Round and around, round and around –
Until night became day, until this room became another room. The dressing room. The Wembley dressing room. Bill pacing and Bill pacing. Round and around. The Liverpool dressing room. Buttoning his jacket, unbuttoning his jacket. His mouth dry and his palms wet. Bill paced and Bill paced. Round and around …
In the dressing room. The Wembley dressing room. Bob Paisley put a hand on Bill’s arm –
Do you want to say something, Bill? Are you going to say a few words before the game?
Bill shook his head. And Bill said, No, Bob. No. In fact, I think I’ll go and wait outside. Until you’re done, Bob. In the tunnel. I’ll be waiting outside, Bob. In the tunnel. Until you’re done, Bob …
Bill walked over to the dressing-room door. The Wembley dressing-room door. Bill opening the door. Bill listening to Bob. Bob speaking to the team. The Liverpool team –
To be honest, Bob was saying to the team, I’m a bit worried about this game, boys. It’s a bad time to have a game like this. Far too early in the season for a game like this. Of course, we want to win. And to put on a good show. But just go out there and knock the ball about a bit and try to enjoy yourselves …
Bill closed the dressing-room door behind him. The Wembley dressing-room door. And Bill stood in the tunnel. The Wembley tunnel. Between its high, bare walls. In its long, dark shadows. Bill waited for the team. The Liverpool team. In his grey herringbone suit. His red shirt, with the yellow stripes. And his dark tie. His loud, dark tie. Buttoning his jacket and unbuttoning his jacket. Bill waited and Bill waited. And then Bill heard the buzzer. The Wembley buzzer. And Bill turned. And Bill saw the Leeds team come out of their dressing room. And Billy Bremner shook his hand. And made a joke, a joke Bill didn’t quite catch. But Bill smiled. And Bill laughed. And Billy smiled. And Billy laughed. And then Brian Clough shook Bill’s hand. And Brian Clough said something to Bill, something like –
This must bring back some memories for you, sir?
Bill nodded. And Bill said, Oh yes. It does.
And then Bill saw the other dressing-room door open. The Liverpool dressing-room door. Out of the corner of his eye. Their boots in the tunnel, their studs on the concrete. Bill heard the team behind him now. The Liverpool team. Up and down his spine. In a line, in the tunnel. The Wembley tunnel. The two teams waiting, watching. In the shadows. The Wembley shadows. Bill felt Brian Clough watching him. But Bill tried to avoid his eyes. The thoughts in his eyes. But Bill could not avoid his words. The thoughts on his lips. And Bill heard Brian Clough saying something else, something like –
So what are you going to do with yourself all season, Mr Shankly? What on earth are you going to do with yourself, sir?
And Bill said, Oh, I’ll be busy enough. Don’t you worry –
And then Bill nodded. Nodded to himself. And Bill started to walk towards the end of the tunnel. The Wembley tunnel. The light at the end of the tunnel. But someone put a hand on his arm. Someone stopped Bill. And asked Bill to wait. And so Bill waited. In the tunnel. The Wembley tunnel. In the shadows. The Wembley shadows. Another joke with Billy Bremner. Another joke he didn’t quite catch. Didn’t quite get. Another word from Brian Clough. Another word he didn’t quite catch. Didn’t quite hear. Buttoning his jacket, unbuttoning his jacket. Mouth dry and palms wet. Bill ran his tongue along his lips. Bill wiped his hands together. And then Bill saw the signal. At last, at last. And Bill nudged Brian Clough. Bill pointed to the end of the tunnel. The light at the end of the tunnel. And Bill began to walk towards the light. His shoulders stooping, his head bowing. Bill led out the team. The Liverpool team. Into the light, into the stadium. Still not sure if his jacket should be open, not sure if his jacket should be closed. Brian Clough still watching him, Brian Clough now applauding him. The stadium applauding him. The Wembley stadium. The supporters chanting his name. The supporters of Liverpool Football Club. And the supporters of Leeds United. All chanting –
SHANK-LEE, SHANK-LEE, SHANK-LEE …
In the light, the mid-afternoon light. In the stadium, the Wembley stadium. Across the pitch, across the turf. Bill walked. His shoulders stooped, his head bowed. Bill stared down at the grass. The Wembley grass. The weight of the wood. The wood on his shoulders. One foot in front of the other. Bill kept walking. Head bowed, staring down. Down at the grass, down at the ground. One foot in front of the other. At the bottom of the ocean, along the seabed. Bill kept walking. Head bowed, staring down. With feet of stone, in boots of lead. One in front of the other. Walking. And walking. Head bowed, eyes fixed on the ground. The Wembley ground. Bill walking on, Bill stamping down the memories, Bill treading down the fears. The voices in his head, the whispers in his heart. The wasteland and the wilderness. Under the ground, under the sea. Buttoning his jacket and unbuttoning his jacket. At last, at last. Bill reached the halfway line. The Wembley halfway line. And Bill stopped walking. And at last, at last. Bill looked up. Up from the ground and up from the grass. And his eyes met the stands. The supporters in the stands. And Bill raised one hand. His right hand. In salute and in thanks. To all four sides of the stadium. All sixty-seven thousand folk inside the stadium. And to the millions at home. The millions watching on television at home. And then Bill lowered his hand. His right hand. And Bill walked from the halfway line to the benches. The Wembley benches. One foot quickly in front of the other. And Bill sat down. On the bench. The Wembley bench. Between Brian Clough and Jimmy Gordon. His shoulders forward, his head forward. The wood across his back, the lead upon his feet. His raincoat across his knees. His left arm on his raincoat. His right elbow in his left hand on his right knee. His shoulders forward. His head forward. His chin in his right hand. His fingers stroking his chin. Since I made my decision to retire, our front door has been besieged with people. The whistle now. Thompson passes forward. Clarke keeps his foot in. The skin ripped from Thompson’s ankle to his knee. First free kick to Liverpool. Now Jordan. Cherry. Giles. Clarke. Tommy Smith’s tackle on Clarke. It’s a booking. Number-ten Giles with the free kick. On the bench. The Wembley bench. Bill sat back. Bill crossed his legs. His right leg over his left. I have received hundreds of letters and telegrams. There’s too much pace on it. Hall. Callaghan. Heighway. Thompson. Cormack saw that all the way and then took his eye off it when it arrived. But here’s Hall again. Heighway. Hunter. Not a good tackle. Keegan. Good header by McQueen. Corner. Thompson coming up. Clarke almost deflecting that past Harvey as he came out. On the bench. The Wembley bench. Bill uncrossed his legs. Bill crossed his legs again. His left leg over his right. Thousands of fans have written to me, pleading with me to stay. Gray. Reaney outside Lorimer. Clarke and Jordan in the middle. Gray. Good blocking by Smith. Joe Jordan. Beautifully off the outside of his boots. Lorimer being forced wide. Reaney again on the overlap. Hughes in two minds. On the bench. The Wembley bench. Bill folded his arms across his chest. His right hand over his heart. Everybody seems to be affected. I have had letters from Australia, New Zealand, Canada and Scotland, as well as from Liverpool. Boersma. Keegan behind him. Heighway in the middle. Here’s Keegan. Trying to nick it in by the near post. Eddie Gray. Another good header by Cormack. Bremner. Hughes is a bit short. Thompson. Cormack. Keegan now out on the left. Only a crack on for him at the moment. Cormack coming up. He was unbalanced. But at least he saw that Keegan needed help. On the bench. The Wembley bench. Bill let go of his heart. Bill unfolded his arms. Both arms at his side. Bill uncrossed his legs. His left leg and his right. Both feet on the ground. Two young men came to my house with a card signed by two hundred customers from the Derby Arms Hotel, wishing me well for the future. And almost all of the couple of hundred of signatures were signed in red ink. But there were three signed in blue. That is amazing to me. That even Everton boys said they were sorry to see me go. Free kick to Liverpool for a push. Keegan. Good save. But it’s going to go in. And it’s gone. It’s in. He was unlucky, David Harvey. He made a very good save from Keegan. It ricocheted around. It was Keegan’s shot. But it may well have flicked off Phil Boersma. A goal out of nothing. On the bench. The Wembley bench. Bill sat forward again. His left arm on his raincoat again. His right elbow in his left hand on his right knee. His shoulders forward. His head forward. His chin in his right hand. His fingers stroking his chin again. And I feel very touched. This makes me feel I have possibly achieved something at Liverpool. Beautifully played, Keegan. There’s another chance on here. And it’s blocked. Boersma’s shot. Corner. Reaney on the near post. Boersma with the back-header. Hunter. Leeds not quite themselves since that goal. Bad sort of goal to concede. On the bench. The Wembley bench. Bill sat back again. Bill crossed his legs again. His right leg over his left. The tributes that were paid were wonderful, astonishing, emotional and touching. Jordan on his own. Now he has Gray out to the left. Did well there, Joe Jordan. Bremner. Lorimer. Through the back, nicely. Clarke, unlucky. Appealing for a handball that never was. McQueen coming forward. Leeds’ second corner of the match. McQueen stays up. Aimed for Reaney but too high for him. On the bench. The Wembley bench. Bill uncrossed his legs. Bill crossed his legs. His left leg over his right. I know there is even an idea to change the name of Bold Street to Shankly Parade. It’s all news to me. And anything that is in Liverpool that has my name to it I would be proud of. But I do not want anything to do with any controversy. Leeds have got three back now. Reaney making it four. Keegan. Heighway in the middle. Marked by Cherry. Hughes. Jordan now back behind the ball for Leeds. Lindsay. Hughes. Brian Hall striding his way through. Well saved again, David Harvey. Superb stuff from Brian Hall and a good save by David Harvey. On the bench. The Wembley bench. Bill folded his arms across his chest again. His right hand over his heart again. I came to Liverpool just to manage a football team. But the fact that these actions come from ordinary men and women in the street means more to me than money. Giles. Bremner. Interesting. Jordan to his left. Clarke further over. Good leap by Clemence. On the bench. The Wembley bench. Bill let go of his heart again. Bill unfolded his arms again. Both arms back at his side. Bill uncrossed his legs. Both feet back on the ground. They came from people my wife and I know. And from people we don’t know. And they came from people in high places right down to the rank and file. The working men, just like me, who go to Anfield. Now Boersma. Heighway. Good save again. Timed it superbly. But there are times when this Leeds defence is looking a bit short of pace. Cherry. Giles. Clemence gets there first. Keegan. Boersma to his right. Good early cross. Reaney’s header. Cormack. Callaghan. Boersma. Hughes. Off the crossbar. Emlyn Hughes. A thunderous effort. On the bench. The Wembley bench. Bill sat forward again. His left arm on his raincoat again. His right elbow in his left hand on his right knee. His shoulders forward. His head forward. His chin in his right hand. His fingers stroking his chin again. I class myself as one of them. I’m a working-class man. I used to work down the pit. I have no airs and graces. I might be better off now than some of them. But it has not altered my outlook on life or how I feel. Giles. Lorimer finding Giles again. Reaney. Four to find. Here’s Clarke. From Reaney’s cross. Allan Clarke all alone. Bit wild by Giles. Another free kick. Lindsay to take. The whistle. And half-time –