by Ian Holloway
I went to see Gerry and said, “I’ve got a massive problem, here. My daughters aren’t getting educated here and we’ve got to move back to Bristol.” He was just brilliant and said, “That’s not a problem. Fine.” I hadn’t expected that because he liked all his players to live within a certain radius and I was going to move 130 miles away.
So we upped sticks and moved home again – our families must have thought, “My God – we’ll never bloody get rid of them!” But the journey to work wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it might be. It gave me a lot of thinking time, which I never got at home, and if I left at 8.30am, I could miss the traffic and be at training on time, and because we almost always finished at about half-twelve, I’d be home before 3pm. Being injured was a problem because you had to be in by nine, Sundays included, which was a nightmare, but I’ve always believed that if your reason is strong enough, you can put your mind to anything. I was a very disciplined person and I knew what I wanted, and I was going to bloody do it and nobody was going to stop me.
We’d started the 1994/95 season terribly, winning just one of our first 12 games. We were in the bottom three and there were constant rumours that Les Ferdinand was going to be sold, which was annoying the hell out of Gerry. In fact, I think he’d had enough at that point because we just couldn’t buy a win. There were one or two frayed tempers and one incident could have been a lot worse had it not been for Pen’s irrepressible humour.
During training, Macca caught Trevor Sinclair a bit late, and the niggling carried on. Trev called Macca something not very complimentary, because he was pretty fiery when he got going, but things went a bit further. Gerry told them to calm down and go and get changed. Pen and I were already sat down eating dinner when Trev walks into the canteen. Pen wasn’t going to let things die down too quietly and said, “That was a bit silly Trev wasn’t it?”
Trev said, “It was his fucking fault.”
Then Macca walks in behind him. Trev says something to him and Macca didn’t like it again, so he says something back, and it’s getting more and more heated. There were always jugs of orange on the table and I said to Pen, “Shut up, will you? Just leave it.”
Macca was carrying an autographed ball and as he goes to the counter to get his food Trev throws a bit of food at him, hitting him on his shirt. Macca wasn’t happy with that and told him to fuck off. Trev sits down and says something again so Macca drinks his orange leaving a little bit at the bottom which he launches in Trev’s direction. Macca still has the ball in his hand when Trev gets up with a whole jug of orange and pours it all over his head. Macca was absolutely fuming and the first thing he could think of was to throw the ball at Trev and it pings off his ear-hole at some speed and goes flying out the double doors. At this point both of them are ready to go to war, and all of a sudden Pen pipes up, “Trev, Trev, Trev – for a future England international, you’ve got to sort your touch out, that ball you tried to control’s gone 50 yards.”
Trev starts laughing and so did Macca, and goes over to see Trev who apologises, and the whole episode is over, thanks to Pen being Pen. That’s why you’ve got to love the fella, I suppose.
We turned things round with a couple of wins in three days against Aston Villa and Liverpool but Gerry wasn’t happy with life at QPR. A lot of problems were to do with money and his decision to keep Les would prove a costly one. The board were keen to sell him and rake in the cash while Gerry was thinking how could he possibly replace a player like Les. So he decided to increase his money substantially and I think the board let that information be known to cause mischief among the other players. Gerry had promised Pen, who’d taken a wage cut to come to QPR, that if he did well he’d put him back to what he’d been on at Villa, so when he heard the rumours of how much Les was on, he was fuming. He wanted to see Gerry and before he did, he said, “And by the way, Oll. Your money’s shite too. You ought to see him as well – it’s fucking rubbish!” Pen wouldn’t shut up about it and Frank Sibley the coach got wind of it and told Gerry who said, “I want to see you two in my office.”
We went in and I was sort of caught up in it all and during the meeting Pen and Gerry started having a massive argument. I was playing regularly and wasn’t happy about my money, but I’d signed a contract and was going to abide by what I’d agreed.
Pen laid into Gerry. “You bloody liar. You lied to me.”
Gerry tried to explain it as best he could and in the end I said, “OK Gerry, I’m having it,” and started to walk out. As we did, Pen said, “Well I’m not, you fucking liar. You shouldn’t either, Oll.” We went out to go for the training session, but the arguing had gone on so long that everyone had gone home!
Gerry wasn’t himself and a couple of days later during a five-a-side game, I think he showed how much stress he was under. Gerry was on my team and Frank Sibley was referee. Gerry scores a great goal and ran off celebrating as normal, but I’d stepped in the box and held my hands up. Frank blew up and said, “No goal. Play on!”
Gerry said, “What? Fuck off Frank, that’s a fucking goal!”
Frank said, “No it’s not.”
“Actually Gerry,” I began to say but he told me to shut up. “Don’t take the piss, Frank!”
Frank said, “No goal, play on.”
“Gerry, I was wrong, I was in the box,” I said.
“Shut your mouth, you – I haven’t got a problem with you, I’ve got a fucking problem with him. Frank, you (C U Next Tuesday)!”
Frank threw his whistle down and said, “I’m not fucking being talked to like that!” and walked off. Gerry was shouting, “Come back here! I’ll fucking kill you!” He’d fight anybody when it came to winning, but I couldn’t believe it. As we walked back in I said I thought he’d gone over the top and he said, “You know I don’t mean it. He’ll be alright.” It upset Frank, though, and I’m not sure things were the same between them again.
The next time we played, Rodney Marsh – who Gerry had never liked – was spotted in the stand and the rumours were that he was going to be brought in as general manager. So Gerry went to see the chairman to say he wasn’t happy, and the next thing is he’s taking over at Tottenham. I think it suited Gerry, if truth be told, and as he went out, Ray Wilkins came in. How did I feel about that? Fantastic! He gave me a new contract and doubled my money! He said he’d looked at what I’d been on and said that wasn’t right, and I couldn’t have been happier. I signed a one-year extension, but Pen was put on the transfer list because of his constant moaning.
Ray hadn’t been able to convince Les Ferdinand to sign a new deal and he went to Newcastle for £6m at the end of the season, and Les just went into a different orbit after that. I was really pleased for him, too, because he was a wonderful bloke who’d do anything for anybody and what he got, he thoroughly deserved as far as I was concerned. I sent him a note saying that it was nice to see a good bloke get on, which
it was.
Clive Wilson wouldn’t re-sign, either, and he went to join Gerry at Tottenham, so we’d lost two of our best players by the time the 1995/96 season started. We didn’t really replace them, either, choosing to bring in a couple of youngsters instead. At least Pen stayed, because Ray changed his mind about him. Pen still wasn’t going to get the money he felt he deserved, but his staying wasn’t because nobody came in for him, because West Ham were ready to do a deal. He still had the hump with Ray and one morning during training, Ray had us all in a circle with two in the middle trying to get the ball each time it was passed across. Every time Pen got it he picked out Ray and whacked it at him – not that easy with sometimes two players stood in front of him! Ray didn’t deal with the ball too well on that particular day and it was so obvious Pen had issues with him that at the end of it, Ray, ever the gentleman, said, “Stop, stop, stop, stop. Obviously Gary, you’ll have to see me at the end of training, but what I will say is, if you can sort your focus out, you are one hell of a footballe
r, because your accuracy at hitting me across the circle is quite outstanding.”
Pen ended up training on his own, because he was like a spoiled brat, and he’d have to be driven in a mini bus to train away from the rest of us, but to be fair to him, he worked hard and eventually Ray picked him again. He was a talented kid when he put his mind to it, but if he had a beef about something it was like he had a wasp in his head. By November 1995, however, Pen re-joined Watford for £500,000 so things were changing and I wasn’t enjoying my football.
We were struggling in the league and around Christmas, I started to hear that Bristol Rovers were interested in signing me again. The drive to London and back I thought I could cope with was now killing me. I’d developed sciatica and it was starting to affect my game, and I needed to think about finding a club closer to home.
It’d obviously mean no more long drives and rushing to get home, so I went to see Ray and he said, “Yeah, Ollie, you can talk to them. I knew you would anyway, but you’ve got my permission.”
I went to see Rovers and they told me they wanted to offer me a four-year deal as player-coach, which sounded ideal with my days at QPR gradually winding down, and a return to something close to normality regarding getting to and from work. Everything seemed fine and then Ray comes back to me and says, “Well hang on a minute, Oll, I’ve changed my mind. They’ve not offered enough money.”
I said, “Hold on Ray, I’m thirty bloody three, they’re offering me a four-year contract and you’re standing in my way? Jesus Christ, Ray.”
Rovers had bid around £200,000 which wasn’t bad for a player my age. So I said, “Well give me a new deal, then.”
“No, I’m not going to do that, either. I don’t have to.”
I lost my head a bit, to be honest and I said, “Well why the hell did you let me talk to them, then? I want to go now.”
“No.”
“Well thanks a lot!”
The next day I got sent off in the reserves for only the second time in my life for swearing at a referee. Dougie Freedman scored a goal, but it was kicked away from a good yard or so behind the line and the ref waved play on. I told him that it was a goal and he said it wasn’t, so I said, “You’re a fucking idiot. Couldn’t you see that you fucking idiot?”
He showed me a straight red, which I deserved, and it sort of straightened me out a bit. I decided that if Rovers were that keen, they might come back in for me in the summer, so I got my head down and started working hard. I wasn’t disrespectful to Ray, but I had a bit of an edge to me and I’d got back some of the anger I used to have as a kid.
During the last month of Ray’s first season in charge things were deteriorating at home, which was hardly surprising considering how much I left Kim to deal with by herself. She was under tremendous strain bringing up four kids virtually single-handedly as well as every other day-to-day activity that goes along with running a family and a house. Even minor things that shouldn’t have been a problem were going wrong, like the big unruly dog we had at that time which was causing extra headaches. She would end up in the back of a police van for one reason or another almost every other day, usually because she was terrorising our neighbours after escaping from our garden. I needed to be around a lot more than I was. It got to the stage where I had to tell Ray I needed time off. I said, “I’ve got to do everything at home Ray for a while. I can’t make training because Kim isn’t even able to get out of bed at the moment.”
He was terrific. “No problem. You do what’s right for your family, they always come first, son.” That was outstanding in my book, especially as I’d had a bit of the hump about not going to Rovers. And then he goes and offers me a two-year extension, which would have taken me to 35, but I was determined to go by that point and turned it down.
I spoke with Gerry Francis about it and he said, “Look Ollie, they might be thinking of taking you back as manager. Just be ready if they offer you the job, which they might well do.”
I had to consider that was a possibility because there were obviously people on the board who really wanted me to go back and there were strong indications current manager, John Ward, was going to leave Rovers. I started getting a dossier together. Because I couldn’t play for QPR, who were on their way out of the Premiership by that time, I went to watch Bath City and Stevenage play because Marcus Stewart was out of contract at Rovers and it was likely he wasn’t going to sign, so I was planning on how to replace him, and while the kids were at school, I was writing down things – training sessions, the structure I’d want and so on – I’d always wanted to be a manager one day, anyway, so I was making my plans for Bristol Rovers. Thankfully, Rovers did offer me the position of player/manager on a four-year deal and the contract was on blue paper, which meant I was signing a PFA-backed players contract and therefore I couldn’t be sacked. It was a dream ticket because that would take me to 37. It gave me the security I’d needed and it coincided with Rovers returning to Bristol by playing at the rugby union club’s Memorial Ground. We would have a new training ground, too, so it was all pretty positive and the supporters seemed quite pleased about it, too, which was a relief. All I had to do was learn how to play and manage at the same time, but I’d become so engrossed in everything that I still wasn’t doing enough to help Kim out of her depression. It was a time when I was seeing everything wrong and the things that were precious to me were being shoved aside in my quest to be successful in my job. My job was a gold whistle in a box that I kept in a drawer. I tended to that whistle and took it out, polished it and cared for it lovingly. It just shows you how wrong you can be. In trying to secure a future for my family it almost cost me my family and our future together. Kim was so exhausted and mentally drained at that time, and looking back and thinking about how old the kids were and also dealing with the girls’ special needs, I wonder how she ever got through that period at all. I just wasn’t there for her in the way I should have been, which is something I will always regret. I just wish I could have seen things with more clarity back then and got the balance right.
Chapter 14: Marvin Hagler’s Eyes
Because I’d had time to prepare properly, I hit the ground running as Rovers’ manager. First of all I had to convince Marcus Stewart to sign a new contract. We were already short of strikers so I’d have to get some new players in as quickly as possible. The first meeting I had to have was with Marcus because he was out of contract and the ruling at the time was that he could go abroad if he wanted to – and he was considering it – and we wouldn’t get a penny for him. Huddersfield Town had offered £500,000 which was nowhere near enough, so I had to do something quickly or my entire transfer budget for the new season could go up in smoke. I knew his agent, my old mate Phil Purnell, but when I called him he said, “Ollie, there’s no way you’ll make up the difference. He’s not going to re-sign and he’s got the raving hump with the club, and the offer they’ve just made is what he should have been given two years ago.”
I told him things were different because I was in charge now. “What’s his favourite car?” He told me it was a Toyota MR2 – and asked what that had to do with it. I said, “Listen, that car will be included in the contract, just get him to meet me tomorrow.”
I called a bloke who ran a Toyota garage and found out he was a Rovers fan and explained the situation. I told him that I would have to sell Marcus the moment he re-signed. “Hopefully, though, I will be able to get a top club to pay big money for him to stop him leaving for nothing – would you give us a MR2, which we can give to Marcus to convince him to sign? You fund it and when he goes, we’ll buy the car off you.”
He said, “Yeah, of course I will.”
I got him to bring it to where I’d arranged to meet Marcus the next day and asked if he could put a big ribbon around it, which he did. Marcus arrived the day after and the first thing he saw was the car. I went out to meet him and I said, “There you go, that’s for you. That’s wh
at they owe you. There’s £23,000 worth of car there, but I need you to know that if you re-sign, I’m going to have to sell you, but when you go, this car’s yours.”
Marcus turned down the new deal in writing, but what he’d done by doing that, with the car thrown in of course, was turn down a much better offer, which guaranteed us getting a big fee for him at a tribunal. The better our offer the more we’d get, and ultimately Huddersfield agreed to pay £1.2m for him. They came back in and we told them he’d rejected a much better contract so rather than lose him, they paid the kind of money we’d been looking for. I’d never seen our chairman looking so happy!
Two players I’d targeted to lead a new-look strike force were Adi Akinbiyi and Jamie Cureton at Norwich. I thought they’d link up really well so I called their manager Mike Walker and asked him about them. Cureton was a Bristolian, but he had somewhat of a reputation for being a bit of a wrong ‘un, but I knew him from a few years before. Gordon Bennett was at Norwich and he’d asked me to help coach a couple of his youth team to train during the summer when I was still at QPR. He’d wanted an experienced pro to help them along because, save for Jeremy Goss, he didn’t feel anyone of the first-teamers at Carrow Road would help them. One of the kids was Andy Johnson, another was Jamie Cureton, so we had established a kind of relationship in that we both knew a bit about each other, and I knew he’d be keen to get away from Norwich because things weren’t really happening for him there. Mike Walker said, “You can’t have Akinbiyi yet because he’s injured, but you can later on, and you can have Cureton now.”
I said I’d take him on loan with a view to a permanent deal so we agreed a fee of £250,000 and in his first three games for us he scored four goals – an absolute revelation, and we signed him on. The board were made up with me because it looked as though we’d got a steal, but then he goes and plays like an idiot, maybe because he’d got his deal under his belt, scores one in six and I have to drop him. Welcome to the world of football management, Ollie! I thought that I wasn’t going to have the little sod treat me like that. Then, Adi Akinbiyi comes up for sale and Gillingham went in for him. I told the chairman we had to sign him because he’d be perfect with Cureton, but he wouldn’t do it. Despite having secured £1.2m from the sale of Stewart, he wasn’t prepared to back my judgement thanks to Cureton’s second month at the club. It wasn’t an ideal way to start a relationship with my chairman and the truth of the matter was, I’d have rather signed Akinbiyi first, and if I’d have insisted and not spoken of Cureton, Mike Walker would have sold him to me. I got that one wrong. I was in the thick of it now, though, and I must say, I loved it.
