With Clough, by Taylor by Peter Taylor

Author:Peter Taylor [Peter Taylor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781785904653
Publisher: Biteback Publishing
Published: 2019-02-16T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

REUNITED AT FOREST

John Robertson is the cleverest left-winger in Britain, yet almost my first words to him were, ‘You’re a disgrace and ought to be sent home.’

Forest were based at Augsburg for a pre-season tour of Bavaria; I had joined them in such a rush that the players met me for the first time in the departure lounge of Heathrow Airport. Brian had gone on holiday after outlining his requirements, ‘The running of the club and the discipline are perfect now, but the playing side is dodgy and I want you to take stock of that.’

I had agreed salary, terms and title with Brian and confirmed them the following day with Forest’s chairman, Brian Appleby, QC, and his vice-chairman Stuart Dryden. Only the three of us were in the ground and there was hardly a sound outside; Forest had no bustle of expectancy in those days. The two officials were always prominent in the campaign to capture Brian for Forest. Mr Dryden made the first contact at a cricket match and Mr Appleby approved the move because of his anxiety to modernise what he called ‘the most unprogressive club in the country’.

The chairman had also urged Brian to renew the partnership with me, saying, ‘You complement each other because of your unique, individual talents and besides, a club manager without a trusted partner can feel isolated when ranged against a chairman and seven or eight directors.’ We discussed the team and my role at the club before Mr Appleby said, ‘I’ll be delighted if you can contribute towards getting us back into the First Division in three years.’

I went home to Brighton happy about starting work for a fair man, not someone trying to hustle me for success inside twelve months. It wasn’t until studying Forest’s team on tour that I understood the reason for the chairman’s three-year estimate.

The itinerary was half a dozen matches against small German clubs; once we played against a village and changed in a converted cowshed. Munich was only an hour’s drive away. Who could have imagined that in three years’ time Nottingham Forest would play there in a European Cup final?

I ran the team for the first two matches and then Brian arrived from Majorca with his family. We took two taxis from Munich Airport, one for his wife and children and the other for ourselves; it was an opportunity to compare notes in private.

‘They’re nice lads and no trouble,’ I reported, ‘but that was a feat by you to finish eighth in the Second Division because some of them are only Third Division players, and there’s one of them who had better make up his mind quickly about remaining a player of any kind.’ Brian nodded; I hadn’t needed to name anyone – once again we were on the same wavelength. A couple of days later we stood by a practice pitch watching an overweight midfielder-cum-outside-left perform what purported to be his warm-up for the tour’s third fixture.

John Robertson didn’t move out of a five-yard radius throughout the entire quarter of an hour.

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