David Peace - Red or Dead

and downs. Ups and

downs.

…

Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley had been to Wembley. Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley had seen England play Belgium. Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley had seen the Belgians murder the English. Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley knew England had been lucky to draw against Belgium. The Belgium side had included seven players from Royal Sporting Club Anderlecht of Brussels. Heylens, Cornelis, Plaskie, Puis, Jurion, Verbiest and Van Himst. Royal Sporting Club Anderlecht were Liverpool Football Club’s next opponents in the European Cup. In the First Round proper of the European Cup. Over two legs, home and away. The first leg at home, at Anfield. Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley were concerned, Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley were worried. Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley went to Brussels. Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley watched Royal Sporting Club Anderlecht play Standard Liège. Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley watched Royal Sporting Club Anderlecht murder Standard Liège. Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley were not only worried. Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley were frightened. Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley were scared.

After the flight back from Belgium, on the way back from the airport. In the car, at the wheel. Bob Paisley was thinking out loud, Bob Paisley saying, Van Himst is the problem, Boss. The problem for us. The problem for Big Ron. Van Himst plays behind their front man. You never see him, never see him until it’s too late. That is the danger, that is the threat. The threat to us, Boss. The threat …

You’re right, said Bill Shankly. You’re exactly right, Bob. And so Ron will need help. A lot of help. But they mark man-for-man. And that can be a weakness. If we can exploit it. If we can confuse and deceive them. If we can trick them like Leicester City tricked us. Then we can beat them. Then we can win. But we will need to deceive them. We’ll need to fool them. To make them not believe their own eyes, to make them doubt their own eyes. So it all comes down to appearance, Bob. All down to appearance …

In the car, at the wheel. Bob Paisley nodded. And Bob Paisley said, Yes, Boss. If we can …

Oh, we can, laughed Bill Shankly. We can, Bob. Pull over here!

In the car, at the wheel. Bob Paisley pulled over. And Bill Shankly jumped out of the car. Bob Paisley watched Bill Shankly go into a sporting-goods shop. Bob Paisley watched Bill Shankly come back out of the sporting-goods shop. Bill Shankly had a big bin liner stuffed full of something in his arms. Bill Shankly opened the boot of the car. Bill Shankly put the big bin liner stuffed full of something into the boot of the car. Bill Shankly closed the boot. Bill Shankly got back into the car. Bill Shankly looked at his watch –

Forget my house, Bob. Drop me at the ground.

Bob Paisley shrugged, Bob Paisley nodded. Bob Paisley turned the car around, Bob Paisley drove to the ground. And Bob Paisley dropped Bill Shankly at the ground, at Anfield.

…

After the training, after their bath. In the dressing room, in their suits. Ron Yeats and Ian St John heard the footsteps in the corridor outside. The fast steps, the heavy steps. Ron Yeats and Ian St John saw the dressing-room door fly open. Bill Shankly in the doorway, Bill Shankly with a big bin liner –

Strip off, Ron!

Ron Yeats looked at Bill Shankly. Ron Yeats looked at Ian St John. Ron Yeats shrugged. Ron Yeats stood up. Ron Yeats stripped off. And Ron Yeats stood in the middle of the dressing room. Naked.

Bill Shankly took a shirt off a peg on the dressing-room wall. A red shirt. Bill Shankly opened the big bin liner. Bill Shankly took a pair of shorts out of the big bin liner. A pair of red shorts. Bill Shankly handed the red shirt and the red shorts to Ron Yeats –

Put these on, son.

Ron Yeats put on the shorts. The red shorts. Ron Yeats put on the shirt. The red shirt.

Ian St John opened up his kit bag. Ian St John took out a pair of socks. A pair of red socks. Ian St John handed the socks to Bill Shankly. And Bill Shankly smiled –

Oh yes. Yes …

Bill Shankly handed the red socks to Ron Yeats. And Ron Yeats put on the socks. The red socks. And Ron Yeats stood in the middle of the dressing room, the Anfield dressing room. In red.

Now your boots, said Bill Shankly. Put on your boots, Ron. And follow me. Follow me, son …

Ron Yeats put on his boots. And Ron Yeats followed Bill Shankly out of the dressing room. Down the corridor, onto the pitch,

the Anfield pitch. And Ron Yeats stood on the pitch, the Anfield pitch. And Bill Shankly looked at Ron Yeats –

On the pitch, the Anfield pitch. In his red shirt. In his red shorts. In his red socks. Bill Shankly walked around Ron Yeats. On the pitch, the Anfield pitch. Bill Shankly clapped,

Bill Shankly laughed –

Jesus Christ, son. You look awesome. You look terrifying, son. You look gigantic, you look massive. You look seven foot tall, man! You’ll scare the living daylights out of Anderlecht. You’ll scare them to death, son. All the way back to Belgium!

…

On Wednesday 25 November, 1964, Royal Sporting Club Anderlecht came to Anfield, Liverpool. That night, forty-four thousand, five hundred and sixteen folk came, too.

Before the whistle, the first whistle. In the dressing room, on the bench. Bill Shankly put a hand on Gordon Milne’s knee. And Bill Shankly squeezed it tight –

When we have the ball, you come out and play with it, son. Just like you always do. Forwards like you always do, son. But when they have the ball, you pick up Van Himst. Wherever he goes, whatever he does, you follow him and you stick with him, son. Wherever he goes, whatever he does, you mark him out of the game.

Before the whistle, the first whistle. In the dressing room, on the bench. Bill Shankly put a hand on young Tommy Smith’s knee. And Bill Shankly squeezed it tight –

Forget that number on the back of your shirt, Tommy. Forget that number ten tonight. Tonight I want you to be Ron’s right leg, Tommy. To win every ball, to find a red shirt. Out to the wings if you can, Tommy. To Callaghan or to Thompson. But I don’t want to see you over the halfway line, Tommy. Not tonight. Not tonight, Tommy.

Before the whistle, the first whistle. In the dressing room, on the benches. The players of Liverpool Football Club looked at Bill Shankly. Bill Shankly looking 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. From player to player, red player to red player. In red. Ten players in red, from head to toe. In red, all in red. Bill Shankly nodding, Bill Shankly smiling –

I know Peter and Gordon played against some of this lot at Wembley, said Bill Shankly. And Bob and me, we saw them play the other Sunday. And so I’m not going to lie to you, boys. I’m not going to lie. They have a couple of good players. A couple of very handy lads. So we’ll need to be on our toes. On our toes tonight, boys. But they are not a good team. Don’t let us kid ourselves. They’re not in our league, boys. They’d never be Champions of England. Never in a million years. And I’ll tell you another thing, they’ll never have played anywhere like here before. Anywhere like Anfield, boys. Because there’s nowhere like Anfield. Nowhere like this crowd, like our crowd. And when our crowd see you tonight, boys. Dressed like this, dressed in red. All in red. They are going to go berserk, boys. Berserk! And when Anderlecht hear them, hear them roar. And when Anderlecht see you, see you in red. Anderlecht of Belgium are going to wish they’d brought a spare kit with them, boys. Because they’re going to shit their pants. They’re going to shit their bloody pants, boys!