The fighting philosophy of Bill Shankly

The fighting philosophy of Bill Shankly
In the first of our series of extracts from the Guardian book of football, Eric Todd talks to the legendary Liverpool manager - a players' man who has always been 'daft about fitba'

* Eric Todd
* The Guardian, Monday July 28 2008

Liverpool legend Bill Shankly celebrates in front of the club's fans. Photograph: PA

Like the state of holy matrimony, an interview with Bill Shankly, manager of Liverpool, is not to be entered lightly. There is an element of chance about them both; in neither is the course of events predictable. Shankly has to be heard to be appreciated. Like Jim Sims, that much-loved slow bowler for Middlesex in years gone by, he expresses himself through the corner of his mouth. There the comparison ends. Sims favoured the confidential drawl, Shankly fires his words as if with a Gatling gun. And he does not often miss.

Thirty years have passed since my first sight of Shankly playing at Deepdale in the company of the Beatties (not related), the O'Donnells (brothers), Jimmy Milne, Jimmy Dougal and Harry Holdcroft, that most handsome of goalkeepers. Even in those days Shankly was a busy, fussy character who always played with his palms turned outwards, creating the remote illusion of a sailing ship striving for that little extra help from the wind.

"Now, now," protested Shankly, when I suggested that analogy. "It gave me strength. Did you notice too that I played on my toes all the time? Like a ballet dancer? That gave me strength in my calves, and I’ve still got it. Preston was only a small place - Jim Taylor, the North End chairman, called us a village team - but it was a fine club who believed in modern methods. I learned a great deal with Preston and I’ve always tried to pass on some of those lessons.

"I was always daft about football. I went to Carlisle when I was 17 and a half, moved to Preston in 1933, and finished playing in 1949 when I went to Carlisle as their manager. They were a useful side but they haven’t had a great deal of ambition. But I had. So when I had the offer to take over at Grimsby because they ware struggling, I went and took less wages. From Grimsby I went to Workington, who were facing extermination. They offered me a bonus if I could save them. I got my bonus. Then I went as assistant to Andy Beattie at Huddersfield and, when he left, I took his place. I was made manager of Liverpool in 1959 and the rest you know. And by the by, I was never sacked in the whole of my life."

Shankly sipped his tea, long since cold, before he set off on a new theme. "People often ask me if I ever made a mistake. Well, to my mind 'mistake' is a misused word, especially in football. For example, you might say it was a mistake for a club to buy such and such a player but that is not necessarily true. The player might not be able to settle down or to fit in. He might not suit his environment. Just bad luck. A footballer’s not like a hat or a coat that you can leave at a shop if it does not fit or suit you."

"Mind you, there are some managers I’ve known who have gone about things the wrong way. The manager above all things should be solely responsible for the playing and training staffs and all tactics. He must be able to coach and to explain such basic things as how to kick a ball and how to pass it and control it. In other words, he must know what he's talking about. What good is it to go to a golf professional for lessons if he doesn’t know the game? The same with a football manager.

"Mind you, I would not say the best players make the best managers, although I think that's been more the case in recent years - but a manager makes things so much harder for himself if he can't explain the game to his players. And even that's only half the battle. To get the best out of his men, the manager has to work to a tactical plan they understand which need not necessarily be the one he'd like himself. For instance, at Liverpool we have Ian Callaghan and Peter Thompson, two of the best wingers in the game. They are as near to the old orthodox wingers as there are, so why should they be used in any other way? It would not be fair for one thing. Natural ability is far too precious to be messed about with."

"Before I forget I must just tell you about Denis Law. When I went to Huddersfield, I had charge of the reserves, and this wee boy of 15 was one of them. You would not have thought so to look at him but he had everything. He was fiery and he was talented and he was earmarked to be a star. He was to become one of the greatest players I ever set eyes on. Aye, he was that."

After this diversion Shankly picked up his management thread as if he had never left it. "As for me, if they're not satisfied with me, they'll get rid of me. We have a responsibility to the people of Liverpool. There was a great potential at Anfield when I went there and I like to think I have helped to realise that potential. We have got to try and maintain the high standard we have set, keeping in line with other teams with ambition, and maybe winning the League Championship again. That would give us a record haul of eight league titles, one more than Manchester United and Arsenal."

Shankly is young enough to have expectations of seeing that day, successful enough to withstand those tribulations to which so many of his kind have succumbed, patient enough to go on making a living until he can retire and take Nessie, his long-suffering wife, on their first real holiday in 25 years. When they went to a football match during their honeymoon, Nessie had a hint of what was in store in the years ahead. "A wonderful, understanding woman," said Shankly, whose present idea of a holiday is to stay in bed until mid-morning.

He neither smokes nor drinks but sees no reason why others should not do so - in moderation - and he has a lively sense of humour, although he is not conscious of it. If he were asked to think of something funny, he would be a slow starter. He is, however, master of the "off the cuff" type of humour and frequently reduces his players and press conference to hysterics with asides he had meant to be taken seriously. The sayings of Shankly are as forthright and weighty as the sayings of Mao. In the streets around Anfield they are also much more respected.

Shankly is not impressed easily nor is he a willing subject for embarrassment. When he put through his own goal in Tom Finney's testimonial, he was no more remorseful than a lad caught pinching jam from the larder. Only once, perhaps, did he go close to blushing. He played in a game alongside Frank Soo of Stoke City and afterwards a Scottish selector among the crowd went up and put his arm round Shankly's shoulder. "Well done, Soo," he said. "You played a blinder." "He thought I was the Chinese because of the way my hair was cut," explains Shankly, and his chuckle is that of a corncrake in search of a mate.

I think it would be an exaggeration to say that Shankly is regarded generally as a "popular" manager - except at Anfield, where the Kop acknowledges him to be omnipotent. He is not as aloof as he used to be but he is not easy to know, not easy to draw out. His conversation, like the man himself, is fitful. He speaks in Morse, as it were. But for all that he is, and always has been, among the genuinely dedicated managers and his success as a player and as a manager has been achieved the hard way. He has in his time made mistakes over transfers - that is my view, not his - but he covered them up effectively. Above all, Shankly is a players' man who knows that if he fights for them, they will fight for him. It seems a sound philosophy.

The Duke of Wellington is reported to have made sure personally that his troops - who did most of the work - had comfortable billets. Shankly subscribes to the same principles and now squeezes the duties of accommodation inspector into his already congested schedule.

Before I left him, Shankly summoned the manager of a hotel and gave him his instructions. "There'll be, eh, 17, in the party," he said. "So, eh, that'll be 17 fillet steaks – I’ll let you know how we want them done when we arrive - with chips. For afterwards, eh, there'll be 17 fresh fruit salads and fresh cream. Right? Then for breakfast, eh ..." A players' man indeed.

** Part of the interview was editted by MyRAWK for the purposed of easy reading. To read the entire article in it's original uneditted form, kindly click on the The Guardian link on top.