Four times before, Liverpool Football Club had reached the semi-finals of the FA Cup. Twice Liverpool Football Club had won their semi-final matches. Twice Liverpool Football Club had reached the final of the FA Cup. Twice Liverpool Football Club had reached Wembley. But Liverpool Football Club had never won the FA Cup. Folk said the Liver Birds would have to fly off the Liver Building, off the Liver Building and out over the Mersey before Liverpool Football Club ever won the FA Cup. Folk said Liverpool Football Club were cursed in the Cup. Folk said Liverpool Football Club would never win the FA Cup. Never win the Cup. The Cup was cursed for Liverpool Football Club. But Bill did not believe in curses –
Bill believed in prayers.
…
On the Liver Building, on their towers. In the rain and in the wind. On Saturday 27 April, 1963, one Liver Bird was still looking out to sea, one Liver Bird still looking back across the city. Their wings were spread, but their wings still fixed. In the rain and in the wind. The Liver Birds had not flown away. But on Saturday 27 April, 1963, Liverpool Football Club had travelled away. Away to Sheffield, away to Hillsborough. In the rain and in the wind. Sixty-five thousand folk would travel to Hillsborough, too. Folk from Liverpool and folk from Leicester. In the rain and in the wind. Sixty-five thousand folk would travel to watch Liverpool Football Club play Leicester City in the semi-final of the FA Cup. But on the bus, the Liverpool bus. There was no Jimmy Melia. Jimmy Melia was injured, Jimmy Melia would not play. On the bus, the Liverpool bus. There was Chris Lawler. Chris was still only nineteen years old. And Chris was a right-back. But Chris liked to push forward, Chris liked to attack. And Bill knew Liverpool Football Club had to push forward, Liverpool Football Club had to attack. And so Bill had told Chris Lawler to get on the bus, the Liverpool bus. Because Chris was going to play in the semi-final of the FA Cup. But not at right-back, at right-half. So Chris could push forward, so Chris could attack. But on the bus, the Liverpool bus. Bill knew it was a gamble. In the rain and in the wind –
A gamble and a prayer.
On the pitch, the Hillsborough pitch. In the rain and in the wind. From the first minute to the last, Liverpool Football Club attacked. Attacked and attacked, again and again. They attacked and they attacked. Again and again. They came and they came. Forcing corner after corner. Save after save from Gordon Banks. Again and again, Banks dived. Again and again, Banks punched. Again and again, Banks caught. Again and again, Banks saved. Saved and saved again. From attack after attack. Chance after chance. Shot after shot. Thirty times Liverpool Football Club shot and thirty times Banks saved. Three times Leicester City attacked. The three spoons, the four forks and the four knives. Three times. Moving and turning. Only three times in the whole of the match. And all three times in the first eighteen minutes of the match. Spinning and swirling. In the sixteenth minute, Dave Gibson passed out to Howard Riley. A knife to a knife. Ronnie Moran came to intercept. Moran handled. And the referee blew his whistle. The referee awarded a free kick to Leicester City. The three spoons, the four forks and the four knives. From thirty-five yards out, Riley dropped the ball at the far post of the Liverpool goal and up went Ken Keyworth. A knife to a fork. But Liverpool Football Club were deceived by Keyworth. Deceived by a fork. And in drifted Stringfellow, the gaunt and bony body of Mike Stringfellow, drifting in from the wing to rise clear, to rise clear of Liverpool Football Club, to rise clear and head the ball down, down into the net. A knife to a knife. One — nil. One knife in all their hearts …
Their bloody, beaten hearts.
In the dressing room, the dressing room at Hillsborough. Bill looked from Tommy to Gerry, Gerry to Ronnie, Ronnie to Gordon, Gordon to Big Ron, Big Ron to Willie, Willie to Cally, Cally to Roger, Roger to the Saint, the Saint to Chris and from Chris to Kevin. And Bill said, Come on now, boys. Dry those tears and lift up those chins. Because this will not be the only time, boys. Not our only chance. I promise you that, boys. We will have other chances and we will have other opportunities. Many other chances and many other opportunities, boys. So dry those tears and lift up those chins. Because we are a team on the rise, boys. Because we are on the rise. We are on the rise!
And in the dressing room, the dressing room at Hillsborough. The players of Liverpool Football Club nodded.
But in the dressing room, the dressing room at Hillsborough. Bill knew the players of Liverpool Football Club were only half listening. And in the dressing room, the dressing room at Hillsborough. Bill watched the players take off their boots and their kits. In silence. Bill watched the players go into the bath. In silence. Bill watched the players put on their suits and ties. In silence. Bill watched the players go back out to the bus, the Liverpool bus.
And on a bench in the dressing room, the empty dressing room at Hillsborough. Bill sat down. And on the bench, in the empty dressing room at Hillsborough. Bill heard voices. We’re going to win the Cup. Voices and laughter. We’re going to win the Cup. Laughter and song. Ee-aye-addio. Song and celebration. We’re going to win the Cup! From the other dressing room, the winners’ dressing room. And on the bench, in the losers’ dressing room. At Hillsborough, in Sheffield. Now Bill tried to stand, now Bill tried to get back on his feet. To leave this room, to leave this ground. To go back home, to go back home. But on the bench, in the losers’ dressing room. Bill could not stand. Bill could not get back on his feet. His jacket stuck to his shirt. His shirt stuck to his vest. His vest stuck to his skin. His skin stretched, his muscles ached. They ached and they screamed. Beneath his skin, within his flesh. Through his bones and through his blood. His red, red blood. And on the bench, in the losers’ dressing room. Bill closed his eyes, Bill closed his eyes. But on the bench, in the losers’ dressing room. Now Bill could hear other voices. Quietly, slowly. Beginning to rise, beginning to echo. When you walk through the storm. Other voices. Hold your head up high. Beginning to rise. And don’t be afraid of the dark. Beginning to echo. At the end of the storm. Quietly and slowly. Is a golden sky. Other voices, another song. And the sweet silver song of the lark. Rising. Walk on, through the wind. Echoing. Walk on, through the rain. Quietly and slowly. Though your dreams be tossed and blown. Around the ground. Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart. Down the tunnel. And you’ll never walk alone. Into the dressing room. You’ll never walk alone. The losers’ dressing room. Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart. At Hillsborough, in Sheffield. And you’ll never walk alone. The Liverpool voices, a Liverpool song. You’ll never walk alone. And on the bench, in the losers’ dressing room. Now Bill heard these voices, Bill listened to this song. These Liverpool voices, this Liverpool song. Their voices and their song. And Bill opened his eyes again. Bill tried to stand again, Bill tried to get back on his feet again. And now Bill stood up again. Now Bill got back on his feet again.
13. A MAN OF THE MASSES
After the season, before their summer holidays. In the boardroom, the Anfield boardroom. The directors of Liverpool Football Club looked down the long table at Bill Shankly. The directors of Liverpool Football Club smiled at Bill Shankly. And the directors of Liverpool Football Club said, It has been a good season, Mr Shankly. A very good season. We reached the semi-final of the FA Cup and we finished eighth in the League. And with an average home attendance of almost forty-three thousand. So it was a good season, Mr Shankly. A very good season. So well done, Mr Shankly. Well done, indeed.