Catch A Falling Star (17 page)

Then again, not all our European trips were quite as glamorous as
Vienna
. There were times when we had to prepare ourselves for the worst. A particular example of this was when we played over in
Belfast
against Linfield – the main Protestant team over there. We were briefed beforehand as tensions were particularly high in the early 70s. As it was, the home fans classed themselves as British and gave us a right royal reception. We didn’t experience any trouble and there was a massive crowd at the ground, 15 or 20,000 packed into
Windsor
Park
with the usual smattering of Blues. On the night Linfield played pretty well and we were lucky to get through on away goals. On the coach back to the airport we could see tensions rising in the side streets but we were never in any danger ourselves.

Also that year we were drawn against
Gornik
again and we knew they’d want their revenge! Before the game the Poles took us on a guided tour of the concentration camps, which were not far from our hotel. I’d never seen such a cold, desolate place in all my life, there was nothing for miles around. They kept the place open after the war as a lasting reminder to the world of what Hitler’s regime did to the Jewish people. The gas ovens were still open when we went round.

I don’t know if the Poles sent us there to mentally disrupt us before the game but it certainly had the desired effect. It’s so very sad and soul-destroying because once you have seen such a horrible place, the images of thousands of bodies, like dummies on the ground, of babies that had been gassed or burnt, those haunting images never leave you. Certainly I had nightmares afterwards. It makes you feel lucky to be alive when you experience a place like that. It was a hell on earth. I had nightmares about that place for weeks afterwards.

If
Vienna
was ridiculous for the rain then
Poland
 was simply ridiculous for the cold. We lost 2-0 and the records show there were 100,000 present that afternoon.
Poland
was then a very poor country and there did not seem to be a lot for them to do. However
Gornik
is a well known and well supported club and their stadium was a massive open air bowl packed to the rafters with screaming Poles.

They came out wearing gloves and women’s tights. We just had our shorts on and we literally froze on the day. We beat
Gornik
2-0 in the return leg which meant a third game in
Copenhagen
and one of the finest City performances of that era. In fact, the Poles wanted us all to take drug tests after the game because we were so super-fit. We took them, of course, which left a bad taste in our mouths. Why couldn’t they just accept defeat?

By this time we had some young guns in the team, players like Willie 
Donachie
. We were heavily depleted yet played a fine side off the park.
Lubanski
was the one player we were genuinely worried about. He had unbelievable skill. Yet we crucified them really. 

A significant thing happened after that game. Paul Doherty from Granada TV came up to me looking to do an interview. Even though I was a household name I was still shy really and I can recall saying: “Speak to
Summerbee
, he’ll give you an interview.” I mention this because football is all about confidence and I was never the most confident person. Perhaps if I’d been a little more forthcoming the media might not have labelled the era that of ‘
Bell
, Lee and
Summerbee
.’

We came, we saw and we conquered at home and abroad and to have done that, well it took more than three players. I felt sorry for some of the players at City because everywhere you went it was all about
Bell
, Lee and
Summerbee
, I think mainly because when a club buys a player he becomes a star player right away but if you’ve come up through the junior ranks it’s much harder to become a star player, or be considered one.

Look at this list of players: Alan Oakes, Mike Doyle, Glyn
Pardoe
and Tommy Booth – I think they were all great players. But who do people mention first though?
Bell
, Lee and
Summerbee
.
Even Mike
Summerbee
said that video they did a few years ago should have been called ‘
Bell
, Lee,
Summerbee
and Young.’

I think that people forget that without other good players around them the star players, normally attackers, may not have been able to dazzle in the same way. It’s not meant to sound like sour grapes or anything, people are bound to mention the names of those good players,
it’s
just the way life is.

That season I scored my one and only derby goal when we murdered United 4-0 in front of 63,013 crying Reds. I can’t remember too much about the game other than that I scored the first goal, it was far out near the corner flag and Alex Stepney let it in at his near post. Whenever we played United the instruction was for me to get down my flank and cross it in hard and low and cause some chaos in their penalty
box, that
usually did the trick.

*

At this stage in my football career everything in the garden looked rosy, however nothing in my life has ever been that straightforward.
For it was at around this time that other things were happening that would ultimately lead to everything falling apart.

The beginning of the end was undoubtedly the rapid deterioration in my brother’s health. For July 1970 was when I heard the news about Chris’s serious illness. This was a real setback to me and a nightmare for my mother. Indeed it was a huge setback for my whole family,
without a doubt things
would never be the same again.

When he was fit and well Chris would come and watch me play. I’d get him tickets for the away games and he’d travel the country watching City. Now he couldn’t come anymore. Still, we’d often talk about my performances on a Saturday and I listened to him and respected his opinion because his knowledge of football was excellent. Sundays used to be great, playing a round of golf with him down in Altrincham or simply a few hours fishing to get away from it all but those days had also come to an end.

By this stage he’d been moved to a hospital near
Liverpool
, the place in which he would spend his final days. At first he’d gone there because he’d complained about head pains. I travelled down with his wife Eileen to visit him. He seemed okay, a bit drugged up perhaps but okay. At that stage I wasn’t sure why Chris was so ill, so I asked the specialist what the problem was. I was led into a private room where I was told that Chris had cancer. I couldn’t believe it and burst into tears. Anyone who has been through a similar experience will know where I’m coming from.

I remember asking about Chris’s chances of pulling through and the specialist said in a matter of fact manner: “Well, miracles do happen.” I knew then what the outcome would be. How could I go home and tell my mother this news?

Tony Book was very good with me because he was the only player who knew the full situation. I can’t explain why, but I never told anyone in the dressing room – I suppose it just wasn’t the done thing back then. But
Booky
was superb, coming in early, asking me questions like: “How is he?” and “How are you coping?”

But at the end of every training session I’d shower, go down to
Lymm
and pick up Eileen and we’d drive over to
Liverpool
. I had to be there for him.

I wasn’t on huge money at this stage but I was on more money than Chris so I decided to help him out as best as I could. Chris had just moved to
Lymm
but I felt that as he had given me so much love and support throughout my life that it was only right that I repaid him as best as I could – so I drove every day after training to visit him.

On the way there Eileen and I would be very chatty yet the homeward journey was always undertaken in complete silence. You could see him deteriorating slightly each day and in training, as you might imagine, there was only one thing on my mind.

When Joe found out he wanted me to take a couple of weeks off but I said: “No, if I’m stuck at home it’d be unbearable.” He knew the troubles I faced, driving across to
Liverpool
every day after training to visit Chris. He knew how mentally and emotionally drained I was. He made allowances for me which was superb. He attended my brother’s funeral which was also good of him. He left a wreath that day. I have no idea how he found out the funeral was at 
Lymm
Crematorium but I was grateful for his support.

I’m sure, looking back, that some of the players must have thought that I was a miserable bastard at the time. Yet after six months of travelling up and down to 
Liverpool
it was suddenly Chris’s final week. It was also Christmas and I was at the hospital with him. If your brother, your friend, your
soulmate
 is a week away from dying it might not be the best place to be but it was the only place I wanted to be that Christmas.

We tried to tell jokes, be cheery and have fun even though inside I was crying. By New Years Eve he was drugged up to the eyeballs and I knew when I left that hospital that night that I may never see him alive again. Fortunately, I was able to spend one last night with him. He died at the tender age of 31. Just after
midnight
we got the call from the hospital. Mum, Eileen and
myself
had the most horrendous journey to and from
Liverpool
when we had to go and collect his belongings. There were three people in a car crying all the way there and all the way back.

I never realised how much something like that can affect you. His death seriously affected my game and the supporters have not known about this until now. I was never in the goals much after that.

Looking back now I can see exactly what happened to me at
Manchester
City
. Between 1966 and 1970 I scored 73 goals in 232 games and created many more for my fellow forwards. The following season it all dried up, I think I scored just twice. In 1971-72 I’d had too much on my mind. I’d lost my brother, the person who had influenced my life so much and you have to understand how much that affected me. Even now it affects me. I suppose I’ve not been able to get over the injustice of him dying so young.

Even though it was an energy-sapping experience, the fact that I knew I had to drive to
Liverpool
every night after training gave me something to keep focused on. I had some purpose about
me,
I had a reason to perform. There was still a pride for my family because my brother would want to know all about my exploits on the field. I’d train hard because I had seen Chris in the evening and then later on, I’d drive there and be strong for him and so the routine continued. When Chris died that routine ended and what had been a full part of my life suddenly felt even
more empty
. The afternoons and evenings were now an empty space and it affected my performances on the park.

A prime example of that came two days after Chris’s death when I was out on the pitch against Wolves – I was there in body but not spirit. It simply wasn’t Neil Young anymore. I was a ghost, a shadow of my former self. Joe had asked me if I wanted to play and I told him yes, because I knew that Chris would have wanted me to. But I suppose my continued lack of form can be traced back to that fateful day when my life changed forever.

Even now, so many years later, I hate Christmas and New Year. We go to
Lymm
Crematorium every year to lay flowers and say a little prayer for Chris and mum as they are buried in the same plot. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about him. For instance, I wear my brother’s ring on the little finger of my left hand. Everyday I twiddle it about on my finger.