EE-AYE-ADDIO, WE’VE WON THE LEAGUE!
16. TOP OF THE WORLD
In the house, in their kitchen. At the window. Bill stared out at the sheets on the line. In the sun. The white sheets, drying on the line. And in his eyes, in his mind. Bill saw another sheet, another white sheet. In his eyes, in his mind. A white sheet held aloft, aloft on the Spion Kop. In his eyes, in his mind. The white sheet painted with two words, two words in bold capitals. In his eyes, in his mind. In capitals, in red. In his eyes, in his mind. SHANKLY’S CHAMPIONS. In the kitchen, at the window. Bill smiled. And Bill turned away from the window. Bill walked back over to the kitchen table. Bill sat back down in the chair. And Bill stared back down at the table. At the piles of letters, at the piles of telegrams. The letters of thanks, the telegrams of congratulation. The thanks from their supporters, the congratulations from his colleagues. Men he had played with, men he had played against. Managers he had pitted his wits against, managers he had beaten. At the table, in the chair. Bill went through the letters, Bill went through the telegrams. The letters of thanks, the telegrams of congratulation. Backwards and forwards. The many letters of thanks, the many telegrams of congratulation. Forwards and back. At the table, in the chair. Bill kept coming back to one telegram, one telegram of congratulation. A telegram of congratulation from Jackie Milburn. Jackie Milburn was the manager of Ipswich Town Football Club. Liverpool Football Club had played Ipswich Town twice this season. And Liverpool Football Club had beaten Ipswich Town twice this season. Ipswich Town had finished twenty-second in the First Division this season. And Ipswich Town had been relegated from the First Division. Two years ago, Ipswich Town had been first in the First Division. Ipswich Town had been the Champions. The Champions of England. At the table, in the chair. Bill put down the telegram of congratulations from Jackie Milburn. And Bill turned back to the window. The light had changed, the sun had gone. There were spits of rain on the window pane. At the table, in the chair. Bill stood up again. Bill walked back across the kitchen. Bill opened the back door. Bill went out into the back garden. The spits were now a shower. And Bill began to take the sheets down off the line. The shower now a downpour. Bill brought the sheets back in. Out of the rain, into the house. Bill shut the door behind him. In the house, in their kitchen. The sheets in his arms. At the window. Bill stared out at the line. In the garden, in the rain. The pouring rain. The empty, hanging line. Redundant in the rain. No use to anyone. In the house, in their kitchen. The damp sheets in his arms. At the window. Bill knew the time of the greatest victory was also the time of the greatest danger. These hours when the seeds were sown, these days when the seeds were planted. The seeds of complacency, the seeds of idleness. Watered with song, drowned with wine. The seeds of defeat. In showers of praise. That hypnotised men, that intoxicated men. And blinded men. Holes for their eyes, stitches for their lids. Finished men, forgotten men. In their houses, in their kitchens. At their windows. Redundant in the rain.
…
In the hotel, in the dining room. After the laps of honour. The many laps of honour. At the celebration dinner. The many celebration dinners. Tom Williams and Sidney Reakes stood up. Tom Williams was now the president of Liverpool Football Club. Sidney Reakes was now the new chairman of Liverpool Football Club. Tom Williams and Sidney Reakes raised their glasses. They proposed a toast –
To Bill Shankly, said Tom Williams. This success is all down to one man. And to one man alone. To Bill Shankly! Bill Shankly is the greatest manager in the world!
In the dining room, at the table. Bill sprung up. Bill shook his head. And Bill said, No, no, no! The success of Liverpool Football Club is no one-man affair. We are a team. We are a working-class team! We have no room for individuals. No room for stars. For fancy footballers or for celebrities. We are workers. A team of workers. A team of workers on the pitch and a team of workers off the pitch. On the pitch and off the pitch. Every man in our organisation, every man in our team. He knows the importance of looking after the small things, he knows how the small things add up to the important things. From the chairman to the groundsman, every man is a cog in the machine. A cog in the team. And every cog has functioned perfectly. In the team. Every man has given one hundred per cent. For the team. And so the team has won. The team are champions, a team of champions. We are all a team of champions! We are all a team. A team, a team …
But amid the popping of corks, amid the clinking of glasses. The slapping of backs and the singing of songs. Amid the celebrations, amid the congratulations. The accolades and the praise. No one could hear Bill. No one was listening to Bill.
…
His jacket stuck to his shirt. His shirt stuck to his vest. His vest stuck to his skin. His skin stretched, his muscles taut. Bill opened his eyes. And Bill tried to shift in his seat. His skin burning, his muscles straining. Bill could not shift in his seat. Burning, straining. Bill tried to move his hands. His hands locked tight around the armrest of his seat. His knuckles white. Bill forced open the fingers of his right hand. Bill raised his right arm. Bill brought his right hand over to the left sleeve of his jacket. Bill pulled up the left sleeve of his jacket. Bill stared down at his watch. His watch on his left wrist. The aeroplane shuddered. Again. Bill gripped the armrests of his seat. The aeroplane dipped. Again. Bill closed his eyes. Again. Bill tried to think of films. The films he had seen in Muirkirk. American films. Bill tried to think of boxers. The fights he had heard on the radio. American fights. Bill tried to think of gangsters. The books he had borrowed from the library. American books. And Bill tried to remember the reasons why he was flying to America. Flying to America to join Liverpool Football Club on their tour of the United States. The reasons Liverpool Football Club had agreed to this tour of the United States. This tour he had been against. This tour he knew would exhaust them. This tour he knew would weaken them. Bill tried to remember the reasons Liverpool Football Club were not at home. The reasons he wasn’t at home. In Liverpool. Or in Blackpool. Or Glasgow. Anywhere but here, on this aeroplane, with his jacket stuck to his shirt, his shirt stuck to his vest, his vest stuck to his skin, at thirty thousand feet, above the sea, flying to America.
…
In the hotel in New York City, in a chair in the lounge. In his blazer, his Liverpool Football Club blazer. Bill saw Bob. Bob walk into the lounge, Bob look around the room. Bob looking for Bill –
There you are, said Bob. There you are, Boss. I’ve been looking everywhere for you! You’ll never guess what I’ve found, Boss? I’ve found Jack Dempsey’s bar! It’s just around the corner, Boss. On the very next block! Come on, Boss. The man might even be there …
Bill looked at his watch. Bill shook his head. And Bill said, Are you mad, Bob? It’s half past eleven. I’m away to my bed, Bob.
Bob looked at his own watch. And Bob shook his head –
It’s not half eleven, said Bob. It’s only half six, Boss. It’s still early. It’s only half past six in the evening, Boss …
Bill looked at his watch again. Bill shook his head again. And Bill said, It’s half past eleven, Bob. Your watch must be wrong.