The Damned Utd

Longson asks for the resignations of Paine, Turner and Kirkland –

Payne, Turner and Kirkland ask for the resignations of Longson, Peter and you –

You phone Birmingham City. Birmingham City rub their hands –

The very first Keep Clough at Derby campaign begins –

There can only be one winner –

Harry Paine resigns. Ken Turner resigns. Bob Kirkland resigns:

‘When I became a director of Derby County Football Club,’ writes Bob Kirkland, ‘I assumed certain responsibilities. To discharge these responsibilities, it is necessary to be kept informed of all major decisions within the club. I regret to say that I feel that I have not been kept informed and particularly with regard to the matters which gave rise to the recent inquiry by the Football Association and the Football League. I must make it quite clear that these matters only came to my knowledge at the conclusion of the investigation. I felt it my duty to remain on the board so as not to prejudice the result of the inquiry, but in view of the deep divisions on the board which have now been revealed, I feel that I must now tender my immediate resignation as a director.’

There’s only one winner; only ever one winner –

Brian Howard Clough.

* * *

‘You’re home early,’ says my wife. ‘Not like you. Are you feeling all right?’

‘You want me to go back out? Find a pub?’ I ask her.

‘Don’t be daft,’ she says. ‘It’s a nice surprise.’

‘Make the most of it,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll be away a bit this week.’

‘You’ve got enough shirts, have you?’

‘I’ll get by,’ I tell her.

She walks over to me. She puts her arms around my neck and asks, ‘Will you?’

‘I’ll have to,’ I tell her. ‘Not much choice, have I?’

‘Never say that,’ she says. ‘You’ve always got us. You know that, don’t you?’

‘What do you think keeps me sane?’

‘I don’t know,’ she smiles. ‘Thought you said it was football that kept you sane.’

‘Not any more,’ I tell her. ‘Not any more.’

Day Fourteen

Cassius Clay becomes Muhammad Ali. The Quarrymen become the Beatles. Lesley Hornby becomes Twiggy and George Best becomes Georgie Best –

Superstar.

It is a new world. It is a new England –

The colour supplements. The colour televisions. The brand-new papers. The Sun. The columns and the panels. The columns and the panels that need opinions. Minds with opinions. Mouths with opinions –

A mind and a mouth like yours, open wide.

Open wide, just like your arms and your wallet.

Your wife is not keen. Peter neither. But Sam Longson is –

‘You have something big to offer football,’ Uncle Sam assures you.

The summer of 1970; Alf Ramsey and England are in Mexico for the World Cup, losing twenty-odd pounds a game and struggling for air. You are in the television studios of Independent Television, getting hundreds of quid a game and struggling for breath on a panel with Malcolm Allison; Big Mal and Big Head –

You are television panellists. You are television pundits –

You open your mouths. You speak your minds –

You are controversial. You are confident –

Making names for yourselves –

A new name for yourself –

Cloughie.

* * *

I’ve been stood here for an hour watching them go through their paces, through their practices; here in the shadow of this ground, here under this sickening sky. Tonight’s game is at Southampton, the last so-called friendly before the season starts –

Have to fly down as well –

I don’t want to go; not one single part of me. I’d pay good money to get out of it.

Bites Yer Legs comes up to where I’m stood –

‘I’m a bit worried about the way we dealt with the corners on Saturday,’ he says. ‘We’ve got to get that right and I wondered if you had any thoughts?’

‘You’re professional fucking footballers,’ I tell him. ‘Sort it out yourselves.’

* * *

In the 1969–70 season, Derby County finished fourth; fourth in your first season in the First Division. You played forty-two league games, won fifteen at home and seven away; you scored sixty-four goals and conceded thirty-seven; you had a total of fifty-three points at the end of the season, thirteen less than Everton, the Champions, four less than Leeds in second, two less than Chelsea in third, but two more than Liverpool and eight more than Manchester United. Derby finish fourth; Derby should be in Europe next season; in the Inter-Cities Fairs Cup –

But Derby are not. Derby have been banned. But despite the ban from Europe. Despite the boardroom fights. Despite these dark clouds and ominous signs, hopes are still high for the new season, the 1970–71 season –

Hopes on the pitch. Hopes off the pitch. Hopes upstairs. Hopes downstairs –

A new club secretary has been appointed, has been appointed by you –

You didn’t ask the board. You didn’t ask Uncle Sam. You didn’t ask Peter and you didn’t ask your wife –

You just told them all that you had appointed Stuart Webb –

Stuart Webb comes from Preston North End. Stuart Webb is young –

Webby has immaculate suits. Webby has business aspirations –

Burning ambitions. Burning, scolding ambitions –

Webby wants to be in total control of the administration of the club, to expand the promotions, to revive the supporters’ club, the Junior Rams, to initiate awards nights –

He wants to do for Derby off the pitch what you have done on the pitch –

Stuart Webb wants to be you. Stuart Webb wants to be Brian Clough –

Webby wants to be Cloughie.

You can’t blame him. Nobody can –

Everybody wants to be you. Everybody loves you; fathers and sons, wives and daughters. Young and old, rich and poor. Because hopes are high in the poor houses, hopes are high in the posh houses –

Hopes you have raised. Hopes you must fulfil.

Manchester United have come to the Baseball Ground for the big pre-season game; the 1970 Watneys Cup final. In front of 32,000 –

Live on television. Live because of Manchester United:

Stepney. Edwards. Dunne. Crerand. Ure. Sadler. Morgan. Law. Charlton. Kidd and Best (with Stiles on the bench) –

The one and only Manchester United, with Law, Charlton, Kidd and Best.

But it’s your team, your boys, who score four, who hammer in shot after shot, who produce four-or five-man moves with simple first-time passes, it is your team, your boys who find the space, who carve open their defence –