There was a game at Melwood when I was in the final year of secondary school and Liverpool had asked me to play for the B-team. I ended up being substitute for the A-team, however, and came on in the final 20 minutes of a match against Blackburn. I did well, won tackles, sprayed some passes around, and as I walked off afterwards I heard a voice next to me: ‘You’ll walk into Liverpool’s first team.’ It was Jamie Redknapp. He had been watching the game and pulled me aside after the final whistle. That was a huge moment for me. Jamie wasn’t just a member of the first team, he was my hero. He was the boy back then. The one I looked up to probably because I played in the same position as him – central midfield – and he had everything I wanted.
‘Thanks,’ I said nervously. I didn’t say much else. I was in awe.
Afterwards, I was walking on air. I rushed home to tell my mum and dad and brother, Paul, but no one else. I kept things to myself in lots of ways and those who didn’t need to know didn’t find out. Many people said I was good at that stage of my career, but this was Jamie Redknapp. England’s Jamie Redknapp. He knew his football and I thought to myself he’s not going to waste his words on someone he doesn’t think merits them, he obviously believed it. It was the first time I had any real contact with Jamie, but he was hugely important to me in those early years at Liverpool. If I needed advice he was there for me and he still is.
Going full-time as a professional is one of the greatest feelings I have had in football, besides the medals I’ve won and the big nights I’ve enjoyed, but the best days of my career were when I was an apprentice without a shadow of doubt.
I had my own standards and wanted to play well every week just like now, but there wasn’t the pressure. At that stage there aren’t a dozen newspapers pouring over your performances, half-a-dozen TV channels dissecting whether you have played well or not, or loads of magazines predicting how you will do. You basically had Steve Heighway, Hughie McAuley and Dave Shannon guiding you, and 30 of your mates with you every day. For two years, we had a laugh and played on brilliant football pitches. We were all together and we were changing from boys into men. Passing our driving tests together, getting cars (I used to drive my mum’s Nissan Bluebird before splashing out on an N-reg red Golf) and lending each other fivers and tenners. I can remember putting a few extra miles on my expenses to try and squeeze some extra pounds out of Steve Heighway.
Initially, there wasn’t the same pressure for me because I had the promise of turning professional, but that soon changed. Michael Owen changed everything for me. As soon as he went full-time, he was away. Playing for the reserves, scoring the goals that helped Liverpool win the FA Youth Cup in 1996 against a West Ham team containing Rio Ferdinand and Frank Lampard, and then into the first team.
That was when I felt the pressure creeping in – and jealousy, too, because I wanted to get to where he was as quickly as he had done it. His status changed. I wasn’t just going to watch Redknapp, Fowler and McManaman at Anfield any more. I was watching them and Michael and Jamie Carragher, too, who I had been sharing a dressing room with only a few months earlier. A bit of frustration crept into me as a footballer for the first time because I wanted it to happen as quickly for me as it had for Michael. Physically, he was ready. I wasn’t and had to be more patient.
But Michael was certainly a big influence in terms of driving me forward. Seeing what he was doing, the highs he was enjoying, gave me the incentive to push on.
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“Every time I would step up in an age group, it dawned on me just how hard it was going to be to eventually pull on the red shirt.”
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NOVEMBER 29, 1998
I can remember every minute and every hour as if it was yesterday. Arriving at the ground, getting changed, warming up and then standing on the touchline, nervous as hell, waiting to come on for my Liverpool debut at Anfield against Blackburn Rovers.
The fourth official held up Vegard Heggem’s number and I bounded on for the final three minutes, including injury time, of a 2–0 win that had earlier been sealed by goals from Paul Ince and Michael Owen.
This was it, everything I had dreamed about. There was a huge adrenaline buzz. Being clapped on by thousands of people, creating a wall of noise, sends a tingle through your body, but the biggest emotion I felt was relief. I was playing for Liverpool’s first team. No one could take that away from me now. I had realised a dream. My dad said as much to me on the way home afterwards and then paused before adding: ‘But that has to be the start. You’ve done nothing. Don’t rest on that.’
It was good advice, but I knew myself I wanted to taste more. It was another life-changing experience. This wasn’t playing in front of 200 people for the reserves. There was a crowd of almost 42,000 inside Anfield and, for a moment, as I prepared to come on their focus was drawn to me. To be honest, most of the supporters probably thought: ‘Who’s this skinny little lad?’ I had only played four games for the reserves. Our FA Youth Cup team was knocked out of that competition in the early rounds, so it wasn’t like it had been with Michael who everyone sat up and took notice of straight away.
People thought I might have been a decent player, but that was as far as it went. Looking back that helped me in some respects. The youngsters at Liverpool don’t have that luxury now. The U18s’ and reserves’ matches are all live on the club’s TV channel, LFC TV, and that can be counterproductive. Look at someone like Raheem Sterling. He has got a big reputation for himself because everyone has seen him terrorising defences on the club channel. There is an expectation that comes with that which makes life difficult. Thankfully from what I see of Raheem, I think he is someone who is taking it all in his stride and he has a good chance of forging a successful career for himself in red. He is a level-headed kid and I see similarities with how I was at 17. Raheem is quiet, but he comes alive in training and on the pitch.
For me, those very first sessions I had with the first team were so important not only in my development, but in also ensuring I was accepted by players I had previously idolised. Liverpool’s academy was just getting up and running in Kirkby, but Gerard Houllier, the Liverpool manager, called up myself and Stephen Wright to Melwood rather than letting us go there. Immediately my progress snowballed.
I knew I had to make an impression. If I trained well, I knew people would sit up and take notice of me. I made it my mission, from the very first session in which I was involved, to catch the eye.
But it was intimidating at the same time. Ince, Berger, Redknapp, Fowler, McManaman, Babb and Staunton were not just Liverpool players but proven internationals as well. I was scared to talk to them and terrified to give the ball away. From the moment I started training with Liverpool, there was another change I had to get used to.
I may have been 18, but those players don’t see a young lad standing before them. If I was good enough to be their team mate, then I was good enough to be judged as an equal. It was sink or swim. Give the ball away and you get told about it. Paul Ince wasn’t going to cut me any slack. That was clear when I made my full debut against Tottenham, the weekend after my cameo against Blackburn. I was playing out of position at right-back and found myself up against David Ginola, one of the best players in the Premier League, but that didn’t matter to Incey. He was on my back for the majority of the 57 minutes I was on the pitch. Where Robbie Fowler was really supportive, Incey was shouting at me, telling me to sort myself out and keep track of the French winger who was giving me the run around.
We lost 2–1. I was dragged off so I didn’t need telling that my full debut had not been a success. I hated Incey after that game. I had endured bad games growing up, but nothing like this. I doubted myself and was concerned that my Liverpool career would be over almost before it had begun.
Obviously, I was worrying too much, but at the time you just hope the next game will be easier. You don’t think, ‘I’ll learn from being ripped apart by David Ginola at White Hart Lane.’ Nowadays I would prefer to receive the trea
tment Incey gave me that day. Yes, I felt sorry for myself and sulked at the time, but he wasn’t picking on me for the sake of it. He was pushing me to become the best I could be.
I was fortunate that Liverpool played Celta Vigo in the UEFA Cup just three days after my Tottenham ordeal. It was my third game for the club and I knew how important it was. Thankfully, I was back in midfield, my position, and I did well. I felt comfortable straight away: finding my passing range, making tackles and redressing the balance from the previous game against Spurs.
We lost 1–0, but looking back on that match I believe it was a key one for me because it gave Houllier the confidence to persist with me. If I had bombed in that game as well, he might have decided it was better to take me out of the front line. Instead, he stuck by me and I was given another chance to prove myself when we played Everton in the April of that season. It was my first taste of a Merseyside derby and I wasn’t about to let the Bluenoses ruin my weekend. It was 71 minutes before I came on, once again for Heggem, but I made my mark. I threw myself into tackles, almost ripping the shirt off Danny Cadamateri’s back at one point before kicking an effort from him off the line with the goal gaping, as Everton sought to make it 3–3 in a pulsating game.
Anfield exploded as we kept our slender advantage intact and I even celebrated stopping the equaliser, shaking my fists before getting pats on the back from my team-mates. It felt like I was the match-winner. There is no better way to win supporters round than ensuring they had the bragging rights in a derby. Now the fans could put their trust in me. I was one of them. I had only been on the pitch for 19 minutes, but I crammed so much into that time that as I headed back to the dressing room after the final whistle it felt like I was floating on air.
The next time I faced Everton, however, I was to trudge from the pitch with very different emotions.
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“I was playing for Liverpool’s first team. No one could take that away from me now.”
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Starting to Contribute
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In the few minutes I played on my debut, I had five or six touches. There were a couple of short passes, I took a throw-in and I over-hit two crosses. You do worry when you are just a kid and the cross you’ve put into the penalty box sails over the intended target. If I over-hit a cross now, people will expect the next one to be good.
Back then, the fans didn’t know anything about me and I was desperate to make a good impression. Without being big-headed, the shape and technique I am using in the picture shows how to whip the ball over with pace. You practise crossing like all other aspects of your game. A lot of players find it hard to get that shape.
Gerard Houllier – The Master
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I love seeing pictures of Gerard, and I love meeting him at games. I still have a lot of contact with him. There will be phone calls and texts from him before a big game and he is still encouraging me and giving me advice.
I will always listen to what Gerard Houllier has to say and that illustrates the respect I have for him. He is someone who I owe an awful lot of gratitude to because without him I would not have had the career I have had.
Pushing Me to Be the Best
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Paul Ince was one of my heroes when I was watching England as a kid and so when he signed for Liverpool I was delighted. This was a chance for me to learn from one of the best around. But when I got to a certain age, Incey became an ‘enemy’ (in a good way you understand) for me because I knew I had to try and push him for his place in the team. Yes he was a hero, but he was also standing in my way of a regular place in Liverpool’s starting line-up. He used to get on my back an awful lot when I first started playing in the team and that can be hard to take when you are tentatively feeling your way into the team. ‘What was that?’ he would bark at me, or ‘Stop giving the ball away’ – I’ve taken out the swear words in between! Deep down I knew Incey had my best interests at heart, however, and it was his way of pushing me. He was doing it for the right reasons and that is why, to this day, I have an awful lot of time for him as a player and a person.
First Taste of Europe
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An aerial duel in my first European start against Celta Vigo at Anfield, although I can’t have got up very high if David Thompson is level with me! My first action in a Liverpool shirt against Blackburn and Tottenham had come out of position and as a result I felt out of my depth a bit. Here, I was in central midfield and in the thick of the action.
I loved it. This was my position and I started the game well which gave me a huge boost to my confidence. The UEFA Cup was important in my development because I learnt about different styles and got to experience different types of football. In the background is Michel Salgado, ex-Real Madrid, Spain and also Blackburn.
In Awe of ‘God’
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Liverpool used to get me match tickets when I was young, but on the occasions I felt too ashamed to ask for them I would pay to go to the game and stand on the Kop. Robbie Fowler was my first idol. He was the man on fire, banging goals in left, right and centre. He was one of the best finishers in the world.
It was surreal for me when I later became his team-mate. I was in awe to begin with, but Robbie was one of the players who helped me the most. He’d offer little tips, but mainly he made sure I was always involved in whatever was happening. He has always been there for me and I am good friends with him now.
SEEING RED
When I was younger I could be a nasty piece of work on the pitch. Off it I was quite shy. On it, I became someone else. Someone I didn’t like. I am not proud of that. In fact, I am embarrassed when I think back to how I used to be and how I used to act when I stepped onto a football pitch. Too often in my younger days, around the time I was 14, I crossed the line. Away from football, I was well-behaved: mischievous at times like all teenaged schoolboys, but nothing more sinister. Put a pair of boots on me and a kit and there was a time when I didn’t know whether I would score a goal, and be named Man of the Match, or get sent off. I was a liability.
I didn’t go out to try and deliberately hurt opponents, but it was just a case of wanting to be a success so much that my temperament boiled over at times.
The staff at Liverpool recognised early in my development that this side of my game needed to be smoothed out. My aggressive approach became an issue because there were occasions when I had fall-outs with Hughie McAuley, and later on Sammy Lee, in training. They were just trying to help me, but sometimes you don’t want, or don’t feel you have, to listen.
It wasn’t just Steve Heighway, Dave Shannon and Hughie who recognised this.
Ronnie Moran and Roy Evans, the coaches with the first team, did their best to try and calm me down and ensure I could channel my talents more efficiently.
They had seen some of the tackles I’d made for the reserves in A and B games. It was as if that particular match was the most important in the world to me and no one was going to get in my way.
My dad was called in to a meeting with the coaches at Melwood one night and I was left to wait at home for the verdict. When he arrived back, he was blunt. ‘You need to sort yourself out or you’ll get nowhere,’ he said. He was speaking for my own sake, to try and prevent me from getting seriously injured, and for the safety of other people.
No one at Liverpool wanted to take the hunger out of my game. They said I had a fantastic chance of making it because of my will to win, but I was overly keen. It was something I had to work on, though even in the first team there have been moments when the red mist has descended.
From being one of the heroes when we played Everton at the back end of the 1998–99 season, I found myself cast in the role of villain when the rivalry was renewed at the start of the new campaign. The first red card of my professional career came in the final minutes of a 1–0 defeat at Anfield. Tensions were already running high with Liverpool goalkeeper Sander Westerveld and Everton’s Franny Jeffers having both been se
nt off for an earlier flare-up when I caught Kevin Campbell with a high challenge. In my defence, my foot was high to protect myself because Campbell was coming at me at force. But when he was left in a heap, I knew I was in trouble.
Making a challenge like that is a bit like scoring a goal or making a good tackle. It is a split-second decision, but in this instance I got it wrong. From where the flashpoint took place to the tunnel at Anfield was probably no more than 25 yards, yet it seemed like an eternity as I trudged off. I didn’t need people telling me I had been wrong and, by the same token, I didn’t need anyone trying to lift my spirits by saying it didn’t matter. I was able to put the sending off into context myself. I would now serve a ban, and being deprived of the opportunity to go onto the pitch killed me and told me what I needed to do.
Steven Gerrard: My Liverpool Story Page 2
