...William James Shankly was born in Glenbuck, Ayrshire. Happy Anniversary to the giant on whose shoulders this club, and every one of us, has stood for the past half-century.
Bill Shankly YNWA
Bill Shankly YNWA
100 years ago tomorrow
- Thread starter Judge Jules
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Indeed, fine words JJ.
Ynwa.
Ynwa.
No cloggy, shanks would turn in his grave if he knew Liverpool fans couldn't talk about a huge match together.
RAWK? Fuck, really?
Fucking idiots. Whilst shanks wouldn't what this forum is if someone were to suggest to him that all anyone could talk about on the day of a match was a previous manager, no matter how successful, I can hazard a guess what his response would be.
Fucking idiots. Whilst shanks wouldn't what this forum is if someone were to suggest to him that all anyone could talk about on the day of a match was a previous manager, no matter how successful, I can hazard a guess what his response would be.
Shanks would've been banned in about a second from RAWK, the great fools.
"For a player to be good enough to play for Liverpool, he must be prepared
to run through a brick wall for me then come out fighting on the other side."
On one of Liverpools European trips, he was filling in the hotel registration form
where he wrote Football for occupation and Anfield for the address.
"Sir, said the receptionist, you need to fill in where you live.
"Lady", he replied, "in Liverpool there is only one address that matters and that is where I live."
"Of course I didn't take my wife to see Rochdale as an anniversary present.
It was her birthday. Would I have got married in the football season? Anyway,
it was Rochdale reserves."
"Some people believe football is a matter of life and death, I am very
disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more
important than that."
"If a player is not interfering with play or seeking to gain
an advantage, then he should be."
"If Everton were playing at the bottom of the garden, I'd pull the curtains."
To Tommy Smith, who tried to explain that his bandaged knee was injured:
"Take that bandage off. And what do you mean
about YOUR knee? It's Liverpool's knee!"
To the journalist suggesting Liverpool were in difficulties:
"Ay, here we are with problems at the top of the league."
To a translator, when being surrounded by gesticulating Italian journalists:
"Just tell them I completely disagree with everything they say!"
About the "This is Anfield" plaque:
"It's there to remind our lads who they're playing for, and to remind
the opposition who they're playing against."
To Alan Ball, who'd just signed for Everton:
"Don't worry, Alan. At least you'll be able to play close to a great team!"
At Dixie Dean's funeral:
"I know this is a sad occasion but I think that Dixie
would be amazed to know that even in death he could draw
a bigger crowd than Everton can on a Saturday Afternoon."
After beating Everton in the '71 cup semi:
"Sickness would not have kept me away from this one.
If I'd been dead, I would have had them bring the casket to the ground,
prop it up in the stands and cut a hole in the lid."
"Although I'm a Scot, I'd be proud to be called a Scouser."
"A lot of football success is in the mind. You must believe
you are the best and then make sure that you are. In my time
at Liverpool we always said we had the best two teams on Merseyside,
Liverpool and Liverpool Reserves."
"If you are first you are first. If you are second, you are nothing."
Speaking to a very nervous looking Alec Lindsay on his debut:
"When you get the ball, I want you to beat a couple of men and smash the ball into the net,
just the same way you used to at Bury". Bemused Lindsay said:
"But Boss that wasn't me - it was Bobby Kerr."
Shankly turned to Bob Paisley and said: "Christ, Bob, we've signed the wrong playe!"
"The trouble with referees is that they know the rules,
but they do not know the game."
To a reporter in the 60's:
"Yes, Roger Hunt misses a few, but he gets in the right place to miss them."
After signing Ron Yeats:
"With him in defence, we could play Arthur Askey in goal."
After a hard fought 1-1 draw:
"The best side drew."
After a 0-0 draw at Anfield:
"What can you do, playing against 11 goalposts?"
"Liverpool was made for me and I was made for Liverpool."
"Football is a simple game based on the giving and taking of passes,
of controlling the ball and of making yourself available to receive a pass.
It is terribly simple."
"At a football club, there's a holy trinity - the players, the manager and the supporters.
Directors don't come into it. They are only there to sign the cheques."
To Tommy Smith:
"You son, you could start a riot in a graveyard."
On the day he signed Ian St John:
"Son, you'll do well here as long as you remember two things.
Don't over-eat and don't lose your accent."
On leaving Liverpool:
"It was the most difficult thing in the world, when I went to tell the chairman.
It was like walking to the electric chair. That's the way it felt."
To Kevin Keegan:
"Just go out and drop a few hand-grenades all over the place, son."
About Brian Clough:
"He's worse than the rain in Manchester.
At least the rain in Manchester stops occasionally."
When told he had never experienced playing in a derby:
"Nonsense! I've kicked every ball, headed out every cross. I once
scored a hat-trick; One was lucky, but the others were great goals."
Talking to a Liverpool trainee:
"The problem with you, son, is that all your brains are in your head"
About Ian Callaghan:
"He typifies everything that is good in football, and he has never changed.
You could stake your life on Ian."
About Ian St.John:
"He's not just the best centre-forward in the British Isles, but the only one."
Taken from Bill Shankly's autobiography...it sums the man up:
Above all, I would like to be remembered as a man who was selfless,
who strove and worried so that others could share the glory,
and who built up a family of people who could hold their heads up high and say:
'We're Liverpool'.
"For a player to be good enough to play for Liverpool, he must be prepared
to run through a brick wall for me then come out fighting on the other side."
On one of Liverpools European trips, he was filling in the hotel registration form
where he wrote Football for occupation and Anfield for the address.
"Sir, said the receptionist, you need to fill in where you live.
"Lady", he replied, "in Liverpool there is only one address that matters and that is where I live."
"Of course I didn't take my wife to see Rochdale as an anniversary present.
It was her birthday. Would I have got married in the football season? Anyway,
it was Rochdale reserves."
"Some people believe football is a matter of life and death, I am very
disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more
important than that."
"If a player is not interfering with play or seeking to gain
an advantage, then he should be."
"If Everton were playing at the bottom of the garden, I'd pull the curtains."
To Tommy Smith, who tried to explain that his bandaged knee was injured:
"Take that bandage off. And what do you mean
about YOUR knee? It's Liverpool's knee!"
To the journalist suggesting Liverpool were in difficulties:
"Ay, here we are with problems at the top of the league."
To a translator, when being surrounded by gesticulating Italian journalists:
"Just tell them I completely disagree with everything they say!"
About the "This is Anfield" plaque:
"It's there to remind our lads who they're playing for, and to remind
the opposition who they're playing against."
To Alan Ball, who'd just signed for Everton:
"Don't worry, Alan. At least you'll be able to play close to a great team!"
At Dixie Dean's funeral:
"I know this is a sad occasion but I think that Dixie
would be amazed to know that even in death he could draw
a bigger crowd than Everton can on a Saturday Afternoon."
After beating Everton in the '71 cup semi:
"Sickness would not have kept me away from this one.
If I'd been dead, I would have had them bring the casket to the ground,
prop it up in the stands and cut a hole in the lid."
"Although I'm a Scot, I'd be proud to be called a Scouser."
"A lot of football success is in the mind. You must believe
you are the best and then make sure that you are. In my time
at Liverpool we always said we had the best two teams on Merseyside,
Liverpool and Liverpool Reserves."
"If you are first you are first. If you are second, you are nothing."
Speaking to a very nervous looking Alec Lindsay on his debut:
"When you get the ball, I want you to beat a couple of men and smash the ball into the net,
just the same way you used to at Bury". Bemused Lindsay said:
"But Boss that wasn't me - it was Bobby Kerr."
Shankly turned to Bob Paisley and said: "Christ, Bob, we've signed the wrong playe!"
"The trouble with referees is that they know the rules,
but they do not know the game."
To a reporter in the 60's:
"Yes, Roger Hunt misses a few, but he gets in the right place to miss them."
After signing Ron Yeats:
"With him in defence, we could play Arthur Askey in goal."
After a hard fought 1-1 draw:
"The best side drew."
After a 0-0 draw at Anfield:
"What can you do, playing against 11 goalposts?"
"Liverpool was made for me and I was made for Liverpool."
"Football is a simple game based on the giving and taking of passes,
of controlling the ball and of making yourself available to receive a pass.
It is terribly simple."
"At a football club, there's a holy trinity - the players, the manager and the supporters.
Directors don't come into it. They are only there to sign the cheques."
To Tommy Smith:
"You son, you could start a riot in a graveyard."
On the day he signed Ian St John:
"Son, you'll do well here as long as you remember two things.
Don't over-eat and don't lose your accent."
On leaving Liverpool:
"It was the most difficult thing in the world, when I went to tell the chairman.
It was like walking to the electric chair. That's the way it felt."
To Kevin Keegan:
"Just go out and drop a few hand-grenades all over the place, son."
About Brian Clough:
"He's worse than the rain in Manchester.
At least the rain in Manchester stops occasionally."
When told he had never experienced playing in a derby:
"Nonsense! I've kicked every ball, headed out every cross. I once
scored a hat-trick; One was lucky, but the others were great goals."
Talking to a Liverpool trainee:
"The problem with you, son, is that all your brains are in your head"
About Ian Callaghan:
"He typifies everything that is good in football, and he has never changed.
You could stake your life on Ian."
About Ian St.John:
"He's not just the best centre-forward in the British Isles, but the only one."
Taken from Bill Shankly's autobiography...it sums the man up:
Above all, I would like to be remembered as a man who was selfless,
who strove and worried so that others could share the glory,
and who built up a family of people who could hold their heads up high and say:
'We're Liverpool'.
"They tell me Everton have fitba' in the bludd. Weeell, they must have bad circulation 'cause it hasnae reached their feet yet."
Great quotes there macca. First time I'd read the dixie dean one!
PEOPLE SAY FOOTBALL’S A MATTER OF LIFE OR DEATH BUT THEY’RE WRONG. IT’S MORE IMPORTANT
THAN THAT.
Alex Smith knows that’s one of the soundbites that will forever be associated with Shankly.
At the same time the former Stirling Albion manager, who was guided through the early part of his career there by Bill’s brother Bob, knows there was infinitely more to Shanks than phrases that could fit conveniently on to the front of a T-shirt.
“I met Bill face to face on two occasions because of my friendship and working relationship with Bob,” says the man who went on to manage St Mirren and Aberdeen.
“He spoke to me, a young manager, in the same way he would have done with anybody else. The words came out with a machine gun’s rattle but every conversation was a private education on the game.
“But Bill wasn’t really looking for a conversation. It was more he was delivering his thoughts on the game to you and without the need for any observations on what he was saying.
“Bob told me that when he was manager of Hibs, and was trying to convince Alex Ferguson to sign for him, he invited him to his house one Sunday morning for talks. But Bob forgot that Willie, as he called his brother, always telephoned then to go over the previous day’s games.
“This meant Bill talked him through all 90 minutes of Liverpool’s match without pausing for breath. Bob let the conversation start as usual and then went back to discussing personal terms with a bemused looking Alex.
“Every so often Bob would get up, go over to the phone and say, ‘Is that right, Willie?’ and then put the receiver down on the table again to resume negotiations with Fergie.
“The last two minutes of the conversation were taken up with how the Albion had played that weekend and Shanks’ final question, which was always, ‘Have you seen any good players about?’
“Bill was a man shaped by his background. He came from a mining village where the pit reflected the behaviour and mentality of that area.
“Men had principles they stood by all their lives. Bill understood football wasn’t more important than life or death but he was an extrovert personality who knew it would sound good.
“He was entitled to be called a legend then and he would have been so in today’s football world as well. His personality was such that the game would have needed to adjust to him, not the other way round.”
If Everton were playing at the bottom of my garden, I'd close the curtains.
One of my favourite Shankly pics - playing like a mad man against kids on some waste ground! Sums him up perfectly for me.
Isn't that Judge Jules on the right? 🙂
Brian Reade on Bill Shankly: Not just this country's greatest football man but also the most inspirational
Brian Reade recalls an encounter with the legendary boss that made him realise there was more to Bill Shankly than just football
It was a hot summer’s day in 1975 when I first switched on a tape recorder to gather the thoughts of someone important.
The affair could not have been more low key. He was a retired football manager, I a teenager wanting a piece for my school magazine.
But in the following 38 years, after interviewing some of the most famous people on earth for a living, no one has come close to having the same effect on me as Bill Shankly did that day.
After an hour in his company I walked away feeling as though I’d just had an audience with a messiah who was part Martin Luther King, part Robin Hood.
Shankly was without doubt the most inspirational person I’ve ever met. And probably the greatest football man this country has ever seen.
Not because he was a playing legend. He wasn’t. Although he was a decent half-back who was the heartbeat of a successful Preston side and a strong wartime Scotland team.
Not because he won more than any other manager. He didn’t. His haul of three league titles, two FA Cups and a UEFA Cup puts him behind Sir Matt Busby, Bob Paisley and Sir Alex Ferguson.
Although he built two magnificent sides from scratch and only “a travesty of justice” (a referee later exposed as bent) stopped him from being the first British manager to reach a European Cup Final.
Not because he arrived at an unambitious Second Division club and built a modern dynasty that would dominate European football for almost a decade.
Not because of his extraordinary wit and charisma which rubbed off on his players, his fans, his adopted city and all who met him.
But because of what was inside him. The love, dedication and honesty he gave to the game, and its people, all his life, while asking for so little in return.
The passion and optimism he gave to tens of thousands of ordinary folk that lit up their ordinary lives. And never left them. Shankly’s politics were of the old school of Christian socialism, honed in the Ayrshire pit community he grew up in.
It defined how he treated everyone: as his equal and with respect. How he built his football teams by making the most important people at every club, the fans, central to his vision.
His belief in collectivism, of everyone working for the common good, defined him to his core. “If I became a bin-man tomorrow,” he told me in 1975, “I’d be the greatest bin-man who ever lived. I’d have everyone working with me, succeeding and sharing out the success.
“I’d make sure they were paid a decent wage with the best bonuses and that we all worked hard to achieve our goals.
Some might say, ‘Ah but they’re only bin-men, why do we need to reward them so well for a job anyone can do?’ But I’d ask them why they believe they are more important than a bin-man.
“I’d ask them how proud they’d feel if their dirty city became the cleanest in the world? Then ask who made them proud? The bin-men.”
His biggest fear was anyone might think he’d cheated them. He loathed selling others short.
It’s why, when I asked him to name the greatest player he ever managed, he shunned ball-jugglers like Kevin Keegan, Ian St John, Peter Thompson and Steve Heighway and picked Gerry Byrne. “He was hard and skilful every game,” Shankly said. “But above all honest. And that is the greatest quality of all.”
It’s why every person who ever wrote to him had a personal reply, hammered out on his old typewriter. Why every kid who knocked on his door was given what they wanted. A word, a joke, a ticket, a “yes” to a request to come to a nearby kick-about.
I wrote to him in 1973 to tell him I’d been badgering my MP Harold Wilson to give him something in the next Honour’s List, but met with little success.
He wrote back: “I am not really disappointed at not being recognised. The people who dish out honours are not my people. My people go to Anfield. If I can make you all happy then that is my greatest ambition.”
How many managers, players or administrators would do that today, devoting so much of their own time to the fans? How many would even recognise Shankly’s principles let alone share them?
He would have been 100 on Monday, and many events are planned to celebrate his memory, including the setting up of a Shankly Foundation by his family, to support grass roots football.
At Anfield tomorrow there will be a minute’s applause for a man whose life was consumed by his love for our game and its people.
Maybe everyone involved in modern football should take that minute to reflect on what exactly Bill Shankly stood for.
Then ask why so many of them go into the sport today, not to make the people happy, just themselves.
http://www.mirror.co.uk/sport/football/brian-reade-bill-shankly-not-2239293
Brian Reade recalls an encounter with the legendary boss that made him realise there was more to Bill Shankly than just football
It was a hot summer’s day in 1975 when I first switched on a tape recorder to gather the thoughts of someone important.
The affair could not have been more low key. He was a retired football manager, I a teenager wanting a piece for my school magazine.
But in the following 38 years, after interviewing some of the most famous people on earth for a living, no one has come close to having the same effect on me as Bill Shankly did that day.
After an hour in his company I walked away feeling as though I’d just had an audience with a messiah who was part Martin Luther King, part Robin Hood.
Shankly was without doubt the most inspirational person I’ve ever met. And probably the greatest football man this country has ever seen.
Not because he was a playing legend. He wasn’t. Although he was a decent half-back who was the heartbeat of a successful Preston side and a strong wartime Scotland team.
Not because he won more than any other manager. He didn’t. His haul of three league titles, two FA Cups and a UEFA Cup puts him behind Sir Matt Busby, Bob Paisley and Sir Alex Ferguson.
Although he built two magnificent sides from scratch and only “a travesty of justice” (a referee later exposed as bent) stopped him from being the first British manager to reach a European Cup Final.
Not because he arrived at an unambitious Second Division club and built a modern dynasty that would dominate European football for almost a decade.
Not because of his extraordinary wit and charisma which rubbed off on his players, his fans, his adopted city and all who met him.
But because of what was inside him. The love, dedication and honesty he gave to the game, and its people, all his life, while asking for so little in return.
The passion and optimism he gave to tens of thousands of ordinary folk that lit up their ordinary lives. And never left them. Shankly’s politics were of the old school of Christian socialism, honed in the Ayrshire pit community he grew up in.
It defined how he treated everyone: as his equal and with respect. How he built his football teams by making the most important people at every club, the fans, central to his vision.
His belief in collectivism, of everyone working for the common good, defined him to his core. “If I became a bin-man tomorrow,” he told me in 1975, “I’d be the greatest bin-man who ever lived. I’d have everyone working with me, succeeding and sharing out the success.
“I’d make sure they were paid a decent wage with the best bonuses and that we all worked hard to achieve our goals.
Some might say, ‘Ah but they’re only bin-men, why do we need to reward them so well for a job anyone can do?’ But I’d ask them why they believe they are more important than a bin-man.
“I’d ask them how proud they’d feel if their dirty city became the cleanest in the world? Then ask who made them proud? The bin-men.”
His biggest fear was anyone might think he’d cheated them. He loathed selling others short.
It’s why, when I asked him to name the greatest player he ever managed, he shunned ball-jugglers like Kevin Keegan, Ian St John, Peter Thompson and Steve Heighway and picked Gerry Byrne. “He was hard and skilful every game,” Shankly said. “But above all honest. And that is the greatest quality of all.”
It’s why every person who ever wrote to him had a personal reply, hammered out on his old typewriter. Why every kid who knocked on his door was given what they wanted. A word, a joke, a ticket, a “yes” to a request to come to a nearby kick-about.
I wrote to him in 1973 to tell him I’d been badgering my MP Harold Wilson to give him something in the next Honour’s List, but met with little success.
He wrote back: “I am not really disappointed at not being recognised. The people who dish out honours are not my people. My people go to Anfield. If I can make you all happy then that is my greatest ambition.”
How many managers, players or administrators would do that today, devoting so much of their own time to the fans? How many would even recognise Shankly’s principles let alone share them?
He would have been 100 on Monday, and many events are planned to celebrate his memory, including the setting up of a Shankly Foundation by his family, to support grass roots football.
At Anfield tomorrow there will be a minute’s applause for a man whose life was consumed by his love for our game and its people.
Maybe everyone involved in modern football should take that minute to reflect on what exactly Bill Shankly stood for.
Then ask why so many of them go into the sport today, not to make the people happy, just themselves.
http://www.mirror.co.uk/sport/football/brian-reade-bill-shankly-not-2239293
Today's result was for you, Shanks.
Perhaps football hasn't changed that much after all
Ronnie Moran’s memories of Bill Shankly, the original Kop idol
Shankly and the Boot Room Boys, from left, Shankly, Paisley, Moran, Fagan and Bennett
Liverpool FC via Getty Images
Tony Barrett
Ronnie Moran picks up the framed photograph that takes pride of place in what he calls the trophy room at the front of his retirement bungalow on the outskirts of Liverpool. Trailing his finger along the picture from right to left, he names his former comrades in arms one by one.
“The first one is Reuben Bennett,” he says. “Then there’s Joe Fagan, me, Bob Paisley and, last but not least, Shanks. They’ve all left us now. I’m the only one still here.”
At the age of 79, Moran is the last of the original Shankly Boys, Liverpool’s oldest surviving link to the most revered figure in the club’s history. Those who were coached by him, especially the senior players whom he nicknamed “the big heads”, know only too well that Moran is not prone to sentiment.
After league championships were won, he would start pre-season by putting the players’ medals on a table at Melwood and telling them to “take one if you think you deserve one, but just remember you haven’t won anything this season.”
Where Bill Shankly is concerned, though, Moran allows himself a nostalgic indulgence. Today is the 100th anniversary of the legendary manager’s birth and for Moran it provokes memories of the man who lived up to his pledge to “turn Liverpool into a bastion of invincibility”.
“I wish he was still around,” Moran says. “He wasn’t just a great manager, he was also a good fella and obviously everyone who was lucky enough to know someone like that is going to miss him. That goes without saying.”
On September 29 it will be 33 years since Shankly died and it says everything about the remarkable impact he had on the lives of those who worked with him that his loss is still keenly felt. Moran was a player when Shankly became Liverpool manager in 1959, a full back of such dependability that he was already club captain at the time of the Scot’s arrival. Shankly, though, saw something in him that went far beyond his ability with a ball at his feet. Moran was to become his sergeant major.
Moran went on to become the most decorated coach in English football as Liverpool, first guided by Shankly and then inspired by his legacy, swept all aside at home and abroad. By the time he retired in 1998, Moran had helped Liverpool to win a staggering 30 leading honours including 13 league championships, four European Cups, five FA Cups, five League Cups and two Uefa Cups. If Shankly had seen something in Moran, the same was true in reverse.
Asked when he first realised that Shankly would be a success, Moran’s answer is unequivocal. “Day one,” he says.
“There was just something about him, something unique. His enthusiasm was infectious and that was exactly what Liverpool needed at the time.
“He took part in the five-a-side games and the lads used to joke about it because he’d be going around kicking anyone who wasn’t quick enough to get out of his way, but before we knew it we became as competitive as he was. When Shanks arrived we were in the second division. Without him we might still be there.”
Shankly’s revolution sparked Liverpool’s renaissance but the brilliance of it was to be found in its simplicity. A way of playing was established that was built on the principles of passing to the nearest man in a red shirt and moving into space.
“He got rid of a lot of players early on, then he brought players in who were like-minded in their thinking about the game,” Moran says. “If he didn’t get what he wanted off them, they too would be away.”
Yesterday, supporters headed to the statue stationed in front of the Kop. The sculpture bears a simple inscription: “Bill Shankly — He made the people happy” and Moran maintains that the feeling was mutual.
“Shanks loved the supporters as much as they loved him,” he said. “All he wanted to do was give them a team to be proud of and he did that. I was lucky to be a part of it all but I do miss him.”
The Boot Room boys
Reuben Bennett The only original member of the fabled Boot Room who did not go on to manage Liverpool. Born in Aberdeen in 1914, Bennett played as a goalkeeper for Hull City, Queen of the South and Dundee, where he later started his coaching career alongside Bob Shankly, the brother of Bill. Renowned for being a hard taskmaster in training, Bennett died in December 1989.
Bob Paisley The only manager to have won the European Cup three times with one club, Paisley joined Liverpool’s backroom staff five years before Shankly’s arrival and went on to become his right-hand man and eventual successor. A qualified physiotherapist, Paisley served Liverpool with distinction as a player, coach and manager. He died on Valentine’s Day in 1996.
Joe Fagan Humble, shrewd and loyal, Fagan’s managerial reign is too easily undervalued. In 1984 he guided Liverpool to a European Cup, League Championship and League Cup treble, yet he is rarely given the credit he deserves outside of those who worked with him. Succeeded Paisley in 1983. He died in June 2001.
Shankly and the Boot Room Boys, from left, Shankly, Paisley, Moran, Fagan and Bennett
Liverpool FC via Getty Images
Shankly and the Boot Room Boys, from left, Shankly, Paisley, Moran, Fagan and Bennett Liverpool FC via Getty Images
Tony Barrett
Ronnie Moran picks up the framed photograph that takes pride of place in what he calls the trophy room at the front of his retirement bungalow on the outskirts of Liverpool. Trailing his finger along the picture from right to left, he names his former comrades in arms one by one.
“The first one is Reuben Bennett,” he says. “Then there’s Joe Fagan, me, Bob Paisley and, last but not least, Shanks. They’ve all left us now. I’m the only one still here.”
At the age of 79, Moran is the last of the original Shankly Boys, Liverpool’s oldest surviving link to the most revered figure in the club’s history. Those who were coached by him, especially the senior players whom he nicknamed “the big heads”, know only too well that Moran is not prone to sentiment.
After league championships were won, he would start pre-season by putting the players’ medals on a table at Melwood and telling them to “take one if you think you deserve one, but just remember you haven’t won anything this season.”
Where Bill Shankly is concerned, though, Moran allows himself a nostalgic indulgence. Today is the 100th anniversary of the legendary manager’s birth and for Moran it provokes memories of the man who lived up to his pledge to “turn Liverpool into a bastion of invincibility”.
“I wish he was still around,” Moran says. “He wasn’t just a great manager, he was also a good fella and obviously everyone who was lucky enough to know someone like that is going to miss him. That goes without saying.”
On September 29 it will be 33 years since Shankly died and it says everything about the remarkable impact he had on the lives of those who worked with him that his loss is still keenly felt. Moran was a player when Shankly became Liverpool manager in 1959, a full back of such dependability that he was already club captain at the time of the Scot’s arrival. Shankly, though, saw something in him that went far beyond his ability with a ball at his feet. Moran was to become his sergeant major.
Moran went on to become the most decorated coach in English football as Liverpool, first guided by Shankly and then inspired by his legacy, swept all aside at home and abroad. By the time he retired in 1998, Moran had helped Liverpool to win a staggering 30 leading honours including 13 league championships, four European Cups, five FA Cups, five League Cups and two Uefa Cups. If Shankly had seen something in Moran, the same was true in reverse.
Asked when he first realised that Shankly would be a success, Moran’s answer is unequivocal. “Day one,” he says.
“There was just something about him, something unique. His enthusiasm was infectious and that was exactly what Liverpool needed at the time.
“He took part in the five-a-side games and the lads used to joke about it because he’d be going around kicking anyone who wasn’t quick enough to get out of his way, but before we knew it we became as competitive as he was. When Shanks arrived we were in the second division. Without him we might still be there.”
Shankly’s revolution sparked Liverpool’s renaissance but the brilliance of it was to be found in its simplicity. A way of playing was established that was built on the principles of passing to the nearest man in a red shirt and moving into space.
“He got rid of a lot of players early on, then he brought players in who were like-minded in their thinking about the game,” Moran says. “If he didn’t get what he wanted off them, they too would be away.”
Yesterday, supporters headed to the statue stationed in front of the Kop. The sculpture bears a simple inscription: “Bill Shankly — He made the people happy” and Moran maintains that the feeling was mutual.
“Shanks loved the supporters as much as they loved him,” he said. “All he wanted to do was give them a team to be proud of and he did that. I was lucky to be a part of it all but I do miss him.”
The Boot Room boys
Reuben Bennett The only original member of the fabled Boot Room who did not go on to manage Liverpool. Born in Aberdeen in 1914, Bennett played as a goalkeeper for Hull City, Queen of the South and Dundee, where he later started his coaching career alongside Bob Shankly, the brother of Bill. Renowned for being a hard taskmaster in training, Bennett died in December 1989.
Bob Paisley The only manager to have won the European Cup three times with one club, Paisley joined Liverpool’s backroom staff five years before Shankly’s arrival and went on to become his right-hand man and eventual successor. A qualified physiotherapist, Paisley served Liverpool with distinction as a player, coach and manager. He died on Valentine’s Day in 1996.
Joe Fagan Humble, shrewd and loyal, Fagan’s managerial reign is too easily undervalued. In 1984 he guided Liverpool to a European Cup, League Championship and League Cup treble, yet he is rarely given the credit he deserves outside of those who worked with him. Succeeded Paisley in 1983. He died in June 2001.
Could stay in this thread all day.
The greatest.
The greatest.
Pics from the dinner celebration
BR has got big balls wearing a corduroy suit.
He's been living in Swansea before he came here.
He probably thinks it's haute couture.
Personally I was hugely put off Peace's maddeningly over-stylised novel about Shanks after reading those excerpts recently, but if anyone's interested here's a torrent of the BBC readings from the book:
http://radioarchive.cc/torrents-details.php?id=17481
http://radioarchive.cc/torrents-details.php?id=17481
As luck would have it I've just started Peace's book. The precious writing style is irritating (and it's a long book, so it remains to be seen whether I'll last till the end) but I'm sticking with it for now at least. So far I'm finding that, if I read it quickly, that makes it manageable.
Stephen Kelly's is excellent, if quite sad in places.
Stephen Kelly's is excellent, if quite sad in places.
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