Bob Paisley shrugged, Bob Paisley nodded. Bob Paisley turned the car around, Bob Paisley drove to the ground. And Bob Paisley dropped Bill Shankly at the ground, at Anfield.
…
After the training, after their bath. In the dressing room, in their suits. Ron Yeats and Ian St John heard the footsteps in the corridor outside. The fast steps, the heavy steps. Ron Yeats and Ian St John saw the dressing-room door fly open. Bill Shankly in the doorway, Bill Shankly with a big bin liner –
Strip off, Ron!
Ron Yeats looked at Bill Shankly. Ron Yeats looked at Ian St John. Ron Yeats shrugged. Ron Yeats stood up. Ron Yeats stripped off. And Ron Yeats stood in the middle of the dressing room. Naked.
Bill Shankly took a shirt off a peg on the dressing-room wall. A red shirt. Bill Shankly opened the big bin liner. Bill Shankly took a pair of shorts out of the big bin liner. A pair of red shorts. Bill Shankly handed the red shirt and the red shorts to Ron Yeats –
Put these on, son.
Ron Yeats put on the shorts. The red shorts. Ron Yeats put on the shirt. The red shirt.
Ian St John opened up his kit bag. Ian St John took out a pair of socks. A pair of red socks. Ian St John handed the socks to Bill Shankly. And Bill Shankly smiled –
Oh yes. Yes …
Bill Shankly handed the red socks to Ron Yeats. And Ron Yeats put on the socks. The red socks. And Ron Yeats stood in the middle of the dressing room, the Anfield dressing room. In red.
Now your boots, said Bill Shankly. Put on your boots, Ron. And follow me. Follow me, son …
Ron Yeats put on his boots. And Ron Yeats followed Bill Shankly out of the dressing room. Down the corridor, onto the pitch,
the Anfield pitch. And Ron Yeats stood on the pitch, the Anfield pitch. And Bill Shankly looked at Ron Yeats –
On the pitch, the Anfield pitch. In his red shirt. In his red shorts. In his red socks. Bill Shankly walked around Ron Yeats. On the pitch, the Anfield pitch. Bill Shankly clapped,
Bill Shankly laughed –
Jesus Christ, son. You look awesome. You look terrifying, son. You look gigantic, you look massive. You look seven foot tall, man! You’ll scare the living daylights out of Anderlecht. You’ll scare them to death, son. All the way back to Belgium!
…
On Wednesday 25 November, 1964, Royal Sporting Club Anderlecht came to Anfield, Liverpool. That night, forty-four thousand, five hundred and sixteen folk came, too.
Before the whistle, the first whistle. In the dressing room, on the bench. Bill Shankly put a hand on Gordon Milne’s knee. And Bill Shankly squeezed it tight –
When we have the ball, you come out and play with it, son. Just like you always do. Forwards like you always do, son. But when they have the ball, you pick up Van Himst. Wherever he goes, whatever he does, you follow him and you stick with him, son. Wherever he goes, whatever he does, you mark him out of the game.
Before the whistle, the first whistle. In the dressing room, on the bench. Bill Shankly put a hand on young Tommy Smith’s knee. And Bill Shankly squeezed it tight –
Forget that number on the back of your shirt, Tommy. Forget that number ten tonight. Tonight I want you to be Ron’s right leg, Tommy. To win every ball, to find a red shirt. Out to the wings if you can, Tommy. To Callaghan or to Thompson. But I don’t want to see you over the halfway line, Tommy. Not tonight. Not tonight, Tommy.
Before the whistle, the first whistle. In the dressing room, on the benches. The players of Liverpool Football Club looked at Bill Shankly. Bill Shankly looking 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 Hunt, Hunt to St John, St John to Smith and from Smith to Thompson. From player to player, red player to red player. In red. Ten players in red, from head to toe. In red, all in red. Bill Shankly nodding, Bill Shankly smiling –
I know Peter and Gordon played against some of this lot at Wembley, said Bill Shankly. And Bob and me, we saw them play the other Sunday. And so I’m not going to lie to you, boys. I’m not going to lie. They have a couple of good players. A couple of very handy lads. So we’ll need to be on our toes. On our toes tonight, boys. But they are not a good team. Don’t let us kid ourselves. They’re not in our league, boys. They’d never be Champions of England. Never in a million years. And I’ll tell you another thing, they’ll never have played anywhere like here before. Anywhere like Anfield, boys. Because there’s nowhere like Anfield. Nowhere like this crowd, like our crowd. And when our crowd see you tonight, boys. Dressed like this, dressed in red. All in red. They are going to go berserk, boys. Berserk! And when Anderlecht hear them, hear them roar. And when Anderlecht see you, see you in red. Anderlecht of Belgium are going to wish they’d brought a spare kit with them, boys. Because they’re going to shit their pants. They’re going to shit their bloody pants, boys!
In the tenth minute, Lawrence threw the ball to Byrne. In red, all in red, Byrne passed to Thompson. In red, all in red, Thompson passed to Smith. In red, all in red, Smith passed to Hunt. In red, all in red, Hunt shot. And Trappeniers parried the ball. The ball bounced to St John. And in red, all in red, St John scored. In red, all in red. In the forty-third minute, St John wrested the ball from Verbiest. In red, all in red, St John slipped the ball through to Hunt. And in red, all in red, Hunt scored. In red, all in red. In the fiftieth minute, Byrne took a free kick on the left in red, all in red. The ball arched over to Yeats. And in red, all in red, Yeats glanced the ball into the corner of the goal. And in red, all in red, Liverpool Football Club beat Royal Sporting Club Anderlecht three — nil. In red, all in red. At home,
at Anfield. Bill Shankly danced around the dressing room. From player to player, red player to red player. Bill Shankly patted their backs, Bill Shankly shook their hands. All of their backs and all of their hands. Smiling and laughing –
Do you know who I’ve just seen, boys? Just seen out there in that corridor? I’ve just seen Mister Herrera, boys. The manager of Internazionale of Milan. And do you know what he told me, boys? Do you know what Mister Herrera of Internazionale just said to me? He said he hopes he does not meet us until the final, boys. Until the final of the European Cup. That’s what he just told me, boys. What Mister Herrera of Internazionale of Milan just said to me. And I know why he said that, boys. I know why. Because when you took to that pitch tonight, boys. You were like a burning fire. A red fire, boys. It was like an oven out there tonight. And you looked like giants in that oven, boys. Red giants. And you played like giants, boys. Red giants. Because Anderlecht are a great team, boys. Anderlecht are one of the best teams I have ever seen. But you swept them aside, boys. You swept them aside like a fire. Like a red fire, boys. Red hot you were. Red hot, boys. Every one of you. Every single one of you, boys. Like the red heat of revolution. That is what you were tonight, boys. The Red Heat of a Revolution. The Red Heat of a Revolution that is only just beginning, boys. A Red Revolution. A Red Revolution that will never end, boys! A revolution without end, boys …
…
In the winter-time. In the ice and in the snow. Liverpool Football Club travelled to Belgium. And Liverpool Football Club knocked Anderlecht out of the European Cup. They travelled to Burnley. And they beat Burnley Football Club. They beat Blackburn Rovers, they beat Sunderland Football Club. They beat Sheffield Wednesday and they beat Blackpool Football Club. They knocked West Bromwich Albion out of the FA Cup. They knocked out Stockport County and they knocked out Bolton Wanderers –
In the winter-time. In the ice and in the snow. Liverpool Football Club drew with FC Cologne in the Second Round of the European Cup. Away. And Liverpool Football Club drew with Leicester City in the Sixth Round of the FA Cup –