Red or Dead (3 page)

Into Liverpool. To Anfield.

In the ground, in the office. Bill shook hands with Jimmy McInnes, the club secretary. Bill knew Jimmy McInnes. Bill knew Jimmy came from Ayr. Bill knew Jimmy had played for Third Lanark and for Liverpool Football Club. Jimmy introduced Bill to the receptionist, the ticket administrators, the cleaners and the groundsman,
Arthur Riley. Bill knew Arthur Riley. Bill knew Arthur had worked for Liverpool Football Club for over thirty years. Arthur took Bill to meet the coaching staff. Under the stands, down a corridor. Among the boots, the dirty boots –

This is Bob Paisley, said Arthur Riley. Bob is the first-team trainer. This is Joe Fagan. Joe is in charge of the reserves. This is Reuben Bennett. Reuben takes most of the training. And this is Albert Shelley. Albert used to be the first-team trainer. He’s supposed to be retired. But Albert still comes in every day. Albert does whatever needs doing. Albert does everything and anything.

Bill nodded. And Bill said, I know Bob. Me and Bob played against each other on many occasions. We had many a good scrap. And I know Joe. I tried to sign Joe when I was at Grimsby and he was at Manchester City. I know Reuben. Reuben used to work with my brother Bob at Dundee. And I know Albert. I know he lives and breathes Liverpool Football Club. I know you all do. And so I know you men are all good men. True football men. But I also know you fellows have all been here a long time. And so I know you’ll all be worried about me coming in. A new feller with new ways. Different ways. Maybe wanting to bring in new trainers with him. His mates. Well, I’m not going to do that. But I do have my ways. My methods and my systems. And they will be different ways. But I am here to work with you. Not against you. I am here to work in cooperation with you. As a team. And so gradually I will lay down my plans and then gradually we will be on the same wavelength. And, in return, I ask for only one thing. Loyalty. I want loyalty. So I don’t want anybody to carry stories about anyone else. The man who brings the story to me will be the man who gets the sack. I don’t care if he’s been here fifty years. He’ll be the one who goes. Because I want everyone to be loyal to each other. To the team. And to the club. So everything we do will be for Liverpool Football Club. Not for ourselves. Not as individuals. But for the team. For Liverpool Football Club. Total loyalty. That is all I ask. Because that loyalty makes strength. And that strength will bring success. I promise you.

…

In their house in Huddersfield, in their kitchen. Bill and Ness cleared the table. Bill and Ness washed the pots. And then Ness made
a cup of tea for her and Bill. Bill and Ness took their cups of tea into the other room. Bill and Ness sat down with their cups of tea. In front of the television. And Bill said, So how was your day then, love?

Mine was fine, said Ness. But how was yours?

Bill nodded. And Bill said, It went well, love. It went well. Thank you, love. They are all good men.

That’s good then, said Ness.

Bill said, Aye.

But it’s a long drive, said Ness. You must be tired, love. Bill nodded again. And Bill said, It is, love. And I am a bit tired. But it’s a good city, love. More like a Scottish city. Good people, love. Like Scottish people. I can tell, love. Like Glasgow. So I think you’d like it, love. And the girls would, too.

Yes then, said Ness. I’d like to go over, love. To have a look then. And maybe even look at some houses, love. If you have time?

Bill smiled. And Bill said, Aye. On Sunday then.

…

In Liverpool, at Anfield. Bill walked around the ground with Arthur Riley. Bill looked at the turnstiles and Bill looked at the stands. Bill looked at the seats and Bill looked at the toilets. Bill looked at the dressing rooms and Bill looked at the tunnel. And then Bill walked out onto the pitch. The Anfield pitch. Bill stood on the pitch, Bill stamped on the pitch. Once, twice. Bill shook his head. Once, twice. And Bill said, How do you water this pitch, Arthur? Where do you keep your watering equipment?

There isn’t any, said Arthur Riley. There’s no water.

Bill said, No water? So what do you do?

There’s a tap in the visitors’ dressing room, said Arthur Riley. We run a pipe from there out here.

Bill looked down at the pitch. The Anfield pitch, the Anfield grass. Frozen and bare, hard and barren. Bill shook his head again. And Bill said, You run a pipe? That’s no bloody good, is it?

I know, said Arthur Riley. But what can we do?

Bill said, We can fix it. We can buy some bloody equipment. That’s what we can do, Arthur.

I’ve been saying that for years, said Arthur Riley. But there’s no money. No money here.

Bill smiled. And Bill said, Leave that to me. I’ll get you the money, Arthur. Trust me.

I do, said Arthur Riley. You’re the Boss.

Bill smiled again. And Bill said, I am. Now let’s you and me go and have a look at the training ground. Let’s go out to Melwood.

You’re not going to like it, said Arthur Riley. You’re not going to be happy, Boss. I can tell you that for nothing.

Bill shrugged. And Bill said, How bad can it be, Arthur? It can’t be any worse than this place, can it?

…

In Liverpool, in the car. Bill and Ness drove from house to house. This house for sale and that house for sale. This house too big, that house too small. Outside the last house, back in the car. Bill shook his head. And Bill said, I’m sorry. love. That was a waste of time.

No it wasn’t, said Ness. There’s no rush, love. Better to find the right house than any old house. Better to take our time, better to wait, love. And at least we can have Christmas in Huddersfield.

Bill nodded. And Bill said, Yes. With our friends.

On their way back home, home to Huddersfield. Bill stopped the car at Melwood in West Derby. Bill and Ness got out of the car. It was cold and it was dark. There were trees and there were bushes. There were hills and there were hollows. There was an air-raid shelter and there was a cricket pitch. There was an old wooden pavilion. In the cold and in the dark. Bill and Ness stood in the middle of the training pitch. They felt the long grass and the uneven ground beneath their feet. Bill shook his head again. And Bill said, What do you think, love? Have I made a mistake in coming here? A big mistake, love?

No, you haven’t, said Ness. You want to get into the First Division. You want to win the League. You want to win the Cup. So this is your chance. The chance you have been waiting for. The chance you have been working for. Your whole life. You are not a coward. And you are not a shirker. So you will do it, love. I know you will.

In the winter, in the morning. The players of Liverpool Football Club
were packed into the old wooden pavilion at the Melwood training ground in West Derby. All forty of them. They were here to meet their new manager. And they were nervous. They were worried. All forty of them. They had all heard the stories about Bill Shankly. One of them whispered, The man’s a fanatic. A bloody mad man. He’ll come in here like a fucking hurricane. We’ll all be for the chop, lads, I tell you.

Some of them nodded. And another one said, Yeah. I heard that story about him at Carlisle, when he was manager at Carlisle. And they were two down at half-time. And they come into the dressing room. And the first thing Shankly does is he grabs their captain. He grabs him by the throat and he says, Why did you kick off the way you did? And the captain says, Because I lost the toss, Boss. So Shankly says, Well, what did you call? And the captain says, Tails. And then Shankly calls him every name under the sun. Every bloody name there is. In front of the whole fucking changing room. And then Shankly says, You never call tails. Everyone knows that. You never call tails.

In the pavilion, in the corner. Bob Paisley looked up from his
Sporting Life
. Bob Paisley laughed. And Bob Paisley said, But the feller was right, wasn’t he? The Boss was right.

Now the players of Liverpool Football Club heard footsteps on the wooden stairs outside. Fast steps, heavy steps. And now Bill Shankly walked into the pavilion. Bill Shankly looked around the room. From player to player. All forty of them –

We’re going to start from the beginning again, said Bill Shankly. We’re going to start from scratch. And so every man here will have the chance to prove himself. Prove himself good enough to play for Liverpool Football Club. Good enough to help Liverpool Football Club get back into the First Division. Back where we belong. Because that’s all I’m interested in –

Promotion, lads!

…

On Saturday 19 December, 1959, Cardiff City came to Anfield, Liverpool. That afternoon, twenty-seven thousand, two hundred and ninety-one folk came, too. In the twelfth minute, Tapscott scored. In the thirty-fourth minute, Watkins scored. In the fifty-seventh minute, Tapscott scored again. And in the sixty-seventh minute, Bonson scored. And Liverpool Football Club lost four–nil to Cardiff City. At home, at
Anfield. It was Bill Shankly’s first game as the manager of Liverpool Football Club. But Bill Shankly had not picked the team that day. Bill Shankly had refused. Bill Shankly had said, I have not seen enough. I do not know the players well enough. So I cannot pick the team.

And so the directors and the coaching staff of Liverpool Football Club had picked the team for that match.

After the whistle, the final whistle. Among the shouting and among the bawling. Before the stands, before the Kop. The shouting in the stands and the bawling on the Kop. Bill Shankly stood up. In front of the stands, in front of the Kop. Among the insults and among the jokes. Bill Shankly walked along the touchline. The Anfield touchline. Bill Shankly walked down the tunnel. The Anfield tunnel. Bill Shankly walked up the stairs. The Anfield stairs. Bill Shankly opened the dressing-room door. The home dressing-room door. Bill Shankly stood in the centre of the dressing room. The Liverpool dressing room. Before the players, the Liverpool players. Bill Shankly looked from player to player. Liverpool player to Liverpool player. From Slater to Jones, Jones to Moran, Moran to Wheeler, Wheeler to White, White to Campbell, Campbell to Morris, Morris to Hunt, Hunt to Hickson, Hickson to Melia and Melia to A’Court. And Bill Shankly smiled –

There will always be times when we get beaten, said Bill Shankly. There will always be times when we lose. But the important thing is what we take away from that beating, what we learn when we lose. Because we’ll always learn more from a loss than a win. So remember that and learn that, lads. And I’ll see you all on Monday.

…

On the Monday, in the morning. The players of Liverpool Football Club were running laps around the training pitch at Melwood. All forty of them. And the players of Liverpool Football Club were watching Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Joe Fagan, Reuben Bennett, Albert Shelley, Arthur Riley, Tom Bush and Eli Wass –

Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Joe Fagan, Reuben Bennett, Albert Shelley, Arthur Riley, Tom Bush and Eli Wass standing in a line across one end of the training pitch at Melwood. Each with a sack in one hand, each with a trowel in the other. And Bill Shankly smiled –

Right then, said Bill Shankly. Let’s make a start.

And Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Joe Fagan, Reuben Bennett,
Albert Shelley, Arthur Riley, Tom Bush and Eli Wass began to walk across the training pitch. Slowly. Their heads bent forward, their eyes staring down. Down at the ground, down at the pitch. Slowly. Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Joe Fagan, Reuben Bennett, Albert Shelley, Arthur Riley, Tom Bush and Eli Wass picked up every stone they saw. Every bit of brick, every piece of broken glass. Every rock and every pebble. They pulled up every weed they found. Every dandelion and every thistle. They put the stones into their sacks, they put the weeds into their sacks. They used the heels of their boots to tread down the ground. To fill in every divot, to fill in every hole. From one end of the training pitch to the other end. And when they reached the other end, they turned and walked back. Slowly. Picking up the stones they had missed. The bits of brick, the pieces of broken glass. Pulling up the weeds they had missed. The dandelions and the thistles. Treading down the ground. Every divot and every hole. And when they came to the place where they had started, then they turned again. And they began to walk back towards the other end again. Slowly. Picking up the stones, pulling up the weeds.

And the players of Liverpool Football Club kept running their laps of the training pitch. All forty of them. The players of Liverpool Football Club watching the eight men. The eight men picking up the stones, the eight men pulling up the weeds. With their sacks and with their trowels. And the players of Liverpool Football Club glanced at each other. They shook their heads, they rolled their eyes. And the players of Liverpool Football Club slowed their pace.

Reuben Bennett looked up from the ground. From the stones and from the weeds. And Reuben Bennett shouted, Pick up them feet, lads. No slacking now! No bloody slacking, lads!

Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Joe Fagan, Reuben Bennett, Albert Shelley, Arthur Riley, Tom Bush and Eli Wass reached the other end of the training pitch for the twelfth time. They had eight sacks of stones and weeds. Eight full sacks of stones and weeds –

Right, said Bill Shankly. It’s no bowling green. Not yet. But it’ll do for today. It’s a start. For now.

Reuben Bennett blew his whistle. Reuben Bennett shouted, Last lap, lads. And it’s a race! Go!

And the players of Liverpool Football Club sprinted around the
training pitch. All forty of them. And Bob Paisley gathered the fastest twenty on one half of the pitch. And Joe Fagan gathered the slower twenty on the other half. Bill Shankly went into the pavilion. Bill Shankly came back out carrying a big bag of balls. Bill Shankly stood in the centre of the training pitch. And Bill Shankly smiled –

Right then, said Bill Shankly. Enough running around the houses. We’re going to play some football, lads …

The players of Liverpool Football Club rubbed their hands together. The players of Liverpool Football Club smiled.

And Bill Shankly smiled again –

We’re going to play some five-a-sides, said Bill Shankly. Have ourselves a wee little FA Cup, boys …

The players of Liverpool Football Club hopped from foot to foot. The players of Liverpool Football Club grinned.

Bill Shankly grinned, too. Bill Shankly looked at the players gathered around Joe Fagan. The players who had been the slowest twenty around the training pitch. Bill Shankly took off his sweater. Bill Shankly took off his shirt. Bill Shankly took off his vest. And Bill Shankly laughed. And Bill Shankly said, Merry Christmas, lads. It’s shirts versus skins. Merry Christmas, boys!

…

In the afternoon, after their lunch. The directors of Liverpool Football Club were sitting in the boardroom at Anfield. The directors of Liverpool Football Club were waiting for Bill Shankly. The directors of Liverpool Football Club heard the footsteps in the corridor outside. The fast steps, the heavy steps. And then the knock upon the boardroom door. Fast and heavy. And Tom Williams said, Come.

Bill Shankly opened the door. Bill Shankly stepped into the boardroom. Bill Shankly looked around the boardroom. From director to director. And Bill Shankly waited.

Tom Williams said, Sit down.

Bill Shankly sat down at the long table. Bill Shankly looked up the long table at the directors of Liverpool Football Club.

Tom Williams smiled at Bill Shankly. And Tom Williams said, Well then, Mr Shankly. How is it going? How are you getting on?

I have been here a week now, said Bill Shankly. And for that week, I have held my tongue but I have kept my eyes open. And
frankly, gentlemen, I do not like what I have seen. There are many things that need changing, many things that need doing. First and foremost, this ground is an embarrassment and an eyesore. It needs cleaning up and it needs renovating. For a start, the pitch needs proper watering equipment. And then there are the toilets. The toilets are a disgrace. Most of them don’t even flush. And so they stink!

The directors of Liverpool Football Club looked at each other. And one director asked, Which toilets are you talking about?

All of them, said Bill Shankly. All of the ones in the stands.

The ones the spectators use?

Yes, said Bill Shankly. The ones in the stands. The ones the people who pay to watch Liverpool Football Club have to use. Those people who pay my wages. Those people, their toilets.

Tom Williams said, Well, we will certainly take your suggestions under consideration. Was there anything else, Mr Shankly?

Aye, said Bill Shankly. There certainly is. There is Melwood. That place is worse than here. It’s not fit for a Sunday kick-about, let alone training sessions for professional footballers. The pitch is a deathtrap. It’s a wonder no one has broken their leg on it. And that pavilion is no better. One big gust of wind and that thing will fall down. And the kits the players wear for training. They are in tatters. They are nothing but rags. A tramp would turn up his nose at them. It’s not good enough for Liverpool Football Club.

Again the directors of Liverpool Football Club looked at each other. And another director asked, So what do you suggest, Shankly?

I suggest you get the players some new training kits, said Bill Shankly. And I suggest you get me some tins of paint. I’m not asking you to bring in the painters and the decorators. Just get the players their kits and get me some paint. And then I’ll do the rest.

Tom Williams said, Well, I think we’d all agree you certainly make a very powerful case, Mr Shankly. And, as I say, we will certainly consider your suggestions. Thank you, Mr Shankly.

Good, said Bill Shankly. Because I am here to do a job of work. And I will do it. And so I expect you all to do yours, too.

…

On Boxing Day, 1959, Liverpool Football Club travelled to the Valley, London. In the thirty-fourth minute, Fryatt scored. In the
seventy-fourth minute, Fryatt scored again. And in the ninetieth minute, Lawrie scored. And Liverpool Football Club lost three–nil to Charlton Athletic. Away from home, away from Anfield –

After the whistle, the final whistle. In the dressing room, the away dressing room. The players of Liverpool Football Club looked at Bill Shankly. And Bill Shankly looked at the players. From player to player, Liverpool player to Liverpool player. From Slater to Molyneux, Molyneux to Moran, Moran to Wheeler, Wheeler to White, White to Campbell, Campbell to Melia, Melia to Hunt, Hunt to Hickson, Hickson to Harrower, Harrower to Melia and Melia to A’Court. From dejected player to dejected player. And Bill Shankly smiled –

We only conceded three this time, said Bill Shankly. So that’s better than the last time. But it’s still a defeat. So we still have a lot to learn. And so I’ll see you all tomorrow morning. Bright and early!

…

In the morning, the dark and early morning. Again. The players of Liverpool Football Club were running laps around the training pitch at Melwood. All forty of them. And again. Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Joe Fagan, Reuben Bennett, Albert Shelley, Arthur Riley, Tom Bush and Eli Wass were standing in a line across one end of the training pitch at Melwood. Again. Each man with a sack in one hand, each man with a trowel in the other. And again. Bill Shankly smiled –

Right then, said Bill Shankly. Let’s start again.

And again. Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Joe Fagan, Reuben Bennett, Albert Shelley, Arthur Riley, Tom Bush and Eli Wass began to walk across the training pitch. Again. Their heads bent forward, their eyes staring down. Down at the ground, down at the pitch. Again.

Picking up every stone they saw. Every bit of brick and every piece of broken glass. Again. Pulling up every weed they found. Every dandelion and every thistle. Again. Putting the stones into their sacks, putting the weeds into their sacks. Again. Using the heels of their boots to tread down the ground. Every divot, every hole. Again. From one end of the training pitch to the other end. Again. Reaching the other end, then turning and walking back. Again. They picked up the stones they had missed. The bits of brick, the pieces of broken glass. Again. They pulled up the weeds they had missed. The dandelions and the thistles. Again. They trod down the ground. Every divot and every
hole. And again. When they came to the place where they had started, then they turned again and they began to walk back towards the other end. Again. Picking up the stones, pulling up the weeds.

And again. The players of Liverpool Football Club kept running their laps of the training pitch. All forty of them. But today the players of Liverpool Football Club did not watch the eight men working. The eight men picking up the stones, the eight men pulling up the weeds. With their sacks and with their trowels. Today the players of Liverpool Football Club did not slow their pace. All forty of them. Today the players of Liverpool Football Club did not slack.