The cover image selected for writer David Peace’s re-telling of the Munich Disaster depicts Bobby Charlton in cardigan, tie and smart trousers, dribbling a football up a terraced backstreet in his home village of Ashington, Northumberland, as three spellbound boys look on. The book’s early pages capture the apocalyptic vision which confronted him when he first opened his eyes amid the slush of Munich-Reim Airport’s runway; a vision which would still have been raw as he kicked that brown ball down Ashington’s Beatrice Street.
There was the sky, the flakes of snow falling on him, the flames flickering under the fuselage of the plane, 40 yards away. And, as he cast his eyes around, the body of a teammate he knew was dead. The man who became Sir Bobby Charlton would never name that player. He went to the grave with the memory.
Yet the sorrows of 1958 extended so much further than this. The book - which synthesises a vast amount of pre-existing material on the disaster into a single, part-imagined text – is a devastating depiction of the quotidian, ordinary details of tragedy and loss. Tragedy chanters should read David Peace’s re-telling of the Munich Disaster, with the cover showing Bobby Charlton playing football with children in his home village.
Nobby Stiles, a United trainee, being asked to unpack and clean the players’ boots from the kit container they called ‘the skip’, when it was shipped back from Munich. ‘Sorting out the boots of the living from the boots of the dead, to start to brush and dust.’ The relentless rain through which the big, black, old cars of funeral cortege after funeral cortege picked their way.
Nobby Lawton, another United trainee, missing teammate Eddie Colman’s funeral because his employer, a coal merchant, would only release him for one a day. June Jones, wife of Mark Jones, the centre half who died, advertising for buyers of the many budgies and canaries he’d kept in an aviary he built out the back of his house, on Manchester’s Kings Road.
Those who were lost had lived ordinary lives. Jones had been dreaming of running a pet shop with June as they grew old together. Tommy Taylor, a wonderful centre forward, had been reading Teach Yourself Public Speaking and Teach Yourself Maths to better himself. His heartbroken parents found the little black and yellow editions on his bedside table when they went to his digs - 22 Great Stone Road - to collect his things. The myriad sorrows were universal and echoing through these pages are reminders of what so many lived with in the shadow of the Hillsborough Disaster, 31 years later.
Liverpool knew all about cortege after cortege, of course. Kenny Dalglish attended four funerals in one day. The guilt of those left behind was something the two cities shared, too. And there was same sense in both places of ordinary lives - full of promise, struggle, optimism - cut short.
Arthur Horrocks was one of those who, in his own way, had sought to better himself. No self-help books, perhaps, but he’d swapped a life working on the Liverpool Corporation buses for a career selling insurance and pensions for the Prudential, and had started to flourish. He packed up his yellow Triumph Toledo and set off for Hillsborough, leaving behind a wife and two sons, aged eight and six. They never saw him again.
The parallels extend to wrongful blame. Though Liverpool’s treatment by South Yorkshire Police and others is incomparable, the British European Airways pilot Jim Thain, made a scapegoat by German investigators and his own employers, also bore an enormous weight of injustice. Peace writes: ‘Jim Thain was the most hated man in England, a man most people seemed to wish was dead, wished his family dead, too, so he might know how it felt.’ Only in 1969 was the pilot exonerated.
Manchester’s grief is Liverpool’s grief, Liverpool’s is Manchester’s, and there is no nuance in Peace’s wish that the two find a communion in mutual loss and expunge the disgusting mutual taunting for which we now have the term, ‘tragedy chanting.’
The title of his book is ‘Munichs’, that hateful term aimed at United supporters by an abusive minority of Liverpool, Leeds and Manchester City fans: a word, Peace says in an author’s note at the end of the book, that he wishes to reclaim.
‘This, along with similarly abusive references to Heysel and Hillsborough, directed at supporters of Liverpool, is one of the things that sickens me most about modern football,’ he writes. ‘One of my intentions in calling the novel “Munichs” is to confront this head-on.’
‘Munichs’ has such a vile connotation that, for me, it should be consigned to oblivion, not plastered across the cover of a book. But the words within the covers are something quite exceptional. If some of the ‘tragedy-chanters’ could find it within themselves to pick it up, read and reflect on it, they might think again before next disseminating their poison.
A Powerful Narrative of Loss and Resilience
David Peace, the novelist known for his evocative and often unflinching portrayals of working-class life in northern England, has once again crafted a powerful and moving novel that tackles a pivotal moment in British football history. ‘Munichs’ takes readers on a journey through the aftermath of the 1958 Munich air disaster, which claimed the lives of eight Manchester United players, known as “Busby’s Babes.”
Peace uses the title “Munichs” - a term historically used as a slur against Manchester United fans - to confront the hateful chants and prejudices that still plague the sport. The book itself is a powerful response to those who use these terms lightly, inviting readers to understand the devastating impact of such tragedies and the lasting pain they inflict. The author’s intent, it seems, is to reclaim the word and give it new meaning - one that signifies remembrance and reflection rather than hate.
The Tragedy That Shook a Nation
The novel tells the story not just through the eyes of the players and managers who survived the crash, but also through the perspectives of those who were left behind: wives, families, and the wider community that mourned the loss of the “Babes.” It’s a story of grief and resilience, of a club that had to rebuild itself after devastating loss. The book chronicles the shock and disbelief that gripped the nation, the painstaking process of mourning, and the slow path to healing. Peace’s prose is both stark and lyrical, conveying the profound impact of the disaster and its lasting legacy.
Remembering the Lost
Through a series of interconnected narratives, Peace paints a vivid picture of the lives that were cut short. He explores the individual stories of each player, their dreams, their personalities, and their contributions to the game. The reader gets to know the young men who were so tragically taken, allowing their memory to live on beyond the headlines of the disaster.
A Call to Action
Peace’s novel is not just a historical retelling; it’s a call to action. It’s a call to remember, to reflect, and to confront the hate that still lingers in the shadows of football. The author’s decision to use the term “Munichs” as the title is a bold statement, a refusal to let the negativity of the past dictate the future. He challenges readers to think about the words they use, the legacies they carry, and the importance of building a more compassionate and respectful world, both on and off the pitch.
A Powerful Legacy
‘Munichs’ is a powerful and necessary book that reminds us of the enduring human cost of tragedy. It’s a story of loss, resilience, and the enduring power of the human spirit. But beyond its emotional impact, the novel serves as a powerful reminder that words have consequences and that we must strive to build a world where hate is replaced with understanding and empathy.
The Author's Vision
Peace's ‘Munichs’ is more than a historical novel; it is a requiem for the lost, a celebration of the survivors' resilience, and a warning against the enduring poison of hatred and disrespect in football. He hopes that through his novel, readers will be moved to confront their own prejudices and to build a more compassionate and respectful world. The author's powerful voice and unflinching gaze make ‘Munichs’ an essential read for anyone interested in football history or the human cost of tragedy. The novel is a masterpiece of historical fiction that is sure to leave a lasting impact on readers.
