qqn de rawk a recopié une partie de l'autobiographie de george best.
qqn peut traduire?c'est franchement un très bon truc à lire.
suis moooooooort de rire.j'en peux plus.je crois que je vais pisser de rire.

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Courtesy of Lady Lala on Rawk who typed out the following passage from George Best's autobiography:

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Apart from the derby matches against Manchester City the really important game of the season for me was against Liverpool. I was always one for the big occasion and they didn't come much bigger in the domestic football calendar than United against Liverpool.

For a start, you had two of the greatest post-war managers of British football pitting their wits against each other. Matt Busby and Bill Shankly both achieved a rare status reserved for the truly great by becoming legends in their own time. They were both great motivators and had that rarest of ability to spot talent. It was Shankly who spotted the potential of Ray Clemence and Kevin Keegan when they were playing Fourth Division football with Scunthorpe United. It was Matt Busby who thrust me into the United first team just after my seventeenth birthday and who signed a scrawny kid with terrible eyesight called Norbert Stiles.

It was a clash of the Titans every time the two clubs met. At United we could boast a team bristling with internationals. Likewise Liverpool. In the mid-sixties their players were household names: Ian St John, Chris Lawler, Ron Yeats, Ian Callaghan, Peter Thompson, Tony Hateley and Roger Hunt, who was a member of England's World Cup-winning team of 1966. The atmosphere when the teams met was electric. When the Liverpool Kop sang 'You'll Never Walk Alone', I'd look up from the pitch and see them swaying in time to their singing, which had the force and emotion of a massed cathedral choir.

Bill Shankly, like Matt Busby, was a canny Scot who was never lost for words. I liked him a great deal and I know he liked me. I respected his knowledge of the game and loved his keen wit, which was as sharp as legend has it. It was Shanks who, on hearing Denis Law remark that he enjoyed coming to Anfield because 'you always get a lovely cup of tea', turned to Denis and said, 'Aye, Denis son, but that's all you'll get when you come here. A cup of tea!'

After a game against Liverpool at Old Trafford in 1965, Shanks asked how I was coping with life. I was only nineteen at the time. I said things were fine with First Division football, but I was unsure about how to handle the constant media attention.

'Fame, son,' Shanks told me, 'is the price you pay for doing your job well.'

A few years later I was to understand the full implications of his words. It seemed every time I met Shanks he would come out with at least one piece of worldly wisdom or humour. When I was about to renegotiate a contract at Old Trafford and intimated that I would be looking for a considerable rise in basic pay, Shanks gave me a long hard look. 'George, son, some advice,' he said. 'Don't be too demanding, because it's a sad fact of life that genius is born and not paid.'

He went on to tell me the story of the Liverpool full back Gerry Byrne, who, having won a place in the England team, felt he was worth considerably more than his new contract was offering. However, the way Shanks saw it, Gerry was paid for what he did for Liverpool. The fact that he had made the England team had nothing to do with what he was paid at Anfield and therefore it did not merit a rise in his wages. Gerry argued that international status was proof he had become a better player with his club.

'I may be wrong on other points, boss,' Gerry said, pressing his point. 'But I am right on this one, aren't I?'

'So what if you are?' Shanks told him. 'Even a broken clock is right twice in a day.'

Following a game against Southampton at Anfield, a young reporter from the Southern Evening Echo collared Shanks to ask him what he thought about a young Southampton winger called Mick Channon. Shanks was polite and told the reporter he thought the young Channon was a very good winger indeed.

'Would you say he's as good a player as Stan Matthews?' the reporter asked.

'Oh, aye,' Shankly said earnestly. 'As a player he's definitely on par with Stan Matthews.'

The reporter thanked Shanks for his time and turned away, scribbling the quote into his notebook. Suddenly, Shanks reached out and caught the young man by the arm. 'This Channon is as good a player as Stan Matthews,' he said, 'but what you have to remember is that Stan is sixty-five now.'

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In 1967, we arrived at Anfield to play Liverpool and as I glanced out of the window of the coach I saw Bill Shankly standing at the main entrance. I was the first player to alight from the coach and when I reached the entrance Bill shook my hand warmly. 'Good to see you again, George,' he said. 'You're looking well, son.'

This was unusual for him, and knowing Shanks to be a wily old fox, I decided to hang around to try to find out what he was up to. As each of the United players entered Anfield, Shanks shook his hand, welcomed him and told him how good he looked. Eventually, Bobby Charlton, a born worrier, came up to Shanks.

'Bobby, son. Good to see you,' Shanks said, shaking his hand. 'But by God, if ever there was a man who looked ill, it's you, Bobby!'

Bobby's face went as colourless as an icicle. 'Ill? I look ill?' he repeated, running the fingers of his right hand over his forehead and down his right cheek. He was visibly shaken,

'Aye, Bobby, son. You look like you're sickening for something. If I were you I'd see a doctor as soon as you set foot back in Manchester.' Shanks patted Bobby on the back and took off down the corridor, leaving him trembling in the foyer.

In the dressing room, Bobby was conspicious by his absence and, ominously, there was a delay in announcing the team. We sat around kicking our heels, no one daring to get changed in case Matt Busby had a tactical plan which meant leaving one of us out. The thought of getting changed only to be told to put your clothes back on because you're not in the team is a player's nightmare.

Eventually Matt Busby entered the dressing room with Jimmy Murphy and told us they had reshuffled the team which had beaten West Ham the previous week. Bobby Charlton was unavailable. He'd suddenly been taken ill.
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The following season we were back at Anfield and Shanks was up to his old tricks. As the United party made their way down the corridor to the away changing room, he appeared from his office. 'Guess what, boys?' he said, brandishing a little orange ticket. 'I've had a go on the tickets that give the time when the away team will score. And it says here, in a fortnight!' With that, he disappeared back into his office.

We lost that encounter 2-0 and after the game I was chatting to Liverpool's Ray Clemence, who revealed to me another piece of Shankly kidology.

Prior to the game, Shankly had received the United team sheet and he incorporated it into his team talk. His intention was to run us down and, in so doing, boost the confidence of his own players. 'Alex Stepney,' Shanks began. 'A flapper of a goalkeeper. Hands like a Teflon frying pan - non-stick. Right back, Shay Brennan. Slow on the turn, give him a roasting. Left back is Tony Dunne. Even slower than Brennan. He goes on an overlap at twenty past three and doesn't come back until a quarter to four. Right half, Nobby Stiles. A dirty little -beep-. Kick him twice as hard as he kicks you and you'll have no trouble with him.'

'Bill Foulkes, a big, cumbersome centre half who can't direct his headers. He had a head like a sheriff's badge, so play on him. Paddy Crerand. Slower than steam rising off a dog turd. You'll bypass him easily.'

The Liverpool players felt as if they were growing in stature with his every word. 'David Sadler,' Shanks continued. 'Wouldn't get a place in our reserves. And finally, John Aston. A chicken, hit him once and you'll never hear from him again. As the manager finished his demolition job on United, Emlyn Hyghes raised his hand. 'That's all very well, boss,' he said, 'but you haven't mentioned George Best, Denis Law or Bobby Charlton.' Shanks turned on him. 'You mean to tell me we can't beat a team that has only three players in it?' he said, glowering.

je traduirai d'autres extraits plus tard.
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lorsque george best jouait à anfield,il y avait toujours une atmosphère electrique,et il
regardait le kop chanter depuis le terrain,il se disait "c'est une chorale de cathédrale".

george best respectait bill shankly et celui ci le respectait.
il déclare que shanks avait un esprit très rapide et un sens de la répartie absolument unique.
qqn de très autoritaire et de très serieux.
lorsque shanks lui a
demandé comment il allait,georgie best lui a répondu "j'ai du mal à m'en sortir avec
l'attention mediatique".shanks lui a répondu "l'attention mediatique,c'est le prix à payer
pcq tu fais bien ton metier".

denis law,joueur de man utd lorsqu'il etait à anfield pour un clash LFc-man utd s'est vu
demander "quel effet ça fait de venir ici à anfield?" il a répondu
"oh j'aime bien venir ici,j'y passe du bon temps et j'apprécie boire une tasse de thé ici" répondit -il avec un grand sourire.
et shanks le regarde et répond très sévèrement:"une tasse de thé?c'est tout ce que tu auras en venant à anfield!!!".

à un moment,il etait sur le point de renouveler son contrat pour man utd.il cherhcait des conseils et shankly lui dit
d'un regard sévère:"george,fils,ne demande pas trop,pcq c'est un fait triste et réél dans la vie qu'un génie nait et n'est pas payé".
il parlait de gerry byrne,joueur de LFC et international et qui demandait plus d'argent à shanks.
gerry byrne a demandé à shanks:"si je suis en equipe nationale,je suis meilleur,j'ai bon,là,non?"
shanks a répondu à byrne:"oui,et alors?même une horloge a bon deux fois par jour".

Bill SHANKLY
On mesure mal l'importance d'un tel homme à son époque. Tous ceux qui l'ont approché sont unanimes: il était hors du commun. Et ces répliques sont légendaires.
Une me revient en mémoire: après un match, Bill était furieux après Ray Clemence. Celui-ci avait encaissé un but bêtement entre les jambes. Après le match, Ray, penaud, s'excuse: c'est vrai coach, j'aurais du serrer les jambes. Et Shanks, glacial, lui répond du tac au tac: non, fils, c'est ta mère qui aurait du serrer ses jambes !

un jour à anfield,pour un derby lfc-man utd,george best descend du bus avec toute l'équipe.
shanks vient serrer la main de george best.shanks lui demande"comment ça va,fils?".
george best fut surpris vu qu'il se demandait toujours ce que shanks pouvait bien avoir derrière la tête.
puis ils se sont mis à discuter tous les 2 de choses et d'autres très gentiment jusqu'à ce que bobby charlton passe devant shanks.
et la shanks sort à bobby charlton:"ben qu'est ce qu'il t'arrive,bobby?dis donc tu es tout pâle,ça va pas?tu as une sale mine!!!à ta place,j'irai chez le docteur tout de suite en rentrant à manchester".
alors bobby charlton est resté là,à se tapoter le visage,en desarroi complet.il est rentré dans le vestiaire,puis il s'est mis en grande conversation avec matt busby,l'entraineur de man utd.
puis il ya eu un retard ,puisque matt busby tardait à donner la composition de son équipe.
personne dans le vestiaire ne s'est changé de peur qu'on lui dise qu'il ne jouerait pas,ce qui est la pire humiliation pour un joueur.
puis matt busby n'a pas mis bobby charlton dans l'équipe.