Red or Dead (67 page)

on his back. His shoulder gone –

Bill fought back the screams, Bill fought back the tears. On the tiles, on his back. The blood draining from his veins. Bill tried to stand. Bill tried to get back on his feet. His palm flat against the floor, his other hand reaching for the side. The side of the bath. Bill slipped again, slipped back again. Cursing to himself, raging against himself. Fighting back the screams, fighting back the tears. On the tiles, on his back. The blood still running from his veins. The voices no longer whispering, the voices no longer wondering. Just cursing, just raging. And knowing, now knowing. On the tiles,

on his back. Bill could not go up the stairs. Bill could not knock upon the door. Not now,

not now.

John Smith saw Bill Shankly walking towards him across the car park. The Anfield car park. And John Smith said, Hello, Mr Shankly. Good
to see you. In fact, I was hoping I might run into you. I was hoping I would see you. To have a word, if I might? If you have the time?

Of course, said Bill Shankly. And it’s good to see you, too, Mr Smith. In fact, I was hoping I might have a word with you, too.

John Smith nodded. And John Smith said, Well then, shall we go back inside? Up to my office? And have our chat there?

Great, said Bill Shankly. That would be great.

John Smith and Bill Shankly walked back across the car park. The Anfield car park. Back into the ground. The Anfield ground. Up the stairs. The Anfield stairs. Along the corridor. The Anfield corridor. And into the office. The chairman’s office –

John Smith gestured at one of the chairs in front of his desk. And John Smith said, Please, Mr Shankly. Have a seat.

Thank you, said Bill Shankly.

John Smith sat down at his desk. John Smith looked across his desk at Bill Shankly. John Smith smiled. And John Smith said, So how are you keeping, Mr Shankly? How is retirement treating you?

Well, to be honest with you, said Bill Shankly. I’ve hurt my shoulder. I’ve been training. Keeping myself fit. And then I only went and slipped as I stepped out of the bath. Like a bloody fool.

John Smith said, Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that, Mr Shankly. I really am. And I hope it’s nothing too serious?

No, no, said Bill Shankly. But I think I should lay off the training for a wee while. Just for a while, mind. Until it’s right again.

John Smith coughed. John Smith cleared his throat. John Smith took a deep breath. And then John Smith said, Well, it was actually about the training I wanted a word, Mr Shankly …

Yes, said Bill Shankly. Of course. I mean, anything I can do to help. Then I will. Of course. Anything at all.

John Smith coughed again. And John Smith said, Well, to be very honest with you, Mr Shankly, I think what would be most helpful, the most helpful thing you could do, would be to come in and do your training on an afternoon. After the players have finished. In the afternoon. I understand you want to keep fit. I understand, Mr Shankly. Of course I do. And so you’re always very welcome to come in every day. Every afternoon. And to use the facilities. The training ground. Of course. But after the players have left. I think that would be 
for the best. The best and most helpful thing. For everyone …

In the ground. The Anfield ground. In the office. The chairman’s office. In the chair. The chair before the desk. In his suit and in his tie. His Liverpool Football Club tie. Bill Shankly fought back tears. Bill Shankly struggled to breathe.

And Bill Shankly nodded.

John Smith coughed again. And John Smith said, It’s not that you are not welcome here any more, Mr Shankly. Please do not think that. It’s not that you are being cast out. Please never think that. But we have to let Bob make his own mark. Let Bob be his own man. Not to live in your shadow. Bob has to be able to step out of your shadow. To stand or fall. On his own. As his own man. The man the players call Boss. Not Bob. Boss. The only man the players call Boss.

His heart breaking, his head nodding. His back already broken, his kneecaps shot and shattered. A cattle gun to his forehead. Bill Shankly tried to stand. And not to run. To get back on his feet. And to walk away. His head high, his chin up. But Bill Shankly could not stand. Bill Shankly could not get back on his feet.

And Bill Shankly nodded again.

John Smith said, I am sure you can see the difficulty, Mr Shankly. The difficulty of the situation for everyone. And so I’m sure you understand why I am saying what I’m saying, Mr Shankly. Not out of any disrespect towards you. Or any malice, Mr Shankly. Just in the hope of making the situation easier, making a difficult situation easier. Easier for everyone, Mr Shankly. For the players and for Bob. And for the club, for Liverpool Football Club, Mr Shankly. And, of course, for you as well, Mr Shankly. So I hope you understand …

Yes, said Bill Shankly. I understand.

John Smith smiled. John Smith nodded. And John Smith said, Good, good. Thank you, Mr Shankly. Thank you. Now you said there was something you wanted to talk to me about, Mr Shankly?

No, said Bill Shankly. It’s not important now.

John Smith smiled again. John Smith nodded again. And John Smith said, Well then, Mr Shankly. If that is all …

Yes, said Bill Shankly. That is all.

And Bill Shankly gripped both arms of the chair. And Bill Shankly forced himself to stand. To get back on his feet. And to walk
away, out of the office. The chairman’s office. And along the corridor. The Anfield corridor. And down the stairs. The Anfield stairs. And through the door. The Anfield door. Bill walked. Out of the ground,

the Anfield ground. Alone –

Bill walked alone.

In the house, in their bed. In the dark and in the silence. His head on his pillow. His eyes open. Bill was exhausted, Bill was shattered. Exhausted and shattered by the hours ahead. The days to come. The long days to come. The long days without name. The long days marching on. Without flags, without songs. Exhausted and shattered. In the house, in their bed. In the dark and in the silence. Now Bill saw the curtain edges grow light again. Now Bill heard the paper through the letterbox. The paper on the floor. And Bill got out of bed. Bill put on his dressing gown. Bill walked down the stairs. Bill picked up the papers from the floor. The Sunday papers. And Bill smiled. Bill put down the papers on the table in the hall. Bill walked back up the stairs. Bill went into the bathroom. Bill washed and Bill shaved. Bill went into the bedroom. Bill took off his pyjamas. Bill put on his tracksuit. His red tracksuit bottoms and his red tracksuit top. Bill took his boots from out of the bottom of the wardrobe. Bill walked back down the stairs. Bill put his boots down on the floor by the front door. Bill walked into the kitchen. Bill ate breakfast with Ness. A slice of toast and honey, a glass of orange juice and a cup of tea. Bill helped Ness clear away the breakfast things. Bill dried up the breakfast things. Bill helped Ness put away the breakfast things. Bill kissed Ness on her cheek. And Bill said, I’m just going up to the rec for a bit, love. For a bit of a kick-about with the young lads up there.

That’s a good idea, said Ness.

But I’ll be back before lunch. Back in time to give you a hand. Don’t you worry, love …

Don’t be worrying about me, said Ness. You just go and enjoy yourself, love. Just don’t overdo it. Not with your shoulder, love.

I won’t, love. I won’t. Don’t worry, love …

And Bill kissed Ness on her cheek again. Bill went back out into the hall. Bill sat down on the bottom step of the stairs. Bill put on his boots. His football boots. Bill stood back up. Bill went out of the front door. Down the drive, down the street. And up to the rec –

And the young lads on the rec saw Bill coming. In his tracksuit. His red tracksuit bottoms and his red tracksuit top. The young lads ran towards Bill. The young lads gathered around Bill. Jumping up and down, smiling from ear to ear. Asking him about this and telling him about that. And some of the young lads ran to wake up their mates. To get their mates out of their beds and to fetch their mates up to the rec. And soon there were forty young lads on the rec. Forty young lads with their ball and with Bill. In his tracksuit. His red tracksuit bottoms and his red tracksuit top. In the middle of the rec, in the middle of the lads. At the heart of the game, the twenty-a-side game. In his tracksuit. His red tracksuit bottoms and his red tracksuit top. Bill laughing, Bill joking. Inspiring, cajoling. And playing. At the heart of the game, the twenty-a-side game. Playing harder than ever. In his tracksuit. His red tracksuit bottoms and his red tracksuit top. With no more minutes, with no more hours. No long minutes and no long hours. Just joking, just laughing. Cajoling, inspiring. And playing and playing. Until the game was done and Bill’s side had won. And Bill said, Right then, boys. I best be getting back home for my dinner. And so should you, boys. Back to your homes, back to your families. But you all take care now, boys. And I’ll see you all next week. Same time again, boys …

But what if it’s raining next week, said one of the boys. What will we do? Will you still come, Bill? Will you still be here?

Bill laughed. And Bill said, Don’t you worry, son. I’ll be here. Even if it snows, son. I’ll be here. Do you think Roger Hunt stayed in his bed when it rained? Or Ian St John or Kevin Keegan? Oh no, son. Oh no. I’ll be here. And I’ll be waiting for you …

And in his tracksuit. His red tracksuit bottoms, his red tracksuit top. Bill jogged away from the young lads. Across the rec. And Bill saw Mick Lyons. Mick Lyons stood beside the rec. Mick watching, Mick smiling. And Bill said, Hello, Mick. How are you, son?

I’m fine, said Mick Lyons. But how are you, Bill? How are you keeping? You’re looking well, Bill. You’re looking fit.

Bill laughed. And Bill said, Well, I am. I am, Mick. I’ve just
had a great game. And we won. Nineteen–seventeen. A great game, it was. You should have joined in, Mick. You should have played.

Well, I’m taking the young Everton lads, said Mick Lyons. The under-twelves and the under-fourteens. I take them every Sunday afternoon. And we often come on here for a game.

That’s great, Mick. That’s fantastic. I’m very pleased to hear you’re doing that, Mick. Very pleased.

Well, you should join us, said Mick Lyons. You should play.

Bill smiled. And then Bill rubbed his shoulder. And Bill said, Well, I will, Mick. I will. Thank you, Mick. Thank you very much. I’d like that. I’d like that a lot, Mick. And I’d play today. I would, Mick. But I promised Ness I’d be back. Because my shoulder’s not too clever. I slipped and fell. Like a fool. And so I need to take it a wee bit easy until it’s right. But I’ll play next week, Mick. I promise. So thank you, Mick. Thank you. Because I’d like that. I’d like that very much.

Well, I’m very sorry to hear about your shoulder, said Mick Lyons. And I hope they’re looking after you at Anfield, Bill?

Bill shook his head. And Bill said, Well, to be honest, Mick. To be very honest with you. I don’t like to bother them, Mick. It’s not my way. I mean, I don’t want to be under their feet, Mick …

But you need to have that shoulder looked at, said Mick Lyons. You must, Bill. You must. So why don’t you pop into Bellefield tomorrow, Bill? I know Jim McGregor would love to see you. He’d be happy to have a look at that shoulder for you, Bill …

Bill shook his head again. And Bill said, Oh, I don’t know about that, Mick. I don’t want to be a bother. Or a nuisance, Mick …

Don’t be daft, said Mick Lyons. You could never be a bother, Bill. Never a nuisance. We’d all be glad to see you, Bill. Any time you want. You’re always welcome, Bill. Always very welcome.

Jim McGregor, the physiotherapist at Everton Football Club, was waiting for Bill Shankly at the Bellefield training ground. The Everton training ground. Jim McGregor shook Bill Shankly’s hand. And Jim McGregor said, Very good to see you, Bill. Great to see you. But Mick
tells me your shoulder is giving you some gyp? I’m very sorry to hear that, Bill. I really am. But you’re going to let me have a look at it for you then, aren’t you? And let me get you fit and working again …

Thank you, Jim. Thank you, said Bill Shankly. But only if you’ve the time, Jim. If I’m not in the way. If it’s no bother …

Jim McGregor laughed. Jim McGregor shook his head. And Jim McGregor said, Of course it’s no bother, Bill …

And Jim McGregor led Bill Shankly down the corridors of Bellefield to the treatment room. Jim McGregor had a look at Bill Shankly’s shoulder for him. Jim McGregor gave Bill Shankly a massage. And then Jim McGregor said, How about you and me have a quick jog round Little Wembley now, Bill? But only if you’re feeling up to it. And only if you’ve got the time, Bill …

Oh, I’ve got the time, said Bill Shankly. That’s the one thing I’ve got now, Jim. But I’d like that. I’d like that very much …

Jim McGregor laughed again. And Jim McGregor said, I thought you would, Bill. I knew you’d not say no …

And Jim McGregor led Bill Shankly out of the treatment room. Back down the corridors of Bellefield. Out onto the training pitches. And Jim McGregor and Bill Shankly jogged together around one of the training pitches at Bellefield. The one the players of Everton Football Club called Little Wembley. And when they had jogged around Little Wembley three times, Jim McGregor turned to Bill Shankly. And Jim McGregor said, So how do you feel now, Bill?

I feel great, said Bill Shankly. Really well. Thank you, Jim. In fact, I wouldn’t mind dropping dead right now. On the spot.

Jim McGregor laughed. And Jim McGregor said, You what, Bill? You wouldn’t mind dropping dead? You what?

Well, just imagine, said Bill Shankly. I’d be in my coffin. And folk would walk past. And they’d say, Look at Bill. Doesn’t he look well today? In fact, he’s the fittest dead man I’ve ever seen. There lies a fit, dead man. That’s what they’d say, Jim.

Jim McGregor laughed again. And Jim McGregor said, Well, don’t be dropping dead just yet, Bill. Not before Saturday …

Why, asked Bill Shankly. What’s happening on Saturday, Jim?

Well, I told the Boss you might be coming in. And if you’re not doing anything, Bill. If you’ve got no plans. The Boss has left a
ticket for the match on Saturday for you, Bill. Because the club would love you to come to Goodison. And to sit in the directors’ box, Bill. You’d be very welcome. Very welcome indeed, Bill …

At Goodison? I’m not sure about that, Jim. They’ll be throwing eggs at me. Fruit, the lot, Jim. I’ll be lynched!

Jim McGregor laughed. And Jim McGregor said, Don’t be daft, Bill. You’ll be very welcome. More than welcome, Bill. You mark my words. You’ll see, Bill …

…

That Saturday, the first Saturday of the season. Billy Bingham, the manager of Everton Football Club, was waiting for Bill Shankly at Goodison Park, Liverpool. The Everton Football Club ground. Billy Bingham shook Bill Shankly’s hand. And Billy Bingham said, It’s great to see you, Bill. Very good of you to come …

No, said Bill Shankly. No. It’s good of you to invite me, Billy. Very good of you. Thank you, Billy. Thank you. I just hope I’m not disturbing you, Billy. Not intruding …

Billy Bingham shook his head. And Billy Bingham said, No, Bill. No. Not at all, Bill. We are all delighted you are here. It’s a great honour for us, Bill. And a great pleasure. I only hope you’ll see us win, Bill. That you’ll be a lucky sign …

Well, it’s a tough one for you, Billy, said Bill Shankly. Derby County always are. And for your first match of the season, Billy. Very tough indeed. But then again, a big match at the start, it can help a lot, Billy. To get the players in the right frame of mind. Out of their deckchairs and off their sofas. To get them up on their toes, Billy …

Billy Bingham nodded. And Billy Bingham said, You’re right, Bill. You’re right. And we’ll certainly need to be on our toes today, Bill. And no mistake. Up and running from the off …

And Billy Bingham led Bill Shankly up the stairs to the directors’ box. And Billy Bingham said, Now you make yourself at home, Bill. And you enjoy the game. And I’ll see you after, Bill …

Thank you, Billy, said Bill Shankly. Thank you. And good luck to you, Billy. The very best of luck to you all …

And Bill Shankly shook hands again with Billy Bingham. Bill Shankly walked into the directors’ box at Goodison Park, Liverpool. And Bill Shankly shook hands with the directors of Everton Football
Club. And with their other guests. In the directors’ box at Goodison Park, Liverpool. Bill Shankly took his seat. And Bill Shankly looked down onto the pitch at Goodison Park. And then up and around the stands of Goodison Park. At the folk in the stands at Goodison Park. And the folk in the stands at Goodison Park saw Bill Shankly. And the folk in the stands at Goodison Park began to applaud Bill Shankly. To salute Bill Shankly. And to sing his name –

Shank-lee, Shank-lee, Shank-lee …

And in his seat. Bill Shankly could not believe his ears. The reception from the enemy. In his seat. Bill Shankly smiled. Embarrassed. In his seat. Bill Shankly raised his right hand. His fingers. The arguments finished, the battles over. In his seat. Bill Shankly tried to smile again. In thanks,

in thanks …

Bill Shankly watched Everton Football Club draw nil–nil with Derby County at Goodison Park, Liverpool, in the first match of the season. And then Bill Shankly shook hands with the directors of Everton Football Club and thanked them for their hospitality. And Bill Shankly shook hands with Billy Bingham and thanked him for his hospitality and for his generosity. For the invitation and for the ticket. But Billy Bingham shook his head. And Billy Bingham said, You don’t have to thank me, Bill. It’s always great to see you. Always a pleasure, Bill. And you’re always welcome. Very welcome, Bill. And so please remember. Please remember, Bill. There’s always a ticket for you at Goodison. Because you’re always welcome, Bill. Always …

Thank you, said Bill Shankly. Thank you, Billy …

And Bill Shankly drove home from the game. From the match. Every Saturday of the season. Bill Shankly drove home from the games. From the matches. The games at Goodison Park or the games at Old Trafford. The matches at Deepdale or the matches at Maine Road. Every Saturday. Every Tuesday. And every Wednesday. The games at Burnden Park or Brunton Park. The matches at the Victoria Ground or the Baseball Ground. Thursday. Friday. And Monday. Every night of the week, every game there was. Every match. Bill Shankly was there. And every night, Bill Shankly would drive home. From the game, from the match. Always thinking of another game, of a different match. The game he had not been to, the match he had not
seen. And every night, Bill Shankly would open the paper. Looking for the result of that game. That game he had not been to. Every night, Bill Shankly would switch on the television. Waiting for the score of that match. That match he had not seen. And every night, Bill Shankly would close the paper. Every night, Bill Shankly would switch off the television. And Bill Shankly would wait for the telephone to ring. For the invitation to come. The invitation and the ticket. To the one game he wanted to go to. The only match he wanted to see. And every night, the telephone rang. Every morning and every afternoon. The telephone ringing and ringing. With invitations and with tickets. To games and to matches. The telephone ringing and ringing. But never with the invitation he wanted to come. The invitation or the ticket. The ticket for the game he wanted to go to. The match he wanted to see –

The only match Bill Shankly wanted to see –

The telephone ringing and ringing. Bill Shankly waiting and waiting. The telephone ringing and ringing –

Bill Shankly picked up the telephone. And Bill Shankly heard Ron Yeats say, Hello, Boss. How are you, Boss? Are you well, Boss?

Oh, I’m very well, said Bill Shankly. Never better, Ron. Thank you, Ron. Thank you. But how are you, Ron? How are you? I see you’ve a fight on your hands, Ron. A bit of a struggle …

Oh yes, Boss, said Ron Yeats. A fight and a half. And that’s why I’m calling, Boss. To get your advice, to pick your brains. If you don’t mind, Boss. If you’ve the time, Boss …

Of course I don’t mind, said Bill Shankly. I was going to call you myself, Ron. But I don’t like to intrude, to be putting my nose in. If it’s not needed, if I’m not wanted …

Well, you’re wanted at Tranmere, said Ron Yeats. You’re very much needed at Tranmere, Boss …

Then there’s not a moment to lose, said Bill Shankly. Because the clock is ticking, Ron. The clock is always ticking. And so I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Ron …

And that next morning, that very next morning. Ron Yeats, the manager of Tranmere Rovers Football Club, was waiting for Bill Shankly at Prenton Park, Birkenhead. Ron Yeats shook Bill Shankly’s hand. And Ron Yeats said, It’s great to see you, Boss. And very good of you to come, too. Thank you, Boss. Thank you very much …

No, Ron. No, said Bill Shankly. I should have come sooner, Ron. You should have called sooner. Because there’s not a moment to lose, Ron. Not a minute to spare. So let’s get to work, Ron …

And Bill Shankly trained with the players of Tranmere Rovers. Every morning. Bill Shankly watched the players of Tranmere Rovers. Every training session. And every game. Home or away. Every match. In the stands or on the bench. Bill Shankly watched and Bill Shankly listened. But Bill Shankly did not speak. Bill Shankly just watching, Bill Shankly just listening. And after some weeks, and after more defeats, Ron Yeats said, What am I doing wrong, Boss? It’s almost New Year and we’re bottom of the division. We’re going to go down. You’ve got to tell me what to do, Boss. Where I’m going wrong …

Well, you are making one basic, fundamental error, Ron, said Bill Shankly. Where do we change before training?

Up at Bromborough, said Ron Yeats.

Bill Shankly shook his head. And Bill Shankly said, No, Ron. No. Where do we change at Liverpool?

At Anfield, said Ron Yeats.

Exactly, said Bill Shankly. We change at Anfield, Ron. And then we travel out to Melwood. We train at Melwood. And then we travel back to Anfield. We always change at Anfield. Not at Melwood, Ron. Never at Melwood. Always at Anfield, Ron. Always at Anfield. And so you should be doing the same here, Ron. You should change here at Prenton Park. And then travel out to Bromborough. Train at Bromborough. And then travel back here to Prenton Park to change. It’s the only way, Ron …

Ron Yeats nodded. And Ron Yeats changed the morning routine at Tranmere Rovers. Every morning. The players reported to Prenton Park. The players changed at Prenton Park. Then the players travelled to Bromborough. The players trained at Bromborough. And then the players travelled back to Prenton Park. Every morning. And Tranmere Rovers began to win. Home and away. Tranmere Rovers won some games. But then Tommy Docherty heard about a young lad at Tranmere Rovers. A lad Bill Shankly couldn’t stop talking about. A lad Bill Shankly couldn’t stop watching. A lad Bill Shankly thought was almost as good as Tom Finney. Almost. And Manchester United bought Steve Coppell from Tranmere Rovers. And Tranmere Rovers
began to lose. Home and away. Tranmere Rovers lost too many games. And at the end of the season, Tranmere Rovers finished twenty-second in the Third Division. Tranmere Rovers were relegated. Ron Yeats was sacked. And John King was appointed as manager of Tranmere Rovers. John King telephoned Bill Shankly. And John King said, I know Ron’s gone now, Bill. That it didn’t end well. But I want you to know you’re always still welcome at Tranmere, Bill. You’re always very welcome. Whenever you’ve the time, Bill …

I’ll help anyone, said Bill Shankly. That is my only aim in life. To help people. Anybody I can help, I will.