The Shankly Hotel offers so much more than luxury accommodation – it is an experience. Enjoy rooms inspired by one of the most iconic sporting figures in the world. Comprising of 83 luxurious rooms and suites, it’s the ideal destination for those looking for a stylish, comfortable and flexible hotel in Liverpool. No other hotel offers such a unique insight into the life and career of Bill Shankly.
Each room is inspired by the legendary manager’s illustrious football career, and offers iconic quotes, relaxing beds and a luxurious bathroom, we guarantee an unforgettable stay at our hotel in Liverpool.
“Aim for the sky and you’ll reach the ceiling. Aim for the ceiling and you’ll stay on the floor.”
– Bill Shankly
The Shankly Hotel has aimed for the sky – creating the ultimate hotel experience in Liverpool. Our comfortable, sleek and stylish rooms and suites span over 2.5 times an average hotel room. As standard, rooms include a double whirlpool bath, 50 inch plasma TV, free WiFi and air conditioning.
To really make the most of your stay at The Shankly Hotel, you can book a table at The Shankly Hotel, which celebrates Bill Shankly’s life. Experience delicious dishes surrounded by amazing memorabilia from the Shankly family’s private collection.
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The Shankly Hotel offers the ultimate hotel stay in Liverpool. Book now to avoid disappointment.
‘Known to the lads as Bald Eagle, Jimmy always looked older than he was. He had this ritual of coming in for a rub-down every day, whether he was injured or not. Shanks, of course, would always be keeping any eye on Jimmy to see if he was actually carrying an injury. I was on the groundstaff at the time and in on the Sunday, as usual, to help brush the dressing-rooms and terraces as well as generally tidying things up at Anfield with the other younger lads. As usual, Jimmy was in the treatment room for his rub-down. As groundstaff boys we didn’t go anywhere near the dressing room or any of the inner sanctum areas without knocking on the door and asking permission. This day, Shanks came out, wearing a beaming smile. ‘Boys, put your brushes down and come in here. I want you to see the latest in football technology.’
Now he used to be proud if the toilets were given a lick of paint. Can you imagine what he was like with a new piece of equipment that had been designed to treat injuries and shorten the recovery period? He was full of praise for the German manufacturers. ‘Great inventors, the Germans, amazing bit of gadgetry this. Cost us two thousand pounds, but it will be worth every penny, won’t it, Bob?’ Bob Paisley gave us a knowing look. He was from the old school of treating players and clearly wasn’t as enthusiastic as Shanks.
‘Aye’, said Bill. ‘It will nullify injuries. Marvellous invention.’ He was clearly desperate to try it out. ‘Who’s in Bob?. Jimmy Melia is here again! He’ll do.’
The next thing, Jimmy is sitting on a table alongside this machine and Bob is fitting the electrodes to his legs. The logic was simple. The machine sent out an electric impulse. This worked the muscle which in turn helped the flow of blood. All very straightforward. The kind of thing Bob would do with his experienced hands. But Shanks was in full flow. He had his audience, ten groundstaff lads, and we listened as he explained the way the various dials worked.
‘It’s marked one to ten. It’s a low on one, high power on ten. Go on, Jimmy son, we’ll leave it to you to take the pain strain. See how far you can go.’ Jimmy turned it on to number one. No effect. He turned the dial two more notches. Nothing. He got to five and was still telling the boss that he couldn’t feel anything. ‘Bob’, said Shanks, beginning to get annoyed, ‘perhaps these bloody Germans aren’t as inventive as I thought. Either that or Jimmy is immune to pain.’ Melia pressed on… six, seven, eight. ‘Still nothing, boss.’ Suddenly the dial was all the way to ten and Jimmy was just sitting there, shaking his head, ‘No, nothing.’
Shanks was furious, ‘German crap’, he was screaming. ‘They haven’t got a clue. You can send this back to Munich and tell them they can stick it up their backsides. Two thousand pounds? Get your sponge out, Bob. You might need it.’
Bob just stood there, wearing this little light brown coat that made him look more like a grocer than a medical expert. We were all dying to laugh. You could see one or two shoulders shaking as we tried to stifle our mirth. We began to back towards the door, when Shanks suddenly said, ‘Christ, Bob, you haven’t even turned it on!’ He flicked the switch and poor Jimmy, still on a maximum setting of ten, nearly hit the ceiling. Sparks were coming out of his ears. His hair would have stood on end if he’d had any. We all ran out, exploding with laughter. As we headed down the corridor, Shanks was right behind us and shouting, ‘That’ll teach the Bald Eagle to come in for a treatment on a Sunday.’