The voice on the other end of the line cracks as the memories flood back in torrents. The call, he says, was unexpected but, now he is talking, the chance for this proud son to reminisce about his father is a blessing.
‘You know, he didn’t talk much about football to us,’ explains David Liddell. ‘But when we went into town, everybody would say “hello”. To us, he was just Dad. But as kids, my brother, Malcolm, and I were aware he was special. We knew he was a superstar.’
He certainly was. William Beveridge Liddell, better known as Billy, was a giant with a barrel chest, a 19-inch neck and broad shoulders that carried a team. He was more than a superstar – this sharpshooter was so good, he transformed how a club became known.
This is the man whose goals turned Liverpool into ‘Liddellpool.’
‘I’m still an avid supporter of Liverpool,’ says David, from his home Castleford. He’s 74 now and while he may be physically slowing down, mentally he’s sharp as a tack.
‘You know, I have this silly thing that if I’m not wearing my scarf, they lose. That always comes out. But it mightn’t come out tomorrow if Mohamed Salah is going to equal my father! But records are there to be broken and Salah is marvellous, no doubt.’
Here is the corridor from past to present. For Salah – signed in 2017 – to be within one goal of joining Liddell, whose Liverpool career spanned 23 years, on 228 goals is extraordinary. The Egyptian is a phenomenon but so, too, was the man who set standards that all those who followed had to aspire. He was captain, an inspiration and aside from a prolific scorer, he racked up 132 assists.
His face is still seen on banners in the Kop and younger fans will have been told all about his talents. Perhaps 50 years from now, when the kids of today will be old and grey, they will tell their grandchildren about Salah and provide evidence with high-definition clips of those glorious strikes.
Footage of Liddell in his pomp is rare but the written word is no less powerful. In the archives of Liverpool’s imposing Central Library, his greatness is preserved on microfilm, his words feel as crisp and powerful today as they were when delivered in his pomp.
Liddell made the last of his 534 appearances on August 31, 1960. Bill Shankly’s managerial odyssey at Anfield hadn’t even reached its first anniversary when his compatriot knew time was up. The day before that game against Southampton, which ended in a 1-0 defeat, he spoke to the Liverpool Echo.
‘I’ve shaken hands with Kings, Queens, Princes and Prime Ministers,’ he told the correspondent Leslie Edwards. ‘Members of the nobility and others with whom in the ordinary way I could never have hoped to come into contact.
‘Maybe the cynics will say: “And what good has that done you?” Measured in terms of hard cash, if that is your criterion, the answer must be “not in the slightest”. But in terms of a full life, and the storage of happy and worthwhile memories, it has meant a lot.
‘And so, too, have the many meetings I’ve had with much less distinguished folk.’
This was a different world. While the players of today are shielded by entourages and have media training to hide their personality, Liddell and Co would go around the streets of Liverpool. He was an ordinary person who could do extraordinary things.
Born in 1922 in Townhill, near Dunfermline, Liddell signed his first professional forms for Liverpool in 1939, three months after his 17th birthday. He initially joined as an amateur, having had trials with Blairhall Colliery, Hearts of Beath and Partick Thistle.
His first game – a wartime friendly at Anfield against Crewe Alexandra on January 1, 1940 – was, in his words, 'a truly memorable occasion’.
When Liverpool won the First Division in 1946-47, Liddell, one of the stars with his incisive running and cannonball shooting, was paid £12 per week. It is staggering that was his only major honour, the closest he came thereafter was in the 1950 FA Cup Final, which ended in a 2-0 defeat to Arsenal
Salah, by contrast, was on more than £250,000 per week when he helped his club to their 19th title in 2020 and was once the subject of a £150million bid from Saudi Arabian side Al-Ittihad. Liddell turned down an offer of £2,000 to play in Colombia in 1951, as he felt a debt of loyalty to the club.
‘I didn’t really regard him as anything special,’ says David, chuckling. ‘But when we had kick-abouts in the garden or on the beach I thought, “Well, he’s not like us!” It was little things like that.
‘I have memories of the old Anfield, running up the steps in the paddock. There were windows obscured with wire and you could see into the treatment rooms. I remember looking through and seeing a physio, with a ciggy in his mouth, pummelling my father’s legs!
‘My son took us to Liverpool as a treat for my 70th birthday. We saw Liverpool beat West Ham. It was such an occasion just being there. The thought that my dad played on that pitch didn’t really enter my head during the match, but it was coming back in the car that did it.
‘The city of Liverpool was my dad’s life. It’s weird sometimes. I was on holiday about five years ago and, would you believe, at a quiz night there was a question, “What was Liddellpool?” It brought it all home to me then.’
He was top scorer in seven of nine seasons from 1949 to 1958 – his best were 1954-55 (31) and 1955-56 (32) – and team-mate Jimmy Melia said: ‘He was, simply, one of the greatest players that ever played for Liverpool, one of the most genuine people. He gave everything, strong as a bull.’
Football historian Peter Kenny Jones penned the book Liddell at 100, is clear on where Liddell stands in the pantheon and tells Mail Sport: ‘When writing the book, the overwhelming thing that came across from fans and team-mates that saw him in his pomp was that nobody better has played for the club.
‘Not Steven Gerrard, not Kenny Dalglish, not Salah. A combination of skill, speed, strength and most importantly, loyalty. He turned down the big-money move abroad, the lures of better football even when Liverpool were in the Second Division.
‘Liddell is up there with the greats of the club, alongside his former team-mate Bob Paisley and his final manager Shankly. For Salah to be on the cusp of eclipsing his scoring record perhaps means he should start being elevated to the very pinnacle of praise any of us can award him.’
One saying that became rife in the city was ‘get it up the middle to Liddell’ and fans adored him. He played in every outfield position on the pitch and, alongside Stanley Matthews, was one of two people to play more than once for Team Great Britain – until the London 2012 Olympics.
Matthews, that old wizard, should have played in Liddell’s testimonial in September 1960 when Liverpool faced an International All-Star XI but pulled out at the last minute, not that the 40,000 who attended minded in the slightest – they had come to honour one man only.
He cried when leaving the pitch that night, having told The Kop that 'the occasion was just as difficult as a Cup final’ and headed off into a new life, where he became an accountant as well as a Justice of the Peace. Liddell lived in Liverpool until his final days, when he succumbed to dementia in July 2001.
They say one does not truly die until the last person who loved them dies and that is certainly the case with Liddell, whose family still have a mountain of memories and memorabilia to look back on. Not to mention the fanbase, with elder supporters still idolising their first true superstar.
‘We have a video when all the past players – people like Bob Paisley – went on the pitch (in April 1994, for the last game in front of the standing Kop) and the fans applauded them,' says David. ‘It brought a tear to my eye hearing the Kop singing, “There’s only one Billy Liddell”.’
‘I was too young to appreciate my father as a footballer in his playing days. They didn’t have this Premier League then.
'I went to a couple of games… he had a funny way of running, he loped! But I didn’t really understand how good he was. Now? I’m very proud.’
So he should be. His family’s place in Liverpool history is preserved for ever more.