet bag and, despite being intoxicated, to my shame, I raced off in my Ford Capri to the Falcon with Marg. I walked in with the cup above my head. The place was bouncing. There was a queue for the public phone box and the whole of Kirkby seemed to turn up. What a night.’

  Thompson still lived in Kirkby at the time in a modest two-up, two-down semi-detached house. The next morning, Peter Robinson called.

  ‘He goes, “Phil, do you happen to know where the European Cup is?” My eyes were so blurred, I saw five European Cups standing there on the mantelpiece. Peter told me that the cup was expected at Anfield at eleven o’clock for a press shoot but I’d promised everyone at the Falcon they could bring their kids down and have a photo with it. In the end, I took it to the Falcon. The press could wait. They weren’t very happy when I eventually arrived – the faces on them!’

  The responsibility of Liverpool’s captaincy was soon taken away from Thompson after a poor start to the 1981–82 season. Recalling the period clearly still hurts him now.

  ‘It was awful,’ he says flatly. ‘Things weren’t going great. Bob had decided to sell our goalkeeper Ray Clemence, who for such a long time acted as my eyes and ears. Clem was a great talker and his focus was fantastic. Bruce Grobbelaar came in and he was a completely different animal. It was difficult for everyone – for Bruce and the whole defence, especially me.

  ‘December came around and we were mid table in the league. We were travelling back from Melwood on the bus after training and Joe Fagan wanders over: “Phil, the boss wants to see you.” I was sitting next to Terry McDermott as always. “I wonder what that’s about,” I said. Over my shoulder, Ray Kennedy enters the conversation and goes, “I know what it’s about – you’re going to have the captaincy taken off you.” Something had been said behind my back obviously. I asked Ray who was going to get it. “Graeme Souness.”’

  It is widely agreed amongst those that played under him that Paisley was not comfortable in confrontation.

  ‘I was his longest-serving player and, yes, I was proud – prouder than anyone – to captain Liverpool. He reasoned that taking the responsibility away would help me focus on my game. But I was fuming. “Who are you giving it to? Wouldn’t be Graeme Souness by any chance, would it?” He was spluttering then. “We’ll see how it goes, then maybe give it you back.” I knew he was trying to fudge it. I stormed out. From then on, my relationship with Graeme Souness was very frosty to say the least. It felt like I’d been stabbed in the back.’

  It is painful for Thompson to recall his first game not as captain, standing at the very back of the line as the players prepared to pass through the tunnel at Swansea City’s Vetch Field.

  ‘Joe Fagan tried to speak to me and I told him where to go. Afterwards, I still had the hump and I didn’t speak to anyone. But low and behold, we won the game 4–0. I’d never let feelings get in the way of a performance. Never.’

  Thompson can now admit the decision to remove him was the right one, considering Liverpool ended up winning the title that season, having trailed by some distance until the big decision was made. The disappointment of the experience was valuable decades later when Gérard Houllier decided to swap the responsibility between Sami Hyypiä and Steven Gerrard. Like Thompson, Hyypiä responded in the right manner and eighteen months later his pre
sence was crucial as Liverpool won the Champions League in 2005.

  The antipathy from Thompson towards Souness has never really gone away, though.

  ‘I blanked him for weeks and weeks afterwards until he came to me claiming that he hadn’t done anything wrong. It broke the ice but things were never the same between us.’

  Thompson left for Sheffield United in 1984 before returning to take charge of Liverpool’s reserve team after Kenny Dalglish became manager. When Souness succeeded Dalglish in 1991, one of his first acts was to remove Thompson.

  ‘I was later told by other ex-players that he thought I lacked trust in him because of what had happened over the captaincy and therefore I wasn’t trustworthy myself. If that’s how he thought then I find that absolutely incredible. If he felt that, why didn’t he have a word with me? Apparently he’d heard that I’d said at the time that he was changing things too quickly. I honestly don’t know whether I did or I didn’t all those years ago. But what I do know is, he’s admitted it himself since leaving Liverpool that he attempted a revolution when only evolution was required. The trustworthy thing still gets me. Because it’s not me.’

  Thompson says the hardest part of his second departure from the club was telling his two boys that he wasn’t going to be taking them to Anfield every other Saturday any more, ‘an afternoon they loved’.

  ‘They were broken-hearted, sobbing their hearts out,’ Thompson says. ‘That day, I thought that I cannot and will not speak to Graeme Souness again. I was devastated.’

  When Sheila Walsh, the secretary of every Liverpool manager since Bill Shankly, died in 2008, Thompson and Souness met at the funeral and, according to Thompson, relations have since been cordial. He recognizes that Souness’s shortcomings as a manager between 1991 and 1994 led to a chain of events that contributed to his own return in 1999. He stops to think about Souness’s abilities as a player.

  ‘Graeme was a typical Liverpool footballer: aggressive, two good feet, quick-thinking, streetwise. But he wasn’t that way before he came to Liverpool. The intensity of the club spurred him on and he rose to the challenge of playing, at the very worst, eight out of ten every week. He became one of the greatest centre-midfield players this country has ever seen. As a manager, you couldn’t really say that. Graeme wanted too many players to be like him. And it didn’t work.’

  Thompson was thirty-seven years old when he was sacked as reserve-team manager.

  ‘I believed that I did things the Liverpool way as a coach. I hoped there might be a way back. I was disappointed that I never got the chance under Roy [Evans – who succeeded Souness].’

  In 1998, Gérard Houllier was appointed as joint manager with Evans, an ill-fated decision that culminated in Evans departing within three months of the season starting. Thompson met Houllier for the first time in a hotel bar while working for Radio City as co-commentator in a UEFA Cup game in Valencia. In the dressing room after the 2–2 draw, Houllier and Evans argued in front of the players, causing Evans to storm out, the pressure clearly showing.

  ‘The night before the game, I was standing with Tom Saunders and Ronnie Moran and their wives. Tom asked me whether I’d ever consider getting back involved in front-line football again. I was happy with my working life – doing newspaper columns and the radio – but I was honest with him. If the right offer came along, I’d jump at it.’

  Houllier is widely credited with turning Liverpool’s defence from one that was made out of goo to one that was made out of granite. Yet it was Thompson who worked the hardest on this issue.

  ‘In our first few months in charge, we played Man United at their place in the FA Cup. Michael Owen scored early for us and we held on to the lead until the last two minutes when Dwight Yorke equalized before Ole Gunnar Solskjaer snatched a winner. We played three at the back that day and the three were Steve Harkness, Jamie Carragher and Dominic Matteo. That told you where our problems were, because you can’t forget that the jury was out on Carra at that time.

  ‘Listen, defensive coaching isn’t the most fun part of training,’ Thompson continues. ‘In fact, it’s the most miserable, the most tedious, the most repetitive. It can be very boring but it has to be done over and over and over again.

  ‘It was basics: positioning collectively and individually, and learning when to push up and squeeze the play at the right time. I did all of the defensive coaching, making the reserve wingers cross balls all the time, getting in the right positions until it becomes second nature.

  ‘I had good lads, particularly Carra. Remember, Carra wasn’t everybody’s cup of tea if we’re being honest. The crowd would moan about him, letters appearing in the Echo – that sort of thing. But Carra would do exactly what you wanted week after week, time after time, game after game. We’d put defensive sessions on, crossing balls in from different angles, and he’d head them out all day long until it was going dark without complaining. He’d head it away then yell at the other boys to push out, repeating the drill in the pissing rain.

  ‘We needed fellas like Carra, your Stéphane Henchozes, your Sami Hyypiäs, your Markus Babbels: a calibre of people that were able to maintain standards. Carra had a burning passion to be a winner. That’s why Gérard loved him. He knew how much he wanted to be better than everyone else. He had challenges, Carra: [Christian] Ziege coming in and then [John Arne] Riise. But he practised and practised and listened to the coaching, improving his left foot all the time, which was his weaker foot. We saw Carra a bit like Denis Irwin at Man United because of his desire to remain.

  ‘Out of the six seasons Gérard and I were in charge, we had the best defensive record in the league in two of them. For me, that was the proof in the pudding.’

  Although Thompson and Houllier didn’t know each other before beginning a working marriage, the relationship blossomed. The decision made between Tom Saunders and Peter Robinson was a master-stroke.

  ‘It was based on 100 per cent trust,’ Thompson says, reminding me of why Souness had supposedly sacked him. ‘I’ll admit, I was abrasive. Sometimes I’d fly off the handle in the dressing room and Gérard would let me do it. I’d give them hell. I’d carry on for two minutes, then he’d go, “That’s enough, Phil.” He’d let me have my say, then he’d move in and be calm and composed.

  ‘We’d been beaten at Anfield in one game and I went against him. I was furious but Gérard came in afterwards and said, “Boys, I want you to go away from here and I want you to forget everything that has happened today. We’ve got to look forward and focus on the next game.” I was boiling inside. “Forget it?” I went. “I hope that you go home and think about it so much that you can’t sleep all weekend. You all need to have a good look at yourselves . . .”

  ‘Gérard never said anything in that moment but straight after the last player had left the dressing room, he pulled me to one side. “Phil, can I have a word?” he asked. “I appreciate you and often I agree with the things you say. But don’t cut across me again. When players hear that, they see it as a division between me and you. I’ve said one thing; you’ve said the opposite. They’ll use it as an excuse for failure; they’ll use it against us.”

  ‘Gérard was bang-on. Dead right. I was too battle hardened to realize the best way sometimes. The emotion would take over – this was playing for Liverpool for fuck sake! We’re striving for that nine out of ten minimum every week. When it didn’t happen, it hurt me. It hurt Gérard too but he was better at rationalizing his emotion. Gérard was an educator. It wasn’t just the players that learned from him.’

  The good times rolled again at Liverpool. After winning a League Cup, an FA Cup and UEFA Cup treble in 2001, Thompson was trusted enough by Liverpool’s board to be asked to take over from Houllier while he recovered from a heart operation having been taken ill inside the dressing room at half-time of a game against Leeds United. The date is imprinted in Thompson’s mind.

  ‘It was incredible, 13 October 2001. Gérard’s heart stopped on the operating table – he literal
ly died. But they brought him back to life.’

  The pressure on Thompson was immense. While his friend and closest colleague was in the operating theatre, Thompson had to organize the team for an away game against Dynamo Kiev in Ukraine, a country where no British team had ever won.

  ‘I went to the Royal [hospital] to see him only to find he’d been sent to Broadgreen. Doc Waller [the club doctor] and Norman Gard [the long-serving players’ liaison officer] were there too, along with Isabelle [Houllier’s wife]. The specialists told us there was a massive problem with his aorta. I held Gérard’s hand and told him that he’d be OK as they wheeled him past to the operating theatre. He didn’t look at all well.’

  On the flights for European away games, Houllier and Thompson took up a row of three seats between them and spent their time discussing tactics while eating wine gums.

  ‘The next morning, I was sitting by the window of the plane and nobody was next to me. I suddenly felt very lonely. Gérard always used to bring the wine gums.’

  The task of performing the pre-match duties expected of a manager preyed on Thompson’s mind.

  ‘Gérard’s team talks were famous: two flipcharts, the team on one, which I would normally write for him; then another where he would note down the key tactical points that he wanted to make. The responsibility of taking this on was daunting because his speeches were almost presidential. He’d start off very softly but by the end it was like reaching the finale of a horse race. The players would get really pumped up. Gérard was a calm and measured person but when the talk needed to be passionate, he could deliver it.

  ‘As soon as we reached Kiev, I told the doc [Waller] that he had to explain to the boys the basics of the technical stuff related to Gérard’s illness, although we didn’t want to give them everything because it might worry them and cause them to lose focus on the game.

  ‘Gérard had already selected the team before the Leeds game, so that bit was sorted. We wanted to go there and give a classic Liverpool away performance in Europe – maybe nick a 1–0 win or a draw. We wanted to set up as a block and quieten the crowd. And then I flipped the chart over and it read simply: “Do it for the boss” in big letters.’