"and let me play among the stars"
any moment now. on the right. "let me see what spring is like"
". on jupiter and mars"
we've something else to do first. won't take long.
not quite everything. not won the european cup.
daunted? not at all, austin. looking forward to it.
yes, pete's at brighton now. he had the opportunity to come with me, but brighton was his choice. leeds was mine.
i have.
and i was right.
goodness, it's going to take me half an hour to explain all those words for a start.
they've been champions but they've not been good champions in the sense of wearing the crown well. they've not been loved. but then that's hardly surprising, given the type of operation there's been in place there.
football clubs are like families, footballers are sensitive people. i'd like to bring a little warmth into the set-up.
i am.
i would accept and expect a strangeness, initially, it's perfectly normal. but it won't be long before they realise i'm a fair man. a kind man. and maybe under me they can experience what it's like to be in a happy family, after all.
they wouldn't have played football that way if they were happy.
morning lads! lovely yorkshire weather! i tell you makes me want to jump on a plane right back to majorca!
who? johnny giles?
great. here's to happy fucking families.
any chance of a cup of tea, duck?
who's that?
for me? why?
let them wait. now, how about that cup of tea?
not mine. i didn't put it there, did i?
let's get rid of it then, shall we? chairs, too. the whole bloody lot. think it would be best if there were nothing of his left here.
what's your name, pet?
in which case, no offence duck, but there's nothing i want typed on paper from you other than your resignation.
what? no one going to offer me a drink? like an undertakers in here.
do what?
he had it coming. he shouldn't have done that piece in the mirror should he? saying he thought i was a daft choice.
and i'm entitled to mine.
thank you. i'm the best old one, too.
of course it's just about me and don. always has been. but instead of putting frowns on your foreheads, o ye elders of leeds, in your blazers and brass fucking buttons, it should put big white colgate smiles on your big white faces, because it means i won't sleep and won't eat until i take whatever that man's achieved and beaten it -- beaten it so i never have to hear the name "don fucking revie" again -- beat it so the only name anyone sings in their yorkshire ale houses, raising their stinking jars to their stinking mouths, is brian clough. brian clough uber fucking alles. understand?
c'mon, pete!
here we go. that's us!
leeds!
don revie's leeds! top of division one! here we bloody come!
happy days, sir. happy days.
put the fish and chips in the bin. tonight's on uncle sam. we're going posh. chicken fucking bhuna in town. general excitement. everyone starts putting on their coats.
right, you two, i want billy bremner and johnny giles to be able to read
spick and span, understand? wash these walls down. give the floors a proper polish.
i want it perfect. like a fucking carpet. we've got proper footballers coming. who know how to keep the ball on the deck.
you know he'll be making a file on us. a dossier.
don revie. prepares a file on every game. leaves nothing to chance. knows every opponents formations. strategies. everything.
we grew up just a few streets apart, you know. in middlesborough, close to ayrsome park. he'll have known my street, valley road - probably bought sweets from garnetts factory, where my dad worked.
the best manager in the country, don revie. played for sunderland, like me, as a centre-forward, like me, and england, like me.
peas in a pod, me and don. two peas in a fucking pod.
what are they doing?
welcome to derby, don. pleasure to meet you. i'm brian clough.
what? he didn't fucking touch him! ref! he dived! he fucking dived!
didn't say good-bye. or pay me the respect of staying for a drink. couldn't wait to get away.
just going to have to beat them, pete. beat him it's the last thing i do.
we need someone with a good head. experience.
first thing monday morning, i want you to go and find me that player. a wise head.
right. better go and make myself known. clough removes his jacket. jimmy gordon and clough's sons watch as he walks out onto the training pitch.
all right, gentlemen, gather around, please.
but you do, though, "bites yer legs".
not with me as manager. do that on my watch, you'll be fined and stuck in the reserves. things are going to be a little different around here. without don. might feel a little strange at first. might pinch a little. like a new pair of shoes. but if you want your grandchildren to remember you for being something other than the dirty buggers you all were, if you want to be loved as real champions, worthy champions, you're going to have to work. and improve. and change. now let's start off by playing some seven-a-sides. players stare at one another. bristling. disbelieving looks.
well, i'm not don. and from now on i never want to hear that man's name again. ever. next player who mentions it, or what he did or didn't bloody do in the good ol' days, will spend a week cleaning my boots. seven-a-side. keep it nice and clean, and sensible. no fifty-fifty's. clough sees that one side is a man short.
what about the petrol?
good lad.
stand back.
fine thank you, mr. cussins.
but it might be pete.
but it might be important. c'mon, eat your carrots. for your mother.
dave mackay?!? he's a hundred and fucking fifty.
not young? he's old as fucking time!
you sure?
all right, i'll talk to longson in the morning.
well, what did you fucking call me for then?
meaning he hasn't signed.
where would we play him?
we'll play him as a sweeper, then.
won't have to run about too much. and what's all this i hear about a tie shop?
fucking tie shop?
no one's going to be wearing fucking ties in twenty years time.
you know it's illegal. to sign someone on the sabbath.
what? and let hearts in again in the morning? fuck off. i'm not leaving here without a signature. clough and taylor walk up the garden path.
good job we're both wearing ties.
my name's brian clough, and i once had the pleasure of playing for england against you in an under-23 match.
come to talk to you about the promised land, dave. land of milk and honey. it's a little place up the m1 called derby. may we come in?
you don't look happy, uncle sam.
because you'd have said `no'.
pete reckons he's good for three more years.
trust me, mr. chairman. it's money well spent.
that'd be messrs. mcgovern and o'hare.
my old stomping grounds. hartlepools and sunderland. very reasonable, too.
you're a genius, pete. bloody genius. how did you see it?
it's beautiful. a thing of fucking beauty!! clough grabs taylor's head, kisses him. over this: we fade in the roar from the crowd.
"love and marriage, love and marriage, it's an institute you can't disparage"
you enjoy it, don. go home, put your feet up and fucking enjoy it. there's a good lad. because we'll be in the first division next season. and we're going to have you!
right, the team for today is: harvey in goal, reaney, cherry, bremner, mcqueen, hunter, lorimer, clarke, jordan, giles, gray.
of course, it goes without saying i'd like you to continue as club captain.
for fuck's sake.
because losing wasn't enough, was it? you only had to be the first englishman to be sent off at wembley.
there i am making a big song and dance to the media about our new approach. our new attitude. our new ethics. and you turn the place into fucking verdun. my captain.
well he's not fucking here now, is he?
right, last time there was a whole division between you and leeds. not now. not today. today we're here as second division champions, and equals with leeds. john mcgovern and billy bremner, equals. kevin hector and johnny giles, equals. alan hinton and peter lorimer, john o'hare and paul madely. equals. now, c'mon, chins up. chests out. we can take this fucking lot.
but he's right. five nothing. they made us look like fools today. and what was john o'hare doing? letting madeley bully him like that.
he was all over the place. like the wandering jew. giving the ball to anyone but his own. we need a ball player, a natural in midfield. who'll hold onto it. keep possession. we're giving it away too easily.
oooh, now you're talking. lovely pair of feet.
well, go on then. sign him.
bollocks to that. i've not brought us all the way to the first division just to sit there mid-table, and be cannon fodder for sides like leeds. sign the man.
i'll handle bloody longson.
correction, the almighty colin todd. the best technical footballer in the country.
that's the way things are going, uncle sam. football's all about money now.
had no choice. windows opened up. you were in the bloody west indies.
messrs. gemmell and hennessy.
let me ask you a question, uncle sam. what did you come into football for?
well, i'm sure we all admire your loyalty.
but the way i see it, there's no point being in this game unless you want to beat the best, and be the best, and that's all the people of derby want. to see their team on top of the tree, derby, derby uber alles, and if it's really their interest you have at heart, not just impressing your friends in the director's box, i suggest you keep your eyes on your road haulage business, keep your opinions to yourself and start signing some fucking cheques, there's a good lad. leave the running of this football club to the professionals.
see they've driven all the way into the car park this time.
you know what your job is today?
good lad. and enjoy it. you deserve to. you've worked hard this week.
good lad. he bullies you, you bully him back. and near post for the corners we worked on.
understand what i want from you today, son?
go on, let's hear it.
there, how could you forget that? now come on.  up and at `em!
congratulations, lads! beautiful! that was as perfect a half of terrible football as i've ever seen. the plan you've obviously been hatching to get me the sack has worked a treat, so you deserve a little celebration.
then why the fuck did you give it to their most dangerous player, johnny fucking giles?
you want me to get the sack, mr o'hare?
that open goal? looked like a deliberate fucking miss to me. a miss to get your manager the sack.
no what?
the amount of bloody money i paid for you, i must have been out of my mind. you can't even keep on your feet.
you've all done a terrific job of getting me the sack. so i'm not letting you out of here for the second half, until you've finished the bottle.
can't i? just you fucking watch me!!
and?
who scored?
they were just nervous. shitting themselves. you could tell.
derby county winning the championship is a victory for decency, for honesty and for football. because they don't pull shirts, or nudge people in the back in the box.
don revie? ooooh. don't mention that name to me.
i hate to mention him why? because he's a very talented man and i don't like him.
and er.  it makes the game go round. half the country don't like a labour government. it just happens that the other half do.
because i can't tell you. it's impossible. we'd get closed down, david.
by your profession, john, yeah.
and a whole lot of it wrong.
good lad. thank you for the compliment. it's very, very difficult when you get asked a question like that.
suprised, david. but more than surprised, delighted. it's nice isn't it. for the good guys to win for once.
beating leeds united, obviously. always a particular pleasure that.
niggled me, david, it's absolutely made me blazing. to be honest, i know what i want to achieve, i know what the people of derby want us to achieve, but when you've got a chairman not wanting to put his hand in his pocket.
i say, "how do you think it should be done?" we talk about it for twenty minutes, then we decide i was right.
no, i want to fight him!
it was.
thank you.
what? september 30th? that's more than a month? thats six bloody weeks??
c'mon, double the fine. treble it. anything. don't suspend him for that long. he's my captain. the best player i've got.
i suppose you've heard!
suspended for eleven bloody games!!
plus mike jones and eddie gray are injured.
what do i do, pete? i need new players. tell me who to buy.
help me. c'mon, we'll sort this place out together. you and me. turn it around.
mcgovern and o'hare. i've spoken to them on the phone. they want to come and play for me.
cheeky sod! they're not worth a penny more than seventy.
give you a hundred grand.
all right. done.
loving it. different class, leeds. proper club. big club.
hey, it's `boss' to you.
i bought you when you were crocked, you fat bastard. and gave you the two best years of your career. it will always be `boss' to you.
exorcise the bloody place. get rid of me.
fucking scot.
what?
who's duncan mackenzie?
is that duncan mackenzie?
now listen to me. you go get your coat and your skates on because you're coming to meet me at the victoria hotel in sheffield in half and hour. and duncan?
bring a bloody pen, because you're signing for leeds united today.
congratulations, lads!! my first signings for leeds. my leeds united. playing with flair and winning with honour. winning the `right' way. and winning the admiration of fans all over europe because.
because of the way we play!!!
and you, mr. mackenzie, you scored twenty-eight goals last season. you'll score me twenty-nine goals this.
do you know how many goals i scored before i got injured?
two hundred and fifty-one.
have a guess. go on.
two hundred and seventy-four! now what do you think about that?
`course it's a bloody record.
need to know what they say about me. who's making trouble. who the ringleaders are.
want you to help me clear this place out. make it my team, understand. our team. clean it up and clear it out once and for all.
now c'mon, drink up. we're off to meet the press.
and duncan?
it's "boss" from now on. there's a good lad.
duncan mackenzie scored twenty-eight goals last season. john o'hare and john mcgovern are both internationals.
and one's injured and the other's fucking suspended.
i haven't forgotten.
bollocks to mr. revie! you're professional footballers. stop stan bowles! that's all you need to know about qpr. and i don't have to justify myself to you. not how or when i conduct training. not who i buy or pick to play.
sorry, lads.
you must be loving this. loving every minute.
watching it all fall apart. it's brian clough.
they won't play for me. your boys. your bastard sons. and never will.
they're loyal to you. thought you'd like to know that. loyal to big daddy don.
what's up, uncle sam? bit below stairs for you here, isn't it? taken a wrong turn somewhere?
of course it's our strongest side. it's leeds united. would you prefer i sent out the apprentices?
what?
a weaker side? am i hearing right? is the chairman of this football club seriously asking his manager to lose?
against their biggest rivals?
i'm going to pretend i didn't hear a word of this.
my employer?
that's right. you were chairman of derby county before i came here. i remember that. when derby county were at the fucking foot of the second division, when nobody had heard of them for twenty years and nobody had heard of sam bloody longson ever. full stop. and that's where you'd still fucking be if it wasn't for me; at the foot of the bloody second division, where nobody remembered you and nobody had heard of you. there would be no derby county without me, no league title, no champions of england; not without brian clough.
you're a bloody disgrace! you should be in the book for that, cherry!
disappointed? not a bit. my players were heroic out there tonight. effectively we were playing the italian champions with a reserve team. that many of our first team are injured.
it's what happens if you have a chairman who authorizes a multi- million pound refurbishment of the director's box and hospitality suites before he pays for a proper squad. suppose it depends on your priorities. players or prawn sandwiches? i know which i'd prefer. i know which honest, working class derby supporters would prefer, too.
who else?
who else?
who else?
what are they saying? this falls to mackenzie, who knocks back his drink. trembling hands. dutch courage.
under who?
that he's the boss? the guvnor? the capi di tutti fucking capi?
the bingo?
carpet bloody bowls?
what's all this?
nice to meet you, pet. now, you can take your lovely sports cars, and put `em back on your transporter.
you'll have complimentary cars when you deserve a compliment. right now you don't deserve a complimentary bicycle between you.
i couldn't stand it for another night.
half five.
forgotten what a woman smells like.
you still awake? you should be asleep.
a joke? all right. there's this bloke walking about in london, when all of a sudden, the city gets hit by a russian `a' bomb. booooooooom.
look, mr. cussins, i know it's not been the best of starts, but in my defence, there are a couple of things i'd like to say.
what?
it's. what i used to drive at derby. yes.
no.
is that it, then?
heart attack, eh?
we have. longson's tried to put a gagging order on me, of course. "any further utterances in public or appearances in the media by brian clough will be met with instant dismissal."
would you like to hear my contrite reply?
what do you think?
no. nor do i. don't worry, they'll never let us. we just won them the championship. but it will strengthen our position and force them to get rid of longson.
i can't do it, pete. i can't work with my hands tied, a chairman telling me what i can or cannot do.
don't be daft. we won the league, pete. we're top dogs in derby now. and longson can't stand it. that's the problem.
what are you doing? you weren't supposed to accept our resignations.
i only did because of him! you can't get rid of us. it'd be a disaster for the club. for the whole of derby.
you can't do this! it's madness!
we're going to create a footballing dynasty here. derby could be one of the greats alongside united, liverpool, leeds.
does none of you have the guts to stop this?
what? dave mackay?
i signed that fat fuck - saved his professional life. gave him two more years as a player, as my captain. dave mackay? he wouldn't fucking dare!
it's not over yet, pete. the lawyers are issuing a writ tomorrow. against longson. the players are calling a meeting. there's talk of them coming out on strike. there's protest marches scheduled for this week-end.
who's mike bamber??
you bastard.
as you wish.
the last two words of every story ever written is what's going on. "the fucking end."
i'm about to go home and work out how much i want in severance pay. don't worry, i'll make sure your job is safe.
then i suggest you go home and do the same.
come on.
"oh, i don't like to be beside the seaside"
brighton and hove albion? have you seen where they are? bottom of the third division.
we cared about hartlepools and derby. we're from the north, pete. what do we care about brighton? bloody southerners. look where we are. we're almost in france.
you can't manage a team that's not your own people. not what you know. anyway the protest movement in derby is still in full flow. we could still get our jobs back.
what about proper clubs? like manchester united? or spurs? or england, now alf's gone. wouldn't you fancy that?
it's only been a couple of weeks.
but those are first division wages.
are you sure you can afford it?
cheeky sod.
two weeks. somewhere hot. on you.
who's looking?
then what are you doing here, keith? because from what i'm reading in my paper, and from what i hear on the jungle drums, you've got a bit of a problem at home with your manager flirting with the england job.
`ey, it says it right here.
it's the top flight, pete. the first division.
we can pay back the money. bollocks to bloody brighton. i'd go mad. we'd all go mad down there.
a year? it'd be death. death for us all.
oh, do me a favour.
he offered us a job. and now someone else has offered us a better one. and not just anyone. the best team in the country. c'mon, pete, you know what that means.  it'd be the charity shield at wembley in a months time. the european cup after.
what? and you'd sooner fester down there? with all those fucking tories? in that blue-rinse retirement home by the sea?
fucking midgets.
and then what? bottle again as soon as it comes to the big time. that's always been the trouble with you, pete. no ambition.
you knock it, but it's done you proud over the years. my "ambition". without me - you'd still be stuck in burton albion. on the arse of the footballing earth.
i'm nothing? i'm nothing?? don't make me laugh? so what does that make you, taylor? something?? you're half of nothing!! nothing's parasite! a big fat pilot fish that feeds on nothing!! a bloody nobody!! the forgotten man!! history's fucking afterthought!!
what's not working? i haven't been here five minutes, so how can anything be working yet?
so what do you want to do about it?
fine. it'll cost you twenty-five grand.
plus three and a half grand for jimmy gordon. and an agreement that leeds united will pay both our income taxes for the next three years.
no, what's criminal, mr. cussins, is the way you as chairman asked me to leave the room like that in front of the players. your manager. going behind my back like that.
and you can throw in the merc and all.
might be a bit flash for a man out of a job, but the truth is, i've grown to like it.
brian clough. brian howard clough.
good lad.
the sad thing is, it won't work. you can't change a manager like a pair of socks. it'll happen once, to me - and never again.
no problem.
what's this? we expecting guests?
obviously, austin, my initial reaction is one of shock at finding myself here with revie.
but in answer to your question, six weeks is hardly a long time to be given a chance in any job. i would hope revie would get a lot longer time in his.
thank you.
how did i do that, don?
well, you were dirty, don!
and before that, you also topped all the disciplinary charts. you should have been docked points and sent down to the second division.
and i was right.
because i thought it was the best job in the country.
i was taking over the league champions.
and i fancied winning the league, and winning europe, and doing it better than you.
but that's the only hope i've got.
well, i can only lose three.
and still play attractive, clean football. without cheating!
well, we're very different people, don and i. we have different styles. in football and in life. i'm a warm man. an idealist. i do believe in faeries, and that is my outlook. don is different. there's a hardness to him. a hardness. maybe he's not even aware of it. but he's a cold person.
and that lack of warmth. that coldness was there. permeated the club when i arrived.
they would never have let me.
well are you surprised? what else was i going to do?? after what you did.
c'mon, don. you know exactly.
you shook peter taylor's hand, and my trainer, jimmy gordon's.
no, you saw me don. but considered me beneath you. looked down on me. and dismissed me. just like you did every other club and every other manager in the country.
"didn't know who i was!" pull the other one.
well, you certainly know it now.
well, let's see where we are in a year's time, donald revie.
let's see where we both are in five!
boys? do you think your old man is a fool? simon. nigel no.
you're wrong. he bloody is.
me, and all.
they have.
forty-four days.
don't make this difficult for me, pete. you know why i'm here. and i won't bloody grovel.
i apologize for being a twat.
unreservedly.
because i can't do it without you.
i'm nothing without you.
fuck off!
i love you, y'know.
so? would you sooner go through it all without me?
	109:
15aa 24 con tinue d: 24
45aa 82 con tinue d: 82
45ab 82 con tinue d: 82
83aaa 138 con tinue d: 138 tay lor i can't do it. i gave brighton my word.
90aa 144 con tinue d: 144