by Simon Hughes
Harry’s presence in the stands at Anfield would have an effect on Jamie’s performances.
‘It gave me a lift. I’d walk off at half-time and I could see him sitting there just to the left of the tunnel. I’d look at him and I could tell by his expression how I was doing. It could be a subtle thumbs-up that said, “Yeah, you’re doing great,” and I’d feel ten feet tall. Then there’d be other times when I’d see a glare and him standing there gritting his teeth as if to say, “Come on, liven up.” A lot of the time I didn’t worry about what the managers or the coaches said. That’s not being disrespectful to them, because Roy Evans, for instance, got on very well with my dad, as they saw the game the same way. Ultimately, though, I only wanted to please my dad. If I did, it meant so much to me.’
There were periods when Harry was preoccupied by his duties as West Ham manager, so other family members watched Jamie instead.
‘My granddad would go to a lot of matches. Say we were playing United, I’d be nervous getting off the bus. I’d be reminding myself of what I was about to do, playing in front of thousands and thousands of people for Liverpool. Then I’d see my granddad standing in the Main Stand car park waiting for me with two cheese-and-pickle sandwiches. At the beginning, he only brought one for me. But after games, me and Macca [Steve McManaman] would drop him off at Lime Street Station. Granddad felt bad that he only had one roll, so after a while he made my gran make a second one for Macca too. She made sure there was extra butter on Macca’s because he had spindly legs and she thought he needed feeding up.’
It wasn’t always easy being a manager’s son. Jamie played thirteen games for Bournemouth over the course of eighteen months.
‘Some people might have thought that I was only getting a chance because my dad was the manager. They didn’t realize that it’s harder, really. If things went wrong, I’d be the first one to be dropped. I felt I should have had more games. We’d have that conversation over breakfast. But I realize now, my dad had to be careful with me.
‘I had long hair and didn’t really look like a footballer. In the lower leagues, there were real men, guys that could get away with kicking you. Most of the players were in their late twenties or early thirties. Clubs didn’t really have youth systems. Football was different. You could tackle. You could injure someone else and get away with it. Tony Pulis was my partner in midfield and he was an absolute animal.
‘My league debut came at Hull and they had Billy Whitehurst up front. We won 4–1 and I came on with fifteen minutes to go. I remember playing the ball out to our left-back, Paul Morrell, and it was a bit short. Billy notoriously had a short temper and his head was boiling because we were beating them easily. Billy went and whacked Paul high in the air. Then he got hold of Paul and lifted him off his feet by the throat. I thought to myself, “Jesus, that’s my fault.”’
Word of a lank-haired teenager in Bournemouth’s midfield spread north. One of Ron Yeats’s southern-based scouts recommended to Kenny Dalglish that he should take a look.
‘My dad was at a football-league managers’ dinner in London. It was a bow-tie affair. The story goes that towards the end of the night, my dad was having a dance with my mum. He must have had a drink, because he never dances. My dad realized that Kenny was following him around the dance floor with his wife, Marina. Eventually, he caught up with him and said, “Listen, I want to sign your son.”
‘Dad came home and woke me up in the early hours of the morning. He said, “You won’t believe this, son, but Kenny Dalglish wants to sign you for Liverpool.” Liverpool were the biggest club in the world. They were my favourite club other than Bournemouth. Kenny was my favourite player. Can you imagine my reaction? After that, Kenny would ring my dad every Sunday morning for an update on my progress.’
Eventually, a trial was agreed.
‘Kenny made a real fuss of me. It couldn’t have gone any better. Then he explained that he was going to put me in the youth team. I’d only left Tottenham [aged fourteen] for Bournemouth because I wanted to experience first-team football sooner. The path at Tottenham was blocked because they had some very talented boys in the reserves. It seemed daft to go from league football to youth football again. Liverpool felt like a backward step.’
There were also reservations about working with youth-team coach Steve Heighway, Liverpool’s legendary former winger.
‘I didn’t really hit it off with him to be honest. It was difficult. I think he thought my signing was being forced upon him. When I decided not to jump at the offer straight away, he got the impression that I was trying to skip the youth-development phase at Liverpool. That wasn’t the case. I knew that staying with my dad and playing in front of crowds would give me a better experience. I was also a baby in football terms. I would have been the only southerner in the youth team at Liverpool and I was happy at home living with my mum and dad. I didn’t see why I needed to rush, because I was in a good place.’
Within six months, Redknapp was ready to move and the night before signing he stayed at the old Moat House Hotel on Paradise Street in Liverpool’s city centre with his father. The Moat House was the place where the Liverpool squad gathered before getting the bus to Anfield for home matches and a favourite watering hole amongst the players.
‘At 3 a.m., you could hear police sirens. Someone had been shot dead outside. We heard the bangs. The next morning it was like a scene from Police Squad, where they make a cordon and draw an outline of the body on the floor. My dad looked at me and said, “Listen, son, do not tell your mum about this …” I was a Bournemouth boy, you know?’
The Redknapps were told to make their way to Anfield.
‘Ronnie Moran greeted me at the door, as he did every morning, shouting really loudly, “Och aye the noo.” To this day, I have no idea what he meant. I was petrified.’
Redknapp changed with the reserve team in the away dressing room.
‘It was a lot quieter than the first team in the home dressing room. Nobody said much to me. I found it hard with a couple of the boys. Alex Watson had gone to Bournemouth as part of the deal that brought me to Liverpool. That upset one or two of his mates in the reserves. They were cold with me. I felt as though a few people weren’t on my side. It felt like I had more to do to win them over than other newcomers might have. When Kenny left, I had a bit of a struggle. They were quick to have a dig. It wasn’t easy. I felt lonely for a while. That’s when you’ve got to hang in there and be strong.’
On his first day, Redknapp struggled to find a seat on the bus to Melwood.
‘I went to sit down somewhere only to be told by Steve McMahon that it was Alan Hansen’s place. So I chose another space and Jan Mølby chirped up, saying it was Bruce Grobbelaar’s. It felt like the first day at school. They had me on a piece of string. I had John Barnes to thank because he invited me to the back of the bus. He looked at me and went, “Hello, pretty boy, do you like the girls?” I smiled like a geek. I had pictures of Barnesy on my wall at home. He was another hero. I didn’t know what to say. I was a fresh-faced-looking lad with long hair. I think he thought I was gay. “Sure, I like the girls,” I responded nervously.
‘The journey to Melwood seemed to take forever. It was snowing and we did a session on the cinder pitch. We were warming up and as I’ve gone to pass the ball, I’ve slipped up in the ice. I went arse over tit. I nearly broke my back. I could hear the shouts, “How much? How much did we pay for him, Kenny?” Then everyone laughed.’
During his first week as a Liverpool player, Redknapp was invited to stay with Dalglish and his family in Birkdale.
‘Kenny was amazing with me. I’d only just passed my test but he asked me to drive his car. Marina made us a lovely dinner. We were playing Wimbledon at the weekend and he told me I was in the squad. I couldn’t believe it. I figured I’d be the fourteenth man, as there were only two subs. On the morning of the game, Marina made us both breakfast: eggs and beans. Kenny kept talking to me like I was a senior player – someone important
, someone ready to play for Liverpool. In my head, I thought, “Surely not – he’s not going to include me in the thirteen.”
‘I entered the dressing room and sat out of the way, next to where the coaches sit. Seventeen or eighteen players were in there. Kenny reads the team out: Grobbelaar, Ablett, Burrows, Nicol, Staunton, Gillespie, Carter, Mølby, Rush, Barnes and McMahon. The subs were next. I heard him say Ronny Rosenthal. I was still in awe of my surroundings, watching John Barnes get changed. Then everyone started shaking my hand. Because I wasn’t listening for it, I didn’t hear. Rushy went, “You’re thirteenth man, congratulations.” What a feeling that was.’
Redknapp remained on the bench during a 1–1 draw, secured by a late equalizer from the visitors’ right-back, Warren Barton.
‘At half-time, Ronny didn’t want to go out and warm up but I was desperate to experience the atmosphere – to see the fans and be out on the pitch kicking the ball around. There was a big cheer because there’d been a bit of fuss about the fee Liverpool had paid for me.’
Redknapp became the most expensive seventeen year old in football when Liverpool paid £350,000, with the fee later rising to £500,000. Yet he would never play for Dalglish, who resigned within a month.
‘Kenny must have been going through some personal torment on the day he decided to walk away but it didn’t stop him from ringing me. He was very calm and assured me that I’d be a big part of Liverpool’s future. It meant an awful lot.
‘It was a tough environment anyway but the uncertainty made things more intense because I was the new boy. It felt like Ronnie Moran [who’d been made temporary manager] was having a go at me all the time. For a few weeks, he was relentless. He’d give me stick, shouting, effing and blinding. I couldn’t understand it. I didn’t realize why at the time but Ronnie was trying to be consistent with what had gone before. It had always been Ronnie’s way. You had to roll with the punches at Liverpool. I spoke to Steve McManaman about it. I couldn’t figure out why Ronnie was always having a go at me but never Steve, for instance. The thing was, Macca was more established, whereas Ronnie knew he had to work on me – beat out all the insecurities. Macca promised me that, soon enough, Ronnie would leave me alone and start on someone else. And he did. Eventually, Ronnie just called me “Harry”.’
Redknapp was placed in digs with Don Hutchison, a midfielder who later became the first player sold during Roy Evans’ reign as manager after being pictured by a tabloid newspaper exposing himself during a drunken night out.
‘I stayed with Mrs Sainsbury for a while on Anfield Road as a lodger in her big terraced house. Unfortunately, she didn’t cook like Sainsbury’s; every night she’d serve up powdered Smash. A young Irish player called Mark Kenny was in there with me. It was difficult because you’d wake up every morning, open the curtains and the Shankly Gates were there. You never got away from it.
‘The club then moved me in with Don on the Brookside Estate where the soap opera was filmed, just around the corner from Melwood. We’d see characters like Jimmy Corkhill and Ron Dixon driving to work. It was a good laugh, quite a few parties. Don had got a place of his own and it became one of those gaffs where everyone in Liverpool ended up going back to at the end of a night out. It was known as the place to go and it’s not how it should have been. Don had his problems with the management and I was pulled out of there by Graeme [Souness]. It was the best thing he ever did for me.’
Redknapp went to live with Alan and Janet Collier and their two young kids in Sandfield Park, closer to the training ground.
‘I was going to buy an apartment and Graeme told me, “No chance – you’re meeting this family.” Lodging with two old folks was the last thing I wanted to do, even though they had a beautiful house with an indoor swimming pool. But I was still there in 1995 when I made my England debut against Colombia. I’m probably one of the only international footballers to have been living in digs. They were great with me. If I ever wanted to bring a girlfriend home, they were cool with it. Alan was a bit of a boy, to be fair. He knew everyone, so if I ever got myself into silly scrapes he knew the right people.’
In the early days, McManaman became Redknapp’s closest friend.
‘Before signing in the January, I watched Liverpool’s victory over Blackburn in the FA Cup replay from the stands. Macca was eighteen years old and he was on the bench. I could see his touch and passing range in the warm-up. He only got on for the last five minutes or so but he had an impact, dribbling past opponents like they weren’t there. I was sitting with my dad and both of us were open-mouthed. What a player. I realized there and then that his was the standard I had to get to. Macca was only twelve months older than me. So it was a huge step up.
‘In the summer holidays now, we go to Mallorca with our families. Macca’s the nicest guy you could meet. Very generous. Never has a go at anyone. I’ve got a lot of time for him.’
It might not have been the case for Nick Tanner but Redknapp says he received a lot of support from Liverpool’s senior players.
‘They were brilliant with me, considering I was coming into their world – people like Ronnie Whelan and Steve McMahon. We played in the same position and they might have thought I was there to take their place. But it never showed. John Barnes couldn’t help me enough. I’d watch him in training and he’d never give the ball away. He was calm in possession and treated the ball as his friend. If the team was struggling, he’d go hunting and take responsibility. I tried to take that attitude into my game.
‘Ian Rush was such a clever player too. He had this ability to always pounce on a defender’s mistakes. He’d toe the ball away from you and score within seconds. He did it to me ten times in the first two weeks. Fucking hell, he was brilliant. You didn’t see that kind of craftiness with Bournemouth in the Second Division.’
It took Liverpool’s board nearly three months to appoint a full-time replacement for Dalglish.
‘Graeme [Souness] didn’t say a word to me for months. The first time he said something was before I made my debut [in the defeat at Auxerre in the UEFA Cup the following season]. Nobody owed me anything but I signed as a kid at seventeen and maybe I needed a bit of guidance. I suppose I wasn’t Graeme’s signing, so I had to win him over. We got on great in the end but had a few run-ins at the start.
‘I love Graeme,’ Redknapp continues, speaking about their current relationship while working for Sky. ‘But when he came into Liverpool, he was a different Graeme to the one I now know. He was very aggressive. He was having wars with everybody when he didn’t need to, really. If he had his time again, I’m sure he’d have been different with the players. He would have been a bit more relaxed. He’s a legend, Graeme, and he knows it. He has an aura. He’s intense. If he’d gone in there with a feather rather than a sledgehammer, he might have been more successful. He tried to take on too much too soon.’
Souness tried to change the players’ lifestyles by cutting down on fatty foods as well as alcohol.
‘The problem was, the older pros still at Liverpool from Graeme’s time as a player remembered him and what he was like – someone who loved socializing, someone who was a bit of a glamour-puss. His nickname was “Champagne Charlie”, wasn’t it? Graeme used to be one of the lads and got away with a lot – being the captain, supremely confident and strong-willed. Suddenly, he was laying down the law to people like Bruce Grobbelaar and Ronnie Whelan, who thought it was hypocritical.
‘There was lots of moaning and bickering behind his back, and even as a kid I could see that everyone wasn’t pulling in the same direction. The worst thing about it was that nobody would pull up Graeme to his face. Everyone was too scared. It created a negative working environment. It spilled on to the pitch. Individuals weren’t performing to their potential and the team was suffering.’ Redknapp probably benefited from the uncertainty. He might not have shown it but Souness regarded Redknapp highly, issuing him with the same number 11 shirt that he’d worn as a European Cup-winning captain a decade e
arlier.
Aged just nineteen, Redknapp played forty times for Liverpool during a 1992–93 campaign where the team finished sixth in the league, were knocked out of the European Cup-Winners’ Cup early by Spartak Moscow and also suffered humbling exits in the League and FA cups to Crystal Palace and Bolton Wanderers. Souness was given until January 1994 and may have stayed longer but decided to resign following another FA Cup third-round exit at home to Bristol City.
This time, chairman David Moores and his board waited just four days to make an appointment, with Roy Evans promoted from the role of assistant to manager.
‘Compared to Graeme, Roy was a bit more personable but I wouldn’t say he was nice,’ Redknapp says. ‘At Liverpool, you never got told, “Well done.” I can’t remember being given praise once. At the beginning, I asked Macca about it and he told me I’d have to adjust quickly or I’d sink. I’d been brought up by my dad, being praised and told off in equal measure. At Liverpool, nobody ever said anything positive to you after a good performance, especially when Roy was there. I think that was the environment of many years gone by. It was a case of winning the league, putting the medals away and forgetting about them before starting afresh the next season.
‘I don’t think you can be like that with everybody. I reacted well to praise. It motivated me. If I knew I was pleasing someone, it made me want to do it more. My dad knew Bobby Moore really well. They managed together at Oxford City. Bobby told him that the biggest kick he got in football came at the end of a match when someone told him, “Well done today, Bobby.” This is the great Bobby Moore, England’s World Cup-winning captain. Apparently Ron Greenwood [West Ham’s manager] never did it once. Even legends need a pat on the back.’
