David Peace - Red or Dead

On the bus, their Liverpool bus. Back to Anfield, back to Liverpool. There was silence. And there were even tears. And in the silence. Among the tears. Bill stared out through the window of the bus, their Liverpool bus. Into the darkness. And into the night. Bill knew Liverpool Football Club had been the masters of their own fate. In the darkness, in the night. Bill knew Liverpool Football Club had been the engineers of their own failure. In the silence. And among the tears. Bill remembered the points dropped. The points lost. The chances missed. The opportunities spurned. The decisions that had gone against Liverpool Football Club. And the injuries to Liverpool Football Club. Bill remembered them all. And Bill smiled. In the darkness, in the night. Bill remembered Liverpool Football Club had been tenth in the First Division in February. And out of the Cup. Three cups. But in the silence. Among the tears. Bill remembered the points gained. The points won. The chances taken. The opportunities seized. The way the players of Liverpool Football Club had played. The way they had played as a team. In the darkness, in the night. Bill knew this was just the beginning. This was only the start. The real beginning, the true start. And on the bus, their Liverpool bus. Back to Anfield, back to Liverpool. In the darkness. And in the night. In the silence,

among the tears. Bill smiled

again. In the shadows of the big room at Anfield, Liverpool. Bill smiled. Bill, Bob, Reuben, Joe, Ronnie and Tom were working. Every day, all through the summer. They were working. Every day, through the summer. They were talking. Every day, that summer. They were analysing and they were discussing. The games Liverpool Football Club had played last season. The season Liverpool Football Club had finished third in the First Division. The season Liverpool Football Club had lost the Football League Championship by one single point. The season Liverpool Football Club had gained fifty-seven points. Not fifty-eight points. The season Liverpool Football Club had won seventeen games at home, at Anfield, and seven games away, away from Anfield. The season Liverpool Football Club had drawn three games at home, at Anfield, and six games away, away from Anfield. The season Liverpool Football Club had lost one game at home, at Anfield, and eight games away, away from Anfield. The season Liverpool Football Club had scored forty-eight goals at home, at Anfield, and sixteen away, away from Anfield. The season Liverpool Football Club had conceded sixteen goals at home, at Anfield, and fourteen away, away from Anfield. In the shadows of the big room at Anfield, Liverpool. Bill, Bob, Reuben, Joe, Ronnie and Tom analysed and discussed the players who had played for Liverpool Football Club last season. Every player. Phil Boersma. Ian Callaghan. Ray Clemence. Alun Evans. Bobby Graham. Brian Hall. Steve Heighway. Emlyn Hughes. Kevin Keegan. Chris Lawler. Alec Lindsay. Larry Lloyd. John McLaughlin. Ian Ross. Tommy Smith. Peter Thompson. Phil Thompson. John Toshack. And Jack Whitham. The first-team players and the reserve-team players. Steve Arnold. Derek Brownbill. Phil Dando. Roy Evans. Chris Fagan. Edward Flood. John Higham. James Holmes. Robert Johnston. Kevin Kewley. Frank Lane. Graham Lloyd. Hughie McAuley. Stephen Marshall. Dave Rylands. John Waddington. And John Webb. In the shadows of the big room at Anfield, Liverpool. Bill, Bob, Reuben, Joe, Ronnie and Tom analysed and discussed every player who had played for the first team and every player who had played for the reserve team. Every day, all through the summer. They were analysing and they were discussing. Who would be stepping down and who would be stepping up. Every day, through the summer. Analysing and discussing. Every day, that summer. Who would be leaving and who would be staying. Every day, every single day. Who would be going and who would be coming …

…

In the office, at his desk. Bill put down the folder. Bill had first heard about Peter Cormack from his brother Bob. Bob had been the manager of Hibernian Football Club. And Bob had raved and raved about Peter Cormack. Peter Cormack had played one hundred and eighty-two games and scored seventy-five goals for Hibernian Football Club. In June, 1966, Bill had watched Peter Cormack play for Scotland at Hampden Park against Brazil. That day, Scotland had drawn one-all with Brazil. And Bill had liked what he had seen. Bill had liked Peter Cormack. But after Bob had resigned as the manager of Hibernian Football Club, Peter Cormack had been sold to Nottingham Forest for eighty thousand pounds. Bill had watched Peter Cormack every time Liverpool Football Club played Nottingham Forest. Bill had studied Peter Cormack. Bill knew Peter Cormack had scored twenty goals in his eighty-six games for Nottingham Forest. Bill also knew Peter Cormack had not really settled at Nottingham Forest. Bill did not like to think of any man being unsettled. Last season, Nottingham Forest had been relegated from the First Division. Bill did not like to think of any man being relegated. But Bill knew Peter Cormack was for sale.

In the boardroom, the Anfield boardroom. Bill looked up the long table at the chairman and the directors of Liverpool Football Club. And Bill said, One hundred and ten thousand pounds.

One hundred and ten thousand pounds, exclaimed the chairman and the directors of Liverpool Football Club. For Peter Cormack? That is a lot of money, Mr Shankly. For a player who has never settled, who has never fulfilled his potential …

Bill stared up the long table at the chairman and the directors of Liverpool Football Club. And Bill said, This player will settle at Anfield, gentlemen. And this player will not only fulfil his potential, he will help fulfil the potential of this team. This team we are building. This team that should have been Champions last season. This team that were denied the Championship by one raised flag and one lost point. One lost point because of the injuries we suffered last season. Because of the lack of players we had last season. I need this player so that never happens to Liverpool Football Club again.

We can understand your frustration, said the chairman and the directors of Liverpool Football Club. And we share your frustration, Mr Shankly. And that is the reason we agreed to pay Tranmere Rovers twenty-five thousand pounds for Trevor Storton. To add cover for injuries, to add depth to the squad. But one hundred and ten thousand pounds is a lot of money, Mr Shankly. For cover and for depth.

Bill brought down his fists on the long table. And Bill said, I am not asking for one hundred and ten thousand pounds for a player who will cover for injuries. I’m not asking for one hundred and ten thousand pounds to add depth to the squad. I am asking for it because I believe this player is worth one hundred and ten thousand pounds. To our team and to this club. Worth every single penny to Liverpool Football Club. This is what I believe, gentlemen –

Because this is what I know.

Of course, we appreciate how strongly you feel, said the chairman and the directors of Liverpool Football Club. But this is still a lot of money, Mr Shankly. And so we will need to discuss the matter further, to consider it further …

Bill stood up at the end of the long table. And Bill shouted up the long table, This might be a hobby to you. To all of you. To sit around and to discuss at your leisure. Over a cigar and over a drink. But this is my life. My bloody life. And so you either give me the money now. Or you find yourselves a new bloody manager. Because I will not see this team finish third again. I refuse to see our supporters runners-up again. Always the bloody bridesmaids,

always fucking second best.

…

On the bench, the Anfield bench. In the sunshine, the bright August sunshine. Bill and fifty-five thousand, three hundred and eighty-three folk were watching the first home game of the 1972–73 season. And in the sunshine, the bright August sunshine, in the third minute, they watched Brian Hall score. But in the bright August sunshine, in an ill-tempered match, they watched Larry Lloyd go up for the ball. And Wyn Davies go up for the ball. And in the bright August sunshine, in this ill-tempered match, Lloyd and Davies clashed in the air, the Anfield air. And in the bright August sunshine, in the ill-tempered match, the referee sent off Larry Lloyd and Wyn Davies. But in the bright August sunshine, in this ill-tempered match, in the eighty-fourth minute, Ian Callaghan scored. And Liverpool Football Club beat Manchester City two — nil. At home,