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

‘Glad you like it,’ says Ron Greenwood. ‘Was there anything else?’

‘Yes,’ you tell him. ‘I want to sign Bobby Moore and Trevor Brooking.’

‘You can’t be serious, Brian?’

‘Every man’s got his price,’ you tell him. ‘And I’d make sure it was a nice big bloody price, with a nice big fucking piece of it for you and for Bobby and Trevor.’

‘They’re not for sale,’ says Ron Greenwood.

‘How about we start at £300,000 for the pair of them, plus your slice?’

‘They’re not for sale,’ he says again.

‘Well then, how about £400,000 for the pair of them, plus your slice?’

‘Brian,’ says Ron Greenwood, ‘they are not for sale.’

‘Well listen then, if I can’t have Moore, can I have Brooking? Or how about this? If I can’t have Brooking, can I have Moore?’

‘They’re not available,’ he says again. ‘But I’ll pass your offer on to the board.’

‘How about £500,000?’ you ask. ‘£500,000 for the pair of them? Not forgetting your slice of the cake for all your toil and trouble. Can’t say fairer than that, now can we, Ron?’

Ron Greenwood is on his feet again, the door to his office open –

‘Any chance of another whisky then?’ you ask him. ‘One for the road?’

* * *

It’s only six days since Queen’s Park Rangers beat Leeds United 1–0 at Elland Road. My first home game, to a warm reception. Just six days ago, just last week. It feels like six years ago, another lifetime –

‘This lot came to your house last week and they beat you,’ I tell the visitors’ dressing room at Loftus Road. ‘They beat you in your own house, in front of your own fans; the League Champions, in their own house, in front of their own fans. They beat you because you couldn’t handle Gerry fucking Francis. Yorath will handle him tonight so the rest of you can forget about him, because you won’t see him. But remember this, the lot of you, every bloody one of you – they beat you in your own house last week, in front of your own fans. Now in my book there’s only one bloody answer to something like that and I hope you don’t need me to fucking tell you what that is – do you?’

They look up from their boots. From their socks and their tags. Their eyes blank –

‘Do you?’

They shake their heads. They nod their heads –

‘Right then, well bloody well get out there and show me that fucking answer!’

They stand up from the benches. They file out of the dressing room –

Into the corridor. Down the tunnel. Onto the pitch –

The grass and the earth. The soil and the dirt –

The heavy, heavy mud.

* * *

Everyone has heard about your adventures in London; the chairman, the directors, the players and the fans. You made bloody sure they did. You might not have got Bobby Moore, you might not have got Trevor Brooking, but you still got what you wanted; no way for the board to refuse you transfer money now, so you got your new signing: Henry Newton for £120,000 from Everton –

And all this talk of new signings, of trips to London, of Bobby Moore and Trevor Brooking, all this talk means there’s no need for a team talk today –

Saturday 22 September 1973; Derby County vs Southampton:

There’s a penalty after seven minutes and, on the retake, Alan Hinton scores. Twenty minutes later, Roger Davies brings down a Hinton cross on his chest to score the second. Ten minutes after that, Hinton crosses again and this time Kevin Hector scores. Southampton pull one back before half-time, but it doesn’t matter. Ten minutes into the second half, Hinton leaves two Southampton players standing and crosses again for Hector to make it 4–1. Southampton then pull another back, but again it doesn’t matter. Hector sets up Davies for the fifth and then Davies sets up Hector for his hat-trick.

It is the first time Derby County have scored six since they beat Scunthorpe United in April 1963. Kevin Hector’s hat-trick was also Derby’s first in the league since 1969 and means Hector has now broken Jack Parry’s post-war league scoring record with 107 goals in 287 games –

Derby County are now back up to second, Leeds United still first.

* * *

It was a good game, the best yet. They played for their pride and they played with their hearts. Especially in the first half as Lorimer, McGovern, Giles and Yorath passed the ball the length and width of the field, opening Queen’s Park Rangers up so that Yorath scored one and McGovern had one cleared off the line by Terry Venables. Rangers then equalized early in the second half, but it was still a good game. The best yet –

‘We have come on a ton tonight,’ I tell the microphones and the pens, the cameras and the lights, on the pitch and in the tunnel. ‘And when you get it into perspective, when you remember we still have men like Bremner, McKenzie, Madeley and Jones out, it was marvellous. We should have really wrapped it up in the first half, we were that much on top. But at least there are no further injuries.’

It was a good game, the best yet. They played for their pride and they played with their hearts. But there are still no smiles on the team coach out of Loftus Road. No smiles and no laughter. Just the murmurs and the whispers, the paperback books and the packs of cards. I plonk myself down next to Syd Owen again –

‘Do you think I