Simp-Lee the Best

by Lee McCulloch

  27/11/07

  Champions League Group stages – Stuttgart 3 Rangers 2

  12/12/07

  Champions League Group stages – Rangers 0 Lyon 3

  * * *

  12

  THE LONG AND GRINDING ROAD TO MANCHESTER

  WE KNEW the title race with Celtic was going to be really tight and all our thoughts and efforts were on that. But the UEFA Cup was not to be sniffed at, although very early on we may have regarded it as a bit of an unwelcome distraction, truth be told. We decided to take it a game at a time and it soon grew on us. When we entered it in the last thirty-two, not for a minute did I think it would lead to us going all the way to the final in Manchester. Our plan was to keep it tight in the home games and not do anything silly. Funnily enough, we were drawn at home in the first leg in every round. We drew every game at home and then managed to sneak it when we travelled away. Our style was to frustrate the opposition and see what damage we could cause on the break. Some people thought the brand of football was hard to watch, low on entertainment value, and we should have been more adventurous, especially at Ibrox. But we received unfair criticism too, and I reckon it stemmed from Messi’s comments after we drew 0–0 against Barcelona. He said we played ‘anti-football’ and we were unable to shake off that tag. But what was he expecting? We couldn’t try to beat them at their own game. We had to defend for our lives and double up in the full-back areas. Messi played on the right and he was directly up against me and Saša Papac. We played with one up front and we rarely managed to cross the halfway line. But we were under no illusions we were going to pin that great side back and have them sweating inside their own box. That was just not going to happen. A lot of people jumped on the bandwagon after Messi’s comments. Some people made ludicrous comments.

  One player who made an excellent impression for us during the campaign was Alan Hutton. He was outstanding against Barcelona and also played very well for Scotland in the games against France. He caught the eye of several big clubs and he left us in January 2008 for a fee in the region of £9 million to join Tottenham Hotspur. He left a huge void for us on the pitch.

  We were drawn against Panathinaikos from Greece in the last thirty-two. We drew 0–0 at home in mid-February. It was a tight game and we defended well. Steve Davis had just signed on loan from Fulham and made his debut for us. It was clear he was a very good player and was going to be an asset in the middle of the park.

  For me, the away leg was a weird one. I had a sore ankle and had no chance of playing, but I travelled to Athens to get treatment every day from the physios and medical team. The night before the game we went up to Allan McGregor’s room for a game of cards. I think it was me, Kris Boyd and Barry Ferguson. I took a couple of sleeping tablets and a couple of glasses of wine during the card game. I received permission to do so as I had no chance of playing in the game. I was used to taking the tablets the night before mid-week matches, especially in Europe – they were given to us by the club doctor if we wanted them – because I felt it helped me get a sound sleep. In the morning we’d get up for breakfast and I’d still feel a wee bit groggy. We’d then go for a walk, get some fresh air and have a team meeting about tactics and shape, and then we’d have a few hours to spare in the afternoon. I liked to sleep and there may well have been still a trace of the tablets in me so it helped me relax. I was used to it. I felt it was great preparation for me. Come three hours from kick-off I felt refreshed and raring to go. But I’d never mixed the pills with wine. Well, what a hit it gave me that night in Athens. When I got up from the table, I could hardly walk straight. On the way down the corridor to my hotel room I was bouncing off the walls. I was all over the place. Never again!

  Thankfully the boys were in a better condition than me and we got a great result, with Nacho Novo and Kris Boyd up front. The intention was to have a go at our Greek opponents and it eventually paid off when Novo scored a late equaliser to give us a 1–1 draw and take us through on away goals. Allan McGregor was brilliant that night, but he saved his best for the next tie.

  The last sixteen paired us against Werder Bremen. They had a good team and, like most German sides, were solid, organised, athletic and technically very competent.

  I came on as a sub with ten minutes to go in the 2–0 win over Werder Bremen. Daniel Cousin and Davis scored. I played up front. Walter asked me to go in that role and try to hold the ball up, kill a bit of time. Charlie Adam played a long, diagonal ball, I managed to spin off the centre-half and I cracked in a drive on the half-volley. It was blocked by the keeper but went through his legs. Yet the pace had been taken off it. The ball was crawling towards goal and I chased it in. I should have slid in to make contact and get it over the line but I just kept running and, as I was about to shoot, a defender came from nowhere and blocked my shot. I was only three or four yards out. I was gutted and angry at myself for not sliding in. I collapsed to the ground. One of the lowest points of my career – I blew a chance to put us 3–0 up. But what happened to me that night typified what was going on in my career at that time, it just wasn’t going to plan. I wasn’t playing to the level and standard I knew I was capable of. It was so frustrating, and there was worse to come.

  After the game someone sent me a letter with a betting slip. The person had Cousin for first goal and us to win 3–0. My miss cost the guy a few hundred quid. He let me know in the letter he was far from happy. I showed it to Barry Ferguson. He burst out laughing and told me to put it in the bin. I was gutted. I wasn’t sure whether to contact the guy and send him a signed jersey or something. He probably would have thrown it in the bin if I had.

  We went to the away leg and they absolutely battered us. I was on the bench. Diego scored to put them one up after 57 minutes. It was then backs-to-the-wall stuff for us and I came on with twelve minutes to go to help shore things up. McGregor made a few brilliant saves. One of the saves was just ridiculous. It came with minutes to go and he sensationally turned Sanogo’s effort onto the crossbar – the save of his career. We called McGregor the ‘Mad Monk’ after the crazy goalie in the movie Mean Machine, the one with Jason Statham in it. On the coach on the way to the airport I told him he had the game of his life and he said, ‘Thanks.’ His attitude was that it was his job to do that kind of thing. He never looked for praise and more often than not got embarrassed if any plaudits came his way.

  And all of a sudden, before we knew it, really, we were in the last eight of the competition. We played Sporting Lisbon at home in early April. It was yet another tight affair and I almost scored late in the first half when I spun on the edge of the box and pinged a right-footed shot towards goal, but Rui Patrício got down superbly to palm the ball round the post. We tired towards the end of the game and they got a grip of the game. Liédson and Tonel came close with efforts. It was during that game, and as we analysed it afterwards, that I felt the legs were starting to go. We were also mentally tired. We were under no illusions it was going to take a huge effort to carry on and be able to produce good enough performances to win us games.

  We soldiered on to the return leg a week later in Lisbon. We knew it was going to be vital to get an away goal. The surface on Sporting Lisbon’s pitch was first class. It was incredible. I think it’s the best surface I’ve ever played on. We thoroughly enjoyed playing on it and we knocked the ball about in the first half hour like a top continental team. We were full of confidence and felt we were going to win the game. Darcheville put us one up on the hour and then Whittaker scored a terrific individual goal, a thing of beauty, in the closing seconds. Davie Weir and Carlos Cuellar handled Liédson superbly that night. We were in the last four of the UEFA Cup. It was unreal.

  Fiorentina were our next opponents and we drew 0–0 in the first leg. I broke my foot the previous week against Celtic and McGregor also got injured that night so we both missed the semi-final. The visitors dominated possession for long periods but struggled to create clear-cut chances as Rangers held firm. Neil Alexander made good
saves from Martin Jørgensen and Adrian Mutu. Novo chipped over from forty yards as we improved in the second half. Again we didn’t manage to score, but we had been in this scenario before and we were quietly confident.

  That said, we were rightly underdogs going into the game in Florence. They were expected to make it to the final but we had a bit about us. We weren’t there to simply lie down. We had a European final in our sights. I was injured and sat in with the fans to watch the game. The Italians had most of the possession but Alexander wasn’t overworked in goal. Saša Papac cleared an effort off the line and that was about it. We were dealt a blow when Cousin was sent off late on. Then it went to a penalty shoot-out.

  Novo fired home the winning spot-kick after Christian Vieri drove his kick over.

  I went to the dugout to watch the drama unfold. I was able to hobble over to congratulate Nacho along with the rest of the players. I think the Fiorentina players lined up at full-time to clap us off the pitch. As we walked up the tunnel the atmosphere was brilliant, we were on such a high. There was a slight lull, a split second of opportunity for someone to grab, and Kirk Broadfoot seized it. He shouted at the top of his voice, ‘What the fuck is going on? This time last year I was playing for St Mirren and now I’m going to a UEFA Cup Final with Rangers.’ It was perfect. Brilliant from big Broaders. He had a very good season for us and handled it all very well.

  There was no real celebration after the game. No champagne. No singing and dancing. It was job done. Showered. Changed. Flight back to Glasgow. Prepare for the next game of a gruelling schedule. We had no time to party. But what wasn’t lost on us all or our supporters was that Glasgow Rangers were in their first European final since they lifted the European Cup Winners’ Cup in 1972. We were to meet Dick Advocaat’s Zenit St Petersburg side at the City of Manchester Stadium on 14 May. Zenit had thrashed Bayern Munich 5–1 on aggregate so we knew it was going to be one helluva task to leave Manchester with the trophy.

  The players received £50,000 bonus money for reaching the final. That was the same amount we were on for making the Champions League. We were also on £10,000 per win in the group stages. The money in the Champions League is off the radar. But the most important part of it all is the glory that comes with the success on the pitch. That’s all that matters. The bonuses are secondary. I was thrilled we were in the UEFA Cup Final and I was determined to be fit to play my part.

  Apart from my personal fight for fitness, the club was embroiled in a battle with the football authorities to extend the season to give us a better chance of preparing for the UEFA Cup Final and for the SPL run-in against Celtic. There was a fixture pile up to contend with and we faced eight games in twenty days during the month of May – six league matches, the UEFA Cup Final and Scottish Cup Final. The club pleaded with the SPL and SFA for an extension to the season. We needed to be given some leeway and after discussions the league season was extended by four days.

  Other SPL clubs protested and said it wouldn’t be fair. From the players’ from the other clubs view, if a lot of them had booked family holidays for the day after the season ended – as many of them do – then it wasn’t fair on them to take a financial hit to cancel them. So, there wasn’t too much that could be done. The slight extension wasn’t ideal but it was something. Still, we were on our knees. It was going to be a schedule too far. It was far too punishing. But it was exciting.

  We were on such a high and our fans were in wonderland. It was great to be a part of it all and help bring so much joy to many hundreds of thousands of people around the world. Everybody wanted tickets; it was relentless. Officially, we were given four comps and the opportunity to buy sixteen tickets. But I could have been given 300 tickets and still wouldn’t have scratched the surface. It was a stressful time because I tried to accommodate everyone but it was impossible. I felt I let a lot of people down by not getting them tickets but there was nothing I could do. I tried my best.

  Obviously I made sure my family were catered for. I hired a stretch-limo for them all to travel down to Manchester for the game. Dad was in his element. He still talks about it to this day. He loved going down the M74 onto the M6 and seeing all the cars, vans and buses decked out in red, white and blue, with plenty Happy Bears aboard. In the early afternoon on the day of the game, they found a massive grass area close to the stadium and sat down and soaked up the sun. They had a few beers and a few sandwiches, enjoying an old-fashioned picnic. And then a football appeared from nowhere. Before they knew it there was a game of football going on and it ended up about twenty-a-side, between the Scots and the Russians. Dad reckoned it was a great way to prepare for the game. And his team won.

  On the team bus heading from the hotel to the stadium, I remember being quite overwhelmed by the number of Rangers fans that had made the journey to Manchester. It was an incredible sight, to see every pavement and road packed with our fans. It was an amazing experience. Going into the game, I kept thinking how good it would be to win it for them. But I knew it was a tall order.

  Zenit had a brilliant team – Andrei Arshavin and Anatoliy Tymoshchuk were world-class players at that time. They were without their top striker, the suspended Pavel Pogrebnyak, but they were still confident. We had our team shape for the final. That was the way we were for every European game. Walter would walk us through it on the training ground for a maximum of five minutes. He much preferred to pull individuals aside and have a word in their ear, remind them of any specific job they might have been given. We’d watch videos of the opposition, their strengths and weaknesses, and how they went about their business for set-plays.

  I was named as a sub. It was the best I could have expected considering I had broken my foot a month earlier. I had about two training sessions and no game time before the final. Manchester City’s stadium held happy memories for me as I had played there twice with Wigan. We won both games and I got the winner in the first game, but three-wins-in-a-row it was not to be. It would have been the perfect thirtieth birthday present as well.

  We lost 2–0. Zenit dominated the first half without seriously threatening us. Jean-Claude Darcheville forced a good save and Barry Ferguson’s shot hit a post. But they scored in the 72nd minute through Igor Denisov. Konstantin Zyryanov side-footed home in the closing minutes to give Zenit their first ever European trophy.

  I came on for the last ten minutes as a replacement for Brahim Hemdani. We had a go at them to get an equaliser but it wasn’t to be. Unfortunately, we couldn’t deliver. We gave it our all, though. The hysteria before and after the game took its toll. There’s no doubt being involved in the UEFA Cup Final also cost us the SPL title. Of that I’m absolutely certain. Celtic only had SPL games to concentrate on week to week, but we had a pile up to get through.

  Boydy and myself raided Jimmy Bell’s room after the UEFA Cup Final. I think we filled a bin-bag each. We got T-shirts, balls – you name it. I didn’t exchange jerseys with any of the Zenit players and kept both of my tops. We then went back to the hotel in Manchester and the Gaffer told us we were allowed a few beers but to be mindful of the fact we had a game three days later.

  That particular game was away to Motherwell in the SPL. We were dreadful that day. We drew 1–1. Christian Dailly scored with a header for us. Mentally, I think we were finished by then. I felt it had caught up with us. That was the day we lost the SPL title. To be honest, under the circumstances, getting a point at Motherwell was a good result. Motherwell had a few Celtic fans in their team and that was an extra incentive for them. Because of our busy schedule, we hardly had a training session worthy of the name for six weeks. It was just play, then rest and recovery. Teams were fresher than us and, really, should have been beating us, especially on their own pitch. We were falling out of our beds and rolling onto the pitch. We had gone. I felt as though I was on autopilot.

  I was nowhere 100 per cent fit at this stage. I hadn’t properly recovered from the foot injury I sustained against Celtic five weeks earlier. I should have given it
more rest to heal properly but it was too important a stage of the season to miss out. We beat St Mirren 3–0 at Love Street on the Monday night. We went to Aberdeen in second place on the Thursday evening. Celtic were in the driving seat. They only had to defeat Dundee United at Tannadice to lift it. We lost 2–0. Celtic won 1–0 to take the title by three points. It was a quiet journey back down the road from Aberdeen. I hated how I felt and I vowed not to feel as dejected as I did ever again. I used that feeling of dejection to spur me on for the following season. I think we all did.

  We played Queen of the South less than forty-eight hours later in the Scottish Cup Final. It was farcical. We all needed a lift. We were down after losing the League. Boydy decided to grow a big Burt Reynolds moustache. He was shaving one day after a shower and kept a ‘tache. He had asked me what I thought and I told him to keep it, that it was the type of thing Jimmy Bullard would have done. That was all Boydy needed to hear. He loved my Bullard stories. So if he scored in the final we agreed we had to do a moustache tribute to him. Boyd rattled one in from thirty yards. We went 2–0 up but we collapsed after an hour and they came back to 2–2. Then big ‘Burt’ popped with a header to win the Cup.

  I can’t recall a Cup final that we won with a bit of style, where we really trounced the opposition. It was similar in semi-finals at Hampden. We did play well against Celtic but they beat us in injury time; that was in the League Cup Final in 2009. We won the League Cup in 2008 when we beat Dundee United on penalties after a 2–2 draw. I was told to take a penalty but was reluctant to do so. I missed one when I was kid and it left me scarred for life. I spoke to Davie Weir before I was to hit mine and told him I didn’t know where I was going to put it. He laughed and said, ‘Just put it in the net.’ I went down the middle and the keeper saved it. It was a horrible feeling but, thankfully, my mates McGregor and Boydy rescued me and came up trumps in the shoot-out.