Journeyman (11 page)

We played Doncaster Rovers at home for the last game of the season. They had already secured a place in the play-offs and asked if they could play their chairman Jim Ryan at some point. Jim was named as a substitute and came on for the last five minutes. I do not think he touched the ball and it was a good job for him that he didn't. Apparently it had always been his dream to play for Doncaster but a few of our players, myself included, found it disrespectful that he thought he could come and play against professionals. I'm sure he wouldn't have liked it if we'd gone it to his boardroom and started working with senior industry professionals.

Jim could sense our hostility because he kept saying on the pitch how he would buy us drinks in the bar afterwards. We did not care about that; we were more interested in ‘welcoming' him to the game. Unfortunately none of us managed to and he negotiated those few minutes unscathed. To top it all off we lost the game 4–2 and did not receive any drinks either.

We ended up finishing the season in sixth place on sixty-four points – a little disappointing after flirting with the play-offs during the latter part of the season, but a massive improvement on the previous season's seventeenth. I'd ended up playing twenty-five games and grabbed six goals. Considering I hadn't made my debut until the end of November, I felt it wasn't a bad return.

GT then had individual meetings with each player to discuss the future. I was apprehensive because, although I had done OK, I often drifted in and out of games. I was confident I would be a lot better next season if given the opportunity. Thankfully GT agreed, but an indication of how tight the finances were was the way he haggled over £50.

As I mentioned earlier, you only got paid through the summer if a new contract was agreed with the club. GT explained, however, that a lot of pressure was being put on the cash flow as there was little money coming into the club. He was willing to offer me a new one-year contract on the same money as before (£450 per week), but I would only receive £400 during the close season. I agreed the offer was fair considering I'd been injured for half the season, but I was not keen on the pay cut through the summer.

We eventually settled on £425 over the close season, with my wages going back to £450 on 1 July when we pre-season training began. I was also to receive £50 an appearance, which was again paid weekly not per performance, and £50 for each goal I scored.

In hindsight it seems strange that we were haggling over such small amounts of money but, particularly in lower-league football clubs, these seemingly insignificant sums can make a difference. Most important to me was the fact I had been signed on for another year, though. I was delighted and genuinely felt that Hereford had potential to improve.

I was not expecting what happened next.

I
T FINALLY DAWNED
on me that, while I needed some rest and relaxation over the summer break, it was also a great time to give myself an advantage over opponents and fellow teammates. So I began a pattern that I continued for the rest of my career: I had some time off as soon as the season ended, plus a week or two later in the summer when I relaxed again and went on holiday, but for the other four or five weeks I worked hard on my fitness and strength at the gym by myself.

I was really looking forward to the 2003/04 season. I had managed to play twenty-five consecutive games in the previous one and was confident that, if fit, I could be a pivotal part of the team. Not only that, but I knew if I could stay fit then my performances would only get better.

Being the shrewd man he was, GT had managed to keep almost every player he wanted, as well as making a few new additions to the squad. Those that made a real impact on the first team were David Brown, a
centre forward from Telford, Danny Carey Bertram, a striker from West Bromwich Albion and Ryan Green who, at the time, was the youngest ever player to appear for Wales.

Ryan’s record may seem quite impressive but I have always compared playing for a minor country like Northern Ireland or Wales to me playing for my district team! Although that is not always the view shared by my Celtic counterparts!

This was the first time I witnessed how giving a squad of players time to evolve, really learning each others strengths and weaknesses, could lead to a huge improvement in both individual and team performance.

I picked up an ankle injury in the second of week of pre-season so I missed the first couple of friendlies, but other than that preparation was going really well. I came on as a sub against a youthful West Bromwich Albion team and immediately scored two goals. I also went on to play in the rest of the friendlies.

I was still liable to go off on the odd bender, as illustrated by the ‘few quiet drinks’ I went for with Matt the weekend before the season started – I cannot recall anything from that night past 10 p.m. and we christened it the lost weekend – but, as a rule, I had calmed down and was living my life a lot more professionally.

Our first game of the season was away to newly promoted Tamworth. It was a scorching hot day, as often seems to be the case on opening day. The temperature at kick-off was measured as 37°C. I am definitely not made for such heat and found myself seriously labouring as the first half wore on. I was not the only one: Tamworth have permanent portacabins (if that isn’t too much of a contradiction) as their changing room and, at half-time, their ‘thick-set’ centre half was overheating in there like an old Ford Mondeo. He didn’t make it out for the second half!

I managed to shake off my lethargy, however, and scored twice. One was a stooping header from 6 yards and the other a tap-in as I followed
up a Steve Guinan shot. It is amazing what a combination of adrenalin and confidence can do, even in such stifling heat. I went from ambling around to suddenly feeling like I had an infinite amount of energy.

We went on to win the game 3–1 and followed that up with a comfortable 5–1 win at home against Forest Green Rovers. We then beat Morecambe 3–0 at home, where I bagged another two goals (a sliding left-footed shot into the top corner and a tap-in at the far post). Morecambe had finished second in the Conference the previous season and we dispatched them easily. My form was continuing on an upward trajectory.

We got a positive draw 1–1 away to Barnet, but the next game at home to Aldershot turned out to be one of the best games I was ever a part of with Hereford. We went 2–0 down in the first half but pulled it back to 2–2 shortly after the break. We dropped behind once more before eventually winning 4–3, with an acrobatic injury-time volley from David Brown. The goal was celebrated by players and fans as if we had won a cup final. I even found myself intensely embracing an unknown pitch invader!

It is impossible to describe the buzz of winning such a game in the last minute. People often ask which is better: scoring a goal or sex? For me I would go with the goal every time, although that may have more to do with my performance in the bedroom!

Our next game was away to Stevenage and we beat them 2–0 with Steve Guinan and myself scoring. We had both scored five goals in six matches at this point and I felt I was improving with every game. In those first six outings I, without a doubt, put in the most consistent run of quality performances of my career. I had a constant rush – before games, after games, during the week – and I could not wait to play or train. Our daily training did not really differ from a regime of warm up, possession practice, a small-sided game and some finishing, but this seemed to suit me. I was getting lots of touches of the ball and it helped keep my brain sharp. As someone who never had pace, I felt it was really important that my
mind was working quickly so I could perform at my best. I was seeing the football like a beach ball and regularly scored in both the small-sided games and the finishing practices.

The training sessions seemed to suit the whole team, in fact, as we took sixteen from a possible eighteen points in those first six games, scoring eighteen goals. I got a personal reward when I was named August ‘Player of the Month’ – a great honour.

We went into September full of confidence and continued our great run by winning 5–0 away to Farnborough, before beating Scarborough at home. This ridiculous run of form could not continue, however, and it came to a halt when we got spanked 4–1 away to Burton. Any successful team I played in very rarely lost two games in a row, though, and this was no different: we recovered swiftly by winning at home to Telford and followed this up with two home draws to Gravesend (where I scored but played like crap) and Dagenham & Redbridge. I was on the scoresheet in the latter match as well after slamming home a great strike from just inside the box, latching onto a clever pass from David Brown. My performance, however, was overshadowed by my post-match interview. After scoring, I spent the majority of the second half preparing – TV people always choose the goalscorers after all!

Dean Beckwith (Dagenham defender and future teammate) and I were chosen to speak before the Sky cameras. I was determined to come across as an articulate, intelligent footballer and, as Dean came out with the usual monosyllabic answers, I was looking more like Einstein with every question I answered. Then I was asked whether I thought a draw was a fair result. I wanted to say it was an even game and tried to explain it was like ‘six and two threes’, but unfortunately what I actually did was mumble a mixture of about three different sayings, instantly undoing all the good work I’d put in dispelling the lazy stereotype of footballers. Suddenly it was Dean who looked like Einstein!

When I got home, instead of having a phone full of text messages and voicemails congratulating me on my goal on national telly, I had loads of messages taking the piss out of my interview – typical!

After the Dagenham game we continued our slightly stuttering form with a 0–0 draw away to Chester (but this, in isolation, was actually a good point earned, as they were our main rivals). We then dispatched of Harrow Borough 6–1 away in the FA Cup fourth qualifying round, where I scored a rare header from a corner, and we progressed to the first round proper.

It was now the end of October and I had already scored nine goals from central midfield, all from open play. I had not, perhaps surprisingly, had any direct interest from any other clubs but I was starting to get some interest from agents who were becoming aware of my exploits. I spoke to a few, but I don’t really know why – I suppose I just felt I ought to have an agent. I eventually signed to a company that had one of my former Reading teammates Michael Meaker working for it.

That was a mistake.

The company kept telling me about potential interest from other clubs – nothing concrete, just clubs looking for players of my ilk. The same clubs kept cropping up in conversation (Bristol Rovers and Shrewsbury Town, to name two) but it did not dawn on me until later that nearly all the managers or teams they were mentioning were ‘friends’ of the company.

It’s clear, in hindsight, that the agency just wanted me to go to a club that would result in the best deal for them, rather than me. I imagine this is something that happens to a lot of young players.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not against all agents per se. Some are very good and give their clients invaluable advice. If you are a young player – jumping up from, say, League Two to the Championship – or a top player with a multitude of areas of earning potential away from football – such as sponsorship or endorsements – then having an expert in the field can prove to be a lucrative decision.

However, there were, and still are, many agents who have only one priority – and it is not their clients’ best interests. After all, how profitable is it for an agent when his client extends his contract at his current club? I would hazard a guess at not very. If they move club, on the other hand…

Clearly I did not need an agent and should have just concentrated on my football rather than obsessing over where I might be playing the following season – I couldn’t have been happier at Hereford anyway. It all seems crazy when I think about it now.

After securing our place in the first round of the FA Cup, Hereford had two more Cup games in quick succession. For a few seasons the Football League and Conference Premier experimented with the idea of allowing Conference teams to play in the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy (then known as the LDV Vans Trophy). This collaboration did not last too long as even Conference teams thought the competition was an unwanted distraction.

To be eligible for the tournament a team had to finish in the top six of the Conference, which we had done the season before. After knocking out Exeter City earlier in the season we had drawn Northampton Town at home where we drew 1–1 and eventually lost 4–3 on penalties. As I have alluded to, I have always hated being substituted and I was replaced midway through extra time. Like a lot of the team I was admittedly tiring, so I accepted the decision with nothing more than a dirty look at the management as I trudged off.

That was not the case, however, when I got replaced in the last minute of our next game, which was away to Peterborough United in the first round of the FA Cup. We lost 2–0 but I had played really well and was really frustrated at being replaced. I had been up against Curtis Woodhouse, who was a really highly rated player, and had given as good as I got throughout.

I mean that only metaphorically of course because Woodhouse subsequently went on to be a professional boxer!

You might say it was only in the last minute but I knew how easily this situation could become a trend. As I walked off Richard O’Kelly said I had played well and I responded by mumbling some obscenities at him as I sat down on the bench to sulk through stoppage time.

After getting knocked out of two cup competitions in quick succession, we had no choice but to focus on the League campaign. After a blistering start, our form was levelling out and, at one stage during November, we dropped from top to fourth.

The eagerly anticipated A49 derby against Shrewsbury Town took place at Gay Meadow at the end of November. Shrewsbury had just been relegated from the Football League and were historically regarded as the bigger club, but we were really optimistic of getting a positive result.

We could not have been more wrong: they beat us 4–1.

The team played terribly overall and I was even worse. I got subbed midway through the second half and scuttled to the back of the bench with my tail between my legs.

When I first joined Hereford the established players had warned us that the manager could, when he wanted to, hand out some aggressive bollockings. Up until that point I had not really witnessed it, but I certainly did in that away dressing room. We had been dismal and deserved everything we got. GT went mad at the team in general – and then I caught his eye. He started hammering my performance, which was fair enough, and then mentioned the fact I’d worn moulded boots and had been sliding all over the pitch. Apparently I was unprofessional for not wearing studs and my lack of professionalism was why I was playing ‘at this fucking level’.

I did not agree with everything he said, but I knew he was frustrated and wanted to get it off his chest so I just took it all. I thought once he calmed down he would apologise for his personal outburst.

GT is a legend with Shrewsbury after his previous spell in charge of
the club in the late 1970s and early 1980s, so he was clearly embarrassed with the performance his current players had put in.

That weekend was also my twenty-fifth birthday, but I spent it sulking in my room waiting for the apology I was sorely mistaken in the thinking I would get.

GT called a meeting first thing Monday morning to further discuss Saturday’s debacle. I expected a more analytical approach this time but he just went off on another rant – mainly focusing on me and my footwear. I was pissed off but took it again. I had no complaints about him criticising my performance, but I didn’t think it was down to my choice of footwear.

Looking back, because of the sort of character I am, he may have done it to get a reaction from me. If so, then it definitely worked – I was fuming and determined to prove him wrong as I had been pretty consistent all season.

I did not have to wait long for a chance as we were playing Halifax Town at home the next day. We beat them 7–1; I scored two, set up three and was voted ‘Man of the Match’, even though Steve Guinan scored a hat-trick.

Was that the reaction you were looking for?
I thought to myself.
Not bad for someone who does not even wear the right boots!