We Are the Damned United

by Phil Rostron

  Unfortunately, short-termism is a hazard of the job in football management. The 20-plus years amassed by Sir Alex Ferguson at Manchester United amount to an aeon in the game, and his long stint at one club is a precious and rare occurrence in a business that demands instant success that can rarely be delivered. There have been some spectacularly brief associations, with Bill Lambton’s three days in charge of Scunthorpe a record low. Kevin Cullis lasted seven days at Swansea, where Micky Adams later spent thirteen days in charge. Dave Cowling saw out 10 days at Doncaster; Sammy McIlroy did 16 at Bolton; Paul Went was in charge for 20 days at Leyton Orient; Malcolm Crosby stayed for only 27 days at Oxford. Steve Coppell (32 days at Manchester City), Steve Claridge (36 days at Millwall) and Steve Wicks (41 days at Lincoln) are other notables.

  In November 1968, that great character Tommy Docherty, now an octogenarian and a celebrated member of the after-dinner-speaking circuit whose favourite line is ‘I’ve had more clubs than Jack Nicklaus’, took charge of Queens Park Rangers. Just 28 days later he was gone. The hysteria surrounding Brian Clough’s appointment at Leeds and the huge controversy over his sacking were witnessed from 40 miles or so along the M62 by Docherty, who was then in charge of newly relegated Manchester United in Division Two, with a managerial roll-call that had already taken in Chelsea, Rotherham, QPR, Aston Villa, Porto and Scotland.

  Like the rest of the football world, Docherty watched the Clough episode unfolding at Leeds with more than a passing interest and says now: ‘If you were not aware of Brian Clough when he was joining Leeds, you must have been living on another planet. He was more famous, or perhaps infamous, than the Prime Minister. Our paths first crossed when I was running the Scotland international team in February 1972 and our Under-23s drew 2–2 with England at Derby, where Cloughie was manager and was having a titanic battle with Leeds and Liverpool for the title, which they eventually won. Clough’s stock in the game rose sharply with that title, but there would be several reasons why things did not work out between himself and Leeds.

  ‘I speak as someone with knowledge of these things, having lasted 28 days at QPR – Clough was a veteran at Leeds in comparison – and first and foremost, I think, was the fact that the Leeds players had enjoyed a fantastic relationship with Don Revie, who was not only a great mentor to them but was also liked by their wives and girlfriends on account of the flowers and chocolates he sent them when he felt an occasion merited such a gesture. The place had the feel, nurtured by Don, of a family club. Now they were landed with someone who, while he could be great company, was prone to an abrasiveness that was exemplified by his comment to Eddie Gray, a great player, that he would have been shot had he been a horse. For one who, by my reckoning, made his name and his career overall by being a brilliant man-manager, that was a colossal mistake. That humiliation decimated the team spirit.

  ‘He maybe thought one or two of those players were too full of their own importance and could have won more had they been under his guidance. But in the wider football world, the interpretation of where and how things went wrong was that the players made a stance: where they had played their hearts out for Revie, they were not going to do the same for Clough. In their hearts and minds, it seemed, it was Revie and Us versus Clough. To a certain extent, it was like the situation at Old Trafford, where the two men – Wilf McGuinness and Frank O’Farrell – who succeeded Sir Matt Busby stayed only for very brief spells. Stability at a club is built on a good relationship between a manager and his players over a long period of time, and when a long, happy relationship comes to an end, there is inevitably a fracture or two as a result.

  ‘I think with Clough and Leeds egos on both sides came into the equation, and Clough’s stance would be: “Oi, there’s only one manager around here and that’s me. Don’t do as I do, do as I say.” Don’s way was pretty much to go along with the players’ desires, and in that way he got the best out of them. Man-management is a many-faceted skill. Sir Alex Ferguson has demonstrated time and again that if you fall out with him, then you are out of the door. Others would take the view that you owe it to your supporters to keep your best players no matter what, to take the time and have the patience to make a dissenting player see things your way.

  ‘They were all great players, though, in that Leeds team. They were so good that I was able to pick four of them straight away when I became manager of Scotland: Billy Bremner, Eddie Gray, Peter Lorimer and David Harvey in goal. It was thanks to Don Revie and Leeds that I had the foundation of the team almost picking itself.

  ‘It’s uncanny, though, how many instances there are of less talented players who go on to make great managers. Clough may have been a prolific goal-scorer, but he was by no means a great football player. Fergie was a crap player and just look what he has done at Old Trafford. Wenger never played for any of the great clubs and has done wonders at Arsenal, and Mourinho couldn’t even make the grade as a player at little-known Portuguese clubs like Belenenses and Sesimbra, yet he seems to have the magic touch as a boss. The opposite, that great players struggle to make it in management, is also true and I’d give you as examples Roy Keane, Sir Bobby Charlton, Bryan Robson, John Giles and Nobby Stiles. These were all fantastic players who haven’t reached the same heights in management.

  ‘The ability to cut the mustard at any level, never mind the highest level, is a complicated matter, and you cannot underestimate the importance of man-management skills that ensure that you get the best out of each and every member of the squad at your disposal. A good number two is also an important ingredient, and this, I think, was significant with Clough at Leeds in that he did not have Peter Taylor with him. One of the reasons Bill Shankly was so successful at Liverpool was that he had Bob Paisley with him. Sir Matt Busby had Jimmy Murphy at Manchester United; Joe Mercer had Malcolm Allison at Manchester City. Clough and Taylor were a similarly potent partnership and found great success together. No doubt they would have done so at Leeds had things worked out differently. You get people who are an outstanding number two who would struggle to make the grade at number one. The most important thing in a team like that is that the chemistry is right and the two work well together.

  ‘I managed teams against Cloughie many times, and one thing you were always guaranteed was a football match. He liked his sides to keep the ball down, knock it about and play good football, and it was a joy to watch. I liked Cloughie’s players and his teams, and I liked Cloughie. He was great for the game. Mourinho is a modern-day equivalent in some ways. He’s good, he knows he’s good and he doesn’t mind telling the world he’s good – one difference being that where Cloughie was never in love with himself, Mourinho, if he had been made of chocolate, would have eaten himself!

  ‘Cloughie and I had similarities in that we were partial to the odd one-liner, such as “Good morning . . . but don’t quote me!” My own favourite of his was that the ideal football club board would be made up of six directors – three dead and two dying!

  ‘One of the big regrets in the English game must be – and if it isn’t, it damn well should be – that Clough never managed his country’s international team. Had he done so, I firmly believe that he would have won at least one and possibly two World Cups. The FA was wary of him and he of them, but had they taken the plunge together, who knows, much of the mediocrity England has been drowning in since 1966 might have been eliminated and the team might have raised their game.’

  Following Clough’s death, Docherty wrote in his Manchester Evening News column:

  I think it’s a disgrace Brian Clough was never knighted. I know you can’t become a Sir after your death, but Cloughie should have found his way onto the Queen’s honours list. He devoted his whole life to the sport he loved, and is one of the most successful English managers ever to have graced football. Alex Ferguson quite rightly became Sir Alex after leading Manchester United to the Treble in 1999, but what dear Brian did was just as impressive. He turned a provincial club into the best in England, not once but twice – fi
rst with Derby County and then again with Nottingham Forest.

  At Forest, he went even better, conquering Europe twice. And it was harder to win the European Cup in those days, because if you lost one tie, then you were out. In today’s game, where money talks, what Cloughie achieved at the City Ground could never happen again. Can you imagine a team like Coventry winning the Premiership and European Cup in the next few years? But Cloughie is one of a number of footballers who should have been knighted. The England team which won the World Cup should all have had the honour. Can you believe Bobby Moore did not receive a knighthood?

  I was deeply saddened to hear of Cloughie’s death, for we go back a long way. I first had dealings with him when he was manager at Hartlepool, and I was boss at Derby when Clough had just started his job at Forest. He was a true character, the like of which will never be seen again. He would have sorted out the prima donnas we have in the game now and would have hated the fact so many foreign players have flooded into the Premiership. He will be sorely missed by me, and everyone involved in football.

  Newbon shared that sentiment, and if he found Clough a demanding interviewee at times, then he was not alone among the media corps. Duncan McKenzie says: ‘I remember many years ago John Motson ringing me in a state of mild panic saying that he imminently had the task of interviewing Brian Clough and asking for some tips and advice on how to handle him. John expressed the fear that this larger-than-life character had within him the capacity to get him sacked from the BBC if he were to belittle, embarrass or chide him, and that belief in itself was something quite remarkable. John, of course, was almost a national treasure through his football broadcasts, and in the normal course of events it would be the interviewee who may have cause to worry over being very careful about what he said and how he conducted himself in front of the cameras. It said a lot about the stature of Cloughie in the game.’

  Asked about his overriding feeling about Clough’s departure from Elland Road, Newbon answers: ‘History has shown us that his sacking by Leeds was Leeds’ loss. What, apart from their unlikely league title success under Howard Wilkinson in 1991–92, have they won in the subsequent 35 years? Nothing. I would suggest that that would not have been the case had he remained in place.’

  14

  A NEW BROOM

  If God had wanted us to play football in the sky, he’d have put grass up there.

  Brian Clough

  Christmas 1974. The City Varieties Music Hall in Leeds is packed to the rafters with an eager and excited pantomime-loving audience, craning their necks to get a better view of the all-star cast in a quite unique production of Cinderella. In the leading role of this Jimmy Armfield-written show, backed by impresario Barney Colehan, is Duncan McKenzie. Norman Hunter is Prince Charming and Gordon McQueen is the Good Fairy. Billy Bremner is Buttons.

  Two months previously, Armfield, a legendary one-club player for Blackpool with over 600 appearances, the holder of 43 England caps (15 as captain) and voted the best right-back on earth at the 1962 World Cup in Chile, had been prised from Bolton Wanderers to manage a Leeds United in tatters following the Brian Clough debacle. The club and its players needed some bonhomie, and Armfield made an inspired move: he sent his players to the ball. He recalls now: ‘In fact, we put on two pantos, in 1974 and ’75. People warned me that there’d be jokes about a pantomime off the pitch and a pantomime on it, but it was that type of thing that removed the sour taste. It needed to be done. Billy Bremner played the best Buttons I’ve ever seen. He was down the centre aisle giving sweets out to the kids. We filled the place every night – you couldn’t get a ticket. It got the players gelled back together, so it worked.’

  The feel-good factor had indeed returned to Elland Road. Armfield says: ‘When I arrived at Leeds from Bolton in October of 1974, a number of factors had combined to create a tense atmosphere. At any club, everything in the garden is lovely when you are winning. When results are not going in your favour, things are not so good. Leeds lay second from bottom in the table when I took over. Brian had had his 44 days and on top of the bad chemistry between himself and Leeds United Football Club – they were like two pieces of sandpaper being scraped together – they had not been coming up with the results. Leeds had not done very well either in the interim [under temporary manager Maurice Lindley, they lost 2–1 at Burnley, beat Sheffield United 5–1 at home and lost 3–2 at Everton while progressing 5–3 on aggregate against FC Zurich with a home win and an away defeat in the European Cup] and it was clear from their unenviable and surprisingly low position in the table that an uphill task lay ahead.

  ‘A side issue was the persistent newspaper talk at the time that John Giles and Billy Bremner had wanted to manage the club, and you wondered what effect this would have on matters. The team were struggling. They had lost Don Revie in the summer and had gone through a traumatic 44 days with his successor. When I arrived, Billy Bremner was injured and the team was near the bottom with six points from nine matches. One day, I was chatting to Bob English, our kit man, and he said, “Don’t worry, you’ll see a difference when Billy’s back. When Billy plays, they all play.” And he was right. We never looked back once Billy was fit again. He was a real firebrand, but people forget what a gifted player he was. Good touch on the ball, very clever, with just about the best reverse pass I ever saw. He was a great competitor, too, with a tremendous amount of pride. He wanted the job after Clough left and I suspect there was a bit of resentment when I arrived. I didn’t go out of my way to win him over. I just treated him with the respect he deserved, and we became close.

  ‘Yet another factor at Leeds at the time was that the club was to all intents and purposes still in recovery from the departure of Don Revie, who had been revered, loved and idolised. Instrumental in persuading me to leave Bolton and join Leeds was Sam Bolton, one of their directors whom I knew from dealings with the Football Association, where he also held an important role. One of the positives was that I knew they were in a false position in the league and that I could and would improve this situation. The club itself was in generally good condition, though I was surprised to discover that the finances were not on as sound a footing as I imagined they might be. In fact the club was in the red.

  ‘What was clear straight away was that in his short time at the helm Brian had made too many changes. In signing O’Hare, McGovern and McKenzie, the balance of the squad had suddenly shifted. Yes, he had inherited an ageing squad that was on the verge of break-up, but I was rather hopeful that I could get another 12 months out of a bunch of players who were, after all, reigning champions. My first task, I felt, was to bring a calming effect to the place. The first time I spoke to the players, I asked what on earth they were doing in such a lowly position in the league and confessed to them that I could not believe it. It was up to them, I told them, to get whatever was troubling them out of their systems, and together we would try to improve matters.

  ‘I think one of Brian’s problems had been that he was dealing with players who were household names, individuals who were more famous than himself. I knew him from playing alongside him for Young England, and it would be fair to say, I think, that he was a slightly complicated character. I needed to relax these players, so there was nothing complicated or fraught about the build-up to my first match in charge, a home game against Arsenal. Duncan McKenzie scored both goals in a 2–0 win that took our points tally for the season from six to eight, and we were on our way. We finished seventh in the league, and I think everyone associated with the club was willing to settle for seventh given the unfortunate start to the season.

  ‘The team I inherited at Leeds was of such stature that I was not worried about the players. They were good players in a good team at a good club. It was a solid unit made up of individuals who all had talent. What I set out to do and what I achieved, I think, was to mould them all together. They did well for me. I just wish that I had had them two years earlier.’

  Clough, meanwhile, was making hay with Nottingham
Forest. He had been out of work for less than four months when, on 6 January 1975, he replaced Allan Brown as manager of Forest, who at the time were in 13th place in Division Two. His first game in charge was a third-round FA Cup replay against Tottenham Hotspur, and a 1–0 victory was eked out thanks to a goal by Scottish centre-forward Neil Martin. Clough’s brand of football was to make for some rousing entertainment through to the end of the season, which featured an extraordinary quintuplet of meetings in cup and league with Fulham in the space of 30 days and a final-day 2–1 defeat of West Bromwich Albion which saw them comfortably stave off relegation, which had been feared at the time of the managerial change.

  In the beginning, Clough’s options were limited by budgetary constraints. Despite his unhappy experience at Leeds, he stayed loyal to those he had brought to Elland Road, installing Jimmy Gordon as first-team coach (although the players at Leeds hadn’t taken to him, he became a well-liked and respected figure at the City Ground) and buying John O’Hare and John McGovern. Both John Robertson and Martin O’Neill had made transfer requests before his arrival, and he succeeded in persuading them to stay. Towards the end of his first season, he was able to bring in defender Frank Clark from Newcastle on a free transfer.

  While Clough was getting his feet under the table at Forest, Leeds were fully recovered from the trauma of early-season events. Even much-improved league form was put in the shade by their achievement in reaching the European Cup final courtesy of further victories over Újpesti Dózsa, Anderlecht and Barcelona, though if one dark cloud had been cast over the club by the Clough episode then another was to form over them at the Parc des Princes, Paris. The final, against Bayern Munich, was memorable for some questionable decisions by referee Michel Kitabdjian. The Frenchman denied Leeds what seemed a clear-cut penalty in the first half when Bayern’s legendary captain Franz Beckenbauer hauled down Allan Clarke. And midway through the second half, with Leeds holding the upper hand but the match still goalless, Kitabdjian disallowed a brilliant volleyed goal from Peter Lorimer. Initially, the referee seemed to be happy with the goal, and his linesman saw no infringement, running back to the centre line with his flag held down. Kitabdjian, too, seemed to be heading back to the centre circle, apparently satisfied that the goal was good. However, as he passed Beckenbauer the German player appeared to point something out to him, and he turned back, indicating a free kick to Bayern. It was difficult to see why the goal had been disallowed. It was possible that Bremner had been forced offside, but if so, the linesman hadn’t picked up on it, and in any case he was far to the left of the goal and could not have been considered to have been interfering with play. What was more, the free kick was taken from the centre of the penalty area, some distance from Bremner’s position.