Journeyman (6 page)

I re-joined the Yeovil Town squad for training a couple of weeks after everyone else. Except for bringing up the rear during the running in my first training session, I actually seemed to be getting away with my lack of preparation. I performed relatively well in my first pre-season game against Plymouth and continued that form to be selected for the first game of the season away at Kettering Town.

My manager and his staff were still talking really positively about me before the game and referring to me as one of the ‘go-to’ players in the team – this satisfied my ego. We won the game 2–1 and I remember performing
fine, but I missed a great opportunity to score in the first half. The ball had sat up perfectly and all I had to do was lift it over the stranded keeper from around 20 yards. I did that part expertly, but I also managed to clear the crossbar and the chance was gone.

The good start sadly did not continue as we lost at home to both Kingstonian and Hednesford Town. I remember learning a footballing lesson against Kingstonian. They had Gary Patterson and Geoff Pitcher in midfield, both really experienced midfielders who complemented each other perfectly, treated me like the nipper I was and totally dominated the game.

Those two losses were followed by a draw at Hayes and then a win at Dover, where I played poorly and was substituted. We then beat Kidderminster Harriers 3–1 at home on the August bank holiday and I played a more advanced role just off Warren Patmore. I got my first goal of the season and, more importantly, my club car.

I did not stipulate what type of car I wanted but I cannot say the green Seat Ibiza, complete with tow bar, was what I had envisaged. I was a young eligible bachelor and this was not the sort of transport a ‘man about town’ should have been driving – not in my opinion anyway. It was probably very cool in rural Somerset, though, and it was in club colours.

I was hoping that bank holiday performance would kick-start my season and bring on a consistent level of performance after a so-so beginning. Our next game was at home to Rushden & Diamonds and it was the first time we’d meet after their rumoured interest in me the previous season. I was determined to impress.

We lost the game 1–0 but I felt I had been our most effective attacking player throughout. You can imagine my surprise therefore when, with fifteen minutes left and us chasing the game, I was taken off. I could not believe it when my number came up and I showed my anger by telling the manager what I thought of his decision as I left the pitch. He was a lovely man but I was really frustrated. We were playing with three central defenders
and had two defensive-minded midfielders on as well. The general gist of my argument was that he should have taken one of those defensive players off and left me on as we needed a goal. I had a strong case but my reaction was unprofessional and must have looked terrible to the supporters, not to mention the manager in the other dugout who I was trying to impress.

I felt vindicated though when, with five minutes to go, the sponsors named me ‘Man of the Match’. Quite often the announcement of the sponsors’ player of the game is met with bemusement, but I obviously agreed this time.

After the game Colin took me into the office and gave me a bollocking, which he was totally entitled to do. He told me he ‘couldn’t care less who I thought I was’ and that I had ‘no right’ to question his decision. I accepted that point but still could not agree with his rationale for the substitution.

On this occasion we had to agree to disagree. I wonder what he thought of me after that meeting – some chubby nineteen-year-old who had only been playing first-team football for six months telling a man of vast experience what he should be doing.

Colin did not hold a grudge though and continued to play me. In return, my performances were acceptable … until the end of September when we played Woking away. I put in the kind of performance that far too regularly punctuated the season. We drew 0–0, which was a good result considering we played the first fifty minutes with ten players. No one had been sent off, it was just that my performance was nothing short of horrific. I was anonymous other than when I was giving the ball away and was relieved to be put out of my misery in the early part of the second half. I was so embarrassed I just wanted to get off the pitch as quickly as possible.

I had gradually lost the trust of Colin and unsurprisingly found myself on the bench. With hindsight, it was obvious what happened: after coming from the professional game and full-time training, I was now a part-time player who lacked the discipline to keep my fitness levels at the required standard.

In those days I was very much of the opinion that I did not need to be fit, I just needed to be good on the ball. One problem was that Yeovil only trained on a Wednesday evening and my favourite local club night in Chelmsford was on a Tuesday. The now defunct Dukes held a ’70s night and all drinks were 70p, so, more often than not, I was in no shape to train to any decent standard the next day.

I trained religiously every day at the park by myself, but I was just working on my touch and it had no physical benefits. As a result, I was putting on weight, which led to me feeling lethargic on match days and contributed to my erratic performances.

It was a full two months later, in mid-December, before I managed to get myself back into the starting eleven.

The break seemed to benefit me as I came back into the team and performed closer to my potential. This was a good time to find my form as we were still in the FA Cup and had drawn a big third-round tie against Cardiff City at their old Ninian Park stadium.

Cardiff were only a Division Three team then (which would now be League Two) but it was a big game and relatively local, too. My focus during this Christmas period was to ensure I started in that game.

I managed to achieve that goal.

We drew the game 1–1 in front of over 13,000 people. Anyone who has played or watched football in south Wales knows how fanatical the supporters are. The atmosphere was intense and aggressive – some may say intimidating – but I had always relished such occasions. Former Cardiff player Carl Dale put us in the lead early in the second half and it looked as though we were about to add another chapter to Yeovil’s illustrious giant-killing history. Unfortunately we were pegged back with fewer than ten minutes to go so just held out for a draw.

I was really happy with my performance and felt that, after a poor few months, I had managed to re-establish myself. We took Cardiff all the way
in the replay, but eventually lost 2–1 in extra time to a bizarre goal that has subsequently been replayed many times as a ‘football blooper’ clip. Our goalkeeper Tony Pennock – ironically a lifelong Swansea City supporter – had rolled the ball out ready to hit a long goal kick, while Cardiff’s Kevin Nugent pretended not to be interested. As soon as Tony put the ball on the floor, however, Nugent turned and attempted to win it. This totally caught Tony out and they got embroiled in a fifty-fifty challenge; Tony got to the ball first but it ricocheted off Nugent and flew into the goal.

With the Cup run over, our focus was back on the League. Unfortunately those games against Cardiff turned out to be the highlight of my season as I reverted back to being a peripheral player. By mid-April our season was petering out and I was not particularly focused on the upcoming games as I had no idea if I would be playing from one week to the next.

On 22 April we played Cheltenham Town away. I knew they were top of our league but didn’t realise they could win it if they beat us. I was expecting to rock up and play in front of the usual couple of thousand hardy souls so you can imagine my surprise when I got there and learnt the game had sold out. We lost 3–2 and Cheltenham scored the winning goal in about the eighth minute of injury time to gain promotion to the League. Cue pitch invasion and the usual race back to the safety of the dressing rooms for the players and officials.

As a club we enjoyed a successful season, finishing a very creditable fifth with seventy-one points from forty-two games and getting to the third round of the FA Cup.

Personally, on the other hand, it had been a really disappointing year. What was even more disappointing was that all my problems were self-inflicted. I had gone from being a key player to a bit-part squad member.

I managed a total of forty appearances (twenty-eight starts and twelve subs) and scored three goals. You could say that’s not too bad as there weren’t many twenty-year-olds playing regular first-team football, but I knew I had
seriously underachieved. The only positive was that I had met the terms of my contract triggering my £25-a-week pay rise. I had not done a great deal to earn it, but I was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It was not just me who was disappointed with my overall performance, though: Colin was not happy either. If I had been out of contract I would definitely have been released. Thankfully I had another year to go, because who would have taken me after failing at Arsenal, Reading and Yeovil?

Colin wanted to move me on, however, and put me on the transfer list. I do not think either of us expected an avalanche of offers, but he was going to see if anyone would take the bait. This gesture galvanised me and I was determined to prove Colin, and anyone else who had endorsed that decision, wrong.

D
ESPITE BEING LISTED
for transfer, there was very little interest in my services. Yeovil made me aware that Stevenage Borough had made a tentative enquiry regarding my availability but, for whatever reason, did not take things further. So, whether it was desired or not, Yeovil was lumbered with me for another year.

However, for the first time in my fledgling career, I embarked on my own fitness regime over the summer break. During pre-season training for the 1999/2000 season I saw the benefits of this hard work.

It was evident immediately; I scored a hat-trick against an admittedly weak local side called East Coker and then an excellent half-volley against Gillingham. I surpassed myself in this game as I managed to enrage pretty much the whole Gillingham team with my antics. After my recent hat-trick and this early goal I was really full of myself and showboating at every opportunity. Predictably, I became a marked man as the game wore on,
attracting attention from Gillingham's senior professionals in particular. Their captain Paul Smith tried to scythe me in half, but I cheekily nudged the ball through his legs and watched as he nearly slid out of the ground! Next I tried to nutmeg Andy Hessenthaler, who looked at me with contempt, took the ball and said, in no uncertain terms, what he thought of my attempt. Finally Barry Ashby, a big centre half, made it clear what he was going to do to me if I came anywhere near him.

After these kinds of friendly games, Yeovil always put food on for the players. You can imagine how sheepish I felt as I wandered upstairs for my post-match Lucozade and pasta while rubbing shoulders with players who wanted to kick seven bells out of me – thankfully they all saw the funny side and left me alone.

Pre-season continued to go well and the highlight was a resounding 5–3 victory over a youthful Manchester United side, which included Danny Webber and Michael Rose (a future teammate of mine).

It seemed like I had managed to re-establish myself in the Yeovil first team and things were going well off the pitch too. During the summer, the club had signed Terry Skiverton from Welling United. Terry was based in east London so would commute with Warren Patmore, Dean Chandler and myself to Somerset. Terry and I hit it off from the start and began a bromance that culminated in my becoming his landlord.

Summer had gone as well as I could have imagined and I was convinced I would be in the team for the opening game of the season – the almighty trek to Scarborough. We travelled up to Yorkshire on the Friday before the game and Terry and I shared a room.

Colin Lippiatt did not name the team until a couple of hours before kick-off but Terry got a phone call at 11 a.m. on the Saturday. It was the gaffer and he wanted to see Terry in his room. Now, any professional will tell you that you only get a phone call like this before a game if: a) You normally play but will not be selected today; or b) You do not normally play and, out of the blue, you are in the starting line-up.

Considering Terry had played nigh-on all the pre-season friendly games, I guessed it was the former reason. After he hung up we shared a knowing look and off he went. Upon his return I said: ‘I'll have two sugars in my tea please, Terry!' to insinuate I was the senior professional and he had to wait on me.

As expected, I was in the team, but unfortunately that was the highlight of my day. We lost 5–0 and I was subbed at half-time while we were 3–0 down – although, on this occasion, I'm not sure my performance deserved it.

Terry was one of the subs who came on and, as he got ready, whispered in my ear, ‘I'll have two sugars in my tea please!' Touché, I deserved that. Even in my depressed state I still had a little chuckle to myself!

All that early season optimism disappeared and I returned to my default position on the bench. My pre-season form had not done enough to gain Colin's trust; considering some of the dross I had served up for him last season that was understandable.

Yeovil had a good start to the season following that initial hiding, though. For the rest of August my contribution was restricted to one start and a smattering of cameo appearances as a substitute. I was frustrated after working hard to get myself into good shape, but I also had to accept there was nobody to blame but myself.

There was real competition for places in central midfield with experienced players such as Steve Stott, Steve Thompson, Jamie Pitman, Dave Norton, Paul Tisdale and Matt Hayfield in front of me. While not capable of the sort of displays I could put on at my best, these players were a lot more consistent and reliable.

Everything seemed to be going swimmingly for the club until, unexpectedly, Colin Lippiatt resigned from his managerial post just before October. Normally if you're out of the team, such news can make you quite happy (even if you don't admit it). However, on this occasion, this was not the case.

Yes, I was frustrated about my lack of playing time but I really liked Colin
as a person. I never came across anyone, at the time or since, with a bad word to say about him. Apparently he quit because the club wanted him to become the full-time manager and he didn't want to give up his day job. How true this was, I don't really know.

Steve Thompson was given the post on a six-week trial – an intriguing development for me as Steve and I had an interesting relationship. Sometimes we got on well but other times things were a little strained. There's no doubt Steve rated me as a player but I think he was frustrated by my lack of application and thought I was wasting my talent. I wasn't sure how much playing time I was going to get under him.

A game against Tonbridge Angels in the previous campaign illustrated our somewhat erratic relationship. We had laboured to a 1–0 victory against our lower-ranked opposition in the FA Trophy second round. At the next training session, Colin carried out a post mortem and Steve offered his opinion, stating that the reason we were so poor was because we were playing with ten men – the insinuation being that carrying me in the team was like playing with a man down. This was not a comment I appreciated in front of my peers, but bearing in mind my performance level around that time it was probably fair.

I should not have worried, though, as Steve showed a lot of faith in me. He actually seemed to be going out of his way to get me playing at my best. Before we played Sutton United away he said, in front of the whole team, that he thought I was the most talented player he had seen at Conference level. I repaid him by going on to score the only goal in a 1–0 win.

Moments like that were tempered with some disappointments too, however. I was left on the bench for an FA Cup first-round game against my former club Reading at their new Madejski Stadium and had to settle for a ten-minute cameo.

I continued my good form regardless and scored in a 5–1 demolition of Rushden & Diamonds. I also had a goal wrongly chalked off in a draw against Weymouth in an FA Trophy tie.

After that initial six-week period, Steve was given the job on a full-time basis. This seemed the right decision by the club and definitely something I was happy about as I continued to play a prominent part in the team. Everything seemed to be going well and, at the end of January, we were third in the League and only four points off top spot.

Results began to tail off, however, and by the beginning of March we had dropped to fifth and were fifteen points off leaders Kidderminster Harriers.

Seemingly out of the blue, Steve Thompson was relieved of his duties as manager and replaced by ex-Chelsea legend David Webb in early March. Steve was demoted to his assistant.

David embarked on a revolution; his brief was to oversee the transition of playing staff from part time to full time. Nobody's position was safe, irrespective of any current reputation or standing. The majority of the squad's higher earners and older players (mostly one and the same), as well as those not willing to commit to full-time football, were dispensed of ruthlessly.

Every player had a short introductory meeting with the new manager at his first training session. In my meeting he asked me what position I preferred to play. I went into great detail about how I liked to play in a midfield three as the advanced midfielder, just behind the striker. He listened patiently and then, in his very matter of fact way, said he did not play that way and our formation would be 4–4–2. I quickly backtracked and said I also liked playing central midfield!

In a strange twist of fate, we had played Doncaster Rovers at home just before David was appointed and we then had to play them away for his first match in charge. Considering we had lost the home game 3–1 with an experienced team, it was with a sense of trepidation that we embarked on the long trip to Yorkshire. David's match-day routine was a lot different to what we were used to. He named the team just before 2 p.m. … and that was it. We did not see him again until about fifteen minutes before kick-off,
when he just moved around the dressing room and gave short pieces of tactical information to individuals.

To my amazement, not only did we hold our own, but we comfortably won the game 3–0 and produced an excellent all-round team performance. I really enjoyed the game and put in a good shift. Like the majority of the squad, I would be out of contract come the end of the season, so it was important to impress the new manager.

I went on to play every minute of the new manager's first eight games. We only lost one and I felt I had played well even then. After those eight games, the manager arranged meetings with everyone to discuss their futures at the club. I bounced into my meeting extremely confident I would be offered an improved full-time deal. The manager's face, however, told me that maybe my confidence was misplaced.

David went on to say that he ‘really wasn't sure' about me and had actually been prepared to let me go until an incident the previous Saturday – a 3–0 home win against Hednesford – had changed his mind. He'd seen me lose the ball on the edge of the opposition box and then work back to deny Hednesford a shot on goal with a tackle on the edge of our own box. The manager said this made him think he could turn me into what he called a ‘proper' player.

I was a little crestfallen but also relieved.

However, the deal he offered was only a one-year contract on the same money – and I lost my club car. David said he was amazed players even had club cars.

It was not overly surprising that I lost the car – just a month earlier I'd managed to get through three in a week! I'd been upgraded to a Vauxhall Corsa from my vulgar green Seat, but it broke down and had to be replaced. The local garage temporarily gave me a scruffy old Volvo, but that subsequently broke down on the way home too. Skivo, Glenn Poole and I had to be towed back to Yeovil and the garage reluctantly gave me a Ford Mondeo
so we could get home to Essex. You can imagine how happy they were when, two weeks later, I returned the Mondeo with a cracked front bumper and half the back bumper missing. I was not responsible for either misdemeanour but, as I was the person insured, I had to take the rap. To be honest, as it was not my car, I cannot say I took a great deal of care of it and I regularly lent it to any member of our travelling party who wanted to use it.

I was still disappointed with the club's offer though. Obviously I was going to incur some extra costs as I needed to find myself somewhere to live, so I didn't think it particularly fair for them to ask me into full-time training on the same salary.

I told the manager I would have to think about it.

That Saturday we drew away to Altrincham in a League game. It was a May Day bank holiday weekend though so we had another game on the Monday, which gave me another opportunity to demonstrate my lack of professionalism: I played five-a-side on Sunday with my mates and managed to injure myself. I then had to ring Steve Thompson on Monday morning and say I had picked up an injury in the Saturday game. As we were part time I managed to get away with it, but I dread to think what the manager would have said if he'd known the truth.

David pulled me into his office before the Monday game and I thought he was going to question my injury. Thankfully he just wanted to enquire about my thoughts on the offer. I told him I wanted more money. He said he had been really impressed with my reaction in Saturday's game after the initial meeting and he upped the offer to £350 per week.

My current contract was due to end straight after the last game of the season and any new offer would not start until 1 July so David also agreed to give me £1,000 relocation money too. Officially this money was to cover the costs of moving to the area and was not taxed. However, in reality, it was money to get me through two months of no pay. My contract would run until the last game of the 2000/01 season.

I accepted the offer as I had nothing to keep me in Essex and I knew this was a great opportunity for me to get back into full-time football. I also saw the way the gaffer was culling experienced players and realised there was every chance I could become an important member of the squad. I wanted to be one of his blue-chip players.

I enjoyed playing under the new manager. He was really strict and exactly the sort of character I needed to keep me under control at that time in my life. He could scare the shit out of you without even raising his voice and one incident illustrated this best.

We were playing away at Stevenage Borough. It was a pretty nondescript game destined to end in a 0–0 draw. Glenn Poole got substituted midway through the second half and rather petulantly walked straight down the tunnel. At the end of the game the gaffer made a beeline for him straight away and, in a very aggressive but controlled voice, told Glenn: ‘If you ever do that again I will hang you up from the fucking floodlight and you'll never play for this fucking club again!'