Red Or Dead

by David Peace

  Right then, lads. Enough bloody exercises. Now we’re going to play some football! Some five-a-sides, lads …

  And that was the second week of their pre-season training. And the third week. And the fourth. And the fifth. The players of Liverpool Football Club did not practise set pieces. They did not practise corners and they did not practise free kicks. The players of Liverpool Football Club practised passing. Always forward, always faster. Faster and faster, always forward. Always forward –

  And always to a red shirt,

  always to a red shirt,

  a red shirt.

  …

  On Saturday 19 August, 1961, on the first Saturday of the new season, Liverpool Football Club travelled to the Eastville Stadium, Bristol. And before the whistle, the first whistle of the new season. In the dressing room, the away dressing room. The players of Liverpool Football Club looked up at Bill Shankly. Bill Shankly in the centre of the dressing room, the away dressing room. Bill Shankly looking around the dressing room, the away dressing room. From player to player, Liverpool player to Liverpool player. From Slater to White, White to Byrne, Byrne to Milne, Milne to Yeats, Yeats to Leishman, Leishman to Lewis, Lewis to Hunt, Hunt to St John, St John to Melia, Melia to A’Court. And Bill Shankly rubbed his hands together –

  This is it, said Bill Shankly. This is it, boys! Everything we’ve been doing. Everything we’ve been working for, boys. It was all for this moment, all for this game. This first game of the season, boys. This season that will be our season. Our season, boys …

  In the seventh minute of this first game of this new season, Kevin Lewis scored. And in the fifty-fifth minute, Hills scored an own goal. And Liverpool Football Club beat Bristol Rovers two–nil. Away from home, away from Anfield. In the first game of the new season.

  On Wednesday 23 August, 1961, Sunderland Football Club came to Anfield, Liverpool. That night, forty-eight thousand, nine hundred folk came, too. On a Wednesday night, for the first home game of the season. In the forty-eighth minute of the first home game of the season, Roger Hunt scored. In the seventy-eighth minute, Kevin Lewis scored. And in the eighty-third minute, Hunt scored again. And Liverpool Football Club beat Sunderland Football Club three–nil. At home, at Anfield. In the first home game of the season.

  After the whistle, the final whistle. In the dressing room, the home dressing room. Bill Shankly sat down beside Ron Yeats. And Bill Shankly smiled. Bill Shankly laughed –

  That lad Clough is some player, said Bill Shankly. And I tried to sign him. But tonight he never had a sniff, son. He never had a touch. Because you marked him out of the game, son. You made him look ordinary. And that is why I signed you, son. And that is why I made you the captain of Liverpool Football Club. Well done, son.

  Three days later, Leeds United came to Anfield, Liverpool. That afternoon, forty-two thousand, nine hundred and fifty folk came, too. In the sixth minute, Roger Hunt scored. In the forty-eighth minute, Hunt scored again. In the fifty-third minute, Kevin Lewis scored a penalty. In the sixty-eighth minute, Jimmy Melia scored. And in the seventy-fourth minute, Hunt scored his third. And Liverpool Football Club beat Leeds United five–nil. At home, at Anfield.

  And after the whistle, the final whistle. In the dressing room, the home dressing room. Bill Shankly sat down beside Roger Hunt. And Bill Shankly smiled. Bill Shankly laughed –

  That lad Charlton is some player, said Bill Shankly. And I tried to sign him. But today he could not get near you, son. Today you made him look very ordinary. Well played, son.

  On Wednesday 30 August, 1961, Liverpool Football Club travelled to Roker Park, Sunderland. In the twenty-sixth minute, Roger Hunt scored. In the thirty-ninth minute, Ian St John scored. In the sixty-ninth minute, Hunt scored again. And in the ninetieth minute, the very last minute, St John scored again. And Liverpool Football Club beat Sunderland Football Club four–one. Away from home, away from Anfield. That night, that season, Liverpool Football Club had played four games and they had won four games. They had scored fourteen goals and they had conceded only one. It was a good start. A very good start. But it was only a start,

  only the start.

  …

  In September, 1961, Liverpool Football Club beat Norwich City and they beat Scunthorpe United. And they drew with Brighton and Hove Albion. But then Liverpool Football Club beat Newcastle United. They beat Bury Football Club. And they beat Charlton Athletic.

  On Wednesday 4 October, 1961, Newcastle United came to Anfield, Liverpool. Last season, the average gate at Anfield had been just twenty-nine thousand, six hundred and three. This season, the average gate was over forty-six thousand. Tonight, fifty-two thousand, four hundred and nineteen folk had come to Anfield. On a Wednesday night. In the thirty-eighth minute, Kevin Lewis scored. And in the seventy-fifth minute, Roger Hunt scored. And Liverpool Football Club beat Newcastle United two–nil. At home, at Anfield. That night, that season, Liverpool Football Club had played eleven games. They had scored thirty-one goals and they had conceded only four. They had won ten of those games and they had drawn only one. Liverpool Football Club were unbeaten. Liverpool Football Club had twenty-one points. Liverpool Football Club were top of the Second Division.

  After the whistle, the final whistle. In the dressing room, the home dressing room. The players of Liverpool Football Club looked up at Bill Shankly. Bill Shankly dancing from player to player. From Bert Slater to Dick White, from Dick to Gerry Byrne, from Gerry to Gordon Milne, from Gordon to Ron Yeats, from Ron to Tommy Leishman, from Tommy to Kevin Lewis, from Kevin to Roger Hunt, from Roger to Ian St John, from Ian to Jimmy Melia and from Jimmy to Alan A’Court. Bill Shankly patting their backs, Bill Shankly shaking their hands. Singing their praises, all of their praises. And then Bill Shankly stood in the centre of the dressing room. In the home dressing room. Bill Shankly put his finger to his ear –

  Could you hear that, boys, asked Bill Shankly. Did you hear that sound, lads? That was the sound of over sixty thousand folk. The sixty thousand folk who came here tonight to see you, boys. To see you play, lads. After working all day, after working all week. They came here to see you play, boys. And they saw you play, lads. And they liked what they saw, they loved what they saw. And so they were not only applauding you, boys. They were not only cheering you, lads. Those sixty thousand folk, they were singing, boys. They were singing, lads. Singing your names, all of your names. And singing our name, the name of Liverpool Football Club. Liverpool Football Club …

  And can you hear that, boys? Do you still hear that, lads? Because they are still singing, still singing the name of Liverpool Football Club. Because of you, boys. Because of you. They don’t want to go home, lads. They never want to leave …

  Because of you, because of you …

  The Kop are still singing …

  8. THE SONG OF THE COUNTER-PLAN

  Upstairs in the house, in their bedroom. Bill was standing in the window. Bill was staring out through the glass at the trees. Downstairs in the house, in their kitchen. Ness and the girls were clearing away the tea things. Washing up the pots, putting away the plates. They were chatting and they were laughing. But upstairs in their bedroom, at the window. Bill could only hear the Kop. In his ears, in his mind. Bill still heard the Kop applauding, Bill still heard the Kop cheering. And singing, still singing. In his ears, in his mind. The Kop was still singing. But now standing in the window, staring through the glass. Now Bill saw the branches of the trees. The branches of the trees moving, the leaves on the branches falling. The first spits of rain on the window pane. And in their bedroom, at the window. Bill looked up through the trees to the sky. And Bill saw the clouds in the sky. The dark clouds moving in the dark sky. Night drawing in. Bill reached up. Bill closed the little window. And Bill drew the curtains.

  In the house, in their front room. Bill got up from his chair. Bill kissed Ness on her cheek. And Bill said, Goodnight, love. Goodnight. I won’t be long, love. I won’t be long …

  In the house, in their front r
oom. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill stared down at his book. His book of names, his book of notes. The pages of names, the pages of notes. And Bill cursed. Ian St John had not played today and Ron Yeats had not played today. Ian St John and Ron Yeats had been selected to play for the Scottish national team against Northern Ireland. Ian St John and Ron Yeats had travelled to Belfast. Ron Yeats had not even played for Scotland. Ron Yeats had sat in the bloody stands in Belfast. And Liverpool Football Club had lost two–nil to Middlesbrough Football Club. For the first time this season, Liverpool Football Club had bloody lost. For the first time this season, Liverpool Football Club had gone backwards. Backwards in time. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill sighed. And Bill closed his book. His book of names, his book notes. And Bill closed his eyes. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill heard the rain falling on their house. Bill heard the wind blowing around their house. And Bill knew the dangerous months were here. These dangerous months, these winter months. These months of short days, these months of long nights. Nights of rain and days of mud, days of injury and nights of hurt. In these winter months, these dangerous months. Bill knew you had to be prepared. Prepared for the injuries, prepared for the hurt. For the hurt and for the pain. You always had to be prepared. For pain and for hurt.

  In the house, in their front room. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill opened his eyes again. Bill looked at his watch. Bill put his book to one side. His book of names, his book of notes. And Bill got up from his chair. Bill walked out of the front room. Bill walked into the kitchen. And Bill switched on the light. Liverpool Football Club had beaten Walsall Football Club six–one. At home, at Anfield. Lewis had scored. Melia had scored. Hunt had scored. Then Hunt had scored again. St John had scored. And then Hunt had scored again, his third. His second hat-trick of the season. Roger Hunt had now scored sixteen goals this season. In the night, in the kitchen. Bill walked over to the cupboards. And Bill opened one of the drawers. Liverpool Football Club had lost two–nil to Derby County. Away from home, away from Anfield. Liverpool Football Club were still first in the Second Division. But Liverpool Football Club had now lost twice in their last three games. In the night, in the kitchen. Bill took out the tablecloth. And Bill closed the drawer. Liverpool Football Club had drawn three–three with Leyton Orient. At home, at Anfield. Bill had kept faith with the same team who had lost to Derby County. Bill had picked the same eleven players to play against Leyton Orient. And at home, at Anfield. Liverpool Football Club had drawn. The first point Liverpool Football Club had dropped. At home, at Anfield. In the night, in the kitchen. Bill walked over to the table. And Bill spread the tablecloth over the table. Liverpool Football Club had beaten Preston North End. Bill had dropped Kevin Lewis and Bill had brought in Ian Callaghan from the reserves. And Ian Callaghan had scored. It was Ian Callaghan’s first goal for Liverpool Football Club. In the night, in the kitchen. Bill walked back over to the cupboards. And Bill opened another of the drawers. Liverpool Football Club had drawn one-all with Luton Town. Bill had kept faith with Ian Callaghan. But Roger Hunt was not fit, Roger Hunt was injured. So Bill had brought back Kevin Lewis. And Kevin Lewis had scored. Kevin Lewis had made his point. But that was all Liverpool Football Club had got. A point. In the night, in the kitchen. Bill took out the cutlery. And Bill closed the drawer. Liverpool Football Club had beaten Huddersfield Town. Roger Hunt was fit again, Roger Hunt could play again. But Bill had kept faith with Ian Callaghan. Bill had dropped Kevin Lewis again. In the night, in the kitchen. Bill walked back over to the table. And Bill laid four places at the table. Liverpool Football Club had beaten Swansea Town five–nil. Bill had kept faith with the same team. And Liverpool Football Club now had thirty-one points. Liverpool Football Club still first in the Second Division. Leyton Orient second, Leyton Orient with twenty-three points. Liverpool Football Club eight points clear of Leyton Orient. In the night, in the kitchen. Bill walked back over to the cupboards. And Bill opened one of the cupboards. Folk were beginning to say that promotion was assured, folk were beginning to think promotion was a foregone conclusion. In the night, in the kitchen. Bill took out the crockery. And Bill closed the cupboard. Bill knew folk often talked rubbish, Bill knew folk often got things wrong. In the night, in the kitchen. Bill walked back over to the table. And Bill put a bowl and a plate in each of the four places at the table. Bill knew nothing was ever assured, Bill knew there were no foregone conclusions. In the night, in the kitchen. Bill walked over to the pantry. And Bill opened the pantry door. Not in life. And not in football. In the night, in the kitchen. Bill took out the salt and pepper pots. The jar of honey and the jar of marmalade. And Bill closed the pantry door. Liverpool Football Club had lost two–nil to Southampton Football Club. Away from home, away from Anfield. In the night, in the kitchen. Bill walked back over to the table. Bill put the salt and pepper pots on the table. And Bill put the jar of honey and the jar of marmalade on the table. Backwards and forwards. One step forwards, two steps backwards. Backwards and forwards. In the night, in the kitchen. Bill looked down at the cutlery and the crockery. The salt and pepper pots. The jar of honey and the jar of marmalade. Backwards and forwards. Bill turning things over, Bill thinking things over. Over and over. In the night, in the kitchen. Bill sat down at the table. And Bill stared across the table at the cutlery and the crockery. The salt and pepper pots. The jar of honey and the jar of marmalade.

  In the house, in their kitchen. In the night and in the silence. At the table, in the chair, Bill stood up. Bill walked back out of the kitchen. Bill walked back into the other room. Bill walked back over to the other chair. Bill picked up his book from the arm of the chair. His book of names, his book of notes. Bill went back out of the room. Bill went back into the kitchen. Bill sat back down. In the night, in the kitchen. At the table, in the chair. Bill opened his book again. His book of names, his book of notes. And Bill stared down at the pages of his book again. The pages of names, the pages of notes. And Bill turned the pages again. Again and again. These pages of names, these pages of notes. Backwards and forwards, again and again. Through all these names, through all these notes. All the players and all the games. The games still to come and the games that had been. Again and again, forwards and backwards. In the night, in the kitchen. Bill stopped turning the pages. The pages of names, the pages of notes. Bill closed the book. The book of names, the book of notes. And at the table, in the chair. Bill closed his eyes again –

  It was half-time, half-time in the game against Plymouth Argyle, half-time in the twenty-first game of the season, half-time in the 1961– 62 season. Half-time and Liverpool Football Club were drawing one-all with Plymouth Argyle. At home, at Anfield. Bill walked into the dressing room, the home dressing room. And Bill sat down on the bench beside Johnny Wheeler. Johnny Wheeler had come in for Tommy Leishman. Tommy Leishman was injured, Tommy Leishman could not play. So Bill had brought in Johnny Wheeler. Bill had had no choice. In the dressing room, on the bench. Bill put his hand on the top of Johnny Wheeler’s thigh. Bill gripped it hard. And Bill said, Christ, you are playing well today, John. You are playing well. As well as I’ve ever seen you play, John. And Christ, I’ve seen you play some games. Some great games, John. But today you are turning back the tide. Rolling back the years, John. But I know you must be feeling those years by now. Feeling every one of those years, John. But forty-five more minutes. Forty-five more minutes, John. That is all I ask. That’s all I ask of you, John. Just give forty-five more minutes like the last forty-five minutes. Can you do that for me, John?

  Johnny Wheeler nodded.

  Bill patted Johnny Wheeler’s thigh. Bill patted it gently. And Bill said, Thank you, John. Thank you.

  Back in the dug-out, the home dug-out. Bill watched and Bill waited. Bill waited and Bill watched. And in the eightieth minute, Ian St John scored. And Liverpool Football Club beat Plymouth Argyle two–one. At home, at Anfield. And after the whistle, the final whistle. In the dug-out, the home du
g-out. Bill stood up again. Bill walked down the touchline, the Anfield touchline again. Liverpool Football Club had now played twenty-one games. Liverpool Football Club now had thirty-three points. Liverpool Football Club were still first in the Second Division. But it was still half-time, still only half-time. Liverpool Football Club still had half the season to come. Liverpool Football Club still had twenty-one games to play. But Johnny Wheeler would never play another game for Liverpool Football Club.

  In the house, in their kitchen. In the night and in the silence. At the table, in the chair. Bill opened his eyes again. And Bill got up from the chair again, up from the table again. Bill walked over to the wall. Bill switched off the light. Bill walked up the stairs. Liverpool Football Club had beaten Bristol Rovers two–nil. At home, at Anfield. Liverpool Football Club had thirty-five points. Liverpool Football Club still first in the Second Division. Leyton Orient still second, Leyton Orient with twenty-seven points. Bill went into the bathroom. Bill switched on the light. Bill washed his face, Bill cleaned his teeth. And then Bill looked up into the mirror. Liverpool Football Club had lost to Leeds United. Away from home, away from Anfield. In the bathroom, in the mirror. Bill could hear the wind blowing around the house. In a gale, a winter gale. Liverpool Football Club had lost to Rotherham United. Away from home, away from Anfield. Again. Liverpool Football Club still had thirty-five points. Liverpool Football Club still first in the Second Division. Leyton Orient still second, Leyton Orient now with thirty-one points. And now with a game in hand. In the bathroom, in the mirror. Bill turned away. Bill switched off the light. And Bill walked into the bedroom. In the bedroom, in the dark. Bill got undressed. In the dark and in the cold. Rotherham United should have come to Anfield, Liverpool. And Liverpool Football Club should have had the chance to put things right. To make amends, to take revenge. But in the dark and in the cold. The weather was against Liverpool Football Club. And the game was postponed. Leyton Orient’s game was not postponed. Leyton Orient played Swansea Town. And Leyton Orient beat Swansea Town three–one. Leyton Orient now had thirty-three points. In the dark and in the cold. Bill put on his pyjamas. Liverpool Football Club still had thirty-five points. Liverpool Football Club still first in the Second Division. Just. In the dark and in the cold. Bill got into bed. But Bill did not close his eyes. Bill did not go to sleep. In the dark, in their bed. Bill stared up at the ceiling. In the dark, in their bed. Bill was still thinking things over, Bill was still turning things over. Over and over. In the dark, in his mind. The games that had been and the games-to-come, the players he had picked and the players he might. Thinking who should step down and who should step up, thinking who was ready and who was not. Ready to step up, ready or not. In the dark, in his mind. Wondering who was deserving of faith and who was not. Wondering, always wondering. Bill was always wondering. In the dark, in their bed. Bill could not close his eyes. Bill could not sleep, Bill just could not sleep.