Taking le Tiss Read online

  He had been signed from Bath City for £40,000 at the tail-end of the previous season, and he might as well have arrived with a piece of straw in his mouth he was that much of a yokel. He got loads of stick for his West Country roots but he dished it back, and went on to establish himself as a key member of the team for many years to come. He was a big personality, one of the loudest in the squad. You always knew when he was around because you could hear his booming laugh or his whinging—but he was a top pro and a decent player, just the kind you wanted.

  He must have thought life at the top level was easy because both his first two games for the club ended in 4-1 wins. The first came away to QPR on October 14, 1989, when he was thrown in at the deep end but coped very well and we won convincingly. I celebrated my twenty-first birthday by scoring a penalty with Rod Wallace netting twice and Alan Shearer once. I decided to put highlights in my hair for the one and only time in my life. I looked shocking. A week later we were home to Liverpool who were then The Team to beat. They were top of the table and won the title at a canter that season. When they came to The Dell they were unbeaten, but it is no exaggeration to say we could have had six or seven. We hit the woodwork twice and forced some good saves as we tore the leaders to shreds. We absolutely battered them and it was one of the most complete team performances I can remember. I set up Rod Wallace for two goals and he returned the compliment by setting me up for a header. I remember flicking the ball over the head of David Burrows and crossing for Rod to volley through the legs of Bruce Grobbelaar. I got the last goal when Rod crossed from the left and I outjumped Burrows to nod in. Bruce got a hand to it but could only push it into the net. By then Liverpool were all over the place. We adopted an attacking 4-2-4 formation and had a right go, and they couldn’t handle it.

  There was still a real buzz about the city the following day and I remember watching it back on ITV’s Big Match programme and wallowing in what was the best result I had ever had against one of the big teams. We had a terrific side and were probably only one or two good signings away from being genuine title contenders. Rod and I were scoring regularly and Alan Shearer was leading the line strongly, but we probably needed a couple of defenders. The midfield was getting on a bit and Chris Nicholl was under pressure to strengthen, so he splashed out a then club record of £750,000 on Alan McLoughlin from Swindon. He had done well for them against us when we played them in the League Cup. We drew up there, which was a real blow as the replay completely messed up the players’ Christmas party that was scheduled for the same night. We had a tough battle to get past them at The Dell. It was 2-2 after 90 minutes but we won 4-2 in extra-time after Chris Nicholl sent on Shearer and Ruddock to rough them up. They were christened the Bruise Brothers by the local paper and the tag stuck. Alan McLoughlin was Swindon’s main threat, so Chris signed him.

  He was a bit of a panic buy. Although he was a decent player, he wasn’t what we then needed. He was a good footballer with a nice touch but lacked a bit of pace. His best position was in the hole just behind the front two, but the only way he would fit in was if they got rid of me or Rod, so he ended up playing out of position. Having got past Swindon we really should have gone on to Wembley because we were drawn at home to Oldham in the quarter-final. We were 2-1 up going into stoppage time at The Dell but somehow referee Roger Milford found four minutes of injury-time, even though neither physio had been on the field.

  Oldham equalized and we knew we had no chance in the replay because they played on a plastic pitch. We hated that surface and were beaten before we even got on the coach. We were in completely the wrong frame of mind which was highlighted when we had the chance to equalize at 1-0 down. The ball was played across the box and it was crying out for Paul Rideout to hurl his head at it. But he held back and Chris Nicholl had a right go at him. Paul said, ‘You must be joking, I’m not diving on that stuff.’ Chris had a face like thunder. I honestly thought I was going to see him punch a player for the second time. There was steam coming out of his ears which at least took the pressure off the rest of us because we were all crap. That plastic pitch gave Oldham a huge advantage and they beat West Ham by six in the semi-final and went on to lose to Forest at Wembley, on grass. It was a hard final to watch because we knew it should have been us in it.

  IT WAS THE ONLY

  TIME IN MY

  CAREER I

  THOUGHT I

  MIGHT MISS

  BECAUSE I KNEW

  IF I SCORED

  THERE’D BE HELL.

  We were still leaking goals but had enough firepower to outscore a lot of teams. I was feeling at home on the big stage and full of confidence, apart from an away game at Millwall. The old Den was a horrible ground, caged in and menacing. It was a great atmosphere for the Millwall players because it gave them a real lift, but away teams never felt comfortable. I was stuck out on the wing so I was close to the crowd who were giving me fearful abuse. We were losing 2-1 with a minute to go when Glenn Cockerill broke through the inside right channel and the keeper brought him down, the ref pointed to the spot and I had the job of taking the penalty in front of their fans. It was the only time in my career I thought I might miss because I knew if I scored there’d be hell. But I came to my senses and sent Brian Horne the wrong way to get a point.

  I also got a couple of hat tricks in quick succession. My first for the club came in the return game against Wimbledon at Plough Lane in a match when Francis Benali got a red card for launching John Fashanu into orbit. To this day I have never seen a player go that high. He came down with ice. Of all the people for Franny to pick on. We were losing 3-1 when we went down to 10 men, but we came back to draw 3-3. I scored another penalty after Rod Wallace fell over. It wasn’t even a dive. John Scales was nowhere near him but the ref pointed to the spot, it was really funny. It was my second hat trick but I never got the ball—typical Wimbledon. My first goal took a deflection off Eric Young so they wouldn’t give it to me.

  Soon afterwards, against Norwich, I got my second hat trick at The Dell, which is still my favourite treble. The first goal was a tap-in from a Kevin Moore knock-down, but I really enjoyed the next two goals. I picked the ball up about 40 yards from goal and went on a dribble. I beat my old mate Andy Townsend but didn’t have the pace to get away from him. I found him back in my way so I beat him again and scored with a lovely low right-footer in off the post. Then Francis Benali nicked the ball off their winger and hit it up the left wing to me. Their defender committed himself and I nicked the ball past him. I was still a long way from goal and right out on the left touchline but I saw Bryan Gunn coming out a long way and wondered what he was doing. I didn’t have the energy to take the ball any further and I had the whole goal to aim at so I chipped it over him. The ball drifted and hit the inside of the far post and bounced in.

  At the end of that season I won the Barclays Young Eagle of the Year award and the PFA Young Player of the Year award. The PFA was a huge honour, being recognized by my fellow professionals, even more so when I saw the previous winners. The worst thing was having to make a speech. I had an idea I might have won—or at least got close—because my agent had been told to make sure I attended. And he wrote a speech for me, just in case. I’d never done any public speaking so he offered to help—and I reckoned that if an agent offered to help free of charge I must have won. And the organizers getting Saints legend Terry Paine to present the award was another big clue. I found myself rehearsing the speech in the toilets 15 minutes before the announcements. When Rod Wallace came third it was a double celebration.

  The Barclays Young Eagle award was a more low-key affair so I was able to wear an open-necked short-sleeved shirt with no jacket, although Chris Nicholl wasn’t too impressed by that. It was good of him to attend to support me, but I remember getting into an argument with him because I was convinced I could be a sweeper. That would have meant playing two hulking great centre-backs to win the ball and give it to me to ping around like Franz Beckenbauer or Glenn Hoddle, maki
ng me look like a world-beater. I was always cool under pressure so I felt I could do that—although I must admit part of me was winding Chris up, getting back at him for all the times when he’d kicked me in training.

  8

  WHY I TOLD SOUNESS, HODDLE AND VENABLES TO GET LOST

  ‘I SIGNED THE CONTRACT AND WATCHED AS IT WAS

  LOCKED IN THE SAFE. IT WAS SETTLED. I WAS JOINING

  MY BOYHOOD HEROES. I WAS ABOUT TO BECOME

  A SPURS PLAYER.’

  After those awards and those goals, people woke up to Matt Le Tissier. Especially Tottenham. I got a phone call from my agent Jerome Anderson to say Spurs were interested, asking if I’d speak to them. I wasn’t going to say no, not to the team I’d always supported. Though Terry Venables was the manager I didn’t speak to him, and the deal was done through their lawyers and their agent. We had a meeting at a solicitor’s office in north London a couple of months before the end of the season. Saints didn’t know anything about it, but I agreed terms and signed a contract which was locked away in the safe in the solicitor’s office. Then it’d be brought out at the end of the season, when the clubs had agreed a fee.

  Ironically our last game of the season was away to Spurs. We’d played Arsenal away a couple of days earlier and, if we’d won both matches, would have finished third. Instead we lost both and ended up seventh, but that was still my highest ever finishing position. I was due to get married (for the first time) that summer and after the Spurs game my fiancée, Cathy, announced that she didn’t want to live in London, so I had a decision to make. Go or stay. I decided to stay with Saints and don’t regret it at all, even though we ended up getting divorced. I made the decision, no one else. It’s a waste of time thinking, what if? I phoned Jerome and told him, and he was good as gold and never tried to tell me I was making a mistake, even though he could see his commission going right out the window. He never put any pressure on me. He’d just put offers in front of me and let me make up my own mind.

  I then got a message from Terry Venables saying he respected my decision, but that he’d still like to speak to me on the phone. I declined (as I did later with Glenn Hoddle) because I didn’t want to be put in a position where I might be tempted to change my mind. Cathy didn’t fancy living in London, so what was the point? I don’t know if Terry held that against me when he was England manager. It’s true he picked me, but not as many times as I think he should have done.

  The good news was knowing what Spurs were prepared to pay me. So I went back to Southampton and negotiated a new contract just like the one I’d have got at White Hart Lane. I now got £1,100 per week in the first year, £1,200 pw in the second and £1,300 pw in the third, but I’d have stayed even if they’d said no. Maybe I’d have won more England caps by moving club, but I was happy where I was.

  I had two other opportunities to move. The first came a couple of years later when Jerome rang and said one of the biggest clubs in Europe was in for me. He didn’t want to tell me about it over the phone so I had to drive up to London to meet him in a hotel. I went up thinking it might be Real Madrid or Barcelona but it turned out to be Liverpool. Graeme Souness was the manager but again I didn’t even meet him. The move never got off the ground because I didn’t fancy living up north. Nothing against the north—but I preferred to live where I didn’t need a translator. If I’d ever moved from Southampton then I wouldn’t have gone any further than London, so Liverpool was never an option.

  The only other time I came close to leaving Saints was in 1995 when Chelsea came in for me. I had a lot of things to weigh up. At that point Alan Ball was manager at Southampton and it was a brilliant time for me. He brought the best out of me and made me feel good about myself. I was happy playing for him and for Saints, I knew I’d be playing every week and I was still in the England squad. And I was in the top division. If Saints had ever been relegated then I’d have been put in a tough position. If they hadn’t bounced straight back then I think I’d have been yearning to play in the top division and would have asked for a move, but fortunately none of that happened.

  So did I lack ambition? That’s what they said. But listen—I’d set my ambitions high when I was seven or eight. I wanted to be a professional footballer and play for England. By the age of 25 I had done both. If any of my critics could claim to have fulfilled their life’s ambition by the time they were 25 then they’d be entitled to their say. But most of the negative comments were coming from people who didn’t know me or who had never played the game, and definitely not to my level. So it hurt me when people said I lacked ambition because they had no idea about where I had come from or what my goals were. They certainly had no idea about my background and what an achievement it was to break away from the Channel Islands. Unless you have grown up there, you cannot begin to understand what a sheltered background it is.

  A LOT OF

  PLAYERS MOVE

  CLUBS CLAIMING

  IT’S BECAUSE

  THEY ARE

  AMBITIOUS.

  DON’T LET THEM

  FOOL YOU; THEY

  ARE USUALLY

  AFTER THE EXTRA

  CASH.

  Over the decades there have been very few professional footballers (Graeme Le Saux is the obvious example) from the Channel Islands, which have a combined population of only around 150,000. To come from there and play for England is a pretty big achievement in my eyes—particularly as I managed to balance that with personal happiness, which always meant much more to me than money. And it’s worth stressing that a lot of players move clubs claiming it’s because they are ambitious. Don’t let them fool you; they are usually after the extra cash. Nothing wrong with that, so long as they’re being honest. The fans aren’t stupid, they see through it—as they did when Lucas Neill chose West Ham over Liverpool claiming he was ambitious. Nothing against the Hammers, but how could he say that West Ham had more chance of winning cups than Liverpool? And look at the likes of Steve Sidwell, who was great for Reading. He was playing every week but then moved to Chelsea, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be a regular but he’d be paid more. Is that ambition?

  Is a player better off getting silly money every week but sitting on the bench, or playing regularly, earning less and keeping his self-respect? I know what I chose. And earning less does NOT mean that you are being badly paid. You can’t blame the players for taking that sort of money if it’s offered, but there comes a time when you have to wonder how much more money someone can actually spend? If you are already on £30,000 a week, what else could you buy if you get £40,000? The only difference for the likes of Steve Sidwell is they’d have more time to spend it because they’re not playing! I know times were different during my career, but the most I ever earned was just under £4,000 a week. I could never have handled sitting on the bench, week after week, and being sent on as an ‘impact player’, just for the extra cash. It was bad enough when I was dropped—and every manager left me out at some point—apart from Dave Merrington and Alan Ball. At least at Southampton I didn’t have to worry about rotation because we never had a big enough squad for that. And I’d have hated being left out even when I was playing well simply to give others a chance. I never had a problem being dropped if I was going through a bad spell, and never went knocking on the manager’s door about it. I simply waited for them to lose a couple of games, then knew I’d be back in again.

  The other point which worried me about moving clubs is the number of players I saw who struggled to settle, or who found it didn’t work out. I do believe certain players are right for certain clubs. If you feel comfortable, fit in and have a good rapport with your teammates then you are far more likely to play your best. There have been so many instances of players being a success at one club, taking the ‘dream move’ and being a bit of a flop. It isn’t that they have suddenly become bad players; they just don’t fit into the new team or feel comfortable in their new set up.

  James Beattie was a real star for Southampton and a big her
o with the fans, who loved him, but he never showed that form when he moved to Everton. If you don’t get off to a good start at a new club after a big-money move then the fans can get on your back, and it can be much harder to make an impact. So was I glad I stayed at Saints.

  9

  IAN WHO?

  ‘I’D NEVER HEARD OF IAN BRANFOOT BUT I WAS CERTAIN HE

  WOULD QUICKLY APPRECIATE MY UNIQUE TALENTS AND BUILD

  HIS TEAM AROUND ME, PLAYING A SLICK, ENTERTAINING

  BRAND OF EXCITING ATTACKING FOOTBALL.’

  By the start of the 1990-91 season I was getting a bit cocky in the dressing room. We were a younger group of players, and I was scoring goals. I had a bit more stature, and was quicker to express an opinion and dish out the banter. I still didn’t drink but I was starting to come out of my shell.

  On the field, it took me a while to get going. The campaign began with everyone on a high after England’s run to the semi-finals at the Italia 90 World Cup. The kick-off was delayed for our opening match away at Aston Villa because of the crowds—a pattern repeated across the country. I scored in a 1-1 draw and then netted a free kick at Coventry. It wasn’t struck with that much power but was more of a chip which left the keeper flat-footed, and from then on I was put on free-kick duty.

  It was a fairly unremarkable campaign, we couldn’t match the previous season’s results, and sadly Chris Nicholl got axed. I still wonder if things might have panned out differently if I hadn’t picked up my first proper injury. It happened in a 3-1 defeat against Notting-ham Forest in January when I went to back-heel the ball and pulled a hamstring. I didn’t even realize I’d got a hamstring muscle, let alone had torn it, but I knew right away that I was trouble. I was sidelined for five weeks and we flirted with relegation but managed to stay up reasonably comfortably.