Leading a life of Brian

LEGEND decrees that Nottingham Forest may have gained the psychological edge over Hamburg in the 1980 European Cup Final before the teams took to the pitch. In the Bernabeu tunnel, Kenny Burns removed his false teeth and grimaced at Kevin Keegan. Burns was the type of defender to make opponents shudder - but Brian Clough could succeed in intimidating Burns.

"I remember once he fined me 50 for a bad pass," Burns said while welcoming the news that his former manager had emerged from a successful liver transplant, and was starting on the road to recovery.

"Fifty pounds! And remember that was in the 1970s. What happened was that ‘Shilts’ came to the edge of his box, and I was on the right side, and I tried to pass it over to John Robertson. It was intercepted, and ended up out for a goal-kick. Every time after that, I passed the ball about a yard: let someone else take the stick.

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"Having said that, he always emphasised that football is a trade you learn, and the hardest thing you ever have to do is score goals. I accepted that."

An organ donor was found for 67-year-old Clough last Sunday, and he was operated upon early on Monday in a Newcastle hospital. It emerged that Clough had been told that unless he had the transplant, he might have had only two months to live. He also underwent chemotherapy treatment when his liver showed cancerous traces.

Like George Best, another football hero with a history of heavy drinking, the rumbustious Clough must now tailor his life to maximise his chances of a full recovery. The survival rate for liver transplants in the first year is 80%. The odds are good, but Clough must fight hard. It was reported following surgery that he was in good spirits - and was lecturing medical staff on the correct way to play golf.

"Golf?" Burns spluttered incredulously. "He doesn’t play golf. But I think he’ll be giving them a bit of gyp, and I’m sure he will not be one of the better patients."

He laughed heartily before getting serious..."As long as he is all right. He’s done his work in his life, and he’s been a success. A lot of players like Martin [O’Neill], Robbo [John Robertson] and myself are all grateful for what he did, and hope he makes his full recovery. He gets his strength from his family: his daughters and his grandchildren, whom he dotes on. The people that matter to him most are there for him.

"It’s upsetting that he’s not been well, but this operation will hopefully improve his quality of life. Brian’s had his problems. Everybody knows that, but it’s all about coming out at the other side. The main thing is that the gaffer’s on the mend."

The get-well-soon messages have been flooding in, and the Nottingham Evening Post set up a tribute board on its online format. The Class of Clough that won two consecutive European Cups have responded to the great man’s plight, one of the finest sentiments expressed by his captain, John McGovern.

"As someone who worked for him for 14 years and appreciated, even at 16, I knew that I was working for a genius, it would be nice if the genius recovered, because that is what he was regarded as in football management."

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With his first love, Derby County, and with Forest, Clough was a miracle-worker. He was larger than life, and could be critical and corrosive. Or as Burns described him with typical candour: "He’s a major figure, but he was always very true to his word, that was the thing. Everybody understood him, and you could relate to him. He was direct at times. If he thought you were shite, he would tell you you were shite. A spade was a spade.

"He never did anything different, or asked us to do anything different. You just did what you were told to do. Go out there, pass the ball and perform. The goal is to score, and what’s hard about that? ‘It’s players that make the game hard,’ he would say. He kept things simple."

Yet, for many, Clough has always been riddled with complexity. Asked if Clough was Jekyll and Hyde, one former colleague pondered: "No, it’s more complex than that - he’s more Hekyll and Jyde."

You knew what he meant. Multi-faceted.

Medical checks seemed to reveal, at least that over the past six months, that having been given warnings of repercussions from continually hitting the bottle, Clough had eased up. He had gradually been waking up to the reality of his habit, as detailed in his autobiography. He listened to his grandson.

"One day he turned to me and said: ‘You’re not having a drink grandad, are you?’ I knew something had to be done.

"Sometimes when I went to bed I would mull over the day, and instead of counting sheep, I would count the drinks I’d had. If I’d had six drinks, I’d call it five. I kidded myself about the numbers, like all drinkers do."

Burns, a firebrand Scot who brought steel to Clough’s team, while Robertson supplied skill and O’Neill the diligence, believes that his former manager will reform.

"I think he will take care of himself. He’s fairly sensible. At the end of it all, he’s not a silly man. I just think he will take things slowly; he has to really, and his wife, Barbara, will have told him this. He’ll come back: we will see him on the telly."

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Burns, the self-styled piss-taker in the Forest ranks - no-one was exempt from his mischief-making - was not so anarchic as to neglect to listen to the manager who threw him the ball in the Old Trafford dressing-room before the 1978 League Cup final replay with Liverpool, saying: "Take them out, Kenneth."

Clough was full of wry managerial gems. To Neil Webb: "Your first job in midfield is to get the ball. You can’t play without it." And to the moustachioed Burns: "If you are going to smack somebody, then do it properly. Then turn round to the referee and say: ‘I’m very sorry’. It will save you three or four bookings a season."

Turning from thoughts of his mentor to a former team-mate who has also been prominent in the news, Burns ruminated on the decision of Martin O’Neill to put Celtic followers out of their misery by signing a new 12-month rolling contract.

"I believe he has to give the club a year’s notice. Martin is a very clever man. He never says: ‘I’m not interested in that job’. He doesn’t shout about it: he keeps the door open, and good luck to him. I wish it was me. He’s a clever boy, Martin. He’s always done it that way for a reason.

"Martin O’Neill will be his own man, but everywhere he has gone, I suppose he has picked up this and that from whatever manager, but on top of all that he has a bit of his own personal touch, too. He gets very wound up on that touchline, and I think he’s a racing certainty for a heart attack. But seriously, he does put his whole self into it."

Like Kenny Burns did in his City Ground heyday when buoyed by Brian Clough. Burns still works for Forest on match days, and scouts for the club. He looks out for his old manager, too.