After one training session, I was chomping at the bit and I got brave and went over to the gaffer for a quiet word. I had it in my head what I was going to say, nice and calm, ‘Mr Kendall, I’m really training hard and I would love the opportunity to play in the first team. Do you think I will have to wait much longer to get my chance?’
Well, that’s what I had intended to say. As it was, I went over and just blurted out, ‘Boss … I want to fucking play Saturday!’ That was it, hours of building myself up and that was the best I could come out with! Howard just smiled and said, ‘Patience, son, patience …’ and walked off!
We had a couple of away games in a week and I roomed with Gary Stevens. I was very shy, not used to wearing a suit and going down to the restaurant with the players and the directors for tea, so I used to order my meal with Neville Southall and we’d eat in his room talking nonsense for hours before going to bed. It was superb.
I soon settled into life at Everton; it was one big, happy family and there were no cliques. Everybody trained hard, played hard and, apart from Neville, drank hard together. I was still in a hotel and, as soon as I landed there, I was introduced to a player who had also recently signed called Ian Atkins. Another bloke was hanging about and he came over and shook my hand but I had no idea who he was and, later that night, he phoned my room and asked me if I fancied a night on the town. I almost told him to piss off and then he mentioned that he was meeting a few of my team-mates and the bloke concerned turned out to be Terry Curran, who was also an Everton player. I felt a proper idiot for not knowing who he was, but soon was out and about with him and he was quality company.
Within weeks, we were getting birds back to the rooms and getting pissed but, knowing the amount of spies the gaffer had, I decided that I needed to start behaving, so I got Susan to join me in the hotel and, soon after she arrived, I bought a house around the corner from Sharpy in an area near Southport.
From that day, Graeme watched my back. He looked after me like a brother and always did his very best to make sure I kept out of trouble and, more importantly, away from the women. Sadly, despite his superhuman efforts, there was no man on earth capable of managing that!
5
SWEET DREAMS WITH THE TOFFEES
Everton had only kept one clean sheet in their first eight league games of the 1984/85 season and, although we won 5–4 at Watford, I thought that the gaffer was losing patience with the amount of goals we were leaking. I had played two reserve games and we had kept clean sheets in both of them, which was good, as in the previous three games they had leaked a dozen. I was right about the gaffer losing patience as the following week I made my début at Highbury replacing none other than my new best mate John Bailey.
Although Arsenal beat us 1–0, I did reasonably well but, deep down, with coming back from Highbury pointless, I did not, hand on heart, think I had made the number 3 shirt my own. I was so wrong on that account as, apart from a couple of Cup Winners’ Cup ties against some Czechoslovakian outfit when I was ineligible to play and three games I missed through injury and suspension, I was an ever-present for the rest of the season, and what a season it was.
I made my home début against Sheffield United. We were a class apart and it was an easy game that I enjoyed as we gave them a 4–0 thumping. I can’t remember much about it, apart from the lads telling me to get used to the ‘Z Cars’ tune we ran out to as it was part of Everton folklore. I had no idea what they were on about but, after a few games, I was hooked like the rest of them and, to this day, every time I hear that music the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
After another home win against Aston Villa, we were focussed on the next game which was the Merseyside Derby at Anfield. It was manic. The press were in your face all week and the build-up can only be described as one you would have for a Cup Final. I never realised how much it meant to everyone on Merseyside and especially the local lads in the side. It was hard as a so-called ‘outsider’ to understand just how massive a deal this was for them. I just got on with training and hoped I would be picked for this game which I thought had better live up to expectations, given the way the people around me were behaving.
What a day it turned out to be. From the minute we got to Anfield, I knew this was for me and that the lads were right to be so up for the occasion. Don’t get me wrong – I have and always will give 100 per cent while playing in any game, but this game demanded more. You had to give an extra 10 per cent or you would be left behind.
As we were in the tunnel ready to walk out, I looked around and saw people who were usually as cool as you like looking physically sick, and when we went to go out on to the pitch the Liverpool lads were all slapping the ‘This is Anfield’ sign, while some of our lot were shouting obscenities at them. So much for the ‘Friendly Derby’. I had played at Anfield before and the away fans were lost in the far corner of the Anfield Road End but, as we took to the pitch to the wretched sound of ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’, all I could hear was ‘Come on, you Blues …’ echoing around the stadium. How, I don’t know, but it seemed that half the ground was full of Evertonians and it made it much easier knowing we had so many fans willing us to victory.
The first half came and went and I was playing down the left flank over to the Kemlyn Road Stand. When I had been there with Birmingham, the abuse you got, albeit quite humorous, was never-ending, but today it was like a home game. I’d go to take a throw in and rows and rows of Evertonians would stand up and applaud – it was superb, I was only chucking the ball back into play!
I thought the second half would be different as I was going to be patrolling the far end near the world-famous Kop and the gaffer told me at half-time to stand tall and not to dive in, as the occupants of that end were quite often responsible for a few dubious penalty awards. I jogged over and kept my head down and it was a fantastic sight when the whole end applauded Neville Southall. Fair play, I thought, as I took my position, but was thinking, ‘I wonder if you’ll be so gracious if we score?’
It didn’t take long to find out and, just a few minutes into the second half, Gary Stevens played a long ball down the centre between Hansen and Lawrenson and Sharpy took a touch before smashing a 25-yard volley over Bruce Grobbelaar’s head. The place went bonkers! I was at the wrong end of the pitch to get involved with mobbing him – it wasn’t my thing anyway, it was a team game, and I always felt that the goalscorers got a lot of credit that the rest of us also deserved. I noticed a load of fans had run on the pitch and thought it could spell trouble, but it was just Evertonians going mental. I turned to the Kop to see what their reaction was and, I swear to this day, I have seen nothing like it, there must have been 8,000 Evertonians in there jumping up and down. What ‘famous’ Kop?
Things eventually calmed down and we coped with ease with anything Liverpool threw at us and really should have won by a greater margin. The final whistle saw another pitch invasion as hundreds of Evertonians celebrated our first victory on enemy soil for 14 years and I was pleased, although surprised, that there was not a mass outbreak of violence. I really could not imagine similar scenes at a Villa in a Blues Derby, but that’s Merseyside for you, it’s a one-off type of place.
In the dressing room, you could still hear the Evertonians singing ‘Going down …’ as the Reds had slipped into the bottom three, to a fast-emptying Kop. Well, one half of it was empty, the other half was full of celebrating Blues. There was talk of us challenging for the title, and rightly so – we were unbeaten in 13 and had just beaten the current champions in their own back yard, but the gaffer kept things in check and his catchphrase of ‘one game at a time’ was continually drummed into us.
The following Tuesday we flew out to play Inter Bratislava in the Cup Winners’ Cup second round and I was gutted to miss out as I had signed after the deadline, meaning that I could not play unless we made it through to the quarter-finals. Obviously, I had been doing OK; the proof was in the results and it helped that we didn’t now have to score
three or four goals to win games like we had been doing earlier on in the season.
Bails came in for me and I wished him well and he joked that if we kept a clean sheet, the gaffer had told him I’d be back with the reserves and that I’d only been keeping the shirt warm for him while he had a rest and got 100 per cent fit. Joking aside, I was pleased when we did win, but a bit concerned with the clean sheet, as I wondered whether Mr Kendall would think there would be any need to change a winning side that had played well and not conceded. I then began to doubt whether Bails had been joking – had I really been keeping the shirt warm for him?
I had nothing to panic about as, on the Friday after training, Mr Kendall pulled me to one side and told me to get an early night, stay off the beer and that I was back in the side to face United. I swear I could have kissed him; these were exciting times for the club and, after years of playing in a struggling side, I was now in with a chance of actually winning something other than a yard of ale competition or a punch-up in the pub!
United were many people’s favourites for the League; Ron Atkinson had put a decent side together and it was arguably the toughest game I was going to be involved in since my move to Goodison. Wrong! It was a stroll in the park. Ladies and gentlemen, I can tell you hand on heart that all I can remember about that game is taking a few throw-ins and free kicks given for offside, not bothering with a shower, getting my suit on and heading straight for the Continental Nightclub!
We absolutely battered United; Sheeds scored with a header and when things like that happen it’s like Christmas, your birthday and popping your cherry all at once! It ended up 5–0, and could have been more, but who cares? Yes, gaffer, we will take one game at a time, but bring them on thick and fast! This is what I came here for, but I thought it may take it bit longer than a month before I was in a side playing football of such a superb standard.
A few days later, we travelled to Old Trafford to play United in a League Cup match and we knew it would be tougher; it had to be and it was. We went through 2–1 thanks to a John Gidman own-goal, but a win is a win and we were now unbeaten since my début at Arsenal and, although there was no such thing as an easy game, we had a few coming up that we would fancy our chances in.
The gaffer did his upmost to keep our feet on the ground but we were flying and battered Leicester and Stoke at home, beat West Ham away and eased passed Bratislava 4–0 on aggregate in another game when Bails kept the shirt warm for me! The win against Leicester had seen us go top of the League; things quite simply couldn’t have been any better. We had drawn Grimsby at home in the League Cup and went into the game understandably full of confidence; we were simply oozing the stuff, had a settled side and fancied ourselves to progress at the expense of a team a couple of leagues below us. They beat us 1–0!
It was one of the most one-sided games I have ever played in. We simply annihilated them but could not score, so it was unbelievable when they got out of their own box and forced a corner in the last minute and scored from it seconds before the referee blew up for full time. I was expecting some stick from the crowd but they were superb and we were applauded off the pitch. They fully appreciated that we had played well and, in hindsight, I believe that game may have been the one that brought us back down to earth and set us up for the rest of the season.
Things dipped a bit and, in some quarters, people started saying our bubble had burst as we got hammered 4–2 a few days later at Norwich, when at one stage we were 3–0 down and it looked like we could end up being beaten by 5 or 6. We pulled it back to 3–2 before they broke and got a fourth to finish us off and, to make matters worse, I was hauled off by Mr Kendall, although he did reassure me that it was a tactical decision and that I was no worse than any of the others out there – great man-management!
Before that game I met a girl who worked at the hotel reception called Lyn Bentley; we had a chat and got on great but nothing happened as at the time I was on my best behaviour. She sent a letter to Howard Kendall at the club asking him if he’d get me to call her. After assuring the gaffer that I had done nothing the night before the defeat, he agreed that next time we were down there I could have her number.
Sheffield Wednesday came to Goodison the following week and it was a horrible game, with a horrendous tackle from Brian Marwood ending Adrian Heath’s season. I was very close to Inchy and was gutted for him, as were all of the lads, and things boiled over when Peter Reid took the law into his own hands and nailed Marwood as Inchy was on his way to hospital. It was confirmed after the game that Adrian was indeed out for the season and it felt in the dressing room that things may just have started to go against us, although the gaffer reassured us that every team would have a ‘blip’ and that we just needed to keep doing what we had been doing all season and the results would come.
Heath’s injury was a massive blow. He had scored 13 goals already that season and the way he played off Graeme Sharp was poetry in motion, but on the bench we had a certain gentleman who liked a challenge, who was up for a scrap and had the knack of scoring the odd goal or two. Andy Gray was a perfect replacement for Inchy and, even though he kept telling anyone who cared to listen what he was going to do, I doubt even Andy could have dreamed up the impact he had on our fortunes for the second half of the season. His presence also had an impact on my appearance total that season and my bank balance as, thanks to him, I missed a couple of games and was fined a week’s wages after an incident in our first match together.
We were down at Queen’s Park Rangers, who at the time played on a plastic pitch, so it was always going to be difficult for us. I hated those pitches. My game involved a fair bit of tackling and physical contact but on those artificial pitches one sliding tackle could seriously hurt you. Now I don’t mind the odd carpet burn, if you get my drift, but even I have a pain threshold!
It was during the second half when it all kicked off as Andy went into a challenge with Simon Stainrod and a bit of a scuffle broke out, so I ran 20 yards to back my man up. Howard Kendall had drummed it into us that on and off the pitch we were to stick together, so in I went. Within seconds, I whacked Stainrod and was then volleyed all over the place by half the QPR team, while Andy Gray stood back and watched. So much for sticking together!
I was sent off and then, as I took the dreaded walk to the dressing rooms, the look the gaffer threw at me made me realise it was one scrap I should have stayed out of. The Everton fans suddenly started chanting, ‘Psycho … Psycho!’ Although I appreciated their sentiment, I decided against giving them a wave as I trudged down the tunnel, as I knew Howard was unimpressed with my dismissal.
We held out for a draw and, on the Monday morning, I was summoned to Mr Kendall’s office, was fined a week’s wages and warned about my future conduct on the pitch. He went on to say that if we were going to win anything, we needed 11 players out there, but I commented that the fine was a bit harsh as he had told us to stick together. He replied, ‘We do … the money will go in the pot for our end-of-season piss-up in Magaluf.’ That made it a bit easier to bear.
My main worry was that I would miss two games through suspension which kicked in after our next game at home to Nottingham Forest. I was on my best behaviour as we hammered them 5–0 and sat out the two games over Christmas. We lost the first, 4–3 at home to Chelsea. The defeat was a big blow to our title hopes as the teams above us won and we dropped to third. Spurs went top, United and Liverpool were on our tails and there was hardly a point between us all. Had my moment of madness at QPR ruined our season or, worse still, ruined my chances of trying to make amends?
I thought conceding four at home would maybe work in my favour. I realise that is a selfish way of looking at it and I did not want us to drop points or concede goals but I wanted to be part of the team and play every week. In the players’ lounge, everyone was quiet, especially Bails, and I felt for him as he must have been thinking – after waiting so long for a chance to win his place back – collectively the team had cocked it up fo
r him.
We travelled up to Sunderland on Boxing Day and Gary Stevens missed the match though injury. His deputy Alan Harper was also injured, so Ian Atkins came in at right-back. Bailey did really well so I got thinking I may get a game at centre-half, but Mountfield scored both our goals in a 2–1 win so it looked like I was going to struggle to win my place back thanks to that stupid fight with Stainrod. Despite my own selfish thoughts, the mood was great on the way home with everyone happy and we shared a beer or two on the coach. The games were coming thick and fast, though, and we had to travel to Ipswich the following day, so it was a mild Christmas celebration.
I was selected to play at right-back at Portman Road, which was fine by me – as I have said, I’m naturally right-footed. Bails was on the left and we had some great banter throughout the game which we won 2–0. I was shouting over to him, ‘Is that shirt a bit tight on you?’ He would yell back some obscenity and it was fantastic to play with him but such a pity that we never did so more often, as he was a truly superb professional and, as I’ve said before, a fantastic person.
Over the holiday period, as well as Bails and Atkins, Terry Curran came in for Andy Gray and we won all three games and were joint top on goal difference with Spurs. It showed that we had a good squad as well as just a starting 11. Alan Harper and Kev Richardson could play anywhere, so it was not just myself sweating on my place when everyone was declared fit for our next match – an awkward cup tie away at Leeds United.
Mr Kendall announced the side on the day of the game: Southall, Stevens, Van Den Hauwe, Ratcliffe, Mountfield, Reid, Steven, Gray, Sharp, Bracewell and Sheedy. He had shown his hand – his first-choice 11 – although he also reminded us of the calibre of players waiting to come in if anyone got complacent or was not doing their job. I was on cloud nine; this was the team that could make history for Everton Football Club and I wanted to be part of it so much it hurt.
Pat Van Den Hauwe Page 5
