The following article appeared in the programme for Racing Club Warwick v Bridgnorth Town on 14th December 2004.
Sadly we saw the passing of Brian Clough last month. Now I’m no Forest (or Derby) fan but, in common with almost all lovers of football played on the grass, I viewed his passing with great sadness – truly the end of an era. Brian. Above all, was a thoroughly decent man. His values, honed in the North of England in the 1930’s and 40’s, were of a bygone age. His family are a credit to himself and his wife Barbara. His son Nigel is the epitome of all that is decent about the game at Burton Albion.
Now I am too young (yes really) to remember Clough’s playing days. His playing record is remarkable: 267 goals in 296 games for Middlesbrough and Sunderland over just 10 seasons between 1955 and 1964. Can you name many strikers with a better record in any era? Clough also played twice for the full England side in an era where caps were not given away like confetti and not even one substitution was allowed (let alone 11!). Clough’s playing career was tragically cut short on Boxing Day 1962 due to a cruciate ligament injury similar to the one that Paul Gascoigne suffered against Clough’s Nottingham Forest in the 1991 FA Cup Final. In those days there was no surgical solution and so his career was effectively over at the ripe old age of 29.
Brian Clough’s management career started at unfashionable Hartlepools (who decided to drop that final “s” from the monkey-hangers name?) in 1965 where, amongst other things, he learned to drive the team coach and left the club on a much sounder footing (finishing 8th in Division 4) when he departed with Peter Taylor for another unfashionable club: Derby County. The achievement in bringing the League Championship to the Baseball Ground should not be underestimated – try to imagine Derby doing the same today and you can get an idea of the scale of it. Clough’s departure from Derby was the stuff the tabloid editors dream of: bedlam! Boardroom turmoil, players threatening to go awol, public meetings and all sorts of protests. But go Clough and Taylor did, stopping off at Brighton & Hove and then Leeds United before alighting at Nottingham Forest in 1975. If anything the scale of achievement at Forest was even greater! Promoted from Division 2 in 1977 they followed up with the League Championship the following season (try to imagine that nowadays!). All-conquering Forest then marched on Europe and brought home the European Cup itself in both 1979 and 1980 (even moneybags United have never even come close to doing that!).
Testament to Clough, the manager, was the behaviour of his teams on and off the field of play. Respect for the referee was a cornerstone of a Clough team. How often these days do we see players and dugouts alike questioning decisions or giving the official outright abuse? Clough would have none of it and, as such, his teams became a pleasure for referees to officiate. There is a heavily subscribed-to theory around today that it is necessary to put “pressure” on the officials by claiming all decisions in your favour and then complaining when it doesn’t go your way. Apparently, so the theory goes, the officials will eventually give you the benefit of a subsequent decision to even things up. It’s hard to know whether this tactic is effective but we do seem to see it almost all the time (except from the Racing Club bench of course!). Can anyone really argue that Clough’s “tactic” in this respect cost his side any important decisions? I reckon that the referees were probably more disposed to give Clough’s boys the benefit of the doubt. I would love to see Racing Club adopt the 100% respect for officials approach from here on – the red cards are rather frustrating aren’t they boys?
Of course, Clough was no angel. And he was no politician either, although ironically he was pestered by the Labour Party to represent them on more than one occasion! Clough was undoubtedly arrogant and full of himself. For many people this made Clough a pain in the backside. Clough’s manner never endeared him to the blazers at the FA who withheld the coveted England manager’s job from him. However, more discerning and, dare I say, intelligent people are able to see that past the brash exterior to see the man, usually with his tongue planted firmly in his cheek! Apparently one night Barbara said to Brian “God, your feet are cold”. He replied “You can call me Brian in bed, dear”! Rest in Peace Brian!
Keep the faith!
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