Catch A Falling Star (5 page)

I made my debut at
Villa Park
on
November 25th 1961
. We lost 2-1 but I’ve still got the cuttings in a scrapbook here and the reporter says I was the best player on the pitch!

Before the game I was extremely nervous. The rest of the team were brilliant with me, to be fair. Bert, who’d given me a pair of his boots to
wear
said: “Look after those boots, make sure you play well in them.” I had a few pats on the back and then it was down the tunnel we went and onto
Villa Park
, a huge arena and one of the best grounds in the country. Instead of playing in front of a few hundred in the reserves I was now playing in front of tens of thousands of people.

It felt bizarre being on the field at the start because I was aware of how my brother would be there and all of a sudden, the pitch which I used to master no problem, seemed smaller than ever. I had to find space. I had to do little things to build my confidence. So I made sure I got a few early touches, even going deep to pick up the ball from Bert and then releasing it. A few passes later and after about fifteen or twenty minutes I was into my stride. The difference here was that now when I had the ball I had to release it much more quickly. When you are in the reserves you can have a look around before passing it. When you are in the first team though you have to know where you are going to pass it before you have received it. As it turned out I was voted ‘Man of the Match’ in that first game.

Little at that stage would anyone think that I would still be playing in the first team eleven years later – still wearing that sky blue shirt with pride. I played 365 league games, scored 107 goals and made about 200 more.

My brother Chris came down for that first game and even though we lost I felt immensely proud that I was part of the first team and that he’d seen me play.

I was prouder still to score my first City goal a month later in a 3-0 victory over
Ipswich
Town
at

By the time I was seventeen I was a regular in City’s first team on the right wing. Great – no more cleaning boots! I had the bit between my teeth and I just wanted to play every week. I’d just signed as a professional and received £25 signing on fee and £20 a week wages.

One of the big differences these days is that they don’t seem to play seventeen-year-olds as much as they used to. They say they want to guard them, wrap them up in cotton wool like
Moyes
did with Rooney or
Fergie
did with Giggs. If Rooney is good enough to play for
England
, why was he often a sub for his club side, Everton? I find that attitude very strange. In my opinion if they’re good enough, they’re old enough.

When I broke through there were many other youngsters all doing well for themselves: Francis Lee at
Bolton
, John
Sissons
at West Ham, Johnny
Hollins
at Chelsea,
Georgie
Armstrong at Arsenal,
Jim
Montgomery at
Sunderland
. There were probably more, many more but once they’d made their debut and made their mark, they weren’t pulled out or rested – they’d keep their place in the team. If they were the best player for that position then why not play them?

Managers or directors say there’s too much pressure on these kids. Well I remember Howard Kendall, who until 2004 had been the youngest-ever player in a Cup Final – he didn’t seem to be under too much pressure that day.
Bestie
, what a talent he was at seventeen. Imagine if they’d kept him on the bench until he was twenty-two.

I would have been as sick as the proverbial parrot if I was not being played in the team when I knew I was good enough. I have heard managers and directors say: “He’s got no experience.” How else are you going to gain experience without playing? You won’t get experience playing in the reserve team.

Another magic moment for me was when I received my club blazer after a dozen games. I was so proud to wear that blazer with the City badge on. I’d wear it everywhere, not just on club visits or on arrival at the stadium... but everywhere! How many other teenagers could say their job was to play football for their favourite football club?

So by this stage I’d done it, I was a first team pro and it was everything I had worked for in my formative years.

I suppose my dad’s horrendous behaviour towards my mum, towards all of us really, was something of a motivational tool that I used to make it all the way. He was the one who said to me: “You’ll never make it as a footballer.” I’ll say it again, he was simply jealous of the love we had between us and he wanted to bring everyone down to his level. In the years to come I would feel immensely proud that I gave my mother moments of real pride because of what I’d done on the football field.

To be honest, the crowd at City took to me right away and I was very thankful for that as well. When they see you are a local lad they are prepared to give you time to find your feet, time to make your mistakes.

In those early days I’d walk home with the crowds back to
Fallowfield
and I’d talk to the supporters and get their point of view on how the game went. Okay, these fans haven’t played the game at a high level but you can learn the odd thing from them and they are entitled to their opinion because after all, they’re the ones who pay your wages, aren’t they?

They’d say: “Why don’t you cross it earlier and deeper, why does so-and-so go to the near post when he should go to the far post, why don’t they pass it earlier instead of holding onto it?” It was amazing to hear such passion and then it would send shivers down your spine when you’d think that those punters were paying their hard-earned cash to see you entertain them.

When I signed pro at City, not only did I get my blue blazer and grey flannels from the Co-op in
Manchester
but I was issued with a little rule book. It stated everything you could and everything you couldn’t do while under contract at the club.

For instance, you couldn’t go out and ride a motorbike on your own, you couldn’t go out boozing after Wednesday night if the match was on a Saturday and you always had to be impeccably dressed on a match day.
Shirt and tie always.
That little rule book was brilliant for pulling the talent. We’d use it to get into the Cinema
Royale
in
Manchester
. So if you took a girl out you could get complimentary tickets to see the film – posh seats as well.

  You could also use it to get into any football ground in the country for free which was good if you wanted to check up on an opposing player. It was like a press card I suppose.

I did not have a car so I started taking lessons. I went in for my test wearing my City blazer. I thought it might impress the instructor. When I sat down in the car the first thing he said was: “Don’t like football, I’m a rugby man!” You’ve guessed it, he failed me.

The second time I went in for my test there was no blazer but I was so cautious it was untrue. This time he failed me for being too cautious, so it was third time lucky with me. Before I had passed my test
  I
used to borrow a friend’s car, a 1936 Austin Seven you had to double de-clutch to get started. One day when I was injured I went back to
Manchester
for a couple of hours to pass some time. I was heading back to the ground to receive some more treatment and just as I was turning into

Picture the scene: I had no licence, no insurance – nothing at all. Straight away the owner of the damaged vehicle recognised me and he let me off. I know it was only a little bump on his car but I could have easily been banned at a critical stage of my career. I got him some tickets to watch us play. He was a blue – Thank God!

Finally, I bought my first car, a little blue second-hand
Austin
. Chris was twenty-two at the
time,
he couldn’t afford a car so he used to borrow mine if he was out with his girlfriend. It was great because I would let him borrow it for the use of his sweaters! By now I was getting interested in the fairer sex too and believe it or not, the thing to have at the time was a nice sweater!

Looking back, I think we really only had the one real bust-up. Chris bought himself a radiogram – it was so big it was like a sideboard with a record player in it. He said it was a piece of furniture for when he got married.

By this time I’d started dating a girl and after training at City I would take the girlfriend home in the afternoon and play records on his precious radiogram. He went mad at me over that but I understood where he was coming from and I’d have probably gone to town on him had it been the other way round. I always had the ace card up my sleeve though, which was to simply dangle the car keys in front of him and suddenly it would all be forgotten!

It was very funny one particular day when Chris brought his girlfriend home. He was getting engaged to her and he used to call me his little kid brother. At the time though I was probably three inches taller than him! Well I was in the sitting room doing the ironing for mum, just wearing a pair of underpants. In walked Chris with his girlfriend – you should have seen the look on her face. This was the first time she’d met Chris’s ‘little kid’ and there I was, six foot one, looking like Tarzan doing the ironing! We had a good chuckle over that afterwards!

I’d been going out with my girlfriend Margaret for about six months when she got pregnant, so I did the honourable thing and we got married! I was nineteen and she was seventeen - things were oh so different in those days. In all honesty it was a shotgun wedding but we lasted seventeen years which isn’t bad, all things considered. Of course, these things have a bearing on your life but I maintain I was happy enough with my family life and it helped me settle down and concentrate on the game.

My mum had moved to a flat in
Handforth
– the same flat I now live in with Carmen – a couple of years earlier so when we first got married we lived with her in the flat. Back then my mum was great – we came home from the wedding and Margaret was by then six months pregnant so things were moving fast. We held a little party that night and at around midnight my mum gave me her keys and said she was going to her friends for a week to let us have our ‘honeymoon’ in peace. That was really good of her.

My first child was a boy. Mark was born in the back bedroom where I sleep now. He was exactly the same birth weight as I was – 4lb 2ozs and came into this world about seven weeks premature. What a story it was as well.

Margaret and I were playing pitch and putt when Mark decided he could wait no longer. She was having a swing of the club when she went: “
Ohhh
!” and immediately I knew something was up. There was no time to get her to hospital. We didn’t think it would actually be the birth so we just hurtled home. We phoned the midwife up straight away because by now her waters had broken. An ambulance arrived but with no incubator so we had to send it back. Mark was born in the house and I cut the umbilical cord myself with a pair of kitchen scissors. I held my baby boy in the air. I couldn’t believe it!

My mum doted on Mark because he was the first grandchild she had. Boy did she spoil him. Well, it’s only natural I suppose.

It was great for me too because we had a live-in babysitter in the form of my mum. In fact she used to say: “Are you going out tonight? I’ll
babysit
!” We lived with my mother for about a year while we saved our pennies. With my mum’s help we bought a little semi in
Handforth
. It cost £3,250 and on our first night in the house we slept on sun loungers because we had absolutely no furniture.
Nothing whatsoever.