David Peace - The Damned Utd

‘So what?’ I ask him. ‘I won the title for them, didn’t I? Took them to the semi-finals of the European Cup. They were forgotten when I took them over, were Derby. Yesterday’s men they were. Now look at them; household name now Derby County.’

‘I know you are,’ smiles Bolton.

I look at my watch but I’ve not got one, so I just ask them outright, there and then, ‘I want John McGovern and I want John O’Hare. Derby want £ 130,000 for them –

‘Yes or no?’

* * *

You are the Champions of England and this is how you start the defence of your title on the opening day of the 1972–73 season :

Down at the Dell, you draw 1–1 with Southampton in front of the lowest gate of the day; the lowest gate of the day to see the Champions of England, see the Champions of England miss chance after chance. The only good thing you take back to Derby is the performance of John Robson in the back four. Three days later, you draw again at Selhurst Park. In another disappointing game, your best player is again John Robson .

This is how you start the defence of your title, as Champions of England, with draws against Southampton and Crystal Palace. But it doesn’t worry you, not much –

Not with all the other things on your plate and on your mind; on your mind and on the box; on the box with your new contract from London Weekend Television for On the Ball, On the Ball and in the papers; in the papers and in your columns; your columns for the Sunday Express:

The FA Cup should be suspended for a year to give England the best possible chance in the World Cup. I feel I am the best manager to handle George Best; he’s a footballing genius and I’m a footballing genius, so we should be able to get along well enough. I’ll actually be leaving football shortly. I fancy a job outside the game; one which would give me more time with my family. I’m thinking of telephoning Sir Alf and offering to swap jobs for a year. Unfortunately the chairman has refused to give me time off to accompany England on their winter tour of the West Indies. I think I would like the supreme job of dictating football. I would halt league football in March to give the national side three months’ preparation for the World Cup finals.

* * *

Just one call, that’s all it takes. Jimmy to Dave. Just one call and I’m on my way. From Elland Road to the Baseball Ground.

I get Archer, the club secretary, to drive while I sit in the back with Ron from the Evening Post ; bit of an exclusive for Ron this, put a few noses out of joint, but Ron and the Post have been good to me; kept me company at the Dragonara; kept me from my bed, my modern luxury hotel bed; never one to say no to a drink is our Ron from the Post.

Teatime and I’m sat down with Dave Mackay in my old office; Dave in my old chair at my old desk, pouring the drinks into my old glasses.

‘You weren’t ever tempted to burn that bloody desk, were you, Dave?’

‘Oh, aye,’ he tells me. ‘The way the fucking players went on about you, on and on about you. Fucking Cloughie this, fucking Cloughie that. Like you’d never left the fucking building, felt like you were fucking haunting the place.’

‘So why didn’t you burn the bloody stuff?’ I ask him. ‘Have fucking done?’

‘Be a waste of a good desk,’ he laughs –

In my chair. At my desk. In my office. The tight Scottish bastard .

From the Baseball Ground to the Midland Hotel, where John and John are waiting. Not waiting in the lobby. John McGovern and John O’Hare are in the bar –

These are my boys and my boys know me .

‘Champagne,’ I tell Steve the barman. ‘And keep it bloody coming, young man. Because tonight it’s on Leeds United Football Club.’

* * *

Chelsea beat you 2–1 in your first home game of the season; your first home game in defence of your title, in front of 32,000. You play with frenzy and anxiety, bookings and dissent; no retention and no penetration, no calmness and no method. You have lost faith in yourselves; faith in yourself .

There’s also trouble on the terraces, fighting among the fans for the first time, police dogs and police sirens up and down the side streets, trouble and fighting –

Off the pitch and on the pitch; in the boardroom and in the dressing room; upstairs and downstairs; round every corner, down every corridor .

You will beat Manchester City and you will climb to twelfth in the league before the end of August 1972. But before the end of August 1972 the press already have a new title for Derby County : Fallen Champions –

Last year’s men managed by last year’s man ; Farewell Cloughie.

Peter takes you to one side. Peter says, ‘Sell John Robson .’

‘ What you talking about?’ you ask him. ‘He’s just got a Championship medal; played in all but one of our games last season, not put a foot wrong this season .’

‘ Fuck him,’ says Pete. ‘We’re talking about the European bloody Cup, Brian. Not resting on our fucking laurels. Robbo’s got his medal, now let’s get rid .’

Pete’s had his ear to the ground, got out his little black book, lips to the phone; Leicester City have been flashing the cash; buying Frank Worthington for £150,000 and signing Denis Rofe at full-back for £112,000 –

‘ Where does this leave David Nish?’ asks Pete .

‘ On his way to Derby County perhaps? ’

Pete nods. Pete pats you on the back. Pete says, ‘Go do your stuff, Brian .’

* * *

The press switch on their microphones and pick up their drinks –

‘I could not let down the Leeds supporters in the type of quality players they are used to. We were faced with an absolute crisis for Wednesday night with Allan Clarke, Norman Hunter and Billy Bremner under suspension, Terry Yorath recovering from enteritis, Eddie Gray out of action after breaking down in the reserves with thigh trouble, Mick Jones recovering from a knee operation and Frank Gray going down with influenza.

‘So I am absolutely delighted to get McGovern and O’Hare, for the type of players they are and the type of people they are. They are both players of character and skill and they give me cover at a time when injuries and suspensions are a real problem.’

— the press put down their drinks. The press pick up the telephones.

* * *

You did not make an appointment. You did not telephone. You do not wait in line and you do not knock. You just walk straight into the Leicester City boardroom and tell them, ‘I’ve come to buy your full-back .’

Len Shipman, the chairman of Leicester City and the president of the Football League, is not impressed. Shipman says, ‘This is a very important meeting and you can’t just come barging in here, uninvited .’

‘ Very good,’ you tell him. ‘I’ll wait outside, but you’ll still be skint .’

You don’t care; don’t give a fuck. You’re going to buy David Nish for £225 ,000 whether Leicester like it or not; whether Derby like it or not –

‘Derby County — the Biggest Spending Club in the League!’

Derby County do not like it. Sam Longson says, ‘That’s a hell of a lot of money to spend on a full-back with no caps; a full-back who won’t even be eligible for the opening European Cup games. A hell of a lot of money to spend without even asking .’

‘ There wasn’t the time,’ you lie. ‘There were other clubs knocking .’

‘ Look, Brian, we’ve always done our best to provide cash for Peter and yourself. But where is the consultation, where is the conversation? The respect and the trust? ’