My Liverpool Home by Kenny Dalglish Read Free Book Online Page A

officers.’ And they were, brilliant generals with Bob a field marshal, an amazing man, unpretentious and shrewd.
    ‘Bob’s so self-effacing if he wrote an autobiography, he’d only mention himself twice,’ Hansen laughed one day, and Al was right. When Shanks left in 1974, Bob didn’t want to become Liverpool manager. He enjoyed being part of the coaching staff, loving his work preparing the team and spending his day in the Boot Room. When he did take the job, everybody fell in love with him. People watched Bob on the television and thought, ‘He’s a nice old man.’ With his knitted polo shirt and tie, Bob was like everyone’s favourite granddad. You knew if you went over to his house, he’d dish out tea, biscuits and good advice. Everybody could relate to this truly modest man, a simple straightforward guy possessing all the right virtues for success in life. For all his brief doubts, Bob took to management easily and was never shy in solving a problem. When Shanks kept turning up at Melwood, unable to tear himself away, the boys told me how cleverly Bob handled a sensitive situation. Bob loved Shanks but this couldn’t go on.
    ‘Look, Bill, I can’t do my job because you’re still here. The boys still think you’re the Boss,’ Bob said. ‘You’re confusing them.’ Bob was straight with Shanks, who took the hint. The best managers are decisive and Bob Paisley was certainly that. When he dropped a player, Bob did it unhesitatingly but kindly, recalling what happened to him in the 1950 FA Cup final.
    ‘I scored the winner in the semi against Everton but George Kay dropped me for the final,’ Bob told us one day. ‘Laurie Hughes played and the decision was right.’ Bob never complained.
    That final was five years after the war and people still looked up to their superiors, never questioning decisions, but it must have hurt Bob. A caring man, Bob had a heavy heart when he left somebody out. Man-management was a skill of his demanding trade that came effortlessly to Bob Paisley. He’d have a shout, and the outburst carried more impact because of its rarity. On 26 December 1981, we fell to twelfth in the League after losing 3–1 to Manchester City at Anfield, and we were confronted by a seething Bob in the dressing room afterwards.
    ‘It’s not good enough,’ Bob shouted at us. ‘We don’t accept that at Liverpool Football Club. If that happens again, you’ll not be here.’ He tweaked the button, giving us a warning, so we thrashed Swansea 4–0 four days later. Bob’s reaction worked.
    He was a proud football man, who always demanded pride in the performance. A year later, we were leading Notts County, Rushie grabbed a hat-trick and we eased up. Rather than a ‘well done, lads’, Bob went ballistic.
    ‘After the fourth goal, you played as if it were a testimonial,’ he stormed. ‘I never want to see that again. This is Liverpool.’ This was Bob simply keeping us on an even keel, stressing that even what may seem like a resounding victory could be improved upon. The game finished 5–1.
    Anyone getting carried away, or giving the opposition ammunition with a silly quote to the papers, often earned a summons to Bob’s office and an appointment with his wrath. In April 1982 when Liverpool were closing in on the title, Alan Kennedy said something to the Press that led to the headline: ‘WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS’. Alan was called in to Bob’s office, which, superficially, never seemed the scariest place, with three china ducks rising gently up the wall. On Bob’s desk was an ornament of some piglets fighting for a teat with the caption: ‘It’s easy to stay on top’. So Alan went in and was duly ticked off. Careless talk costs points was the gist of Bob’s reprimand.
    Having witnessed Bob’s methods at first hand, I can readily testify that this man was a master of psychology. After 90 minutes of the League Cup final on 13 March 1982, Liverpool were drawing 1–1 with Tottenham. Before