Journeyman (34 page)

‘What disclaimer?!’ she replied.

Classic Evo!

I recovered from my injury by early November and was back on the training pitch but things had changed. Unlike previously, I no longer had a burning desire to prove the gaffer wrong. I was, quite frankly, sick of continuously having to prove myself to him. Whenever I had an ‘average game’ it felt like I was back to square one.

I played a couple of reserve games while regaining fitness, including a dire defeat to a young Forest Green side that played round us like we were not even there. The closest I got to anyone was the handshakes at the end.

The boss continuously brought in new players, good ones to be fair, so I could not see any real possibility of nailing down a regular place in this team. I always felt exasperated when I could not see my life moving forwards and this was one of those times. I just wanted to move on, whether that be to a new football club or perhaps into a new career.

By mid-November my lack of motivation was obvious to everyone and, the Friday before we were due to welcome Oxford United, Evo pulled me aside and asked if I would be interested in a pay-off. I said yes – I was owed £34,000 and was going to ask for half, or I’d take £15,000 at a push.

Unfortunately this pay-off never came to fruition. But by the end of the next week I had left the club anyway, albeit temporarily.

Garry Hill, my former manager at Weymouth, was still trying to persuade me to join him at Woking. It was nice to hear a manager really wanting my services but, to be honest, I would have signed for anyone at that time.

I knew I was better than Conference South level but I just wanted to
play, so said if he could agree a deal with Evo, which was by no means a foregone conclusion bearing in mind their history, then I would sign a one-month loan.

Steve and Garry had a mutual dislike for each other after the tax evasion scandal in the 2001/02 season. Boston United and Garry Hill’s Dagenham & Redbridge had been going toe to toe at the top of the Conference. Boston eventually prevailed on goal difference. However, Garry and a lot of people within football felt this was an injustice, as although Boston was subsequently punished with a £100,000 fine and a four-point penalty, the points deduction was not applicable until the 2002/03 season, which allowed Boston United to take their place in the Football League.

Within an hour, I was told Woking had agreed to pay 50 per cent of my basic wage (£400 a week) and so I was on the move again.

It was a weird feeling – I should have been happy at the prospect of playing games but I felt miserable. I think it was a realisation that, if things went as expected, I would probably be finished as a professional footballer by the New Year.

My month at Woking passed by unspectacularly. It was evident, once I began playing matches, that I was nowhere near match fit. I should have been standing out but I was not. We won games but they were quite often turgid affairs and we were just grinding out results.

Even scoring the winner on Boxing Day against Farnborough in front of over 3,000 people could not lift my mood. It was my only decent contribution throughout my last scheduled appearance.

Garry wanted to extend my loan, which I was willing to do – but only because it was better than the alternative. To be honest, I had not really enjoyed the games, mainly due to the quality of my own performances, plus it was a nightmare journey. I had to navigate the M25 from Essex on Tuesday and Thursday nights for training sessions, which did not begin until 8.30 p.m. I was normally falling asleep on the sofa by then.

The decision was taken out of my hands anyway and I was back at Crawley by 27 December.

I found myself in the office with the gaffer upon my return and he said that Crawley – by which he was referring to himelf – was not interested in a longer-term loan while Woking only paid 50 per cent of my wages. He proposed giving me two months of my net wage to leave, which amounted to £5,000. I looked at him like he was mad, telling him there was no chance.

I wanted out but I was not stupid. If I stayed until the summer I would get paid through May, June and July, so there was no value in me accepting such an offer.

While I was at Woking I received a call from Nas Bashir, then manager of Hayes & Yeading in the Conference Premier, about a loan move. It transpired they could not contribute money-wise much more than Woking but I assumed the financial side of that deal was really only a problem because of the animosity between Evo and Garry.

That thought was misplaced as Steve stuck to his guns and reiterated I would not be going anywhere unless the loan club paid the vast majority of my wages. To be fair, he understood I was not going to leave Crawley for a pittance and did not seem to hold it against me.

I was even involved in the squad for my first game back at the club against Barnet. This was by default however as we only had sixteen players available. I even got on the pitch for a token minute and got a warm reception from our supporters, which I appreciated. The game itself was a dour affair but we narrowly won 1–0.

I could not decide if I was happy that I had not fully participated in such a game or depressed that I was not deemed good enough to start. Everyone around the club seemed pleased I was back in the squad but I felt being a sub for a League Two team aged thirty-three was not anything to celebrate. The squad remained the same for our next game against Oxford United, so I retained a place on the bench.

It was now early January and my situation seemingly altered by the day. First I would be off to Hayes & Yeading, then I was not, then I was. However, on the eve of the third round FA Cup game at home to Bristol City, the gaffer pulled me into his office to say I may well start the next day.

It was a strange situation – I knew I would not be playing and he knew I would not be playing, but it left me with a 2 per cent chance I actually might, so I prepared accordingly. I could not fathom out the thinking behind this situation because I had not started a game for Crawley since September.

As expected I ended up on the bench. The boys put on a vintage Crawley Town performance, unsettling Bristol City from the off, and we thoroughly deserved our victory courtesy of Tubbsy showing once again that he could comfortably step up to the next level.

As I settled back into the club I could feel my performances in training improve. The loan move to Hayes was still a non-starter but, mid-January, Rayns called to say Newport County wanted me on loan. Ordinarily I would have jumped at the chance but I had a lot of things going on and did not fancy travelling up the M4 every two days. There was also no way I was going to relocate to Newport permanently, so I turned it down hoping it would force the Hayes situation.

I expected this action to cause problems as the gaffer did not normally take kindly to players not doing what he asked them but, again, he was good as gold and respected my decision. He had also stopped taking me on away trips when I was not going to play, something else I appreciated.

If I travelled to such games I would end up preparing, especially eating, as if I was playing and end up putting on about half a stone after sitting in the stand. At least when I stayed at home I could spend a couple of days working in the gym improving my fitness.

Just as we were moving into February and I was losing hope, I got a text from Paul Carden, then assistant manager of Luton Town, enquiring about my availability. I tried to say I was free without sounding too keen.

Luton were a club playing at least two levels below themselves. I had always enjoyed playing in the spiky, aggressive atmosphere of Kenilworth Road and would have loved to have performed there every other week. But Paul explained that they had to get a couple of players out before they could bring me in. He obviously thought I was earning more than I actually was.

Unfortunately, as was often the case, that was as far as it went and I heard no more.

For the second year in a row we had made it to the fourth round of the FA Cup, where we had drawn Hull City away. As influential as my role had been in the competition last year it was irrelevant this time. I had not even stepped on the pitch during this run, but had pinched a few win bonuses by sitting on the bench.

I played in a reserve game against Brighton & Hove Albion before the Hull game. I always enjoyed playing against their development squad as they played the sort of style I loved. It was a beautiful, controlled, patient game with a fluidity and movement rarely seen in English football.

I became frustrated when I was replaced with fifteen minutes to go and I threw my captain’s armband toward the vicinity of my nearest teammate as I trudged off he pitch. In a rare moment of awareness Evo noticed my disappointment and told me that, if we played with a player in the hole against Hull, then it would be me.

I will never know how he or I managed to keep straight faces as he went through that complete bollocks. To just illustrate what a load of shit this was, he signed Sanchez Watt on loan from Arsenal the next day. This move obviously had not just come about over the previous twelve hours, so why he blatantly lied to the face of someone who could not be further out of the first-team picture I will never know.

The lads put in another fantastic performance away to Hull City and deservedly won 1–0, with Tubbsy scoring the goal. That turned out to be
his last meaningful action as a Crawley Town player because he was sold to AFC Bournemouth not long after for reportedly over £600,000.

The next day we were off to Portugal, for the third time in a year, for another mid-season training camp. As we were about to leave for the short trip to Gatwick we were joined on the coach by Billy Clarke, who had signed from Blackpool as a replacement for Tubbsy.

Billy turned out to be an excellent signing and, overall, the quality of players Crawley were bringing in continued to be impressive. The more I saw of Billy play, the more I realised he was a lot better version of myself. He could do everything I could do and a whole lot more.

The transfer window was about to close while we were away. On its final day I received a call from Dean Holdsworth, then manager of Aldershot, asking if I would like to join them on loan for the rest of the season.

I could not say yes quick enough. I never imagined I would get a chance to join up with a fellow League Two club after the season I’d had. Initially he had offered to pay 75 per cent of my wages, but the gaffer had said no. Dean came back and said Aldershot would cover the whole £800 a week if we could get the deal done.

I went straight to the golf course on our resort to find the gaffer and tell him how keen I was for this to go through. Strangely he did not want me to leave, but I was adamant this opportunity would not pass me by. Thankfully the management did see my side of the argument and sanctioned the deal.

For the first time in a while I was both genuinely excited and a little nervous, which is never a bad thing, about the chance to possibly earn myself a new contract, either at Aldershot or elsewhere. I had forgone all my appearance bonuses and was only getting a small percentage of the travelling expenses I was entitled to, so there was nothing from my end that could hinder the temporary transfer.

What you hope for and what you get can often be two totally different
things however. I cannot believe, in hindsight, how something I felt so positive about became such a disaster…

I returned from lovely weather in Portugal to arctic temperatures in England. These conditions automatically meant my first game at Aldershot was in doubt.

I
TURNED UP
for my first session on a Friday before a home game against Bristol Rovers and my initial impressions were positive. The club had a larger staff than I was used to at Crawley, which included an assistant manager, first-team coach and fitness coach.

I assumed, at the time, Dean was confident the game would be cancelled as we did a near two-hour session – unheard of for a Friday. It included some ‘team-shape’ work, which is when what is usually the starting team goes through potential match-play scenarios, plus the manager tells individual players what he wants them to do when in or out of possession.

The match day line-up can regularly change during these types of sessions through a combination of keeping everyone on their toes and the management still deciding who is going to play. However, on this occasion, I stayed in what was to be the first team the whole time. I performed well, which was always nice when trying to earn respect from new teammates.

Unfortunately the game was called off because of a frozen pitch. Dean texted me the same afternoon to ask if I had enjoyed my first day. I said I had, and that little piece of man management made me want to play for him even more.

I felt the most motivated I had for quite a while, being determined to thank Dean for the faith he had put in me while rediscovering a desire to prove Steve Evans wrong.

The adverse weather conditions continued for another week, which meant we had very few opportunities to train outside. I was really impressed with our indoor sessions though as Russ Clash, the fitness coach, was very good and clearly put a lot of thought into his sessions while making sure we worked hard.

Ten days into my loan period the snow started to subside, which allowed us to get back on the training pitch. My Aldershot debut seemed fated to be against Hereford United.

To add extra spice to that game Gary Peters, my old adversary, was now working for the Bulls and he was someone I still wanted to stick two metaphorical fingers up at.

Our preparation for the game was not dissimilar to my first day; another long session the day before and I was involved in what seemed like the starting eleven at all times. I was deployed in central midfield before getting moved out to the left, a position we know I was never particularly comfortable playing. As long as I was in the team, however, I would be happy.

My performance level was good and I had seen enough now to know that I was one of the stronger players in the group. The session finished with the manager being unhappy regarding some players’ performances but I was confident that I was not one of those he was referring to.

Whether a manager names his team the day before a game or not, as a player you can make three decisions on your participation: you can decide you are definitely in, definitely out or unsure. I used to call it correctly more
often than not throughout my career, the exception being the Conference-winning season with Crawley.

When I decided I was not playing, I would not even give the match a second thought. However, on this occasion, I was 100 per cent sure I would be starting and prepared accordingly.

I arrived at the game just after 6 p.m. and watched as certain players were called into the manager’s office, safe in my knowledge that I would be playing. A little later Dean came into the dressing room, did a pre-match speech and then revealed his team on a flipchart. I looked for my name but it was not in central midfield.

Shit
, I thought.
I’m going to have to play left midfield.

But my name was not there either. Surely I was right midfield then?

Nope.

I was on the subs bench.

I was amazed I was not playing and was fuming. I had performed excellently in training plus, although I had not been promised to play every week when I joined, I could not see much point in signing a player of my age on loan and not playing them. I held up my end of the bargain, which was to do the business on the training pitch, and I wanted the opportunity to do it in a proper game.

What annoyed me more than anything was I had clearly seen the manager talk to other players and explain decisions, but he said nothing to me.

We won 1–0 in a pretty poor game between two very average teams. Being in the totally selfish mindset that I was, a win did me no favours as it was unlikely the manager would change a winning team. He was going to get a knock on his office door first thing on Thursday morning that was for sure.

My only consolation of that evening came after speaking to my old friend, and then manager of Hereford, Jamie Pitman. After initially being taken in by Gary Peters’s charms, Jamie’s opinion of him was now very similar to mine!

After a day off, I went straight to the manager’s office.

Unfortunately he was off through illness so I was left speaking to his assistant manager Matt Bishop. I told him I had been training really well and I was pissed off I had not played, both points he agreed and sympathised with. But he gave me no real reason for the situation other than the management decided they did not want to make too many changes.

This did not really stack up though because, a couple of days after I signed, Aldershot also brought in Darren Murphy on loan from Stevenage, who also played in my position. Getting my grievances off my chest helped though and lifted my mood slightly.

Due to the bad weather this was also the first time I had seen the club’s training ground. Throughout the cold snap we had trained on an AstroTurf pitch, which was part of the local army barracks.

I was really impressed with their facilities, it was a big area and a good surface. It was a lot better than what I had been used to at both Crawley and Hereford.

Our next game was away to Macclesfield Town, which meant an overnight stay and the dreaded initiation song. As is the norm at a lot of clubs these days, a new player has to sing in front of the squad after dinner on their first away trip. On this occasion the club had seven new signings so first-team coach Matt Gray decided we would have an
X Factor
-style competition. I sang the 1980s classic ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ by Rick Astley.

I would like to take this opportunity to publicly apologise to Rick. For some of the younger players it was the first time they had heard the song, and most probably the last after I murdered it twice having been voted in the bottom two by the audience.

My first mistake was the song choice. I went for a pop tune but had no dance moves to accompany it. As a result I just stood on the stage looking like an awkward teenager at a house party.

I then decided to give it a right go and, after initially forgetting the lyrics, I belted it out. What with the lads not knowing my sense of humour I
was met by a combination of bewildered looks and stifled laughter. It was a painful situation for everyone involved.

Josh Payne absolutely brought the house down with his rendition of
Valerie
and Guy Madjo thankfully pipped me to last place – although considering he sang in his second language I took no satisfaction in that feat whatsoever!

Even though Darren Murphy got injured during that afternoon’s training session I still could not get myself into the team and was named as a substitute again. We ground out another 1–0 win but this time I managed to get on the left side of midfield for the last twenty minutes.

Entering the field of play made me feel more a part of the team and I felt I made a positive contribution, being nice and composed when in possession of the ball.

Southend United came to our place next. I was on the bench and, for the first time since I had been at the club, the lads put on a really dominant performance from start to finish to win 2–0. The whole team played excellently but Josh Payne in particular was on a different level to anyone else on the pitch. To me he looked like someone capable of playing at a much higher level.

I made a ten-minute cameo.

Aldershot had won three out of three since I joined and, with Barnet next on the agenda, I expected to be sat on the bench again. However, the day before the game, Josh Payne did not train. I assumed if he was out I would be a like-for-like replacement.

Yet again I was wrong. To my amazement, I was still on the bench as Troy Brown, predominantly a centre half, was named in Josh’s place. By my reckoning this made me fifth choice central midfielder at best. Josh and Darren Murphy had started there upon my arrival, now they were both injured and had been replaced by Aaron Morris and Troy.

I had nothing against these guys but I could not understand why any manager would want to bring in a loan player to be fifth choice?

To add insult to injury the gaffer said to warm up on fifty-five minutes and I did not even get on. On the plus side, for the rest of the team anyway, we cantered to a 4–1 win.

This was a strange feeling – I enjoyed being at Aldershot, I liked the lads and the training environment suited me, plus I was performing well day-to-day but I was constantly left frustrated by not being able to display that on a match day.

I relayed all my concerns to Dean but all he would say was he ‘loved me to bits and that I would get game time’ – all well and good, but it did not exactly answer my question of why I was not being selected. I liked the gaffer as a person but his management style was not working for me.

The good run continued as we defeated Morecambe at home to make it fifteen points out of fifteen. It was another solid, if unspectacular, performance but defensively we looked strong.

I was still no closer to getting a starting berth and it began looking even less likely when we signed my former Crawley colleague Michael Doughty. He had been on loan from QPR and was now doing the same at Aldershot. He was a talented boy and someone who I believed would go on to have a good career, but he was another midfielder to contend against.

Although I was frustrated and annoyed with this situation I knew I had to do everything I could, both while training with the team and working by myself, to ensure that I was ready to perform if I got the chance.

The approach at Aldershot was totally different to the one I was used to at Crawley. Steve Evans, in case you had not already worked out, took a very dictatorial stance. He looked to be in charge of everything and his philosophy was ‘if you give a player an inch, he will take a mile’.

While that rang true with certain individuals, I found this approach insulted my intelligence as I got older. Once, for example, Steve decided while we stayed at a hotel on a Friday night that we were not allowed to have breakfast the next morning. I had breakfast every Saturday and wanted to continue my normal routine.

Aldershot was totally different – it was a lot more laid back. When we travelled to Torquay on a Monday before a Tuesday night game, we were allowed to go to a local pub and watch a televised game. We did not drink, of course, but it was refreshing to have a management team that treated players like adults.

But even the novelty of that soon wore off as I sat on the bench for yet another ninety minutes while we lost our first game since I had joined. We were behind for the whole of the second half but I still did not get close to being involved. I freely admit I was never one of the most dynamic substitutes in the world, but if I was not going to get on in this type of scenario then when would I? To make matters worse Dean was now bringing the recovering players straight back into the fold.

I sat on the coach during the long journey back from Devon stewing about how I would word my, now weekly, moan in the gaffer’s office when I received a text. It simply read: ‘You deserve a chance and will be playing Saturday.’

About fucking time!

We had a team meeting at the next training session and the gaffer moaned about a series of things, including players’ body fat. He explained that anyone over 12 per cent would not play, which had not been the case as there were players over that threshold.

I was recorded at 7.9 per cent, which the manager seemed to be very impressed with, but it only further exasperated me. Surely being that lean aged thirty-three illustrated my professionalism? You do not get that kind of result by spending your afternoons sitting on the sofa eating custard creams and chocolate bourbons.

I was not about to tell Dean that though because I was already preparing myself for our game at Northampton Town, the one I had been told I was definitely playing in.

Matt Bishop took the Friday session as the boss was not in. At the end he
took some players off to do some set-piece routines, while Matt Gray took a few others to work on throw-ins. Three players, including me, where just sent off to do some passing.

My head was about to explode. If I was playing why was I not involved in the set pieces? It was either rank bad management, where it had not been discussed who was playing, or I was being left out again. Either way, it was rubbish preparation.

Thankfully for my sanity Dean stuck to his word and I was in the team. Not only that, but I was to take all the set pieces, which made the last session seem even more shambolic. I was playing right midfield but I was not going to let that affect me.

I started the game well and Ben Herd, who was playing right back, and I were linking up productively – by far and away our biggest attacking threat. Unfortunately we went 2–0 down before the break after not dealing with two long throws. Dean was not happy at half-time and was particularly critical of individual mistakes. He even kicked the flipchart but his aggression did not have much of an effect.

Even though Northampton were comfortably the better side I was happy with the way I was playing. Early in the second half we gave away a penalty and we went 3–0 down. By fifty-eight minutes Michael Doughty was being primed to come on.

I knew what was coming next – my number came up and I trudged off the pitch. I was severely pissed off and the gaffer was about to find that out. He tried to shake my hand as I walked past, so I held onto it and said: ‘What the fuck are you taking me off for?’