Red or Dead (26 page)

CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!

CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!

CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!

CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!

CEL-TIC!

After the whistle, the final whistle. Bill Shankly walked down the touchline. The Parkhead touchline. Bill Shankly shook the hand of Jock Stein, the manager of the Celtic Football Club –

Well done, John. Well played. Though I am sure you had your groundsman polish the pitch before the game. But well played, John. Well done. And we’ll see you next Tuesday …

Jock Stein laughed. And Jock Stein said, Thank you, Bill. And yes, I’ll see you next Tuesday. In England, Bill. In England.

No, you won’t, said Bill Shankly. You’ll see me at Anfield, John. And Anfield is not in England. Anfield is in Liverpool. And Liverpool is not in England. Liverpool is in a different country, John. In a different country, in a different league.

…

On Tuesday 19 April, 1966, the Celtic Football Club came to Anfield, Liverpool. In the mud and in the rain. That night, fifty-four thousand, two hundred and eight folk came, too. Liverpool folk and Glasgow folk. In the mud and in the rain, in the steam and in the sweat. Thousands and thousands of Glasgow folk. With their banners and with their flags. Their green and white banners, their green and white flags. With their voice, with their cry. Their war cry: CEL-TIC –

CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!

CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!

CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!

CEL-TIC!

And the Spion Kop saw the supporters of the Celtic Football Club. Their green and white banners, their green and white flags. And the Spion Kop heard the supporters of the Celtic Football Club. Their voice, their cry. Their war cry: CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!

And the Spion Kop shouted, RANGERS! RANGERS! RANGERS! And the Spion Kop sang,
GO BACK TO IRE-LAND, GO BACK TO IRE-LAND, GO BACK TO IRE-LAND …

The Spion Kop heaving, the Spion Kop surging. Body crushing against body, body clambering over body. In their steam and in their sweat. The Spion Kop falling onto the pitch, the Anfield pitch. The Spion Kop flowing up to the touchline, the Anfield touchline. In the mud and in the rain. In one voice, in one cry,

full voice and full cry, one word,

one cry; one war cry –

ATTACK!

And in the eye of this hurricane of fury, in the centre of this storm of sound. In the mud and in the rain, in the steam and in the sweat. The players of Liverpool Football Club attacked and attacked and attacked. But the players of the Celtic Football Club built a fortress on the pitch, the Anfield pitch. And defended and defended and defended. But in the fury and in the sound, in the mud and in the rain, in the steam and in the sweat, the Liverpool attack was ceaseless, the Liverpool onslaught endless. And in the sixty-first minute, Smith burst out of midfield. Three Celtic defenders took him down. Smith won a free kick. Smith took the free kick. From twenty-five yards out. Smith shot. And Smith scored. LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL. And before the players of the Celtic Football Club could get off their knees, before the players of the Celtic Football Club could find their feet. In the sixty-seventh minute, Stevenson passed to Milne. Milne passed to Thompson. Left to right. Thompson dummied. Thompson flicked on to Callaghan. Callaghan boxed in. Callaghan found an inch. Callaghan crossed. Strong leapt, Strong rose. With a damaged cartilage, on an injured leg. Strong headed the ball. Into the net, into a goal. LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL, LI-VER-POOL. EASY! EASY! EASY! But in the fury and in the sound, in the mud and in the rain, in the steam and in the sweat. In the eighty-eighth minute, Murdoch swept a ball over to McBride. McBride knocked the ball down. From five yards behind Yeats, Lennox reached the ball first. Lennox shot. And Lennox scored. Into the net, into a goal. An away goal, a goal that would count double. That would send Celtic through, into the final of the European Cup Winners’ Cup at Hampden Park,
Glasgow. But the flag was up, the goal disallowed. Lennox offside. And now bottles and cans rained down onto the pitch, the Anfield pitch, from the supporters of the Celtic Football Club, from the back of the Anfield Road end, onto their fellow fans, the fans at the front, glass arrows into hair, metal blades into skin. And the Spion Kop laughed, HOOLIGANS! HOOLIGANS! HOOLIGANS! The Spion Kop sang,
BEHAVE YOURSELVES, BEHAVE YOURSELVES, BEHAVE YOURSELVES.
But the referee stopped the game. And the police took to the pitch. Until order was restored, until glass was removed. The bottles and the cans. And then the referee started the game. The referee looked at his watch. And the referee blew his whistle, his final whistle. And in the fury and in the sound, in the mud and in the rain, through the steam and through the sweat. The referee and the linesmen ran for cover. Down the tunnel, into their dressing room. They fled.

After that whistle. That final whistle, that last whistle. Bill Shankly walked down the touchline. The Anfield touchline. Bill Shankly walked up to Jock Stein. Bill Shankly held out his hand towards Jock Stein. And Jock Stein looked down at Bill Shankly’s hand. Jock Stein shaking with fury, Jock Stein trembling with rage. And Jock Stein hissed, That was never offside, Bill. Bobby Lennox was onside. That was clearly a goal, Bill. A perfectly good goal. You never beat us, Bill. The referee beat us. You never beat us, Bill!

I understand, John. I understand how you feel. And I’m sorry, John. I’m sorry you feel that way. I really am, John. But cheer up. Cheer up, John. If you and me go out there now, onto that pitch now. If you and me collect up all those empty bottles off the pitch. And if you and me return all those empties. We’ll be rich, John. Rich!

Jock Stein shook his head. And Jock Stein said, You’re already rich, Bill. You don’t need anything more. Not tonight, Bill. You’ve already got everything you wanted. You’ve got everything now, Bill.

…

Eleven days after, eleven days later. The players of Chelsea Football Club formed a guard of honour on the pitch, the Anfield pitch. And the players of Chelsea Football Club applauded the players of Liverpool Football Club onto the pitch, the Anfield pitch. And on the pitch, the Anfield pitch. In the forty-eighth minute, Roger Hunt scored. And in the sixty-ninth minute, Hunt scored again. And the players of
Liverpool Football Club beat the players of Chelsea Football Club two–one. At home, at Anfield. The players of Liverpool Football Club ran a lap of honour around the pitch, the Anfield pitch. The players of Liverpool Football Club paraded the trophy around the ground, the red papier-mâché trophy around the ground, the Anfield ground. The crowd all clapping, the crowd all cheering. Around the ground, the Anfield ground. The crowd all singing, all singing. Around the ground, the Anfield ground. All singing, all in one voice. Around the ground, the Anfield ground. In one voice, the fifty-three thousand, seven hundred and fifty-four folk inside the ground, the Anfield ground today. In one voice, the one million, two hundred and thirty-three thousand, one hundred and thirty-seven folk who had come to the ground, the Anfield ground this season. In one voice, all singing, in one red voice, all singing,
SHANK-LEE, SHANK-LEE, SHANK-LEE,

SHANK-LEE, SHANK-LEE,

SHANK-LEE …

Across the pitch, the Anfield pitch. Before the Kop, the Spion Kop. Bill Shankly lifted his arms, Bill Shankly raised his hands. To touch her, to hold her. And Bill Shankly looked up into the faces, the thousands of faces, Bill Shankly stared back into their eyes, their thousands of eyes. To cherish and to keep her. Their happy faces, their smiling eyes. To never let her go. And then before the Kop, the Spion Kop. Bill Shankly lowered his arms, Bill Shankly joined his hands. Together, together. In prayer and in thanks –

For paradise, a red paradise,

on earth, red earth,

this paradise

on earth –

First in the First Division, top of the top division. Liverpool Football Club had sixty-one points. Liverpool Football Club had played forty-two League games. Tommy Lawrence had played in all of those games. Gerry Byrne had played in all of those games. Ron Yeats had played in all of those games. Ian Callaghan had played in all of those games. Tommy Smith had played in all of those games. Ian St John had played in forty-one of those games and Willie Stevenson had played in forty-one of those games. Chris Lawler had played in forty of those games and Peter Thompson had played in forty
of those games. Roger Hunt had played in thirty-seven of those games. Gordon Milne had played in twenty-eight of those games. Geoff Strong had played in twenty-two of those games. Alf Arrowsmith had played in five of those games. And Bobby Graham had played in one of those games. Liverpool Football Club had used only fourteen players in their forty-two League games. They had won seventeen games at home and they had won nine games away from home. They had drawn two games at home and they had drawn seven games away from home. They had lost two games at home and they had lost five games away from home. They had scored fifty-two goals at home and they had scored twenty-seven goals away from home. They had conceded fifteen goals at home and they had conceded nineteen goals away from home. And Liverpool Football Club were the Football League Champions. Again. Liverpool Football Club were the Champions of England. And Liverpool Football Club had not finished, their season not over,

not yet.

…

On Thursday 5 May, 1966, Liverpool Football Club came to Hampden Park, Glasgow, to play Ballspiel-Verein Borussia 1909 e.V. Dortmund in the final of the European Cup Winners’ Cup. Liverpool Football Club had never reached the final of a European cup before. That night, forty-one thousand, six hundred and fifty-seven folk came, too. In the rain. The sheets and sheets of rain. Just forty-one thousand, six hundred and fifty-seven folk in a stadium that could hold over one hundred and thirty thousand folk. That night, Hampden Park was barely a third full. And of those forty-one thousand, six hundred and fifty-seven folk, twenty-five thousand were Liverpool folk. The rest were German folk, or Scottish folk. And the rest wanted Borussia Dortmund to win. The rest wanted Liverpool Football Club to lose –

Before the whistle, the first whistle. In their dressing room, their dressing room at Hampden Park. Bill Shankly looked from player to player. From Lawrence to Lawler, Lawler to Byrne, Byrne to Milne, Milne to Yeats, Yeats to Stevenson, Stevenson to Callaghan, Callaghan to Hunt, Hunt to St John, St John to Smith and from Smith to Thompson. Bill Shankly smiling, Bill Shankly laughing –

Did you hear, boys? Did you hear what happened in the night?
Some of our lads, some of our supporters. They scaled the walls, the Hampden Park walls. They scaled the Hampden walls and they painted the goalposts red. They painted them red, boys. It’s taken the ground staff all day to get the red paint off. To paint them posts white again. Well, I can tell you. I can tell you, boys. They needn’t have bothered. They needn’t have wasted their energy. Because tonight you are going to paint them goals red again. Paint them red again, boys. Because I’ve seen this lot play, this German team play. And I have to say. I have to tell you, boys. This lot would be hard pushed to hold a place in our league. They would struggle. They really would struggle, boys. I mean, Northampton Town would give them a game. And Northampton Town have been relegated. But I think Northampton Town could beat this lot. I really believe that. I really do, boys. So I think you’re going to murder them. Absolutely murder them, boys. And paint them goals red again. Paint them red again! So I’ve only one word for you. One piece of advice for you tonight, boys –

ATTACK!

In the night. The Glasgow night. In the rain. The sheets and sheets of Glasgow rain. The players of Liverpool Football Club attacked and attacked and attacked. And in the night. The Glasgow night. In the rain. The sheets and sheets of Glasgow rain. The players of Borussia Dortmund defended and defended and defended. But in this night. This Glasgow night. In this rain. These sheets and sheets of Glasgow rain. The players of Borussia Dortmund began to soak up the night, soak up the rain. They soaked up the attacks and they soaked up the pressure. And in the night. The Glasgow night. In the rain. The sheets and sheets of Glasgow rain. The players of Borussia Dortmund began to grow, they began to flower. Tilkowski. Cyliax. Redder. Kurrat. Paul. Assauer. Libuda. Schmidt. Held. Sturm. And Emmerich. In the night. The Glasgow night. In the rain. The sheets and sheets of Glasgow rain. Growing and flowering, faster and stronger. With economy, but with sophistication. With strength, but with finesse. And in the night. The Glasgow night. In the rain. The sheets and sheets of Glasgow rain. In the sixty-third minute, Sigfried Held passed to Lothar Emmerich. Lothar Emmerich lifted a pass back to Held. Over the head of Ron Yeats, behind the back of Ron Yeats. Held met the pass. And Held volleyed the pass. Into the net, into a goal. In the night. The
Glasgow night. In the rain. The sheets and sheets of Glasgow rain. In the sixty-eighth minute, Peter Thompson ran yard after yard down the right. Peter Thompson beat man after man on the right. Peter Thompson reached the byline. The linesman raised his flag. The referee ignored the linesman. Peter Thompson crossed. Roger Hunt met the cross. Roger Hunt shot. And Roger Hunt scored. And the linesman lowered his flag. In the night. The Glasgow night. In the rain. The sheets and sheets of Glasgow rain. The players of Borussia Dortmund complained, the players of Borussia Dortmund protested. But the referee just shook his head. And the referee pointed to the centre spot. And in the night. The Glasgow night. In the rain. The sheets and sheets of Glasgow rain. The supporters of Liverpool Football Club roared. And some supporters of Liverpool Football Club ran onto the pitch, the Hampden Park pitch. And the police chased some supporters of Liverpool Football Club off the pitch. The police arrested some supporters of Liverpool Football Club. And in the night. The Glasgow night. In the rain. The sheets and sheets of Glasgow rain. The referee blew his whistle. For full time, for extra time. But in the night. The Glasgow night. In the rain. The sheets and sheets of Glasgow rain. In the one hundred and seventh minute, Sigfried Held passed to Lothar Emmerich. Emmerich passed back to Held. Tommy Lawrence came out to the edge of his penalty area, out towards Held. Held with the ball at his feet. Tommy Lawrence dived at the feet of Held. And Held shot. The ball rebounded off Tommy Lawrence. Thirty-five yards. The ball came to Reinhard Libuda. Thirty-five yards out. Libuda curved a slow, dropping shot over Tommy Lawrence. In the night. The Glasgow night. Over Tommy Lawrence, towards the unguarded goal. In the rain. The sheets and sheets of Glasgow rain. Ronnie Yeats ran, Ronnie Yeats lunged. The ball hit the post. Ronnie Yeats lurched, Ronnie Yeats dived. And the ball hit his chest. The ball and Ronnie Yeats over the line. Into the net, into a goal. And in the night. The Glasgow night. In the rain. The sheets and sheets of Glasgow rain. Ballspiel-Verein Borussia 1909 e.V. Dortmund beat Liverpool Football Club two–one. In the night. The Glasgow night. Ballspiel-Verein Borussia 1909 e.V. Dortmund became the first German side to win a European trophy. And in the rain. The sheets and sheets of Glasgow rain. The players of Borussia Dortmund collected the European Cup Winners’ Cup.
And some supporters of Liverpool Football Club booed the German side. The players of Borussia Dortmund paraded the European Cup Winners’ Cup around Hampden Park, Glasgow. And some supporters of Liverpool Football Club threw bottles at the German side. The players of Borussia Dortmund ran a lap of honour around Hampden Park, Glasgow. And some supporters of Liverpool Football Club were arrested for breaches of the peace. Some of the supporters of Liverpool Football Club didn’t like losing. Some of the supporters of Liverpool Football Club were bad losers. Very, very bad losers –