David Peace - Red or Dead

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

CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!

CEL-TIC!

Before the whistle, the first whistle. In their dressing room, their dressing room at Parkhead. Bill Shankly closed door. The dressing-room door shaking. Bill Shankly looked around the dressing room. The Liverpool dressing room trembling. 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 Chisnall, Chisnall to St John, St John to Smith and from Smith to Thompson. Bill Shankly saw the fear in their eyes, Bill Shankly heard the terror in their ears –

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

CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!

CEL-TIC!

Don’t be afraid, said Bill Shankly. Don’t be afraid, boys. You have nothing to fear. Nothing to fear, boys. This is paradise. Football paradise, boys! This is what we dream of, this is what we pray for. Playing at Parkhead, playing in paradise. So enjoy it. Enjoy it, boys. This taste of Parkhead, this taste of paradise. Because remember. Remember, boys. This is only one half of paradise, only one half. Five days from now, Celtic Football Club will be sat in the away dressing room at Anfield. And they will be shaking and they will be trembling. Five days from now, Celtic Football Club will be playing in our paradise. At Anfield. In our paradise, boys …

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

CEL-TIC! CEL-TIC!

CEL-TIC!

In the fifty-second minute, Murdoch hammered the ball low along the Liverpool goal line. At the left-hand post, Chalmers back-heeled the ball to Lennox. And Lennox stabbed the ball into the net, into a goal. And the whole of paradise, the whole of Parkhead cried out, 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!

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,