‘It’s not enough, Brian,’ says Taylor. ‘It’s not enough.’
‘You’re right,’ you tell him. ‘It’s not enough; not enough to be struggling down here at the bottom of the Third Division, not after what we’ve tasted —’
‘It’s gone, Brian,’ whispers Taylor. ‘It’s gone and you’ve got to let it go. We’ve got to start again, start again here. That’s how we’ll get back, that’s the only way. But first you’ve got to let go of the past, Brian. You’ve got to let it go, Bri.’
‘I can’t,’ you tell him. ‘I just can’t, Pete.’
Day Forty-three
I wake up in that modern luxury hotel bed in that modern luxury hotel room and the first bloody thing I hear is the sound of my own fucking voice:
‘It is ridiculous to suggest that I would deliberately go out of my way to destroy a team … I am no destroyer … No man in the country wants Leeds United to continue to be successful more than I do … It was the kind of thing I believe they call a “clear the air” meeting. I had a few words, the chairman spoke and then the lads had their say … The chairman asked if I had any objection to him having a word and obviously I am in favour of anything that might help to restore confidence … It was agreed the best thing for the club would be for everyone to give their utmost so that we could win a couple of matches. That is what we need most of all. That is how we can regain confidence and then there will be no need for meetings like these …’
I switch off that modern luxury radio and then I smash that modern luxury hotel room into a million fucking pieces and check out, a message waiting for me at reception.
* * *
You’ve been in this wilderness too long; this drunken, lonely seven-day week where the only sound is the sound of your own name repeated endlessly: Cloughie, Cloughie, Cloughie …
Now it’s someone else’s turn. Now it’s Ramsey’s turn.
In February 1974 the FA set up a sub-committee to ‘consider our future policy in respect to the promotion of international football’ under the leadership of Sir Harold Thompson, Bert Millichip, Brian Mears, Dr Andrew Stephen and Len Shipman –
On 3 April 1974 England draw 0–0 with Portugal in Lisbon –
‘I’ve had a very long journey and I’m tired,’ says Alf. ‘No autopsies.’
On 18 April 1974 Ramsey announces his summer squad for the upcoming Home Internationals and the tour of eastern Europe –
‘If you ask a stupid question,’ he says, ‘you’ll get a stupid answer.’
On 19 April 1974 Ramsey is summoned to Lancaster Gate to hear the Thompson Committee make its report, to hear ‘a unanimous recommendation that Sir Alf Ramsey should be replaced as England team manager’.
Ramsey is given £8,000 and a meagre pension. Ramsey goes on holiday –
‘I still believe in England,’ he says. ‘And Englishmen and English football.’
On 1 May 1974 the FA make an official statement terminating Ramsey’s position as manager of the England football team and, pending the appointment of a successor, appoint Joe Mercer as temporary caretaker of the national side –
Down beside the seaside, you wait for the phone to ring, for the call to come –
But the phone never rings, the call never comes and another season ends.
Brighton have played thirty-two games under us. Brighton have won twelve, drawn eight and lost twelve for us. Brighton have scored thirty-nine goals and conceded forty-two for us. That got Brighton thirty-two of their forty-three points. That left Brighton and us nineteenth in the Third Division –
It is your lowest ever league finish as a manager, lower even than your first season at Hartlepools United, lower than your first season at Derby County –
Derby County and Mackay have finished third in Division One –
Revie and Leeds are the Champions of Division One –
You are still in this wilderness, this drunken, dark and lonely place where the only sound is the sound of your own name repeated endlessly: Cloughie, Cloughie, Cloughie.
* * *
In the centre of Leeds. In a multi-storey car park. His headlights flash twice. He is in his sunglasses. In his hat. His collar up –
‘They say you’re going,’ whispers Sniffer.
‘Who says?’
‘The players, the papers,’ says Sniffer. ‘The whole of Leeds.’
‘It’s what they all bloody want, isn’t it?’
‘Not everyone.’
‘You could have fucking fooled me.’
‘That meeting yesterday,’ says Sniffer. ‘That was wrong.’
‘You tell them that, did you?’
‘I was too bloody angry to speak,’ says Sniffer. ‘Them folk with their knives out, folk revelling in it. I might have said something I regretted. But it’s left a nasty taste in my mouth. I can’t get it out of my mind. It was wrong.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Not just me feels that way,’ says Sniffer. ‘Joe Jordan and Gordon McQueen. Terry Yorath and Frankie Gray. McGovern, O’Hare and Duncan McKenzie, of course. But Paul Reaney too. Trevor Cherry and all. None of them said a bad word about you.’
‘None of them said a good word though, did they?’
‘How could they?’ asks Sniffer. ‘They’re young or new or …’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I tell him.
‘But I do,’ he says. ‘And I just wanted to let you know that you have my full support and I’m sure you have the full support of them other lads too.’
‘Thank you,’ I tell him again. ‘But it’s too late. I’m off to see Cussins today.’
‘Well then,’ says Sniffer, ‘I want to come with you.’
‘In disguise?’ I ask him. ‘You sure about that?’
Sniffer takes off his sunglasses and his hat and says, ‘I’m sure, Boss.’
* * *
On 4 July 1974 Don Revie is appointed as the new manager of England –
‘I made the first move, not them,’ says Don Revie. ‘I made the call, not them. Because I fancied being the manager of England …’
There was a shortlist and there were interviews; Ron Greenwood (West Ham), Jimmy Adamson (Burnley), Jimmy Bloomfield (Leicester City), Gordon Jago (QPR), Bobby Robson (Ipswich) and Don Revie of Leeds –
You were not on the shortlist and not at the interviews, not even on the long list.
‘You should have called them,’ says your wife.
‘I’ll not beg,’ you tell her.
‘That’s what Revie did,’ she says.
‘I’ll not bloody beg,’ you tell her again. ‘I’ll never fucking beg.’
‘I shall be very sorry to be leaving Leeds,’ says Revie. ‘And the first result I will look for every Saturday will be Leeds United’s. But, when you are ambitious, you want to get to the top, and the England team manager’s job must be the ultimate ambition of every top-class manager … every manager’s dream.’
‘Sod it,’ you tell your wife. ‘Let’s go on holiday.’
* * *
I turn off Elland Road. Sharp right and through the gates. Into the ground. The West Stand car park. Past the big black dog. The writing on the wall. The space reserved for the manager of Leeds United. The press waiting. The cameras and the lights. The fans. The autograph books and the pens. I turn off the engine. I open the door. I do up the cuffs of my shirt. I get my jacket out of the back. I put it on. I lock the car –