Inside mind of Shanks

Another month, another anniversary, but one that won’t be overlooked on Merseyside in a few weeks will be the birthday — September 2, 1913 — of the man who, in the broad church of football, is revered as a saint.

Some on the Liverpool FC side of the city’s tribal chasm would put William “Bill” Shankly one rung higher on the ladder in soccer heaven.

There cannot be a serious student of the game — someone whose interest focuses on its craft, heroes and legends, not David Beckham’s latest brand extension or Wayne Rooney’s sex life — unfamiliar with Shankly’s story.

Even many of those who know little about him will at least be familiar with the quotation that encapsulated the psychology that made him get up in the morning: “Some people believe football is a matter of life and death. I am very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that.”

And if you think he was joking, there was this: “Of course I didn’t take my wife to see Rochdale as an anniversary present. It was her birthday. Would I have got married in the football season?”

During his 15-year stewardship at Liverpool, his passion dragged a side from the Division 2 loser it was in 1959 to surefire winners by 1974, with a trophy count of three First Division championships, two FA Cups, four Charity Shields, and one Uefa Cup.

Shankly delighted in talking up Liverpool by rubbishing the outfit across the city at Goodison Park, and took every opportunity to do so: “I know this is a sad occasion,” said Shankly at Dixie Dean’s funeral, “but I think Dixie would be amazed to know that even in death he could draw a bigger crowd than Everton can on a Saturday afternoon.”

And just to make that absolutely clear: “If Everton were playing at the bottom of the garden, I’d pull the curtains.”

Writer David Peace retells Bill Shankly’s story, not from its very beginning in Ayrshire, where he played for a local team and went on to play in the Scottish side that beat the auld enemy in a 1-0 win at Wembley, but from the day — October 17, 1959 — two head-hunting Liverpool FC directors travelled across the Pennines, not to watch Huddersfield Town playing Cardiff but to observe the home team’s manager.

“They watched the man in the dugout. The home dugout. His eyes narrow, his mouth open. Jaw out, neck forward. His arms moving, his fists clenched. Right foot, left foot... They listened to this man cajoling his players. They listened to this man encouraging his players. And Tom Williams and Harry Latham saw the way the players of Huddersfield Town listened to the man. The way they listened to this man and the way they obeyed this man... And Tom Williams and Harry Latham knew this was the man they needed for Liverpool Football Club. This was the man they wanted for Liverpool Football Club. This was the only man for Liverpool Football Club.”

Football fans who read and either loved or loathed Peace’s The Damned Utd — his fictional take on Brian Clough’s 44 bizarre days as manager of Leeds United in 1974 — will be familiar with this writer-on-steroids technique; the remorseless use of repetition in what is termed & a novelised biography — or biographical fiction — in which much of the action is based on published records. Peace cites 54 source books, including Shankly’s autobiography, plus fan forums and supporter websites. The dialogue, including Shankly’s internal narrative, is drawn from Peace’s imagination.

It works now and again, or is tolerable, when for example, Peace has Shankly, in 1961, telling his assistants about his intelligence-gathering plan: “Gentlemen,” said Bill Shankly, “This season we are going to watch every team in our division. Every single team. Before they come to us, before we go to them. Every single thing about every single team. Their strengths and their weaknesses. And so we need to watch them all. Before they come to us, before we go to them. And then we are going to come back here and we are going to talk about them. Discuss them and analyse them. And then we will be prepared. Before they come to us, before we go to them. We will be prepared.”

But perhaps only the most devoted students of Shankly’s legacy might find such passages compelling. Bill has been offered the Liverpool job, and is at home in Huddersfield, telling his wife, Ness, about a likely and, for her, unwelcome, move to Merseyside: “In their kitchen at the table. Bill ate and Bill talked. Firing out his words, wolfing down his tea. Bill ate and talked. But Ness said nothing. Ness ate nothing. Ness put down her knife and fork on the table. And Ness got up from the table. Bill frowned. And Bill said, ‘You’ve not finished your tea, love’. Ness picked up the plate and walked over to the bin.

“Ness pushed the meat and vegetables off the plate and into the bin. Bill shook his head. And Bill said, ‘What a waste’… And Ness said, ’We’re settled here. We’ve got a nice house. We’ve got friends. The girls like their schools. They’re happy here. I’m happy here. I don’t want to leave, love’. Bill said, ‘I know love, I know’.”

Here’s the boss having a post-match go at Steve Heighway, who he’s blamed for losing not a match — it was an away draw — but one point: “And Bill said, ‘It was you, Steve Heighway. It was you who cost us a point. You who lost us one point. One point which might be the reason we are not champions in April. Because you dawdled on the ball, because you were robbed of the ball. Because after you had been robbed, because after you had lost the ball. Because of you, Steve Heighway. Because of you’.

“Bill turned to Tommy Smith. Bill turned to Chris Lawler. And Bill shouted, ’Get him out of here. Out of my sight. Take him away. Before I set bloody fire to him’.”

It’s an acquired taste, but those who have it will get an affectionate portrait of the single-minded, straight-talking Scot. “If you are first,” he said, “you are first. If you are second, you are nothing.”

Red or Dead, David Peace, Faber & Faber, €15.99.