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On Wednesday 4 October, 1967, Malmö Fotbollförening of Sweden came to Anfield, Liverpool. That evening, thirty-nine thousand, seven hundred and ninety-five folk came, too. Thirty-nine thousand, seven hundred and ninety-five folk to watch Liverpool Football Club play Malmö Fotbollförening in the second leg of the First Round of the Inter-Cities Fairs Cup. In the twenty-eighth minute, Ron Yeats scored. In the thirty-sixth minute, Roger Hunt scored. And Liverpool Football Club of England beat Malmö Fotbollförening of Sweden two — one in the second leg of the First Round of the Inter-Cities Fairs Cup. At home, at Anfield.
Three days afterwards, Liverpool Football Club travelled to Filbert Street, Leicester. In the twenty-seventh minute, Ian St John scored. But Liverpool Football Club lost two — one to Leicester City. One week later, West Ham United came to Anfield, Liverpool. That afternoon, forty-six thousand, nine hundred and fifty-one folk came, too. In the fifteenth minute, Ian St John scored. In the thirty-eighth minute, St John scored again. And in the sixty-eighth minute, Tommy Smith scored. And Liverpool Football Club beat West Ham United three — one. At home, at Anfield.
On Tuesday 24 October, 1967, Liverpool Football Club travelled to Turf Moor, Burnley. In the eighty-second minute, Chris Lawler scored. And Liverpool Football Club drew one-all with Burnley Football Club. Away from home, away from Anfield.
Four days afterwards, Sheffield Wednesday Football Club came to Anfield, Liverpool. That afternoon, fifty thousand, three hundred and ninety-nine folk came, too. In the tenth minute, Chris Lawler scored. And Liverpool Football Club beat Sheffield Wednesday one — nil. At home, at Anfield. That evening, Liverpool Football Club had twenty points. And Liverpool Football Club were still first in the First Division. That month, Liverpool Football Club had played five games. They had won three, drawn one and lost one. Lawrence, Lawler, Byrne, Smith, Hughes, Callaghan, Hunt, Hateley, St John and Thompson had played in all five games. Yeats had played in four of the five games. And Strong had played in the other game. That season, Liverpool Football Club still had twenty-eight more League games to come. Twenty-eight more games to play.
26. NOW BRINGS A SMILE, NOW BRINGS A TEAR
In the drive, in the car. In the night. Bill turned off the engine. Bill got out of the car. Bill walked up the drive. Bill unlocked the front door. Bill opened the door. Bill stepped into the house. In the dark. Bill closed the door. Bill took off his hat. Bill took off his coat. Bill hung up his hat. Bill hung up his coat. Bill went into the front room. Bill switched on the light. Bill walked over to his armchair. Bill picked up the pile of newspapers from beside his armchair. Bill carried the pile of newspapers into the kitchen. Bill put down the pile of newspapers on the table. Bill walked back into the front room. Bill went over to the bookcase. Bill opened the small cupboard at the side of the bookcase. Bill took a scrapbook, a pair of scissors and a tin of glue out of the cupboard. Bill closed the cupboard door. Bill switched off the light. Bill walked back into the kitchen. Bill switched on the light. Bill put down the scrapbook, the pair of scissors and the tin of glue on the table. Bill sat down at the table. Bill picked up the first newspaper on the pile. Bill turned the pages of the newspaper. Bill picked up the pair of scissors. Bill cut out the reports of every game. Not only the reports about the games Liverpool Football Club had played. The reports about every game every football club had played. Bill opened the tin of glue. Bill stuck the reports into the scrapbook. Not only the reports about the games Liverpool Football Club had played. The reports about every game every football club had played. In the kitchen, at the table. In the night and in the silence. Bill kept turning the pages of the newspapers. Bill kept picking up his scissors. Bill kept cutting out the reports. Bill kept sticking the reports in the scrapbook. In the kitchen, at the table. Bill stopped turning the pages. In the night and in the silence. Bill stared down at one page. Tommy Docherty, the manager of Chelsea Football Club, had received a twenty-eight-day suspension from all football activity following incidents on the club’s goodwill tour of Bermuda in June. Bill turned to the next page. Tommy Docherty had resigned as manager of Chelsea Football Club. Bill turned to the next page. On Saturday 7 October, 1967, Leeds United had beaten Chelsea Football Club seven — nil. In the kitchen, at the table. Bill shook his head. Bill knew Tommy. Tommy had played for Preston North End. Bill liked Tommy. Bill thought what had happened to Tommy was a tragedy. A tragedy for Tommy. Bill thought what had happened to Tommy was a waste. A waste for Chelsea Football Club. In the night and in the silence. Bill shook his head again. And Bill turned the pages again. In the kitchen, at the table. Bill stopped turning the pages again. In the night and in the silence. Bill stared down at another page. On Sunday 8 October, 1967, Clement Attlee had died. Bill stood up. Bill walked back into the front room. Bill switched on the light again. Bill went back over to the bookcase again. Bill opened the small cupboard at the side of the bookcase again. Bill took another scrapbook out of the small cupboard. Bill turned the pages of the scrapbook. Bill came to the pages of cuttings from January, 1965. The pages of cuttings about the funeral of Winston Churchill. The cuttings and the photographs. In the night and in the silence. Bill stared down at one photograph. The photograph of Clement Attlee at the funeral of Winston Churchill. Clement Attlee standing, frozen in St Paul’s Cathedral. Clement Attlee standing, frail in St Paul’s Cathedral. In the night and in the silence. Bill closed the pages of the scrapbook. Bill put the scrapbook back in the small cupboard at the side of the bookcase. Bill closed the door. Bill switched off the light again. Bill walked back into the kitchen again. Bill sat back down again. In the kitchen, at the table. Bill stared down at the pages of obituaries of Clement Attlee. In the night and in the silence. Bill shook his head. Bill had admired Clement Attlee. Bill had respected Clement Attlee. And Bill had voted for Clement Attlee. Bill thought what had happened to Clement Attlee was a tragedy. A tragedy for the man. Bill thought what had happened to Clement Attlee was a waste. A waste for the country. In the kitchen, at the table. Bill shook his head again. In the night and in the silence.
…
On the bench, the Anfield bench. In the night and in the noise. Bill watched Hughes pass to St John. St John run to the left, St John run to the right. St John shoot. And St John score. Bill watched St John cross. Hateley fly in. And Hateley score. Bill watched Smith put the ball on the penalty spot. And Smith put the ball in the net. Nine minutes later, Bill watched Hunt score. One minute afterwards, Bill watched Thompson score. And one minute later, Bill watched Hunt score again. And then Callaghan score. And then Callaghan score again. And on the bench, the Anfield bench. In the night and in the noise. The red night, the red noise. Bill heard the Spion Kop clap, Bill heard the Spion Kop cheer. And Bill heard the Spion Kop sing, God help United, God help United, God help…
On the touchline, the Anfield touchline. Albert Sing, the manager of TSV 1860 München, shook Bill’s hand –
I have never seen a display of attacking football like that, said Albert Sing. The only thing I can think to compare it to is the great Hungarian Golden Team of Puskás, Kocsis, Bozsik and Hidegkuti. And so I only hope my own boys have learnt a lesson. A lesson in how to play football, in how football should be played. And I also hope someone makes a film loop of all those eight goals, those eight beautiful goals, to show to every school in England and every school in Europe. To show every boy in England and every boy in Europe. Because that is how football should be played, Mr Shankly. That is how all boys should play football. So congratulations, Mr Shankly …