The shift of hip, the look, the chip. Kenny Dalglish’s calculated finish after 64 minutes sealed Liverpool’s second successive European Cup triumph, against Club Brugge at Wembley in May 1978. Europe had new rulers – just like the old rulers – and Liverpool had a new king.
Just one year previously, Dalglish’s predecessor in the No7 shirt, Kevin Keegan, had starred as the Reds won their first continental title. The England ace returned from Rome with a black eye – and his place in the affections of Liverpool fans assured. Within a month, Keegan had departed for Hamburg and Liverpool invested most of the transfer proceeds in enticing Dalglish from Celtic.
By the time he had scored in his first three league games, Dalglish had been anointed heir presumptive by Keegan himself. Richard T Kelly’s book on the duo, Keegan and Dalglish, recalls Keegan writing in his Daily Express column, “Dalglish is a star player now, but if he settles in at Liverpool and knocks in a few goals, he will be an even bigger name than he could imagine possible. Kenny may prove a better player for Liverpool than I did.”
Tellingly, Keegan also cautioned: “The Liverpool fans will like Dalglish, but they must not expect him to play the way I play.” The succession would see Bob Paisley’s Liverpool side move away from a high-energy running game to one defined more by passing and movement and playing to feet. Dalglish often pulled wide and left the middle open for players such as fellow Scot and new signing Graeme Souness and Terry McDermott to break through. Defences were now uncorked, and Dalglish was usually the corkscrew.
Whereas Keegan was industry and public property, Dalglish stopped time and kept to himself. Dalglish’s own assessment of the difference between the pair was typically and devastatingly simple: “He ran onto flicks, while I went about my work slightly deeper.”
That, like most assessments of Keegan, is unfair. The permed wonder is remembered as the England manager who resigned in the Wembley toilets, the star who fell off his bicycle on a TV show, the John the Baptist to Dalglish’s Jesus. However, in his pomp, he could, as the Kop sang, walk on water. Not for nothing did he pick up two Ballons d’Or. He was Carlos Tévez and Luis Suárez before their time.
The shift of hip, the look, the chip. Kenny Dalglish’s calculated finish after 64 minutes sealed Liverpool’s second successive European Cup triumph, against Club Brugge at Wembley in May 1978. Europe had new rulers – just like the old rulers – and Liverpool had a new king.
Just one year previously, Dalglish’s predecessor in the No7 shirt, Kevin Keegan, had starred as the Reds won their first continental title. The England ace returned from Rome with a black eye – and his place in the affections of Liverpool fans assured. Within a month, Keegan had departed for Hamburg and Liverpool invested most of the transfer proceeds in enticing Dalglish from Celtic.
By the time he had scored in his first three league games, Dalglish had been anointed heir presumptive by Keegan himself. Richard T Kelly’s book on the duo, Keegan and Dalglish, recalls Keegan writing in his Daily Express column, “Dalglish is a star player now, but if he settles in at Liverpool and knocks in a few goals, he will be an even bigger name than he could imagine possible. Kenny may prove a better player for Liverpool than I did.”
Tellingly, Keegan also cautioned: “The Liverpool fans will like Dalglish, but they must not expect him to play the way I play.” The succession would see Bob Paisley’s Liverpool side move away from a high-energy running game to one defined more by passing and movement and playing to feet. Dalglish often pulled wide and left the middle open for players such as fellow Scot and new signing Graeme Souness and Terry McDermott to break through. Defences were now uncorked, and Dalglish was usually the corkscrew.
Whereas Keegan was industry and public property, Dalglish stopped time and kept to himself. Dalglish’s own assessment of the difference between the pair was typically and devastatingly simple: “He ran onto flicks, while I went about my work slightly deeper.”
That, like most assessments of Keegan, is unfair. The permed wonder is remembered as the England manager who resigned in the Wembley toilets, the star who fell off his bicycle on a TV show, the John the Baptist to Dalglish’s Jesus. However, in his pomp, he could, as the Kop sang, walk on water. Not for nothing did he pick up two Ballons d’Or. He was Carlos Tévez and Luis Suárez before their time.
And yet and yet… there is Dalglish. He worked deeper. It was later in his Liverpool career that Dalglish’s role as worker from deep reached its zenith, as he loaded bullets for Ian Rush to fire. But already, one season into his glorious reign at Anfield, he had brought results and refinement. He scored 20 league goals in his debut campaign and set up countless more.
Dalglish was not the self-made player that Keegan was, but he matched strength and spirit to his God-given gifts. He found space where there was none, scanning moves ahead. He was a No7, a No10, a No9, often all at the same time. He had the feints and flicks of the daintiest dribbler, but his teak thighs and core strength were such that he almost invented the art of holding off and then skipping around defenders. “He crouches over the ball, legs spread and elbows poking out,” said the Arsenal and Republic of Ireland defender David O’Leary. “Whatever angle you come in from, you’re liable to find his backside in your face.”
Already in December 1977, the mantle had been passed on by the Anfield Kop. In the second leg of the UEFA Super Cup, Dalglish’s Liverpool crushed Keegan’s Hamburg 6-0, and the fans sang, “We all agree, Dalglish is better than Keegan.”
The Liverpool side that lined up at Wembley in May 1978 had moved on too, showing five changes from the Keegan-inspired win in Rome. They dominated Club Brugge from the start, their pace and precision leading to a string of near misses from Jimmy Case, Ray Kennedy, Alan Hansen and David Fairclough.
A key virtue of this new Liverpool side was patience and knowing when to strike. Their moment came shortly after the hour mark when Souness seized on an errant clearance with instant control. His cushioned pass set the scene for Dalglish’s majestic winner from a tight angle on the right, dinked over onrushing goalkeeper Birger Jensen with regal composure.
Liverpool’s second European Cup success came too early for the Champions League anthem to be played, but the original Zadok the Priest coronation hymn on which it is based would have been perfectly apt. Long Live the King.
The shift of hip, the look, the chip. Kenny Dalglish’s calculated finish after 64 minutes sealed Liverpool’s second successive European Cup triumph, against Club Brugge at Wembley in May 1978. Europe had new rulers – just like the old rulers – and Liverpool had a new king.
Just one year previously, Dalglish’s predecessor in the No7 shirt, Kevin Keegan, had starred as the Reds won their first continental title. The England ace returned from Rome with a black eye – and his place in the affections of Liverpool fans assured. Within a month, Keegan had departed for Hamburg and Liverpool invested most of the transfer proceeds in enticing Dalglish from Celtic.
By the time he had scored in his first three league games, Dalglish had been anointed heir presumptive by Keegan himself. Richard T Kelly’s book on the duo, Keegan and Dalglish, recalls Keegan writing in his Daily Express column, “Dalglish is a star player now, but if he settles in at Liverpool and knocks in a few goals, he will be an even bigger name than he could imagine possible. Kenny may prove a better player for Liverpool than I did.”
Tellingly, Keegan also cautioned: “The Liverpool fans will like Dalglish, but they must not expect him to play the way I play.” The succession would see Bob Paisley’s Liverpool side move away from a high-energy running game to one defined more by passing and movement and playing to feet. Dalglish often pulled wide and left the middle open for players such as fellow Scot and new signing Graeme Souness and Terry McDermott to break through. Defences were now uncorked, and Dalglish was usually the corkscrew.
Whereas Keegan was industry and public property, Dalglish stopped time and kept to himself. Dalglish’s own assessment of the difference between the pair was typically and devastatingly simple: “He ran onto flicks, while I went about my work slightly deeper.”
That, like most assessments of Keegan, is unfair. The permed wonder is remembered as the England manager who resigned in the Wembley toilets, the star who fell off his bicycle on a TV show, the John the Baptist to Dalglish’s Jesus. However, in his pomp, he could, as the Kop sang, walk on water. Not for nothing did he pick up two Ballons d’Or. He was Carlos Tévez and Luis Suárez before their time.
The shift of hip, the look, the chip. Kenny Dalglish’s calculated finish after 64 minutes sealed Liverpool’s second successive European Cup triumph, against Club Brugge at Wembley in May 1978. Europe had new rulers – just like the old rulers – and Liverpool had a new king.
Just one year previously, Dalglish’s predecessor in the No7 shirt, Kevin Keegan, had starred as the Reds won their first continental title. The England ace returned from Rome with a black eye – and his place in the affections of Liverpool fans assured. Within a month, Keegan had departed for Hamburg and Liverpool invested most of the transfer proceeds in enticing Dalglish from Celtic.
By the time he had scored in his first three league games, Dalglish had been anointed heir presumptive by Keegan himself. Richard T Kelly’s book on the duo, Keegan and Dalglish, recalls Keegan writing in his Daily Express column, “Dalglish is a star player now, but if he settles in at Liverpool and knocks in a few goals, he will be an even bigger name than he could imagine possible. Kenny may prove a better player for Liverpool than I did.”
Tellingly, Keegan also cautioned: “The Liverpool fans will like Dalglish, but they must not expect him to play the way I play.” The succession would see Bob Paisley’s Liverpool side move away from a high-energy running game to one defined more by passing and movement and playing to feet. Dalglish often pulled wide and left the middle open for players such as fellow Scot and new signing Graeme Souness and Terry McDermott to break through. Defences were now uncorked, and Dalglish was usually the corkscrew.
Whereas Keegan was industry and public property, Dalglish stopped time and kept to himself. Dalglish’s own assessment of the difference between the pair was typically and devastatingly simple: “He ran onto flicks, while I went about my work slightly deeper.”
That, like most assessments of Keegan, is unfair. The permed wonder is remembered as the England manager who resigned in the Wembley toilets, the star who fell off his bicycle on a TV show, the John the Baptist to Dalglish’s Jesus. However, in his pomp, he could, as the Kop sang, walk on water. Not for nothing did he pick up two Ballons d’Or. He was Carlos Tévez and Luis Suárez before their time.
The shift of hip, the look, the chip. Kenny Dalglish’s calculated finish after 64 minutes sealed Liverpool’s second successive European Cup triumph, against Club Brugge at Wembley in May 1978. Europe had new rulers – just like the old rulers – and Liverpool had a new king.
Just one year previously, Dalglish’s predecessor in the No7 shirt, Kevin Keegan, had starred as the Reds won their first continental title. The England ace returned from Rome with a black eye – and his place in the affections of Liverpool fans assured. Within a month, Keegan had departed for Hamburg and Liverpool invested most of the transfer proceeds in enticing Dalglish from Celtic.
By the time he had scored in his first three league games, Dalglish had been anointed heir presumptive by Keegan himself. Richard T Kelly’s book on the duo, Keegan and Dalglish, recalls Keegan writing in his Daily Express column, “Dalglish is a star player now, but if he settles in at Liverpool and knocks in a few goals, he will be an even bigger name than he could imagine possible. Kenny may prove a better player for Liverpool than I did.”
Tellingly, Keegan also cautioned: “The Liverpool fans will like Dalglish, but they must not expect him to play the way I play.” The succession would see Bob Paisley’s Liverpool side move away from a high-energy running game to one defined more by passing and movement and playing to feet. Dalglish often pulled wide and left the middle open for players such as fellow Scot and new signing Graeme Souness and Terry McDermott to break through. Defences were now uncorked, and Dalglish was usually the corkscrew.
Whereas Keegan was industry and public property, Dalglish stopped time and kept to himself. Dalglish’s own assessment of the difference between the pair was typically and devastatingly simple: “He ran onto flicks, while I went about my work slightly deeper.”
That, like most assessments of Keegan, is unfair. The permed wonder is remembered as the England manager who resigned in the Wembley toilets, the star who fell off his bicycle on a TV show, the John the Baptist to Dalglish’s Jesus. However, in his pomp, he could, as the Kop sang, walk on water. Not for nothing did he pick up two Ballons d’Or. He was Carlos Tévez and Luis Suárez before their time.
And yet and yet… there is Dalglish. He worked deeper. It was later in his Liverpool career that Dalglish’s role as worker from deep reached its zenith, as he loaded bullets for Ian Rush to fire. But already, one season into his glorious reign at Anfield, he had brought results and refinement. He scored 20 league goals in his debut campaign and set up countless more.
Dalglish was not the self-made player that Keegan was, but he matched strength and spirit to his God-given gifts. He found space where there was none, scanning moves ahead. He was a No7, a No10, a No9, often all at the same time. He had the feints and flicks of the daintiest dribbler, but his teak thighs and core strength were such that he almost invented the art of holding off and then skipping around defenders. “He crouches over the ball, legs spread and elbows poking out,” said the Arsenal and Republic of Ireland defender David O’Leary. “Whatever angle you come in from, you’re liable to find his backside in your face.”
Already in December 1977, the mantle had been passed on by the Anfield Kop. In the second leg of the UEFA Super Cup, Dalglish’s Liverpool crushed Keegan’s Hamburg 6-0, and the fans sang, “We all agree, Dalglish is better than Keegan.”
The Liverpool side that lined up at Wembley in May 1978 had moved on too, showing five changes from the Keegan-inspired win in Rome. They dominated Club Brugge from the start, their pace and precision leading to a string of near misses from Jimmy Case, Ray Kennedy, Alan Hansen and David Fairclough.
A key virtue of this new Liverpool side was patience and knowing when to strike. Their moment came shortly after the hour mark when Souness seized on an errant clearance with instant control. His cushioned pass set the scene for Dalglish’s majestic winner from a tight angle on the right, dinked over onrushing goalkeeper Birger Jensen with regal composure.
Liverpool’s second European Cup success came too early for the Champions League anthem to be played, but the original Zadok the Priest coronation hymn on which it is based would have been perfectly apt. Long Live the King.
The shift of hip, the look, the chip. Kenny Dalglish’s calculated finish after 64 minutes sealed Liverpool’s second successive European Cup triumph, against Club Brugge at Wembley in May 1978. Europe had new rulers – just like the old rulers – and Liverpool had a new king.
Just one year previously, Dalglish’s predecessor in the No7 shirt, Kevin Keegan, had starred as the Reds won their first continental title. The England ace returned from Rome with a black eye – and his place in the affections of Liverpool fans assured. Within a month, Keegan had departed for Hamburg and Liverpool invested most of the transfer proceeds in enticing Dalglish from Celtic.
By the time he had scored in his first three league games, Dalglish had been anointed heir presumptive by Keegan himself. Richard T Kelly’s book on the duo, Keegan and Dalglish, recalls Keegan writing in his Daily Express column, “Dalglish is a star player now, but if he settles in at Liverpool and knocks in a few goals, he will be an even bigger name than he could imagine possible. Kenny may prove a better player for Liverpool than I did.”
Tellingly, Keegan also cautioned: “The Liverpool fans will like Dalglish, but they must not expect him to play the way I play.” The succession would see Bob Paisley’s Liverpool side move away from a high-energy running game to one defined more by passing and movement and playing to feet. Dalglish often pulled wide and left the middle open for players such as fellow Scot and new signing Graeme Souness and Terry McDermott to break through. Defences were now uncorked, and Dalglish was usually the corkscrew.
Whereas Keegan was industry and public property, Dalglish stopped time and kept to himself. Dalglish’s own assessment of the difference between the pair was typically and devastatingly simple: “He ran onto flicks, while I went about my work slightly deeper.”
That, like most assessments of Keegan, is unfair. The permed wonder is remembered as the England manager who resigned in the Wembley toilets, the star who fell off his bicycle on a TV show, the John the Baptist to Dalglish’s Jesus. However, in his pomp, he could, as the Kop sang, walk on water. Not for nothing did he pick up two Ballons d’Or. He was Carlos Tévez and Luis Suárez before their time.
