Keep Fighting (18 page)

‘Again the punishment outweighed the reality of the matter. I felt like telling them to go and f—— themselves but somehow managed to keep my calm about it all. The five of us who were banned became known as the “Copenhagen Five”. How embarrassing. The ban was eventually lifted in 1976, when I was past playing international football so I never played for my country again.

‘I remember my last game for Leeds United. It was on 18 September 1976, against Newcastle United at Elland Road, in front of 35,089 spectators. It was a very emotional time. I knew my body couldn't sustain the rigours of regular First Division football and I was getting caught by lesser opponents a little too often for my liking. As ridiculous as it may sound, I felt I was
losing my dignity, getting caught in possession by “Johnny come lately” players, that in my younger days I would have left in my wake. My trademark reverse pass was getting to be a rarity too, and I didn't fancy the thought of putting my back or knees out for the sake of one pass. I can laugh about it now, but I was genuinely sad that it was coming to an end. I loved that place, Elland Road was my second home and I loved doing my stuff for the people who watched us every week. During my time at Leeds, some supporters had grown from being children into young men and women. I felt partly responsible for teaching them positives, self-discipline, respect, never to give up on anything – keep fighting for what you want and believe in. Now it was all coming to an end, I was a little apprehensive about my future, if not scared.

‘It wasn't long before the inevitable happened. Jimmy told me of Hull City's interest. I was honoured, but I so wanted someone at Leeds United to ask me to stay. I would have done anything and even if it was in a different capacity from playing it would still be part of Leeds United and therefore a major part of my life.

‘Sadly, nobody at Leeds did say they wanted me to stay so I was forced to look at the Hull offer. It was easily accessible from Leeds and they were regarded as a decent side who liked to play football as opposed to just hoofing the ball forward and chasing it. So I decided to speak with their manager, an old adversary of mine, John Kaye. Somehow, the press got hold of the story and ran it in the local papers before I had actually signed. I had talked it through with my family, relatives and friends. I still had a few years play left in me so I agreed to join them. They paid a £35,000 transfer fee – that's a full £10,000 more than Hibernian valued me at all those years before. Inflation I expect.’

Starting a new career away from Elland Road wasn't as difficult a transition as Billy had anticipated:

‘I had talked to some of the other players who had moved on and they told me of some nightmare experiences they had encountered at lower league clubs. Inferior quality players were virtually bullying them, making derisory comments and
remarks about “dirty Leeds” and being more like wrestlers than footballers. Not that I would take or accept any of that sort of crap. I would rather flatten someone than put up with shit like that. Big Jack was great, he told me how it wasn't that bad and how it was all about attitude.

‘To be perfectly honest, Hull City were great to me, the players were decent lads, the manager was good, and the fans were right behind us and me. I got no preferential treatment and got stick if I messed up. John Kaye insisted that I was given the number four shirt for the entire time I was there, and naturally I accepted it. I got off to a good start scoring the winning goal against Nottingham Forest on my debut. We had some decent young footballers in the side and one player I rated highly was a kid called Paul Haigh. He had the strength of a bull, and talk about quick! The one thing he lacked was on-the-pitch vision and awareness, that special, almost psychic thing that tells you precisely what your team mates are up to and where they are at any one time. I thought Paul would go on to bigger and better things – he had represented England at under-21 level – yet he never lived up to expectations and he was sold for a big-money fee (around £100,000) to Carlisle.

‘It was something of an eye opener visiting grounds that were near empty, and places I had only heard of week in, week out. Everywhere I played, supporters were always decent to me, asking for autographs or just having a chat. Of course you got the odd one who would be abusive but they got the shock of their lives when I would laugh at them and return the stick or abuse. One lad offered me a scrap because I played for Leeds and he hated Leeds. A club official wanted to call the police but I told him to hang fire and let me talk to the lad. I talked him down and had him laughing and joking. After a few minutes he shook my hand and apologised for being such a prick and walked off. I'd never walk away from confrontation or my critics.

‘Perhaps the worst thing I had to endure during my Hull City days was the abuse from fellow colleagues, those who we were playing against. Every so often, and in almost every game I
played, I would receive a threat of physical injury or violence. It was bang out of order but the lower leagues were full of it. At first I thought it was a one-off and I had to give the player in question a gentle reminder that I wasn't some dithering old git who could hardly stand up or support himself. One occasion, I thought the lad needed reminding that I was Billy Bremner,
the
Billy Bremner, so I gave him a bit of knock and, sure enough, down he went like a sack of spuds, rolling about on the floor crying. I bent over him, gave him a wink and a nod of the head and offered my hand to lift him up. He declined my kind offer of help, so I stared at him and told him that if he came anywhere near me for the duration of the game I would give him something to really cry about. He apologised and carried on rolling about on the floor.

‘Another player, without any provocation whatsoever, tried to kick me into the stand, but he completely mistimed everything and did himself an injury. I nearly pissed myself laughing at him. Then there was the manager who should have known better, who informed me that he had told his players to “hurt me” before I “hurt them” – how nice and respectful was that?

‘Whenever I talked these things through with other ex-Leeds players they had similar experiences to tell. I was told it was a backhanded compliment, that they still saw me as a threat, yet I always found it alarming and unnerving, that people should automatically think about me in a violent way. I was tough, firm and always fair. If I kicked or lumped somebody, then they must have deserved it.

‘I think the highlight of my career at Hull has to be the Football League Cup game against Arsenal at Highbury in January 1978. We were woefully inadequate and no match for the Gunners, eventually losing the game 5-1. The whole atmosphere of the night took me back to my years with Leeds, as did meeting up with many football friends who had come along to watch the game solely because I was playing. It was a real honour to be told that. Oh, how we reminisced. The Arsenal game showed me how slow and ineffective I had become in midfield. I was once
regarded as a terrier of a player, now I was more like a basset hound, reliable, yet slow and predictable. I feared the worst, that my days as a player who covered every blade of grass had long gone and, in fact, one hack said I had a sedentary pace. If I could ever catch him I would show him what sedentary pace really was, the cheeky bastard.

‘Gradually my legs began to ache more and more after games and training sessions. The little knocks that I had always dismissed and ignored now seemed to be very painful and took longer to heal. Whilst my mind was still that of a sixteen-year-old, my body was that of a man in his thirties. Whilst I was still fit and able to, I wanted to continue playing, but it was getting more difficult with each game.

‘One evening I got a telephone call from Don Revie. It was lovely speaking to him, and we had a long chat about the game and the respective things we were both doing at the time. I told him how I was feeling as a player, competing in Division Two having spent the majority of my career in the top flight. He reminded me that my club career in some ways mirrored his own, he had found himself slowing down at Leeds then came management, which reinvigorated him and gave him a new and fresh focus. He advised me to consider going into football management, starting in the lower leagues, making a good name and building a decent reputation for myself that way. That was just what I needed. The boss, after all those years, was still looking after me and giving me good sound advice. I took everything the boss said seriously so if he told me I would make a good manager then I believed him. The following day, unbeknown to anyone outside my family, I put the feelers out for potential management opportunities. I was honest and open about my aspirations with Hull City and talked it through with the management team there. I was pleased when they said they would support me and not stand in my way if an opportunity came along. Hull at that time was full of very decent people and I really did respect them for being so open and honest.

‘There was a whisper that a position may become available at
Grimsby Town but, not knowing much about them at that time, I sought other people's opinion and was firmly put off by them. I now know that was the wrong thing to do. I had always been my own man, making my own decisions, yet here I was acting all insecure and seeking guidance from others, some of whom were in no better position than I was to know about Grimsby Town or anything about them. Since then I have tended to rely on my family and gut instinct about many matters – it doesn't often get it wrong.

‘When Doncaster Rovers were first mentioned, I got myself over to Belle Vue sharpish and introduced myself to the board of directors. I was honest and asked what their short- and long-term plans and vision for the football club consisted of. If they matched my ambition then I would be interested. I didn't have to think twice. As soon as I was inside Belle Vue my gut feeling was very positive and the directors were open about limited playing budgets, player quality, how the job would be hands-on and in many different guises, not the usual sitting behind a desk, or out on the training pitch. This included everything from writing programme notes, radio interviews, commercial activity to bring in sponsorship, community work, and visiting schools and colleges in the name of Doncaster Rovers, even helping to paint the crush barriers on the terracing. I was sold on it, I wanted the job there and then.

‘My enthusiasm waned slightly when I was told that I was not the only candidate they were interested in. I was reminded that, in the world of lower league management, Billy Bremner and other ex-players like him were nothing but a name. “Player reputation has no authority with directors here. Clubs want achievers, proven winners, ambitious people who will work twelve hours a day for seven days a week, just for a regular wage.” I wanted to be such a person and had my wish granted in November 1979, when Doncaster Rovers offered me the manager's position and I accepted.’

14

THE MANAGEMENT GAME

The first murmurings that Billy was about to take his first step into football management came to me via the Leeds United ex-players association. As an associate member, I had wanted to sort out diary dates for future functions and during a conversation I got the heads up that Billy was about to move to Doncaster Rovers to replace Stan Anderson. Coincidentally, I had interviewed Anderson just a month earlier and we had discussed his time as boss of Middlesbrough. Stan struck me as a determined and understanding man who was attempting to resurrect his managerial career at Rovers but had lost both impetus and know-how, and was struggling to provide solutions to Rovers’ inconsistent form. He was a likeable man and was clearly something of a disciplinarian, and importantly for me, he could tell a good football story. Stan also had a book of contacts that many top division managers would be envious of.

The news that he had left the club was sad, particularly as he had clearly failed with his long-term vision for Doncaster. He had moved to an assistant manager position under Ian Greaves at Bolton Wanderers. There he replaced another footballing great, George Mulhall, who had taken over as manager of Bradford City as part of the merry-go-round. The managerial jigsaw was missing one final piece, the formal announcement as to who was to be the new manager of Doncaster Rovers.

Billy was officially appointed Saturday, 25 November 1978, and I was fortunate enough to get one of the first interviews with the new Doncaster Rovers boss. The Monday following the
announcement I made an early morning telephone call to Belle Vue and requested an appointment with Billy, leaving my contact details with the receptionist, who politely advised me that Mr Bremner was screening his own interviews. Within an hour my call was returned and I was told to come to the ground for 11am when Mr Bremner would see me. I always liked the Belle Vue football stadium, a typical northern English ground with its own unique identity and character. In need of a complete overhaul, it was the sort of ground where annual maintenance consisted of a lick of paint on the dugouts and perimeter wall, followed by a thorough weeding of the terraces. It was a proper football ground and it smelled like football grounds used to – grass, Oxo and fags. For me it was a privilege to get access to the club's latest acquisition and integral part of the infrastructure – the new manager.

I waited nervously in the reception area at Belle Vue, and after a few moments Billy walked through, smiling and winking at me and holding out his hand in welcome.

‘Hello there, big man,’ he said, with the appearance of a small child being let loose for the first time in a sweetie shop. He was excited. He proceeded to introduce me to every member of the club back-office staff, describing me as the ‘best up and coming journalist in the country’. Billy was a master of motivation and put me at ease. It felt good that he was comfortable and trusting of me. Guiding me through the corridors of power within Belle Vue, we walked out onto the playing area where he took me to the dugout and immediately lit up a cigarette: ‘We can have a good chat here if you like, if you are not too cold that is?’ I wasn't about to let the weather get in the way of an interview with one of the game's greatest characters. We talked of Leeds United, his time at Hull City, and some of the personalities and incidents he encountered there, before moving onto a subject of great importance to him – what he hoped to achieve for Doncaster Rovers. It was illuminating to hear him expounding his positive commitment and enthusiasm for the challenge that awaited him at Doncaster. He looked well, and was very much talking in
‘manager speak’. I had to ask him to stop it as he was making me laugh with it all.