Red Or Dead

by David Peace

  Before the whistle, the first whistle. In the dressing room, the away dressing room at the Olympic Stadium in Amsterdam. Bill Shankly looked around the room. The Liverpool dressing room. From player to player. From Lawrence to Lawler, Lawler to Graham, Graham to Smith, Smith to Yeats, Yeats to Stevenson, Stevenson to Callaghan, Callaghan to Hunt, Hunt to St John, St John to Strong and from Strong to Thompson –

  The game is not being postponed, said Bill Shankly. The match is being played. Well, more fool them, boys. More fool them, I say. This lot could not hold a candle to us if they could see us. So they are going to need a thousand candles out there tonight. Because who has ever heard of Ajax Football Club, boys? No one I know. Two seasons ago, this lot were almost relegated. Into the Dutch toilet. And that’s what I thought Ajax was, boys. A detergent for cleaning your toilet. My only worry tonight, my only fear tonight, is how on earth we are going to get out of here, boys. How we are going to get back home. We’ve got United on Saturday, boys. So I don’t want you stuck in airports. I want you rested, boys. I want you ready. So once the game is done, boys. Once this match is won. Make sure you get back here sharpish, boys. And let’s be getting back. Getting back and getting home, boys …

  After the whistle, the first whistle. On the bench, their bench in the Olympic Stadium, Amsterdam. Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Joe Fagan and Reuben Bennett stared out into the fog, the heavy, wet blanket of fog. They could hear the crowd. The sixty-five thousand people inside the Olympic Stadium, Amsterdam. But they could not see the crowd. The sixty-five thousand people inside the Olympic Stadium, Amsterdam. In the fog, the heavy, wet fog. They could barely see the halfway line on the pitch before them. But in the third minute, white-shirted Dutchmen appeared like ghosts before them. From out of the fog, the heavy, wet fog. Swart saw Groot, Swart passed to Groot. Groot saw De Wolf, Groot crossed to De Wolf. De Wolf saw the ball, De Wolf saw the net. And De Wolf saw the goal. De Wolf headed the ball. Into the net, into a goal. In the fog, the heavy, wet fog. On the bench, their bench in the Olympic Stadium, Amsterdam. Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Joe Fagan and Reuben Bennett heard the clapping. But still they could see nothing, still nothing but ghosts. And in the sixteenth minute, the ghosts appeared again. Out of the fog, the heavy, wet fog. Swart saw Nuninga, Swart passed to Nuninga. Nuninga saw the ball, Nuninga saw the net. And Nuninga shot. Lawrence saw the ball, Lawrence blocked the shot. Cruyff saw the ball, Cruyff saw the net. And Cruyff shot into the net, into a goal. In the fog, the heavy, wet fog. Again on the bench, their bench in the Olympic Stadium, Amsterdam. Again Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Joe Fagan and Reuben Bennett heard the clapping. And now they heard the cheering. But in the fog, the heavy, wet fog. They still had not seen a thing. But Bill Shankly had heard enough. In the fog, the heavy, wet fog. Bill Shankly got off the bench. In the fog, the heavy, wet fog. Bill Shankly stepped over the line. In the fog, the heavy, wet fog. Bill Shankly crossed the line onto the pitch. In the fog, the heavy, wet fog. Bill Shankly walked up to Tommy Smith. And Tommy Smith jumped out of his skin. In the fog. Tommy Smith could not believe his eyes –

  Go find Geoff, said Bill Shankly. And go find Willie. Get them back here, Tommy. Get them back here now. It’s time for a meeting, Tommy. Time for a little team meeting …

  In the fog, the heavy, wet fog. Tommy Smith ran off to find Geoff Strong and Willie Stevenson. And in the fog, the heavy, wet fog. Tommy Smith came back with Geoff Strong and Willie Stevenson –

  Jesus Christ, said Bill Shankly. You’re playing like lunatics. Like madmen, boys. There’s another game to come. Another match at Anfield. Jesus Christ, boys. It’s not even half-time. And we’re losing two–nil. So let’s just take two–nil, boys. Let’s take that back home. So batten down them hatches. And don’t go giving away any more goals!

  In the fog, in the heavy, wet fog. Bill Shankly walked back off the pitch. Bill Shankly crossed back over the line. Bill Shankly went back to the bench. Bill Shankly sat back down on the bench. But in the fog, the heavy, wet fog. Bill Shankly still could barely see the halfway line on the pitch before him. But in the thirty-eighth minute, Bill Shankly saw the ghosts again. Out of the fog, the heavy, wet fog. Cruyff saw the ball, Cruyff took the ball. Yeats saw Cruyff, Yeats took Cruyff. Swart took the free kick. The ball rebounded off the Liverpool defenders. Cruyff saw the ball, Cruyff shot. The ball rebounded off the Liverpool defenders. Nuninga saw the ball, Nuninga saw the net. And Nuninga shot. Into the net, into a goal. And on the bench, their bench in the Olympic Stadium, Amsterdam. Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Joe Fagan and Reuben Bennett heard the clapping. They heard the cheering. And now they heard the chanting. Ha-ha, Liverpool! Ha-ha, Liverpool! Ha-ha, Liverpool! But in the forty-second minute, the ghosts were not finished. In the fog, the heavy, wet fog. Nuninga saw the ball again, Nuninga saw the goal again. And Nuninga shot. Into the net again, into a goal again. And in the fog, the heavy, wet fog. On the bench, their bench in the Olympic Stadium, Amsterdam. Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Joe Fagan and Reuben Bennett heard the clapping. They heard the cheering and they heard the chanting. The chanting and the laughing. Ha-ha, Liverpool! Ha-ha, Liverpool! Ha-ha, Liverpool! And in the seventy-sixth minute, still the ghosts would not rest. In the fog, the heavy, wet fog. Groot won a free kick. Another free kick. Groot saw the net. Groot hit the free kick into the net. And on the bench, their bench in the Olympic Stadium, Amsterdam. Bill Shankly, Bob Paisley, Joe Fagan and Reuben Bennett heard only laughter. Ha-ha! Ha-ha! Ha-ha! Only laughter in the fog, the heavy wet, fog. The heavy, wet laughter. Ha-ha! Ha-ha! Ha-ha! In the last minute, the very last minute. Lawler scored for Liverpool Football Club. But in the fog, the heavy, wet fog. In the fog and in the laughter. Ha-ha! Ha-ha! Ha-ha! Liverpool Football Club had lost five–one to Amsterdamsche Football Club Ajax NV. Ha-ha! Ha-ha! Ha-ha! One, two, three, four, five–one.

  After the whistle, the final whistle. Back down the tunnel, behind the wire. Back in the dressing room, their away dressing room. Out of the fog, the heavy, wet fog. The fog and the laughter. Bill Shankly shook his head again. And Bill Shankly cursed –

  Haphazard play, boys. Very haphazard. That’s what that was, boys. And that has cost us dear. Very, very dear, boys. But that’s not to say they are not much better than I’d heard. Much, much better than I’d heard. They are a good side, boys. A very good team. And that wee lad, Cruyff. He is some player, boys. He is a real class act. So let’s be under no illusions, boys. Let’s make no mistake. We have a job on our hands next week, boys. A very tough task. But we can turn it around, boys. And we will turn it around. When they come to Anfield, boys. Where there will be no fog. And where there’ll be no hiding place, boys. No hiding place. For them or for us, boys.

  …

  Three days afterwards, on Saturday 10 December, 1966, Liverpool Football Club travelled to Old Trafford, Manchester. That afternoon, sixty-five thousand, two hundred folk came, too. Manchester folk and Liverpool folk. For the first time, there were closed-circuit television cameras with zoom lenses trained on the terraces behind both goals of Old Trafford, Manchester. On Manchester folk and on Liverpool folk. For the first time, police worked from screens at a central control point and kept in contact by radio with constables on the ground. But that afternoon, there were no causes for alarm. There were no outbreaks of disturbance at Old Trafford, Manchester. When the reigning League Champions played the present League leaders, there was only virtuosity playing method. The virtuosity of Best versus the method of Milne. In the fifteenth minute, Milne saw St John drifting to the left. Milne passed to St John drifting to the left. St John shot. And St John scored. In the twentieth minute, Best had the ball. Under severe pressure, Best floated free. All balance and all control. Best shot. And Best scored. In the thirtieth minute, Yeats hooked up Ryan in the penalty area. Best put the ball on the penalty spot. Best shot. And Best scored again. In the forty-fifth minute, Milne saw Lawler. Milne passed to Lawler. Lawler passed to Strong. Strong passed to St John. St John passed to Hunt. The ball went out for a corner.
Callaghan took the corner. St John took down the ball. His back to the goal. St John swivelled, St John turned. St John shot. And St John scored again. And that afternoon, the reigning League Champions and the present League leaders drew two-all at Old Trafford, Manchester. Method drew with virtuosity. Virtuosity first in the First Division, method third in the First Division.

  After the whistle, the final whistle. Matt Busby walked down the touchline at Old Trafford. Matt Busby shook Bill Shankly’s hand. And Matt Busby said, That must have been quite some game in Amsterdam, Bill. They must be quite some side, must this Ajax of Amsterdam. You’ll have your work cut out for you on Wednesday night, Bill. To beat this Ajax of Amsterdam.

  Bill Shankly shook his head –

  No, Matt. No. We were beaten by the fog in Amsterdam, Matt. We were never beaten by Ajax in Amsterdam. They are used to playing in the fog, Matt. And so that helped them to win. But there’ll be no fog at Anfield on Wednesday night, Matt. And so this tie is by no means over. Because I know we’ll score four on Wednesday night, Matt. I know that for a fact. In fact, I think we might even score eight.

  Matt Busby smiled. Matt Busby laughed. And Matt Busby said, Well, it’s no crime to believe in Father Christmas, Bill. I just hope you’ve got a chimney big enough at Anfield …

  …

  Before the game, the return game against Ajax of Amsterdam. Bill Shankly had told the milkman Liverpool Football Club would beat Ajax of Amsterdam five–nil. Bill Shankly had told the postman Liverpool Football Club would beat Ajax of Amsterdam six–nil. Bill Shankly had told the children in the street Liverpool Football Club would beat Ajax of Amsterdam seven–nil. Bill Shankly had told the newspaper reporters, the local reporters and the national reporters, Liverpool Football Club would beat Ajax of Amsterdam five–nil, six–nil, seven–nil or even eight–nil. Bill Shankly had told everyone he’d met, anyone who’d listen, Liverpool Football Club would beat Ajax of Amsterdam five–nil, six–nil, seven–nil or even eight–nil. And in the dressing room, their Anfield dressing room. Bill Shankly told Tommy Lawrence, Chris Lawler, Gordon Milne, Tommy Smith, Ron Yeats, Willie Stevenson, Ian Callaghan, Roger Hunt, Ian St John, Geoff Strong and Peter Thompson the same thing. The very same thing –

  Eight–nil, said Bill Shankly. Because I know you can, I know we can. Because the people here tonight, the fifty-five thousand people here tonight. They know you can, they believe you can –

  And they believe you will, boys!

  On Wednesday 14 December, 1966, there was no fog at Anfield, Liverpool. But there was mist and there was steam. The mist from the Mersey, the steam from the stands. The stands aglow, the Spion Kop on fire. A cauldron of passions, a furnace of emotions. Exploding and roaring. LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL. The Spion Kop swaying, the Spion Kop surging. On fire and aglow. In the mist and in the steam. In the push and in the crush. One hundred folk were treated by the ambulance services at Anfield. Thirty folk were taken to hospital. And in the push and in the crush. In the mist and in the steam. In this cauldron, in this furnace. In the fourth minute, Thompson crashed a shot against the crossbar. In the next fifteen minutes, Ajax of Amsterdam hit the post twice. And in the first half, Liverpool Football Club had a goal disallowed. But then in the fiftieth minute, Keizer threaded the ball through to Nuninga, Nuninga threaded the ball through to Cruyff. Cruyff flying, Cruyff gliding. With a final touch, the briefest of touches. The ball in the net, the ball a goal. Ten minutes later, St John found Hunt. And Hunt found the net. And a goal. But in the seventieth minute, Keizer again threaded the ball through to Nuninga, Nuninga again threaded the ball through to Cruyff. Cruyff not flying, Cruyff not gliding. Cruyff dancing now, Cruyff waltzing now. With a final stroke, the briefest of strokes. The ball in the net again, the ball a goal again. In the eighty-eighth minute, Thompson passed to St John. St John passed to Hunt. And Hunt scored again. And on the night, Liverpool Football Club drew two-all with Amsterdamsche Football Club Ajax NV. But in the tie, Liverpool Football Club had lost seven–three to Amsterdamsche Football Club Ajax NV. And Amsterdamsche Football Club Ajax NV had knocked Liverpool Football Club out of the European Cup –

  Out of Europe and out of the Cup –

  Out, out. Out, out –

  That night, eight clubs went through to the quarter-finals of the European Cup. The Celtic Football Club of Scotland. CSKA Red Flag of Bulgaria. Dukla Prague of Czechoslovakia. Fudbalski klub Vojvodina of Yugoslavia. Internazionale of Italy. Linfield Football Club of Northern Ireland. Real Madrid of Spain. And Amsterdamsche Football Club Ajax NV of Holland. But not Liverpool Football Club of England. No Liverpool, no England. Not tonight, not now –

  After the whistle, that final, final whistle. In the corridors and the tunnels, the Anfield corridors and the Anfield tunnels. Bill Shankly raged and Bill Shankly ranted. Against defensive football, against negative football. Against European football, against foreign football. And against luck. Against the luck of the Dutch. But in the corridors and in the tunnels, the Anfield corridors and the Anfield tunnels. No one was listening to Bill Shankly. In the corridors,

  in the tunnels. No one was there.

  No one but Bill.

  24. THE MORTAL AND THE IMMORTAL

  In the drive, in the car. Bill switched off the headlights. In the night, in the mist. Bill switched on the headlights. In the drive, in the car. On and then off, off and then on. In the night and in the mist. Bill could not forget Amsterdam. In the drive, in the car. Bill could not forget Ajax. The headlights off, the headlights on. Bill knew Ajax of Amsterdam were one of the best sides he had ever seen play. In the night and in the mist. Bill knew Ajax of Amsterdam were going to be one of the best teams in Europe. The headlights off, the headlights on. Bill knew Ajax of Amsterdam had played a type of football he had never seen before. In the drive, in the car. Bill knew it was not defensive football, Bill knew it was not negative football. And Bill knew it was not lucky football. In the night and in the mist. Bill knew it was simple football, Bill knew it was team football. On and off, off and on. Simple team football, total team football. In the drive, in the car. The type of football Bill had seen in his dreams. In the night and in the mist. Bill switched off the headlights. In the drive, in the car. Bill closed his eyes. In the night and in the mist.

  In his dreams, only in his dreams.

  …

  In the house, in their front room. Bill had shaved. Bill had washed. And Bill had dressed. Bill had eaten his breakfast. Bill had drunk his tea. And Bill had read the newspaper. In the front room, in his chair. Bill looked at his watch. It was seven o’clock. Bill took out his address book. Bill went out into the hall. Bill opened his address book. Bill picked up the telephone. Bill dialled the number. The number of a guest house in Blackpool. Bill listened to the phone ring. And ring and ring. Bill heard the landlady answer. Bill asked to speak to Emlyn. Bill waited for the landlady to fetch Emlyn. Bill heard Emlyn stammer. Bill heard Emlyn stutter. Bill heard Emlyn say –

  Hello, Mr Shankly? Hello, sir? Good morning, Mr Shankly. Good morning, sir. How are you, Mr Shankly? How are you, sir?

  And Bill said, I’m very well. Thank you, son. But I’m always very well, son. So how are you, son? How are you today? I know you are having a tough season, son. I know it must not be easy for you. Your first season, son. The season Blackpool are having. With Ron Suart resigning and Stan Mortensen coming in. But I want you to know I am watching you, son. I haven’t forgotten you. So you bide your time, son. And soon you’ll be with us. With Liverpool Football Club, son. The greatest football club there is. So I want you to look after yourself, son. I want you to take good care of yourself …

  Thank you, Mr Shankly, said Emlyn Hughes. Thank you, sir. And I am looking after myself, Mr Shankly. I am taking good care of myself, sir. Thank you, Mr Shankly …

  That’s what I want to hear, son. That’s what I want to hear. And so what are you doing, son? What are you doing now?

  Well, I’m having my breakfast, sir, said Emlyn Hughes.


  That’s good, son. That’s very good. It’s the most important meal of the day, son. Your breakfast. You don’t want to be missing your breakfast. Good boy. Good lad.

  I never do, sir, said Emlyn Hughes. I never miss my breakfast.

  And so what do you eat, son? What are you eating for your breakfast today then?

  Well, laughed Emlyn Hughes. I’m eating the Mrs Williams Special. The special Mrs Williams always makes us. Fried egg, bacon and some black pudding. Her full English special, sir …

  Bill stammered, Bill stuttered. And Bill said, You what? Are you mental, son? Are you insane? That stuff will make you fat, that stuff will make you lazy. Make you stupid, son! A glass of orange juice and a slice of toast. That’s all you need for your breakfast, son. A glass of orange and a slice of toast. To keep you lean, to keep you hungry. When you play for Liverpool Football Club, when you play for the greatest football club there is, you need to be lean, you need to be hungry, son. Now pass this phone to that woman, son. Let me speak to her now. I want you lean, son. I want you hungry. Lean and hungry for Liverpool Football Club, son.

  …

  In the front room, in his chair. Bill dropped the newspaper. As soon as he had read the headline. Bill put on his coat, Bill put on his hat. As quickly as he could. Bill drove to Filbert Street, Leicester. As fast as he could. Bill met the directors of Leicester City Football Club. As soon as they could. Bill talked with the directors of Leicester City Football Club. Bill shook hands with the directors of Leicester City Football Club. Bill met Gordon Banks. As soon as he could. Bill talked with Gordon Banks. Bill shook hands with Gordon Banks. Bill travelled back to Anfield, Liverpool. As fast as he could. Bill met the directors of Liverpool Football Club. As soon as they could. And Bill said, I have met the directors of Leicester City Football Club. I have talked with the directors of Leicester City Football Club. I have shaken hands with the directors of Leicester City Football Club. I have met Gordon Banks. I have talked with Gordon Banks. I have shaken hands with Gordon Banks. And so the deal is done. The feat accomplished.