New Anfield, But Never A New Hansen
As part of his job on the backroom staff at Liverpool, Ronnie Moran gave new players a guided tour of Anfield. When the tour reached the dressing-room, Moran would point out Alan Hansen. 'Don't watch big Al play,' Moran said. 'Don't try to do what he does because he's a one-off.'
The message, driven home all the more forcefully if the new signing happened to be a defender, was always the same: Liverpool are a passing side. Give and go. The team, not the individual. But they made an exception for Hansen, their tall, stylish centre-back. 'Liverpool gave me the licence to be myself,' the Scot said, recalling his special status at Anfield.
As a boy, Hansen modelled himself on Bobby Moore; like Moore, his game was all about anticipation, reading the play, and skill on the ball. 'My number-one attribute was my ability to involve myself in the attacking play. For me, it was all about getting the ball and 'playing' - making constructive passes and pushing forward to get the ball back, or taking the ball past opponents.' Which was exactly what Moran didn't want anyone else to do.
Signed by Bob Paisley from Partick Thistle in 1977 for a fee of £100,000, a paltry sum even then, Hansen played 621 games for Liverpool. By the time he retired, in 1991, he had amassed eight League championship medals, two FA Cup and three League Cup gongs and three European Cup medals. In those 14 years there was only one season when Liverpool finished lower than second in the table, and only two seasons when they failed to land a trophy.
'More than any other individual he underpinned Liverpool's continued success during the 1980s,' Howard Kendall said. 'In many ways Alan was Liverpool's best attacker. As Everton manager, the message I always gave my players was: Stop Hansen. Our strikers were told to mark him and forget about chasing after the ball. The last thing I wanted was for Hansen to be in possession and in space.'
Tall and thin, with a long, loping stride, Hansen was, nevertheless, deceptively quick. 'Some players could beat me over 20 yards, but I am hard pressed to recall a team-mate who could do so over 50 or 60 yards.'
Tactically, Liverpool's flat back-four pushed up in order to compress the play. They didn't deliberately play for offside, however. 'We pushed up with the intention of making it difficult for opponents to give their strikers the service they wanted to give them, and to keep the ball a safe distance from goal.' Here again, his ability to read the play - when to let the striker go, knowing that he'd be ruled offside - was crucial.
Hansen would jockey opponents and then nick the ball away. 'Attacking the ball just wasn't my game,' said Hansen, a sufferer of panic attacks whenever faced with the prospect of marking burly, robust centre-forwards. 'They had one quality that I lacked: fearlessness.'
And for all his height, he wasn't much good in the air, either. Yet for all that, Liverpool, time and again, boasted the best defensive record in the division.
His stature put an added strain on his knees. Eventually, the deterioration in the joint forced Hansen to undergo small 'clean up' operations at the end of each season. 'Until 1985-86 season, when I tore my right knee muscle midway through the campaign, I probably involved myself in attacking play as much as any central defender in the history of the game,' he recalled. 'Yet after the injury, which meant that my right knee was never the same again, I concentrated much more on the defensive side.'
Meantime, workplace pressure was mounting inexorably. Fearful of failure, Hansen had always suffered nerves before a game (they disappeared as soon as he ran out on to the pitch); now, the strain of keeping Liverpool on top was getting to him more and more. He'd never taken criticism well, either, which didn't help. 'Hypersensitive,' as he put it. So, when, as a way of coping, he got into a habit of downing a few pints at lunchtime, he realized it was time to pack it in. Physically and mentally, he'd had enough.
His retirement, in 1991, prompted Kendall to predict: 'The loss of Hansen is potentially more damaging to Liverpool than the loss of Kevin Keegan or Kenny Dalglish. His partnership with Mark Lawrenson is the envy of every club in the League.'
Liverpool, as everyone knows, haven't won a title since.
'Alan is the most skilful centre-half I have ever seen in British football,' Bob Paisley once said. 'He has such beautiful balance. When he carries the ball he never loses control and always looks so graceful. He is a joy to watch.'
As part of his job on the backroom staff at Liverpool, Ronnie Moran gave new players a guided tour of Anfield. When the tour reached the dressing-room, Moran would point out Alan Hansen. 'Don't watch big Al play,' Moran said. 'Don't try to do what he does because he's a one-off.'
The message, driven home all the more forcefully if the new signing happened to be a defender, was always the same: Liverpool are a passing side. Give and go. The team, not the individual. But they made an exception for Hansen, their tall, stylish centre-back. 'Liverpool gave me the licence to be myself,' the Scot said, recalling his special status at Anfield.
As a boy, Hansen modelled himself on Bobby Moore; like Moore, his game was all about anticipation, reading the play, and skill on the ball. 'My number-one attribute was my ability to involve myself in the attacking play. For me, it was all about getting the ball and 'playing' - making constructive passes and pushing forward to get the ball back, or taking the ball past opponents.' Which was exactly what Moran didn't want anyone else to do.
Signed by Bob Paisley from Partick Thistle in 1977 for a fee of £100,000, a paltry sum even then, Hansen played 621 games for Liverpool. By the time he retired, in 1991, he had amassed eight League championship medals, two FA Cup and three League Cup gongs and three European Cup medals. In those 14 years there was only one season when Liverpool finished lower than second in the table, and only two seasons when they failed to land a trophy.
'More than any other individual he underpinned Liverpool's continued success during the 1980s,' Howard Kendall said. 'In many ways Alan was Liverpool's best attacker. As Everton manager, the message I always gave my players was: Stop Hansen. Our strikers were told to mark him and forget about chasing after the ball. The last thing I wanted was for Hansen to be in possession and in space.'
Tall and thin, with a long, loping stride, Hansen was, nevertheless, deceptively quick. 'Some players could beat me over 20 yards, but I am hard pressed to recall a team-mate who could do so over 50 or 60 yards.'
Tactically, Liverpool's flat back-four pushed up in order to compress the play. They didn't deliberately play for offside, however. 'We pushed up with the intention of making it difficult for opponents to give their strikers the service they wanted to give them, and to keep the ball a safe distance from goal.' Here again, his ability to read the play - when to let the striker go, knowing that he'd be ruled offside - was crucial.
Hansen would jockey opponents and then nick the ball away. 'Attacking the ball just wasn't my game,' said Hansen, a sufferer of panic attacks whenever faced with the prospect of marking burly, robust centre-forwards. 'They had one quality that I lacked: fearlessness.'
And for all his height, he wasn't much good in the air, either. Yet for all that, Liverpool, time and again, boasted the best defensive record in the division.
His stature put an added strain on his knees. Eventually, the deterioration in the joint forced Hansen to undergo small 'clean up' operations at the end of each season. 'Until 1985-86 season, when I tore my right knee muscle midway through the campaign, I probably involved myself in attacking play as much as any central defender in the history of the game,' he recalled. 'Yet after the injury, which meant that my right knee was never the same again, I concentrated much more on the defensive side.'
Meantime, workplace pressure was mounting inexorably. Fearful of failure, Hansen had always suffered nerves before a game (they disappeared as soon as he ran out on to the pitch); now, the strain of keeping Liverpool on top was getting to him more and more. He'd never taken criticism well, either, which didn't help. 'Hypersensitive,' as he put it. So, when, as a way of coping, he got into a habit of downing a few pints at lunchtime, he realized it was time to pack it in. Physically and mentally, he'd had enough.
His retirement, in 1991, prompted Kendall to predict: 'The loss of Hansen is potentially more damaging to Liverpool than the loss of Kevin Keegan or Kenny Dalglish. His partnership with Mark Lawrenson is the envy of every club in the League.'
Liverpool, as everyone knows, haven't won a title since.
'Alan is the most skilful centre-half I have ever seen in British football,' Bob Paisley once said. 'He has such beautiful balance. When he carries the ball he never loses control and always looks so graceful. He is a joy to watch.'
Instead of training, he went playing golf all the time 
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