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Authors: David Peace

Tags: #Fiction, #General

Red or Dead (12 page)

BOOK: Red or Dead
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In Blackpool, on the North Shore. In his deckchair, in the sun. Bill looked out across the beach, out across the sands, towards the water, towards the sea. In the sun. Ness was sat in the deckchair next to Bill. Ness had a newspaper on her lap. Her crossword done, her eyes closed now. In the sun. The girls had gone for a walk on the promenade. To the arcades and the amusements. In the sun. Bill closed his eyes now. Bill listened to the waves, Bill listened to the gulls. And Bill heard the voices of children. Children laughing, children playing. In the sun. Bill opened his eyes. Bill looked out across the beach again, out across the sands again. And Bill saw the buckets and the spades. The balls and the games. In the sun. The balls on the beach, the games on the sands. In the sun. Bill got up from his deckchair. Bill took off his shirt and Bill took off his vest. Bill walked down onto the beach, down onto the sands. There was always a game, always another game.


In the boardroom, the Anfield boardroom. There were no directors. The directors of Liverpool Football Club were still on their holidays. But Bill was not on his holidays. Not any more. And Bob, Joe, Reuben, Arthur and Albert were not on their holidays. Not any more. In the boardroom, the Anfield boardroom. Bill, Bob, Joe, Reuben, Arthur and Albert were back at work. Their books spread out on the long table. Their books of names, their books of notes. Their sheets of paper piled up on the table. Their sheets of names, their sheets of dates.

And Bill said, We all know we won the Championship in the first month of the season. We all know in that first month we were fitter, we were stronger and we were more competitive than any other team in the League, than any other team in the Second Division. We all know that is how we won promotion, why we were the Champions. But we all know that was in the Second Division. In a different league. Now we are in the First Division. Now we are in the Big League. Now we will need to be even fitter, even stronger and even more competitive. And we also know, in itself, that will not be enough. Not enough in the First Division. In the Big League. We will need to have more artistry, we will need to have more vision. In short, we will need to have more skill. We will need to have
much
more skill …

Joe, Reuben, Arthur and Albert nodded. And Bob said, And we will need to have more guile, Boss. And we will need to have more confidence. More guile and more confidence, Boss.

Bill nodded. And Bill said, You are right, Bob. You are exactly right. We will need to give the players more guile and we will need to give the players more confidence. Exactly, Bob …

Everybody nodded, everybody agreed.

Bill picked up the piles of papers. The piles of names, the piles of dates. Bill handed out the piles of paper. The names of clubs, the names of players. The dates of fixtures, the dates of training. Bob, Joe, Reuben, Arthur and Albert flicked through the pages. The pages of names, the pages of dates. And Bill, Bob, Joe, Reuben, Arthur and Albert studied every page. Every page of names, every page of notes. And Bill, Bob, Joe, Reuben, Arthur and Albert discussed every page. Every club and every player. They planned every detail for every date. The details and the dates of every fixture, the details and the dates of every training session. Who, when and where. Who would do what,
when they would it, and where they would do it. Page after page, hour after hour, day after day. They studied and they discussed. They discussed and they planned. Every date and every detail. Every single date, every last detail. Hour after hour, day after day –

Again. There would be the walks out to Melwood. The walks and then the jogs. Again. There would be the first jogs around the training pitch. The jogs and then the runs. Once and then twice. Again. There would be six groups. Again. At the start of the season, the players would be put into one of the groups: A, B, C, D, E or F. Again. The names of the players, the group they were in, would be listed on the noticeboard. Again. Each group would be given a different exercise, a physical exercise. A would be weight-training. B would be skipping. C would be jumping. D would be squats. E would be abdominal exercises. And F would be sprints. Again. Reuben would then blow his whistle. Again. The groups would then move onto the next exercise. Again and again, whistle after whistle. Until each group had completed each exercise. Then the whistle. Again. Each group would be given a different exercise, a football exercise. A would be passing. B would be dribbling. C would be heading. D would be chipping. E would be controlling. F would be tackling. Again. Reuben would then blow his whistle. Again. The groups would then move onto the next exercise. Again and again, whistle after whistle. Until each group had completed each exercise. Then the whistle. Again. The training boards would come out. Fifteen yards apart. To keep the ball in play, to keep the players moving. The players moving, the ball moving. To play the ball against one board, to take the ball and control the ball, to turn with the ball and dribble with the ball. Up to the other board, with just ten touches. To play the ball against the other board, to pull the ball down and turn. Again. To turn again and dribble again. Back down to the first board, with just ten touches. Then the whistle. Again. The sweat box would come out. Again. Ball after ball, into the box. Every second, another ball. For one minute, then for two minutes, then for three minutes. Again and again, whistle after whistle. Until each player in each group had been on the boards, until each player in each group had been in the box. Then the whistle. Again. There would be three-a-sides. Three-a-sides and then five-a-sides. Five-a-sides then seven-a-sides. Seven-a-sides then eleven-a-sides. Again and again.
Hour after hour. Day after day. Week after week. Until the players were prepared, until the players were ready. Prepared for the new season, ready for the new season. Prepared for the First Division, ready for the Big League. Everything planned. Down to the last detail. Everything prepared. Down to the last detail. Until Liverpool Football Club were prepared, until Liverpool Football Club were ready. So there would be no shocks, so there would be no surprises. Only plans, only preparations. No shocks and no surprises.


In his office, at his desk. Bill jumped to his feet. The telephone still in his hand, Horace Yates still on the line. The room spinning, the world turning. And Bill said again, They did
what?

They’ve sold Johnny Morrissey to Everton, repeated Horace.

Bill said, I just don’t believe it, Horace. I refuse to believe it.

But it’s true, said Horace. I thought you knew, Bill.

Bill said, The bastards. The bastards.

I’m sorry, Bill. I’m sorry you had to hear it from me …

But Bill had dropped the phone and Bill was gone. Out the door, down the corridor. Into the office of the club secretary. On his feet, his arms wide. Jimmy McInnes was shaking his head –

I swear I didn’t know, Boss. I only just found out myself …

Bill said, I’m not having it, Jimmy. I’m not standing for it. Not behind my back, behind my back. I’m going up there now, Jimmy, I’m going in there now. I’m going to have it out with them now …

But there’s no one there, said Jimmy McInnes. There’s no one there, Boss. They’ve already left. They’ve all gone home …

Well, you get them on the phone. You tell them to get back here. You tell them, Jimmy. You tell them Bill Shankly wants to see them. And see them now, Jimmy And if he doesn’t see them, then they’ll never see Bill Shankly again. Never again!

Jimmy McInnes nodded. He picked up the phone. Then he looked up. But Bill was gone again –

Back down the corridor, back into the office. Back behind the desk, back in the chair. Bill took out a piece of paper. Bill put the piece of paper into his typewriter. And Bill began to type. To bang the keys, to pound the keys. The noise of the keys, the sound of the keys. Echoing down the corridor, ringing round the stadium. And then Bill
stopped typing. And Bill ripped the paper out of the machine. Bill slammed the paper down onto his desk. Bill took out his pen. Bill unscrewed the cap. And Bill scrawled his name, Bill scrawled his signature. Across the bottom of the paper, across the bottom of the letter. And then Bill put down the pen. And Bill folded up the letter. Bill stuffed the letter into an envelope. Bill thrust the envelope into his jacket pocket. Bill snatched his car keys off the top of the desk. And Bill stood up. Bill grabbed his hat from the hook on the back of the door. And Bill stormed out of his office. Bill slammed the door. Bill went down the corridor. Bill went out of the stadium. Bill went across the car park. Bill got into his car. Bill turned the key. And Bill drove. And Bill cursed. The bastards. The fucking bastards –

The treacherous fucking bastards.

In his office, at his desk. Matt Busby put his teaspoon down in the saucer. And Matt looked up from his cup –

When I’d just become the manager here, Bill. When I was still very raw in the job. I was sat in the directors’ box. And this one director he was sat behind me. And during the game, he leaned forward, this man, and he said, said in a voice so that everyone could hear, why didn’t you do so-and-so, Busby, why didn’t you do this and why didn’t you do that? And I sat there and I thought, Shall I turn round now and give him a blast? Because I wanted to, Bill. I wanted to. But I thought about it and I bit my tongue and I waited. And then, at the right moment, the moment that was convenient to me, which just happened to be in the gents, very convenient. I went up to this man, this director, and I said, Never dare say anything like that to me when other people can hear you. And this director, this man, he went pale and he never did say anything again. He never did. But at the next meeting, the next board meeting. I put it on the agenda. The very top of the agenda.
No interference by directors
. That’s what I wrote …

But Matt, they’ve sold Morrissey! Bloody Morrissey.

Let me finish, Bill, said Matt Busby. Let me finish. Because that was not the end of it. That’s just the legend. The story I always tell. But there was more. More battles than you know. And this one will make you smile, Bill. Even today. Feeling like you do. It’ll make you smile. Because back in the 1947–48 season, we were having a bit of an indifferent spell. As everyone does, as every team does. And Jimmy
Gibson was still the chairman then. And you know what Jimmy was like. He was always anxious, he was always worried. And he thought the answer to our troubles was to sign somebody. Anybody. And he was right, we did need somebody. We did. But not just anybody. But every time he saw something in the paper, about some player being on offer, he would come and ask me if I was going to buy this player. And each time, I’d tell him no. Because it was not the player we needed, not the man I required. But finally, one day, he comes to me about this Newcastle player. I can’t remember who, but the man was transfer-listed. The man was available. And so Jimmy comes to me and asks me if I’m going to sign him. And I said, No. He’s no good for us. And Jimmy snaps. He says, Well, I’m not asking you to sign him. I’m
telling
you to sign him. To sign him and to play him. But I said, No, Mr Gibson. I will not sign him. And I will remind you of two things. I am here to manage the club and part of management is giving you advice. And the second is that I lived long before I ever saw you. So my answer is no and let that be the end of it. Well, Bill, I tell you. I thought the man was going to have a fit. He started to brandish that stick of his about. You remember that stick he had? I thought he was going to hit me with it. But he stamped off out of the room. And I’ll be honest with you, Bill. I thought maybe I had overdone it. I thought maybe this time I had gone too far. But, anyway, fifteen minutes later, there’s a knock on my door. And in he comes. And he says, Mr Busby, you are a very strong-minded person. You know what you want. And I like that. And I respect that. And so I have come back to say I am sorry this has happened. But it will not happen again. We will carry on as we were. And from that day, he neither interfered with my decisions nor brooked any interference from anyone else. And even when he was sick, even when he was dying, Jimmy Gibson would send for me and he would ask me, Is there anybody interfering with you, Mr Busby? If there is, then the man will have to go. That man will have to go …

Bill smiled. Bill nodded. And Bill picked up his cup.

But it didn’t happen overnight, said Matt Busby. Not overnight, Bill. There were still many more battles. And there are still many battles. There are always battles. Always battles. But I never resigned, Bill. I have never resigned. Because I would never let them force my hand. I would never let them dictate the terms to me. So I never
resigned, Bill. I’ve never resigned. Because I would never give them the satisfaction, Bill. I would never give them that satisfaction. And so that is my advice to you, Bill. Never give them the satisfaction.


In the boardroom, the Anfield boardroom. In the chair, the chair at the end of the long table. Bill stared down the long table at the directors of Liverpool Football Club. And Bill waited.

But Morrissey did not play a single game last season, said the directors of Liverpool Football Club. Not one in the season in which we were promoted, in which we were Champions. A’Court played in his position. In every game. So we thought Morrissey was not needed. We thought he was surplus to our requirements. We thought you would not mind, Mr Shankly. We thought you would not object.

Bill said, Well, you were wrong. You were all bloody wrong. Because I do mind. And I do object. Because he was far from surplus to our requirements. He was needed. He is only twenty-two years old. He is a fine prospect. And Harry Catterick obviously agrees. Obviously agrees with me. That is why Everton Football Club have bought him. That is why they have paid ten thousand pounds for him. And that should tell you everything. That should tell you what a mistake you have made. Against my wishes. And behind my back.

We did not realise you would feel so strongly about this, said the directors of Liverpool Football Club. But now the deal is done.

BOOK: Red or Dead
4.22Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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