Journeyman (21 page)

John just gave me a knowing look. I knew I had to take responsibility for my mistakes and I had no problem with that, but what frustrated me was not getting a straight answer.

Whether my little whinge worked or not I don’t know, but I was named in the team during training the day before a home game against Walsall. Unfortunately I fell ill on the Friday night and missed out. I was back available for the next game away at Oldham and it looked likely I would play until, I think, I managed to take myself out of contention with a very sloppy and lethargic performance in training on the Thursday.

Missing the Oldham game turned out to be a blessing in disguise as we put in an abject performance and got absolutely battered 4–0. I spent the majority of the second half drinking as much water as possible as it was made known that I had been selected for a random drugs test.

I personally had to wait a full five weeks and six games before I got another start – at the New Den against Millwall. In the past, I might’ve gone off the rails after not being involved for so long but I had matured and knuckled down by this point and ensured I was ready to play when selected. There was not much chance of us putting a ten-game unbeaten run together so I knew I wouldn’t have to wait too long.

We got beaten 1–0 but put up a really good fight, only losing to a goal in the last ten minutes. I started the match like someone who had not played for a month, but soon warmed to the task and put in a strong performance. Playing at the New Den was a real eye-opener. It’s not often you get shown the middle finger and called every name under the sun by both dads and their eight-year-old sons! In a perverse way, I really enjoyed it.

The Millwall game was in late October and from then until Christmas I managed to stay in the team and be captain whenever Karl Broadhurst wasn’t available. Our results were still poor, illustrated by a disappointing defeat to Dagenham & Redbridge in the first round of the FA Cup, but we were picking up the odd result and just about hanging in there.

During this period I was starting to find some decent form. I felt I was finally competing at League One level and had eradicated the silly mistakes I’d been making – at least until we played Tranmere Rovers at home on Boxing Day.

It was a tight game and, by the start of the second half, finely poised at 1–1. At around the hour mark, Kris Taylor – my good friend and gym buddy – won the ball and gave me a horrible pass on the edge of our box with me facing our goal. Looking back, I take it as a compliment that he thought a man of my ability would be able to deal with it.

But, if that
was
the case, he was wrong…

I should have just smashed the ball into row Z but as that goes against all my principles I tried to wriggle my way out of trouble with my trademark Cruyff turn (OK, technically it is Johan’s, but you know what I mean). Unfortunately, the opposition either knew I would do this or I executed it very poorly. Either way, I got dispossessed and the ball was in the back of our goal before I knew it. Thankfully Steve Guinan rescued a point with a great finish to ensure the game finished at 2–2. I had recovered enough from my mistake to create a goal but, even with nearly half the season still remaining, it had become pretty clear home draws would not be good enough to keep us in the League.

Even more worrying was the fact we had Leicester City away in the next game. I had already missed the Leeds game due to an error and I was concerned my very recent history was going to repeat itself.

Fortunately I kept my place for our visit to the Walkers Stadium, where just under 23,000 people were packed in. We went 2–0 down, fought back to 2–1, but couldn’t salvage anything from the game.

Once again the plucky underdog came up short but this now seemed to be a regular occurrence. We were competitive throughout against Leicester and put in a decent performance. I was happy with the way I had personally played but still got a footballing lesson from the opposition.

You’ve probably deduced that the season had, up to that point, been pretty depressing, but one incident helped lift the mood. The FA and UK Sport had brought in a new rule during the season regarding drug testing whereby you had to text or call UK Sport on your day off and
give them an hour slot where someone could pop round and test you if they so desired.

Not an overly testing task, you’d imagine. What most people did was text them a time they would be in bed – between, say, 5.30 and 6.30 a.m. – so it didn’t disrupt their day. If memory serves me correct, you had to text your name, location, the hour slot and your club.

Unfortunately a lot of players were struggling with this and kept forgetting to text. Every time you forgot and UK Sport picked up on it you would get a strike, and three strikes meant you were liable for punishment. Many players across the Football League were on the cusp of being reprimanded.

One morning Graham called a meeting to tell us the club had been warned by the FA and UK Sport that its players were either forgetting to text in their details or doing so incorrectly. The example he gave us was Kris Taylor. Kris had not forgotten to text, but he’d only sent his name and the time he was available, meaning the testers had no idea where he was…

Everyone was having a chuckle and I asked Kris if he thought UK Sport was like Father Christmas and just knew where he lived. Believe it or not, Kris was one of the more intelligent members of our group.

In actual fact, I think this situation illustrates how players can be overly mollycoddled and how, as a result, some struggle when asked to think for themselves.

It was the start of January and, after Leicester, we hadn’t had a game for two weeks through a combination of our home League fixture against Leeds being cancelled and us already having been knocked out of the FA Cup.

The transfer window had opened, however. Given we were struggling so much, it was obvious there would be additions to the squad. There were plenty of positions in the team the management wanted to strengthen; unfortunately for me, they secured someone in mine.

The club made a double loan signing from Manchester United – Febian Brandy, a centre forward, and Sam Hewson, a central midfielder, both
arrived. I knew straight away I was in trouble – you never got bad players from Manchester United and Sir Alex Ferguson didn’t let them out on loan unless they were guaranteed to play.

I wasn’t going to give up my place without a fight, however, so I made sure I worked even harder and was even bubblier than usual that week in training as it was clear my position was under the most threat.

My strategy made absolutely no difference as I was left out of the next game against Oldham Athletic at home. We won 5–0 mainly down to virtuoso performances from Steve Guinan, who scored a hat-trick, and Lionel Ainsworth, who scored a brace and generally tore them to shreds. Lionel had returned to us on loan from Watford less than a year after going in the opposite direction.

What a player Lionel had the potential to be! He had lightening pace, great technique and a wonderful footballing brain. The only thing holding him back was himself and his lack of mental strength. If he had managed to develop that he could have gone on to be whatever he wanted.

After such an amazing result I decided to make myself as comfortable as possible on the bench as it seemed I would be there for a while…

Luckily for me, though admittedly not so much for him, Sam Hewson picked up an injury and I was back in the team for a 1–1 draw at Walsall. Both the team and I played well and probably deserved to win the game. I retained my place for the midweek game at home to Millwall too, but we lost 2–0.

Next up was Stockport away. Sam’s fitness was touch-and-go as he only played a very small part in Friday’s training session. We did some work on our set plays and I was involved in all of them – another strong indicator that I would be playing the following day. I went home that night as certain as I could be that I would be in the team.

After the pre-match meal we had a meeting at the hotel and the gaffer named the team; I was on the bench and very annoyed. I had no problem with being left out when there was a level playing field, but I knew at that moment in time that I had no chance of playing, irrespective of my performance.

Obviously this was no criticism of Sam, who just wanted to play first-team football and gain some experience, but it was no good to me.

That was the first time I smelt a rat. As I mentioned earlier, I had a clause in my contract that meant I got another year’s contract on the same wages after thirty starts. I knew the club was aware of this because Jamie Pitman had told me they were keeping an eye on it.

We lost the Stockport game 4–1, but Sam did get our only goal so maybe starting him was the right decision. When I turned up at Edgeley Park I wasn’t quite as devastated to be left out since the pitch looked as though a herd of cows had just been taken off it. You wouldn’t have wanted to have a kickabout on it, let alone a professional football match.

The defeat seemed to galvanise us, though, as we went on to beat both Cheltenham away (in a game where my replacement scored twice) and Leeds United at home. We followed that up with a defeat against Peterborough and a home win versus Leyton Orient. We’d been looking dead and buried, but those three positive results had given us an outside chance of salvaging something from the season. Our next game away to Crewe Alexandra brought us back down to earth though – we lost again.

We were due to play Bristol Rovers at home next and I really wanted to put in a good performance as we were still smarting from the annihilation we suffered in the reverse fixture. The gaffer named the team and I was in it. On this occasion, John gave me one of the most underwhelming pep talks I ever had the pleasure of receiving. It went like this:

I may have paraphrased John a little, but that was the general gist of the conversation.

All that advice was immaterial anyway as we got torn to shreds by Rickie Lambert again – he scored a hat-trick within an hour, decided that was enough pain for one game and Rovers comfortably saw out a 3–0 win.

John was right about Craig Disley and me, though – Craig did like to make forward runs and I wasn’t very good at tracking them. I know this because I remember quite vividly one occasion when he ran off me and nearly scored. It sticks in my mind because I was near the dugout and I can still hear the expletives GT shouted at me now.

It felt obvious I would be left out of the next match and when you’ve just been part of a heavy defeat, irrespective of your own thoughts on your performance, you don’t really have a leg to stand on.

I sat in the dressing room before the Southend United game, waiting for the inevitable, and, sure enough, I wasn’t named in the team. I waited for confirmation that I was on the bench, but that didn’t come either – I was left out of the squad entirely.

As a group of players we were doing terribly so I had just as much right to be left out of the squad as anyone else. What made me so angry was the fact I was club vice-captain and had had nearly four and a half years of success under the manager. I thought the least I deserved was an explanation. After all, how was I expected to know what they wanted me to work on without one? Mind you, after John’s ‘pep’ talk before the Bristol Rovers game, it didn’t take Einstein to work the answer out.

We lost the Southend game narrowly 1–0, but my punishment was
prolonged as I travelled all the way up to Scunthorpe too just to sit in the stand and watch us get beaten 3–0.

The gaffer was fuming after that game and scheduled a meeting the following Thursday to discuss what was going wrong. ‘If anyone has anything to say they should say it on Thursday,’ he announced. That was like a red rag to a bull: I was wound up and had plenty to say.

Thursday came and GT called the aforementioned meeting. We were all sat in the gym and he opened discussion up to the floor. As usual, everyone had been moaning in private but nobody wanted to be the first to speak.

‘Who has got something to say?’ he asked.

No one spoke so he repeated the question.

‘I’ve got something to say,’ I said. ‘Why do we not work on the shape of the team any more? Why don’t you warn people who haven’t played for a while that they are going to start before naming the team an hour and a half before the game? Why don’t you explain to people why they have been left out?’

Well, this clearly hit a nerve and GT went for me. ‘Would working on the team shape make you track your runners? Would letting someone know they are playing make you track your runners?’

Ouch.

‘I appreciate that is something I have to work on, but it’s not relevant to what I’ve just asked,’ I replied.

GT was clearly not happy and it was becoming a personal slanging match. I found his reaction quite strange as he’d asked for people’s opinions but become very defensive upon receiving them. My speaking up worked, though, as it led to other players putting their thoughts across and getting some of our other issues out in the open.

I was really disappointed though and I lost a bit of respect for GT that day. I knew he had a tough job being both the manager and the chairman of the club – and he no doubt had an abundance of issues to deal with – but if he’d had a problem with me we should’ve talked about it in private. That
meeting was not meant to be about my deficiencies but about the team’s, so I don’t think he should’ve been taking out his frustrations on someone who, on the whole, had done well for him.

I was still unhappy the next day and went in early to speak to John. I asked him if the gaffer had a problem with me. He gave me that incredulous look he had mastered and rocked back in his chair.