All Things Footie | Monday, September 20 | Jordan
RIP Big ’Ead
I’d written a big piece about how Jose Mourinho’s moaning is ridiculous given his multi-million pound side’s dour performances this season, followed by what an idiot Andy Cole is, followed by how worrying it is that referees seem more comfortable giving red cards for pushing, shoving, shirt removing and clipped ‘last-man’ challenges than for knee high, studs up leg-breakers (that rarely get more than a yellow) when I heard the news.
Of all the managers I’ve ever seen and heard, not one comes close to Cloughie for being everything I love in a manager. Speaking his mind, making the big decisions without flinching, dedication, honesty. People bandy the word ‘legend’ about a lot, but the true test is time, and I’d bet everything I have that in 40 years time people will still be talking about Ol’ Big ‘Ead. On the surface he’s one of the least likeable personalities of 70s/80s football, yet I’ve never heard anyone say a genuinely meant bad word about him. You can disagree with him, but you can’t dislike him. Dammit, I need to start using the past tense. It’s going to be difficult for the passing of such a ubiquitous personality to sink in—even though he reached his managerial peak the year I was born, his impact on my footballing memories is still improbably huge. I can tell you that this weekend will see the best observed minute silences in the history of the league.
It almost contradicts his whole managerial career, but I find it wonderful that in his last interview (that I can remember) he was the most positive I’ve ever heard him. I think he was genuinely warmed to see a team beat his Nottingham Forest team’s record, and just as pleased to see it done in the style it was. The fact that his last public thoughts were not a bitter rant lambasting some johnny foreigner or playboy teenager is a fitting way for someone—who underneath his outer persona was a humble, funny and genuinely great bloke—to sign off.
It’s often forgotten what a contribution Cloughie made as a player. On the day he was forced to retire through injury in December 1962 at just 27 years old, he’d scored 204 goals in 222 appearances for Middlesbrough and 63 in 74 appearances for Sunderland. Lets just go over that again. In 296 appearances as a professional footballer in the top league he scored a whopping 267 goals. That’s over a 0.9 goal a game average. Phenomenal.
Only then did he go on to management; as a 30 year-old becoming the League’s youngest ever manager at Hartlepool, then winning promotion to the first division in his second season at Derby County (finishing fourth in the first division in his first season there). Two seasons later and he’s won the league with the Rams, three seasons and he’s taken what is effectively a second division team to the European Cup Semi Final.
After some fun and games at Brighton and Leeds United, where his reputation as someone who’s not afraid to speak his mind (to put it politely) is sealed, he joins second division Nottingham Forest in 1975. At the end of his second year in charge, they finish third in the second division and win promotion. Then, with a vitually unchanged playing staff, Forest win the first division title in their first season in the top division and the League Cup. The next season, 1978/79, Forest finish second in the league, but as a consolation, take home the European Cup and League Cup. The next season proves dissapointing in the league once more, but again, consolation somes in the form of being the only team to ever win the European Cup in successive seasons (as well as the European Super Cup). On top of all this silverware, between November 1977 and December 1978, Clough took Forest on the longest unbeaten league run by a club side in the history of English football (until Arsène Wenger’s Arsenal beat it this year).
It would be an achievement had Clough achieved these feats with Liverpool, Manchester United, Leeds or Arsenal, but to do it with a middling second division side requires a very special, very unique talent. I recall an interview with Clough once when he was asked about his tactics for making such average players into such a dangerous unit, his reply?
“Players lose you games, not tactics. There’s so much crap talked about tactics by people who barely know how to win at dominoes.”
Got to love the man. When horrible, dour, whinging, annoying Scotsmen like Mr Alex Ferguson get themselves knighted for jammy last minute goals in ONE European Cup final, it makes you wonder who Clough rubbed up the wrong way to avoid getting his own title—actually, he rubbed so many people up the wrong way it’s surprising they didn’t bring back the stocks for him. Even if he had been honoured as he should have been, you get the impression that if anyone did call him Sir Brian he’d sooner slap them than say hello, such was his genuinely down to earth persona.
I’m welling up now, so I’ll sign off and leave petty moans about football for another day. Rest In Peace, Sir.
P.S. To remember him as I’m sure he’d laugh at being remembered, leave your favourite Cloughie quotes in the comments below. One each, lets not get greedy now.