10th anniversary of the death of Brian Clough...

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cooperblade

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...is later this month.

Article about him in today's Guardian (below) mentions that Forest and Derby supporters will mark the occasion in their match next week (presumably by singing his name). That reminded me of the day we sang his name at the City Ground as we relegated Forest. Should we do it again (sing his name, not relegate Forest) next weekend or is it nothing to do with us?

Brian Clough was charming, disarming and had his own set of rules
Ten years after his death he is remembered not just for his achievements but for the charisma with which he pulled them off
The genius and the demons of Brian Clough
Brian-Clough-011.jpg

Brian Clough leads Nottingham Forest out at Wembley for the 1989 Littlewoods Cup final. Photograph: Bob Thomas/Getty Images
The last time I saw Brian Clough in the flesh – and sadly there were not enough of those occasions in a work capacity – he went through a routine that the football writers who used to cover his patch and spent their working lives in the forcefield of that personality will know well.

It was a December day, 2003, in Burton-on-Trent and what we did not know at the time was that the cancer was already inside his body. His knees were causing him discomfort and he looked older than I remembered. Yet there was still that overwhelming personality. “The eyes have it,” as Pat Murphy wrote in His Way. “Those hazel eyes may have become a shade rheumy, but they could still flash at the merest hint of weakness or a perceived character defect. Testing you, always probing, looking for vulnerable areas.”

There was the raised finger, if necessary, for added effect and a tongue, you just knew, that could shake your bones if you said the wrong thing. He wanted to know who I worked for, could I spell, did I have O-levels and, son, get yourself a haircut, and in those moments it would be a lie to say your heart is not racing. Your palms are sweaty. Your mouth is so dry it feels as if you have swallowed a cup of sawdust. And yet, there is also that rare appreciation of being in the presence of authentic greatness.

The 10th anniversary of his death is later this month and it pains me that the stories of his drinking cover the final acts of his career like a black drape. A man’s life has to be judged in the full and Clough’s legacy should not just be measured by his European Cups and all the other trophies. It was the charisma with which he did it, with his own set of rules, and the way he mesmerised everyone in his company, to the point that Clough in his pomp could probably have sauntered up to the gates of the White House and persuaded whoever was on the door to let him in.

If you missed those years you should dig out the clip of him verbally jousting with Muhammad Ali on that 1973 episode of The Big Match and wonder how many football managers would have the wit and presence to bring the greatest of them all to declare: “Clough, I’ve had enough!”

Search for that famous interview with John Motson when Clough, straight off the squash court, provides nine minutes of television gold, much of it at the expense of the man sitting opposite him. Or the footage of theCalendar Special on the night he was fired at Leeds United and his boyish joy when he realises he has got under the skin of Don Revie, doing his absolute best to avoid eye contact in the next seat. Clough, leaning in, even gets in a brilliantly condescending “good lad”. The 40th anniversary is on Friday and that programme, Goodbye Mr Clough, just gets better with age. “Leeds had to get someone who was slightly special,” Clough explains to his predecessor. “Now, I don’t want to sound blasé or conceited …”

Next weekend, the supporters of Nottingham Forest and Derby County will rise to their feet, in the 10th minute of their Championship match, to remember the man whose name now takes the 15-mile stretch of dual carriageway between the two cities. Many will pull on green sweatshirts for added effect and it would not surprise me if they plan something similar at Middlesbrough and Sunderland as well. Clough scored 251 goals in his 274 league appearances for the two clubs and was still reminding us about it on that wintry day when he arrived, unannounced, at one of his son Nigel’s press conferences and turned it into a lecture about how he was sick of hearing how nice Clough Jr was when, as the old man knew very well, every manager occasionally had to use his elbows.

Steve Bruce can testify to that, bearing in mind the story he tells of standing in a public lavatory, zip down, at one function, then becoming aware of a presence behind him, and suddenly taking a whack that knocked him into the urinal. The voice behind him was familiar: “Young man, that’s for kicking my Nigel as many times as you did. Now carry on …”

Matt Dickinson’s biography of Bobby Moore, The Man In Full, is published this week and contains another piece of vintage Clough, at his seductive best, sweet-talking West Ham’s skipper into wanting a transfer to Derby, then turning up at Upton Park demanding to see Ron Greenwood and pulling up a seat as if he owned the place. Greenwood was too diplomatic to protest as Clough left the room to get a drink. He did not come back for 20 minutes. “I’ve been looking around the place,” he cheerfully announced on his return. “Isn’t it lovely?”

That was one of the occasions Clough did not get his way and, many years later, he gave Moore a package. Inside was a tablecloth made of Nottingham lace and a handwritten note: “It was a tragedy we could never get together.”

The mind also goes back to a night in Miami before the World Cup and a leaving do for Mike Ingham, the BBC’s chief football correspondent. Ingham went through all the usual thank you messages but the story he lingered on went back to 1979, of how his father had knocked on Clough’s door in Quarndon one Sunday morning to inform him that his son was moving from the local radio station to London.

Clough used to be fiercely protective of anyone getting past his front gate but recognised the paternal instincts, invited him in and recorded a taped message in a This is Your Life-style cassette. It included a promise that he would always help this young commentator in his new role and Ingham recalled how he put it to the test eight years later after Forest had won at Arsenal in the FA Cup. This time it was Ingham knocking nervously at the dressing-room door. Clough had already turned downMatch of the Day and every other request. “I waited a few moments and then a finger snaked around the door to usher me in. He hadn’t forgotten.”

With Clough, everyone who has encountered him tends to have a story and, if they are told accurately, it is almost always with him disarming whoever else was involved, whether it be with charm or one of those devastating one-liners. Sir Alex Ferguson once described him as “the rudest man in football” (admittedly, a bit like Billy Connolly complaining that someone swears too much). The Manchester United manager once tried the same trick as Clough with West Ham and turned up at the City Ground trying to sign Stuart Pearce. Clough drew the curtains, put his feet on the desk and sent a message that he was watching the cricket.

It is just a pity his memory seems to have been tarnished by the acceleration in his drinking. Nobody could deny either that his reputation never fully recovered from Alan Sugar’s accusation, in a court affidavit, about brown envelopes at service stations. Clough did invite Sugar to say it without the benefit of privilege but the former Tottenham chairman waited until his 2010 autobiography and the suspicion stuck to Clough in the way fog clings to the river Trent. Perhaps that is why the campaign for him to be knighted posthumously never really got anywhere. But if football managers should ever qualify for knighthoods, the same applies to Clough as it does Bob Paisley: neither should have been overlooked if Ferguson’s could be rushed through after his first European Cup.

Would he have succeeded in modern-day football? I asked that question to Ian Edwards, the Forest correspondent back in the day on theNottingham Evening Post, and he was adamant Brian would have found a way. One thing for certain is that it would have a been a lot of fun finding out, in this era of super agents and far too many Sam Longson-types. Clough, one imagines, would also have had plenty to say about the England team, what has gone wrong and what needs to be put right. But then again, he always did.
 

...is later this month.

Article about him in today's Guardian (below) mentions that Forest and Derby supporters will mark the occasion in their match next week (presumably by singing his name). That reminded me of the day we sang his name at the City Ground as we relegated Forest. Should we do it again (sing his name, not relegate Forest) next weekend or is it nothing to do with us?

Brian Clough was charming, disarming and had his own set of rules
Ten years after his death he is remembered not just for his achievements but for the charisma with which he pulled them off
The genius and the demons of Brian Clough
Brian-Clough-011.jpg

Brian Clough leads Nottingham Forest out at Wembley for the 1989 Littlewoods Cup final. Photograph: Bob Thomas/Getty Images
The last time I saw Brian Clough in the flesh – and sadly there were not enough of those occasions in a work capacity – he went through a routine that the football writers who used to cover his patch and spent their working lives in the forcefield of that personality will know well.

It was a December day, 2003, in Burton-on-Trent and what we did not know at the time was that the cancer was already inside his body. His knees were causing him discomfort and he looked older than I remembered. Yet there was still that overwhelming personality. “The eyes have it,” as Pat Murphy wrote in His Way. “Those hazel eyes may have become a shade rheumy, but they could still flash at the merest hint of weakness or a perceived character defect. Testing you, always probing, looking for vulnerable areas.”

There was the raised finger, if necessary, for added effect and a tongue, you just knew, that could shake your bones if you said the wrong thing. He wanted to know who I worked for, could I spell, did I have O-levels and, son, get yourself a haircut, and in those moments it would be a lie to say your heart is not racing. Your palms are sweaty. Your mouth is so dry it feels as if you have swallowed a cup of sawdust. And yet, there is also that rare appreciation of being in the presence of authentic greatness.

The 10th anniversary of his death is later this month and it pains me that the stories of his drinking cover the final acts of his career like a black drape. A man’s life has to be judged in the full and Clough’s legacy should not just be measured by his European Cups and all the other trophies. It was the charisma with which he did it, with his own set of rules, and the way he mesmerised everyone in his company, to the point that Clough in his pomp could probably have sauntered up to the gates of the White House and persuaded whoever was on the door to let him in.

If you missed those years you should dig out the clip of him verbally jousting with Muhammad Ali on that 1973 episode of The Big Match and wonder how many football managers would have the wit and presence to bring the greatest of them all to declare: “Clough, I’ve had enough!”

Search for that famous interview with John Motson when Clough, straight off the squash court, provides nine minutes of television gold, much of it at the expense of the man sitting opposite him. Or the footage of theCalendar Special on the night he was fired at Leeds United and his boyish joy when he realises he has got under the skin of Don Revie, doing his absolute best to avoid eye contact in the next seat. Clough, leaning in, even gets in a brilliantly condescending “good lad”. The 40th anniversary is on Friday and that programme, Goodbye Mr Clough, just gets better with age. “Leeds had to get someone who was slightly special,” Clough explains to his predecessor. “Now, I don’t want to sound blasé or conceited …”

Next weekend, the supporters of Nottingham Forest and Derby County will rise to their feet, in the 10th minute of their Championship match, to remember the man whose name now takes the 15-mile stretch of dual carriageway between the two cities. Many will pull on green sweatshirts for added effect and it would not surprise me if they plan something similar at Middlesbrough and Sunderland as well. Clough scored 251 goals in his 274 league appearances for the two clubs and was still reminding us about it on that wintry day when he arrived, unannounced, at one of his son Nigel’s press conferences and turned it into a lecture about how he was sick of hearing how nice Clough Jr was when, as the old man knew very well, every manager occasionally had to use his elbows.

Steve Bruce can testify to that, bearing in mind the story he tells of standing in a public lavatory, zip down, at one function, then becoming aware of a presence behind him, and suddenly taking a whack that knocked him into the urinal. The voice behind him was familiar: “Young man, that’s for kicking my Nigel as many times as you did. Now carry on …”

Matt Dickinson’s biography of Bobby Moore, The Man In Full, is published this week and contains another piece of vintage Clough, at his seductive best, sweet-talking West Ham’s skipper into wanting a transfer to Derby, then turning up at Upton Park demanding to see Ron Greenwood and pulling up a seat as if he owned the place. Greenwood was too diplomatic to protest as Clough left the room to get a drink. He did not come back for 20 minutes. “I’ve been looking around the place,” he cheerfully announced on his return. “Isn’t it lovely?”

That was one of the occasions Clough did not get his way and, many years later, he gave Moore a package. Inside was a tablecloth made of Nottingham lace and a handwritten note: “It was a tragedy we could never get together.”

The mind also goes back to a night in Miami before the World Cup and a leaving do for Mike Ingham, the BBC’s chief football correspondent. Ingham went through all the usual thank you messages but the story he lingered on went back to 1979, of how his father had knocked on Clough’s door in Quarndon one Sunday morning to inform him that his son was moving from the local radio station to London.

Clough used to be fiercely protective of anyone getting past his front gate but recognised the paternal instincts, invited him in and recorded a taped message in a This is Your Life-style cassette. It included a promise that he would always help this young commentator in his new role and Ingham recalled how he put it to the test eight years later after Forest had won at Arsenal in the FA Cup. This time it was Ingham knocking nervously at the dressing-room door. Clough had already turned downMatch of the Day and every other request. “I waited a few moments and then a finger snaked around the door to usher me in. He hadn’t forgotten.”

With Clough, everyone who has encountered him tends to have a story and, if they are told accurately, it is almost always with him disarming whoever else was involved, whether it be with charm or one of those devastating one-liners. Sir Alex Ferguson once described him as “the rudest man in football” (admittedly, a bit like Billy Connolly complaining that someone swears too much). The Manchester United manager once tried the same trick as Clough with West Ham and turned up at the City Ground trying to sign Stuart Pearce. Clough drew the curtains, put his feet on the desk and sent a message that he was watching the cricket.

It is just a pity his memory seems to have been tarnished by the acceleration in his drinking. Nobody could deny either that his reputation never fully recovered from Alan Sugar’s accusation, in a court affidavit, about brown envelopes at service stations. Clough did invite Sugar to say it without the benefit of privilege but the former Tottenham chairman waited until his 2010 autobiography and the suspicion stuck to Clough in the way fog clings to the river Trent. Perhaps that is why the campaign for him to be knighted posthumously never really got anywhere. But if football managers should ever qualify for knighthoods, the same applies to Clough as it does Bob Paisley: neither should have been overlooked if Ferguson’s could be rushed through after his first European Cup.

Would he have succeeded in modern-day football? I asked that question to Ian Edwards, the Forest correspondent back in the day on theNottingham Evening Post, and he was adamant Brian would have found a way. One thing for certain is that it would have a been a lot of fun finding out, in this era of super agents and far too many Sam Longson-types. Clough, one imagines, would also have had plenty to say about the England team, what has gone wrong and what needs to be put right. But then again, he always did.

Lovely summary cooperblade, unique and as able as any manager before or since. Brian Clough was probably regarded as a thorn in the side of the footballing establishment, mainly because he could see through their self-serving attitudes that have still gripped those in power. To overlook Clough as manager of the national team was as much an indictment as anything I can think of, Clough was never one to tug his forelock in the direction of authority, and his track record was comparable to most managers I can think of. The fact that he created something special at previously unfashionable clubs is testimony to his legacy.

Clough's brief nightmare in charge at Leeds was a step too far, much of this based on the animosity that existed between Clough and Leed's former manager Don Revie. And then there is the death of the partnership he enjoyed with Peter Taylor, but from what I saw, it was Clough who was the guiding influence throughout his career. I imagine Taylor brought balance to a combustible partnership, but there was only ever going to be one number one in that relationship. No doubt he was difficult to work with, but I suppose having a low tolerance threshold would guarantee problems for most people. The facts are that Brian Clough represented something we'll likely not see again in this country. The closest I can think of in terms of managerial style is Jose Mourinho. The difference is that Mourinho has thrived in an era of multi-millionaire footballers and billionaire owners, where football's reach has become truly global, while Clough arrived at clubs who had no track record of success and turned them upside down, in Nottingham Forest's case winning the European Cup twice. A remarkable football man.
 
I was on the same flight as him to Majorca, in the May before he died. He was quite frail but still managed to give my wife a hard stare as we lightly "nudged" his broadsheet newspaper on the plane, that was taking over half of the aisle :)
 
“In this business you’ve got to be a dictator or you haven’t a chance,” Brian Clough remarked on his appointment as Hartlepools United manager in 1965
 
They don't make em like Brian anymore.

Mores the pity.

Legend.

UTB
 
cooperblade Thanks for posting that. He's one of my all time football heroes, and I particularly like that the journalist points out the ludicrous sycophancy within football that means we have to refer to "Sir" Alex Ferguson and that Brian Clough and Bob Paisley, whose achievements were easily the equal of Ferguson's, got no such recognition.

I also cherish Roy Keane's analysis: "Best manager I ever played for? Brian Clough. Without a doubt."

"I wouldn't say I was the best manager in the world, but I was in the top one."

Rest in peace, Mr. Clough.
 
Probably the best manager England never had and a truly remarkable record when you consider what he had to work with at Forest and Derby. Like all geniuses he was flawed however and, though he did apologise much later afterwards, his comments after the Hillsborough disaster caused great offence on Merseyside and tarnish my memory of him for me I am afraid. I doubt very much that there will be a similar tribute to him at Liverpool.
 
May 1st, 1993. Forest 0-2 Blades and Cloughie's last home game (played Ipswich away one week later). It was also the inaugural season of the Premier League.

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Brian Clough was a fascinating and unique person as well as a football manager. I have read quite a few books about him and the latest one was the best.

I work in Nottingham with a lot of Forest and Derby fans any all of those who are over a certian ages go misty eyed at the mention of his name and it is telling that every single one of those have a different story about him.
 
Of course we should join in. We gave him a very special salute that day in Nottingham (A much younger me is clearly seen on the video, if anyone has it!). Not only that, the great man's son is now one of us.

No-one else could have brought the title to two unsung East Midlands clubs. A truly unique man. Sing his name with pride (and, Cyprus Blade, bollocks to Liverpool).
 
I definitely think we should join in but so should every club in the country, apart from Leeds. Dirty Leeds.
 
In all honesty every club in the country should stand and applaud the greatest manager never to manage England but win trophies including two European cups with a unfashionable and unlike Liverpool, man ure etc with mostly unrecognised players.
A true BRITISH footballing legend, a goal scorer probably unsurpassed to this day, and a guy that his son has hopefully learned a lot from.
As for the blades, if only for the respect we have for his son we should mark his passing.
 

Enjoyed reading that Coops.

Bit of a name drop but a moment that i'll always remember; met Mr Clough when I was 15. Got dragged out of school early one afternoon to play reserve team football against Forest. Was sub and Clough was in the tunnel as we warmed up. He stood right in front of me as I ran back to the changing rooms before the start of the game and blocked my way. He asked my name, how old I was, if it was my debut, where would I be playing if I went on and so on.

Told me he'd be watching very closely, but that I should relax and enjoy playing against some 'good players'. Gave me a pat on the back and said I better get a move on or I'll miss the team talk.

Most would have just let you run on past, but he showed what felt like genuine interest.
 
Enjoyed reading that Coops.

Bit of a name drop but a moment that i'll always remember; met Mr Clough when I was 15. Got dragged out of school early one afternoon to play reserve team football against Forest. Was sub and Clough was in the tunnel as we warmed up. He stood right in front of me as I ran back to the changing rooms before the start of the game and blocked my way. He asked my name, how old I was, if it was my debut, where would I be playing if I went on and so on.

Told me he'd be watching very closely, but that I should relax and enjoy playing against some 'good players'. Gave me a pat on the back and said I better get a move on or I'll miss the team talk.

Most would have just let you run on past, but he showed what felt like genuine interest.

I bet the great man was surprised to learn that your name was Dog Blade!
:)

Seriously, what reserve team were you playing for at the age of 15? That's impressive.
 
I bet the great man was surprised to learn that your name was Dog Blade!
:)

Seriously, what reserve team were you playing for at the age of 15? That's impressive.

Think he made me nervous so I just barked at him :)

Grew a bit too quick, also made the mistake of signing for the wrong team. Have to leave that one there Pinchy (bows head in shame).
 
I always remember in the early 70's at the baseball ground Sir Brian was trying to do a TV interview or it could have been a manager of the month presentation in front of the players tunnel, the trouble was around 500 -1000 Unitedites were in the ground early and on the Pop side making a lot of noise singing songs that were definitely not fit to be heard on Football Focus or MOTD and generally goading and fighting with the Police. After a few minutes Brian dressed in his best suit ran over and jumped in with the Unitedites marching into the centre of the mob, well all the bollocks stopped and it all went quiet as Brian asked everyone for five minutes quiet while he did the TV interview. Strangely there was hardly a sound until the TV work was done and Brian turned to the crowd and waved a thank you.
 
I always remember in the early 70's at the baseball ground Sir Brian was trying to do a TV interview or it could have been a manager of the month presentation in front of the players tunnel, the trouble was around 500 -1000 Unitedites were in the ground early and on the Pop side making a lot of noise singing songs that were definitely not fit to be heard on Football Focus or MOTD and generally goading and fighting with the Police. After a few minutes Brian dressed in his best suit ran over and jumped in with the Unitedites marching into the centre of the mob, well all the bollocks stopped and it all went quiet as Brian asked everyone for five minutes quiet while he did the TV interview. Strangely there was hardly a sound until the TV work was done and Brian turned to the crowd and waved a thank you.
Interesting..... There were no Derby v Blades matches at Baseball ground that were shown on MOTD but there were 3 that were shown on ITV.

Start from 4.07 to 4.53for the 3-0 FA Cup defeat in January 1970


3-0 defeat in November 1971


2-1 defeat in October 1972. Tom McAlister saved 2 penalties
 
Interesting..... There were no Derby v Blades matches at Baseball ground that were shown on MOTD but there were 3 that were shown on ITV.

Start from 4.07 to 4.53for the 3-0 FA Cup defeat in January 1970


3-0 defeat in November 1971


2-1 defeat in October 1972. Tom McAlister saved 2 penalties


I went to all of them so it could have been at any one of those games they all blur in one at my age and drink doesn't help with the memories LMAO
 
May 1st, 1993. Forest 0-2 Blades and Cloughie's last home game (played Ipswich away one week later). It was also the inaugural season of the Premier League.

View attachment 9317
A time when a football club, any football club, could mix it without having to have a wage bill that would service third world debt.
 
I went to all of them so it could have been at any one of those games they all blur in one at my age and drink doesn't help with the memories LMAO
Brian Clough was always on ITV in 1972 and 1973 (he seemed to have a good relationship with them and ITV were always happy to get quotes from him) so I think it would be on the day of the match in October 1972 when as you said Clough did something unusual to quieten away fans! I am amused at the thought of him surprising our fans!
 
Funny how this is relevant to sufc but our next opponents winning 4-0 isnt
 
I went to all of them so it could have been at any one of those games they all blur in one at my age and drink doesn't help with the memories LMAO
Been in touch with my Uncle Ronnie about this. He said he remembered being told what Brain Clough did as he wasnt in the ground at the time, people were talking about it when he came in. I asked if he remembered which match it was, his reply was "Definitely wasn't the 1970 one,think it could have the 71 game. A mate of mine received the first ever £100 fine for football violence for fighting with the police at Derby, at either that game or the game in 72"
 

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