The Damned Utd by David Peace Read Free Book Online Page B

Running. Running .
    But no one laughs. No one says another word.
    * * *
    You have bought Roy McFarland and you have bought John O’Hare from Sunderland. You have got rid of some of the deadwood and you win the opening game of the 1967–68 season against a Charlton side managed by Bob Stokoe –
    ‘ Come on,’ Stokoe once laughed at you, laughed at you in the mud, in the mud and on your knees, on your knees that were shattered and shot, fucked and finished for ever –
    Bob Stokoe who told the referee, ‘He’s fucking codding is Clough .’
    You win that game but lose the next. Win the next and then the next –
    Lose the one after that but win the next and the next again –
    This is how it goes, this life of yours –
    Win one, lose one. Win the next –
    The performances improve and the attendances increase, but if the performances deteriorate then the gates go with them –
    Then you’ll be next, you know that –
    You’ll be next, fucked and finished for ever .
    * * *
    I don’t knock and they don’t offer me a drink, so I help myself. Then I sit down, spark up and tell them, ‘I’ve seen one.’
    ‘One what?’
    ‘Player, name of Duncan McKenzie,’ I tell them. ‘And tomorrow I’m going to buy him from Nottingham Forest for £ 250,000.’
    ‘Now just one bloody minute,’ says Bolton.
    ‘We haven’t got one,’ I tell them.
    ‘One what?’
    ‘One minute or, for that matter, one centre-forward.’
    ‘Now just a –’
    ‘Allan Clarke is bloody suspended and Jones is fucking injured,’ I tell them all. ‘So I don’t know who you think is going to score you the goals you’ll need to retain the league or win you the European Cup.’
    ‘There’ll have to be a discussion,’ says Bolton. ‘We know nothing about this Duncan McKenzie and you’re asking us to part with a quarter of a million bloody quid.’
    ‘Twenty-eight goals last season,’ I tell him. ‘What more do you need to know?’
    ‘I’d like to know who else you’re planning to buy?’ asks Percy Woodward.
    ‘A goalkeeper and a centre-half,’ I tell him. ‘This team needs rebuilding from the back. This team needs a new spine.’
    ‘And who would this new spine be then?’
    ‘Peter Shilton and Colin Todd.’
    ‘And what about Harvey and Hunter?’ asks Bolton. ‘They are both full internationals.’
    ‘So are Shilton and Todd.’
    ‘But are they for sale?’ asks Cussins.
    I laugh. I tell him, ‘Everyone’s for sale, Mr Cussins. Surely you know that?’
    ‘Quite a long list you’ve got there,’ says Bolton. ‘Papers also say you’re interested in Derby’s John McGovern.’
    ‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read,’ I tell them. ‘But he’s a good player. Known him since he was a lad.’
    ‘We have Billy Bremner,’ says Bolton. ‘We don’t need John McGovern.’
    ‘You might be right,’ I tell him. ‘You might be wrong. But you pay me to be right every Saturday and I’m telling you, you need new players because some of the lot you’ve got have bloody shot it.’
    ‘They’re the League Champions,’ says Woodward.
    ‘Last season,’ I tell him. ‘Last season.’
    ‘Look,’ says Cussins. ‘The first priority is the contracts of the players we have. The ones we want to hang on to. There are still eight to be signed.’
    ‘These contracts?’ I ask them. ‘Why weren’t they done before I got here?’
    ‘It was difficult,’ says Cussins. ‘What with the World Cup and the close season.’
    ‘Rubbish,’ laughs Percy Woodward. ‘Bloody rubbish. Revie was too scared. Didn’t want to break up the family.’
    ‘Not a very happy family now,’ I tell them. ‘Some very worried men out there.’
    ‘What about our friend John Giles?’
    ‘Not my friend,’ I tell them.
    ‘But have you …’
    ‘Have I done your dirty work?’ I laugh. ‘Is that what you want to know?’
    ‘Brian, Brian,’ says Cussins. ‘It’s not like that. John Giles has been a loyal servant for this club and an