This week The Times led its back page with a cancer diagnosis for a 75-year-old man who stopped playing football in 1990 and left management 14 years ago. But this was no ordinary illness bulletin. The patient’s name was Kenny Dalglish.
The previous day, the Liverpool No 7 Dalglish was bought to replace in 1977 revealed he has stage four cancer. Kevin Keegan, also 75, said of the specialist who’s treating him: “He was a Liverpool supporter so I went to meet him. I knew I wouldn’t be walking alone, if you know what I mean.”
Brace yourself for one more item. A few days earlier another Liverpool perma-star, John Barnes, revealed that he had his prostate removed after a cancer diagnosis but said he was now “fine.” One can only hope Dalglish and Keegan will soon be fine as well.
The outpourings when superstars or beloved figures fall to illnesses that afflict millions is, on the level of news projection, curiously imbalanced. Diagnoses that in everyday life tend to be painful but private family matters lead news bulletins and become public property.
Even as the ailing legend asks for privacy the waves of love and support beat against the house. Everything Dalglish did on the football pitch conveyed steely intent. The news that he has cancer, however, was disclosed unintentionally – by him, on social media. “Unlike my mobile phone use, my treatment is going well,” he joked.
The Scotland manager Steve Clarke’s declaration that he hoped a strong showing by his team at the World Cup would give Dalglish a lift was just one of the public shows of affection for Scotland’s finest footballer. Liverpool’s greatest player, too.
Dalglish won six league titles and three European Cups in a Liverpool shirt and was league champion as manager of Liverpool (three times) and Blackburn Rovers in the Premier League. Replacing Keegan, who had moved to Hamburg, was seen by many as a “hospital pass,” but Dalglish turned out to be an upgrade even on “King Kev,” who was twice European Footballer of the Year (1978-79).
All clubs have family spirit, strong bonds, undying affection for the great entertainers and an urge to rally round when the lives of their heroes take a wrong turn.
But there was something about Merseyside’s reaction to this week’s rash of medical news that will help Andoni Iraola understand the club he is walking into. He made a start on Thursday when his appointment was confirmed. “I want to earn the right to be one of you” isn’t a bog standard manager-unveiling remark.
Cancer might seem an inappropriate route to insight. Yet the same familial spirit that ejected Arne Slot 12 months after he had won the Premier League now opens its arms to Iraola, who, in playing style, is much closer to Jürgen Klopp’s high intensity than Slot’s more languid outlook.
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Liverpool, more than any other club, has a mould a manager is expected to fit. The inscription on Bill Shankly’s statue is a manifesto: “He made the people happy.” Klopp understood the civic ramifications of being Liverpool’s manager and embraced Shankly-esque politics. In his earliest days, Jamie Carragher said of him: “I know he’s from the Black Forest. But to me, he’s a typical Scouser.”
Until a few days ago Iraola was managing a team in Dorset with an 11,307 capacity. Now he joins the lineage not just of Klopp but Rafa Benitez and Dalglish. Benitez bounced up and down in the Anfield popularity chart but understood the culture. “Liverpool FC is more than just a football club,” he said. “It’s a feeling.”
If he does his research Iraola will learn about the managers Liverpool fans were ambivalent about (Brendan Rogers) and the ones they rejected straight away. Roy Hodgson always said his chance was dead on arrival at Anfield because he wasn’t called Kenny Dalglish.
Slot was feted for a year, then abandoned when the team finished with 24 points fewer than in their title-winning year – and became too easy to run straight through. It’s not unusual in today’s top tier for reputations to nosedive. It’s significant that good managers are increasingly announcing scheduled departures on their own terms. Oliver Glasner (Crystal Palace), Iraola, Marco Silva (Fulham) and Pep Guardiola (Manchester City) decided their own futures independently of popular opinion.
Iraola’s career move might have taken him to the gentler waters of Bayer Leverkusen. Instead he chose the more lucrative, prestigious and stressful option of trying to make Florian Wirtz and Alexander Isak look like value for money.
Iraola’s record of improving players at Bournemouth was spectacular, his tactical methodology outstanding. No wonder Liverpool felt they couldn’t miss the chance to try him in place of Slot, whose farewell message to the fans only showed how powerful they are.
“The connection we share goes beyond football, beyond European nights under the Anfield lights or the sound of ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ being sung from The Kop,” Slot wrote. “You made me feel welcome from the start and helped me on the path. That is something I cherish.”
Such grace, given that most Liverpool fans seemed to want him out, and supported Salah’s demand that “heavy metal football” should return – as a “non-negotiable.”
Iraola has said he would never allow a job to ruin his family life. In Dorset he spent spare time walking in Thomas Hardy world. In the Basque country of Bilbao he was a local rock at Athletic, a son of a distinctive culture. That will help him understand Liverpool. So will the tide of respect and love this week for the two great No 7s trying to elude an especially dangerous opponent.
Photograph by David Cannon / Hulton Archive via Getty Images