|Just finished 'The Damned United', which I liked very much. |
The idea of this uncompromising, self-destructive man of the people, on top of his game in the early Seventies, but unable to keep going because of the Furies in the bathroom mirror, even when he's doing well as a manager, means issues like the following show up;;
'The board of directors aren't offering, but I light a cig, and pour meself a large brandy, and then I say to them, the cowering fucking wankers "I'm not doing fucking owt that you say, you pathetic bastards. Because I'm fucking Brian Clough!'
There's a sense that he'll be allowed to get away with, say, setting fire to his former manager's desk, or related, but only if the lads keep putting the ball in the back of the net. And that sooner or later he's going to run out of luck.
The thing being that actually, Cloughie is not a gambler, and that he knows what he's doing, sort of.
As someone who's against football and everything to do with it, I did find this faux-biography (all the fixtures, historical events etc are accurate, apparently - the speculation is to do with Brian's mind) very gripping, so; recommended.
And anyone who thinks otherwise doesn't fucking belong on Brian's pitch.
You have no heart