The Damned Utd by David Peace (easy readers txt) 📕

season 1970/71 and also from playing any friendly matches against a club under the jurisdiction of any other National Association prior to April 30, 1971.’

The FA and the League have thrown the book at you – with a vengeance – and have imposed the heaviest penalties in the history of English football: a £10,000 fine and a one-year ban from European football and the loss of £100,000 in European revenue –

‘A terrible injustice,’ says the Mayor of Derby.

But this is personal, you know it is; because of the things you’ve written –

Because of the things you’ve said, in the papers and on the telly:

‘Trouble has blown up because I’ve been so open in my criticism of Alan Hardaker, the League Secretary. It seems you cannot say that he has too much power.’

But every cloud has its silver lining and this is just the ammunition Longson needs:

‘For some time now,’ Sam Longson tells the local press and the national press, ‘I have not agreed with the policy and approach of some of the directors. In fact, I asked the chairman to resign last November and told him we wanted a stronger man. He talks of a united board, but the truth of the matter is that three of them, Mr Paine, Mr Turner and Mr Kirkland, have not spoken to me for about six months.’

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