Journeyman (15 page)

A
S IS ALWAYS
the case when a club steps up a division, our manager was strengthening his squad and recruiting enthusiastically. Garry and his team brought in some real quality, including players who were established in the Nationwide Conference or above.

One of our boys left, however: captain Matty Bound. There was no real outstanding candidate for his replacement as skipper so I thought I would put my name forward. I had never been recognised as ‘captain material’ at any of my other clubs – although I had badgered Graham Turner mercilessly, and ultimately unsuccessfully, to be vice-captain at Hereford. Most of the lads thought I was joking – and I don’t think the Garry took me too seriously either – but I thought I could do the job successfully, even if I wasn’t your stereotypical captain.

During pre-season the gaffer gave a few players the opportunity to lead the team and I got my chance in a low-key friendly at home against MK Dons,
which we lost 2–1. I’d never led by screaming and shouting at people, but I knew I was respected and could possibly lead by example, which I hoped would cajole my teammates into following suit.

I was starting to feel comfortable and happy within the team. Once that happened I knew good, consistent performances would follow and, during our preparation, I’d been one of the more influential players in the squad.

Garry pulled me aside before our final friendly match and revealed I was to be his captain for the season.

I was delighted. What had started as a joke to some had become a reality. I would’ve loved to have seen Gary Peters’s face when he found out I was a captain!

I was really enjoying working under Garry Hill. Some regard him as a Del Boy-type figure, but he was – and is – a lot more than that. I think he played up to that persona so people underestimated him. I’d be amazed if he has any type of real coaching qualifications but he knew – and still knows – just how to manage people. Plus, like any good leader, he employs people who have the skills that he lacks himself. In this case he had Kevin Hales, the ex-Chelsea and Leyton Orient player, who provided coaching and looked after the tactical side of the game.

Garry definitely knew how to handle me. I liked to be left alone to get on with my game and he recognised this but, every now and then, he would set me a little challenge or throw a sarcastic comment about a bad performance to give me a kick up the rear.

In Weymouth’s first game back at the top of the non-League pyramid we were playing away at Tamworth. This was a happy hunting ground for me as I had scored two goals there at the start of the season a couple of years ago. This game was no different as I managed to score our opening goal within six seconds of the game starting.

We employed the normal predictable English-style kick-off of playing the ball to a full back who then smashes it down the line. However, on this
occasion, their defender was stretching and he headed the ball inside to me. I instantly saw the keeper off the line and side-footed the ball on the volley over his head. It turned out to be the second quickest goal in the history of the Conference and a great way for me to commence my tenure as team captain. We went on to win the game 3–1 and I was delighted with both the team’s and my own performance.

Our next games saw us win against Aldershot, Cambridge and Kidderminster Harriers and draw with Oxford United.

We were quickly brought down to earth, though, after being comprehensively beaten away at Morecambe and held to a draw by Burton Albion. Despite winning two home games after that, my performances were pretty nondescript. Even though the results had been quite good, I wasn’t happy with myself and was starting to think the captaincy was more of a hindrance than a help.

Being the captain of a team can often make or break a player. From the outside looking in the change from another part of the team to skipper is minimal. However, I have seen it affect, both positively and negatively, different players in a variety of ways. Some thrive on the responsibility, stick their chest out and revel in being the main man – John Terry springs to mind. Others visibly shrink as the extra expectations of them become too much – the feeling of having to constantly prove you are worthy of both your position in the team and the captaincy becomes a burden and an unwanted distraction.

I saw both sides of this argument. When things were going well I loved nothing more than parading round the midfield with the armband tight around my left bicep, acting like the master of everything I surveyed, and then telling the press in great detail what good players my contemporaries and I were. On the flip side, the feeling of embarrassment was always magnified when you were in a team that was struggling. Somehow you felt more accountable for not only your own performance but for the team’s as a whole.

Anyway, I digress…

We then lost away to Stevenage but both mine and the team’s performances were positive and from that point on my personal form really improved. Despite being beaten heavily away at Dagenham & Redbridge, I managed to score a header (while also getting part of my front tooth knocked out for my troubles). This pattern continued though: our home form was very strong but our away form left a lot to be desired.

We then won two home games in a row, including one against Gravesend where I scored a 30-yard volley live on Sky Sports. It was strange – when I messed up my live TV interview a couple of years previous I had about thirty missed calls from people taking the mickey, but not one person called after I had scored a wonder goal!

We picked up a point away at Altrincham and beat Crawley 3–0 at their Broadfield Stadium. I scored a cheeky back heel and Lee Elam added a great solo goal.

We were now finding our form as a team. An indication of how far Weymouth had progressed came when we played Rushden & Diamonds at home at the end of October. They had just been relegated from League Two and we had just been promoted from the Conference South, yet they came and parked the proverbial bus, resulting in a 1–1 draw.

More worrying, however, was the fact our manager had to be taken to hospital before the end of the game and was never quite himself for the rest of my time at the club.

In early November we played at home against Bury in an FA Cup game shown live on BBC One. We more than matched our higher-ranked opponents to secure a creditable draw and a replay at Gigg Lane. It was great for the club to get such exposure, although the game was not so great for me. Our centre half Ashley Vickers decided to use my head for leverage while winning a header in the first five minutes. As part of this process, he pushed my head into the back of my opponent’s and broke my nose. I played on
but looked uglier than usual in front of millions of people on a Sunday lunchtime. I apologise to anyone I put off their roast!

The broken nose did not stop me playing but I had to go to a private hospital in Bournemouth to have it re-set. My face is naturally not particularly symmetrical so the last thing it needed was any help looking less attractive. A doctor injected some local anaesthetic into the base of my forehead, warning me beforehand that it could be quite painful. I was very blasé and explained I had suffered multiple dislocations of the shoulder, so this would be fine. I was wrong but I don’t think I was the only one who made a mistake.

The doctor administered the anaesthetic, then instantly started to move my nose. It was agony. I could feel every movement and I thought it was strange the pain relief was not easing anything. After ten minutes the anaesthetic finally took effect but I’m pretty sure my nose was already re-set before any numbness kicked in. On top of that, it still isn’t straight.

Back on the pitch, we suffered a drop in form as we lost three games in a row, including a thrilling 4–3 defeat in our FA Cup replay – I had a stinker and was at fault for two of their goals. We also lost 4–0 away at Woking where, although it was not actually credited to me, I scored an own goal – a shambolic end to a horrific performance.

On Wednesdays, my day off, I used to go to college to study for an HNC in business. On one of these days I got a phone call from an agent called Dan Fletcher, who told me Macclesfield wanted to sign me up. Initially this news did nothing for me as I didn’t see Macclesfield as being any bigger a club than Weymouth, even though they were a league higher at the time. But I did remember that Paul Ince, one of my boyhood heroes, was their then manager. I was flattered that such a great midfield player wanted to sign me and started thinking how much he would be able to improve me. Dan also said Macclesfield were willing to pay me £1,500 a week – a 50 per cent pay rise!

I was really happy at Weymouth, however – my girlfriend and I loved the area and I was content and comfortable at the club.

After thinking about it I went and spoke to Garry. I didn’t make any demands to leave or anything like that, I just told him what had been happening. Unsurprisingly he had no desire to let me go – plus I was only four or five games away from triggering an automatic one-year extension to my contract, so the ball was very much in Weymouth’s court.

I had no problem with another year there as both the boss and the club had been very good to me. The sheer fact that I had attention from higher-ranked teams illustrated what a positive effect the move to Weymouth had had on my faltering career. But I was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth and I knew this news put me in a strong position to negotiate a new contract with Weymouth. I was earning £1,000 per week so it was unlikely I would get a pay rise at that level, but any extra years I could secure would give me the stability every lower-league footballer craves.

The gaffer also knew that my signing a new long-term contract would be positive PR for the club. After a little bit of negotiation we agreed on a new two-and-a-half-year contract on the same basic wage of £1,000 per week, plus a signing-on fee of £4,000 to be paid in instalments over that time. I was delighted my short- to medium-term future had been secured.

Or so I thought…

Safe in the knowledge my immediate future was safe, I began playing some of my best football of the season. I scored the only goal in a 1–0 away win at Northwich Victoria, was credited with a dubious goal in a 2–1 win at home against Exeter City – I bundled into their keeper and, if I did touch the ball, it was with my hand – and got both goals in a 3–2 defeat away at Forest Green Rovers on New Year’s Day. Those goals made it ten for the season for me, all from open play, and triggered a clause in my contract that meant I got a bonus of £1,000.

That trip to Forest Green also helped dispel the theory Emma had that us
footballers have ‘great fun’ during overnight hotel stays before a match. As we were staying in a hotel on New Year’s Eve, the club paid for us to bring our girlfriends along. These trips were pretty boring and, if I’m honest, I wasn’t too keen on the idea of partners coming. This was work time and I wanted to concentrate on the game, not have to listen to Emma worrying about whether or not her nail varnish matched her top. But all the lads were bringing their girlfriends so I agreed.

The trips consisted of training before we left or stopping and training somewhere on the way or training at the hotel upon arrival. We then ate dinner at about 7 p.m., went back to our rooms and had an early night. The fact it was New Year’s Eve didn’t change our routine, other than the fact we all stayed up to see the New Year in before bed.

I think the girls had thought that we’d get to a hotel, have a few beers, go out all night and then play the next day. They got a rude awakening when they realised how dull the trips actually were, experiencing one of the tamest New Year’s Eve celebrations ever.

I also picked up my fifth booking of the season during that game so I was suspended for the next one. Little did I know that those two Forest Green goals were to be my last contribution for the club.

Early in the New Year Garry informed us we were going on a short break to Spain for some warm weather training and team bonding. This news went down well with the lads, as you can imagine. A couple of days before the trip the gaffer called a meeting. We all assumed he was going to tell us the itinerary for the trip. Unfortunately that could not have been further from the truth.

He came in and very matter-of-factly told us that he, along with his entire coaching staff, had been sacked and all of us could leave with immediate effect. The club said it could guarantee to pay us up until the end of January but, after that, they could not promise anything. Initially I thought it was a joke and started laughing but I could tell from the manager’s face that this was serious.

I found it strange that, a month after sanctioning a new long-term contract
for me, Weymouth suddenly didn’t have any money. It was clear that the club was not self-sufficient but there was no indication of any money problems. I always got paid in full, on time, every month.

This kind of thing always makes me wonder why successful businessmen from different industries want to invest money in football clubs. There must be some sort of ulterior motive: is it a way of offsetting profits from a successful business to a loss-making one or do they like the publicity that owning a football club brings? It seemed the motive for Martyn Harrison, the Weymouth owner, was land development. Weymouth’s home ground was on a big plot that included the ground itself, a huge car park and a speedway track. The story goes that Harrison had been in long-term discussions with the local council and a supermarket chain to relocate the football club to a new ground and sell the existing site. If that happened, he would recoup all the money he had invested in the club and make a large profit. However, it became evident this was not going to come to fruition and, realistically, there was no chance of him recouping his investment, so Martyn, along with his business advisors, decided they would no longer fund the club.