To procrastinate, To put off something you mean to do. The meaning of this word was driven home to me this week with the death of my wife's Uncle John. I'd been meaning to get a cab up to his flat in Canny Farm and go out with him out for a drink with a bit of an ulterior motive, I was going to write something for the History thread on RAWK because amongst other things John was a massive Red. He'd long been priced out of going the game but in the late fifties and Sixties he followed Liverpool religiously both home and away. This was a time when the players used to get the same train up to London as the fans and John's face got known and he became friendly with the new manager Bill Shankly. Shankly always had time for the fans and would invite them into the carriage with the players. Bill saw an honesty and integrity in John that people who met him knew was there. He was physically only a small fella but he oozed passion for those he cared about. John had to go in hospital for a few weeks and Shanks asked some of the regulars where he was. The first thing John knew about it was when an agitated nurse came up to his bed and said there's a Scottish man outside and I've told him it's not visiting time but he refuses to go away. Next thing Bill Shankly strides into the ward and greets John along with Ron Yeats and Ian St John who he'd brought along for the ride.
Shankly genuinely cared about the fans at the end of the 59 season John was one of a handful who had travelled down to Swansea for the last game of the season. Shanks saw John and called him over and gave him an envelope and told him to open it when he got back to Liverpool. Inside it was a rail ticket to London and a FA Cup final ticket to watch Forrest and Luton. When John turned up he was sitting next to Bill Shankly. Shankly had given him one of the club's allocated tickets to John as a reward for going home and away following the club. One week of Wayne Rooney's wages could easily buy the modest house that Bill Shankly lived in as manager of Liverpool and one of the perks Bill did get was a few odd tickets. These were often given away free to deserving fans but if Bill had a few spares he knew he could trust John to sell them at face value to the fans that really deserved the tickets with Shanks always keen to know who he'd sold the ticket's to.
In those days the Labour Party still had a connection with the Working Class and John was a member and active in his local ward. Shanks always took an interest and would quiz John about what was going on. Years later, after Shankly had retired, John was out canvassing for the local party when he knocked on Shankly's house. Bill was really pleased to see him and welcomed him like a long lost friend, John was invited in and spent the rest of the evening talking to Bill at his home about politics but there conversation soon turned to football and their great love Liverpool FC.
John had hundreds of stories about them days, from Shanks stopping the players coach at Old Trafford to give him a lift back to Liverpool to talking about the trips themselves. John was a modest man and I used to try and convince him to tell his stories because he never thought anyone would be interested, that was just football back then but in the space of a generation football has changed so much that it's hard to imagine a fan and a football manager having such a relationship today, no it's impossible to imagine. He spoke to me about it because he knew I still went the game and I shared his passion but there was no chance of him ever affording the match again and he put that passion into his second love bowls. Still travelling by bus across Liverpool to play for his club.
I've only scratched the surface of John's experiences with Shankly and Liverpool and now he's taken those memories with him and that is why I want to get some similar memories recorded in the History Thread, to pass them down before it's to late. As for John, I admired him for many reasons, especially looking after my wife when she was young. Her Dad had died early, her Mum was seriously ill in hospital and to top it off her brother had succumbed to heroin. John and his brother looked after her and that was the measure of the man for me, always there for everyone when ever they got into difficulty, he wasn't stupid but always wanted to see the good in people. If football has changed beyond recognition so has life. You compare men like John and his generation with ideals and principals to the new generation that is replacing them. Young men on the same estates who's lives are so often tied up with drugs in one form or another. How has it changed so much so quickly? John lost faith in the Labour Party but when my wife wanted to help organise a party for his Seventieth next year, he didn't want it. 'I'll have my party girl, when Maggie Thatcher dies' he'd say. Unfortunately he'll never see that day but while I was in the club shop buying John a red tie and handkerchief for his final journey looking at the commercial sanitised version of Liverpool that the club want to sell, It seemed miles away from what John stood for because his passion was heartfelt, both in football and in life, Shankly recognised it and I'm glad I also had the chance to.
