by Mark Ward
I was oblivious to the mess I’d caused as I was too busy embarrassingly trying to release my foot from the bucket, which had become jammed around my boot. But I knew I was in big trouble.
I showered and headed for the players’ bar as quickly as I could. As I left the ground, I was dreading going in to face Reidy at training the following week. The only consolation was that we’d held on for a hard-fought victory, with Niall scoring and then saving a penalty.
First thing Monday morning, I was summoned to the manager’s office and as soon as I walked in Reidy told me to wipe the smirk from my face. He told me that he’d had to apologise to the policeman in charge on matchday and was fining me two weeks’ wages.
Big Sam Ellis, Reidy’s assistant, fought my corner and said he thought the manager’s punishment was a bit severe, as I’d done well for the team. ‘Okay then, you little bastard – I want £500 off you and I’ll put it in the players’ pool for the end-of-season piss-up!’
I left his office feeling that I’d got away with murder. I never even paid the £500 fine and whenever I’ve seen Peter since, he has always reminded me what I still owe him.
With six victories in our last eight matches, and the impressive Quinny top-scoring with 21 league goals, Manchester City ended 1990-91 in fifth place – their highest final league position in 13 years and the first time they had finished above United in that period.
At the end of the season I went to London, along with team-mates Adrian Heath, Alan Harper and Wayne Clarke, to represent City at the PFA annual awards. Sat at a table with the Everton players was a good friend of Howard Kendall’s, a mad blue named Tommy Griffiths, who called me over to join him and the other Evertonians. Tommy took me to one side and told me that I’d be an Everton player before next season. ‘How do you know?’ I asked him. ‘Believe me, Mark, you’ll be an Everton player,’ he repeated.
Tommy sounded so confident of my impending transfer that I confided in Adrian Heath, asking him what he thought. He said that as ‘Griff’ was Howard’s trusted mate, he wouldn’t say what he did if it wasn’t true. I had to put it to the back of my mind, though. I knew it would be a dream come true to play for Everton but I didn’t realise how close I really was to signing for my beloved Blues.
15. THE GREATEST FEELING
I WAS lying on the beach in Portugal that summer thinking all the time about the conversation I’d had with Howard Kendall’s mate Tommy Griff. How true was his belief that I was going to be an Everton player again? I wanted it more than anything but pre-season training was just around the corner and I was still at Manchester City.
After our amazing fifth-place finish, there was a lot of excitement around Maine Road. Reidy had organised a pre-season tour to Ireland – a country I’ve always loved to visit. We were due to play Cork City and were based at Jury’s Hotel. After our game, which we won 2-1 in front of a big crowd all wanting to see the Republic of Ireland star Niall Quinn, Reidy gave us the next day off.
I was up early and the lads had all arranged to meet in a little pub across the bridge from the hotel – for the start of our pub crawl around Cork. I hadn’t been to this delightful city before but soon realised it was a beautiful place. I left the hotel to find a newsagent, where I bought the Sporting Life so that we could pick out our bets for the day. I sat down in the cosy little pub looking forward to a pleasurable day of drinking and gambling.
A couple more of the team had joined me and I was just about to take my first sip of the pint of Guinness that had been plonked down in front of me when I saw big Sam Ellis walking towards me. My initial thought was that Reidy had sent him along to stay with the lads so we didn’t get into any trouble. How wrong I was.
‘Mark, the gaffer wants to see you,’ Sam said, but I wasn’t falling for it. ‘I don’t think so, Sam,’ I responded. ‘I’m not walking all the way back to the hotel – you’re winding me up.’
‘I’m telling you, son, he’s waiting for you in his room – he needs to see you urgently.’
I still wasn’t having it. I thought Peter Reid’s No.2 was just trying to make me look a knob-head, walking back to the hotel just to satisfy a stupid prank. He stood there waiting, towering over me. I remained seated and wouldn’t budge.
‘Don’t you believe me?’ Sam went on. He then picked up my perfect pint of the beautiful black liquid and, to my amazement, downed it in one. He slammed the empty glass down on the bar and said in a distinctly more forceful tone: ‘Get your arse back to the hotel now, little fella.’
I knew this time he was serious, so I reluctantly left the lads behind at the pub. I started to wonder if I’d done anything wrong or, worse, whether there was bad news from home.
As I approached the little bridge Alan Harper was heading my way. I started to remonstrate with him, complaining that Sam Ellis had told me I had to see Reidy, and how Sam had just downed my pint in one.
Alan Harper told me he’d just seen the gaffer and that there was some good news awaiting me. He left to meet up with the lads in the pub while I went back to the hotel to see what Reidy wanted.
He opened his door with a towel wrapped around him, having just got out of the shower. ‘Come in and sit down, you little bastard,’ he said. ‘Right, listen to me … get yourself on the next plane back to Liverpool. Your ‘dad’ wants to sign you again – I’ve just got off the phone to Howard. You and Alan Harper are going to Everton!’
I jumped up, unable to believe what I was hearing. Reidy was rabbiting on about the £500 I still owed him for my petulance at the end of the game against Derby County three months earlier but I wasn’t listening. As I bolted for the door, he shouted: ‘Hey, you still owe me that monkey.’ I just laughed and sprinted to my room to ring Jane and the family to tell them the unbelievable news.
I ran back to the pub to meet the lads, who had all heard the news from Alan Harper that he and I would be leaving City to join Everton. I was feeling on top of the world and couldn’t wait to step on the plane and return to Liverpool.
Try as we did, we couldn’t get a flight until the next morning, so there was only one thing to do. We got absolutely bladdered and had a great send-off in the company of our team-mates.
It was a good way of saying goodbye. I’d only been at City for 18 months and I’d enjoyed every minute. The fans were fantastic and I believe I played my part in helping the club re-establish itself in the top flight.
But Everton – my club – had come back for me and it was the best news I could ever hear. Alan and I arrived in Liverpool the next morning and I was so excited. It was a £1million deal – Tommy Griff had been right all along.
Alan and I met Howard in the Hillcrest Hotel, just around the corner from my new house in Julian Way, Cronton. There was no need for Howard to persuade either of us to sign for Everton. We went straight to the bar where we drank and ate in the restaurant. After a good five hours in Howard’s hospitable company, the only thing I learnt from him was that he was going to play me on the left side of midfield. I told him I’d play anywhere for Everton – it didn’t matter. I was going to give blood for the club I love.
The next day I met Les Helm, the Everton physio, at Goodison Park. Les had been in the army with my dad years before. He was very much old school and I warmed to him straight away. He took me to a clinic in Rodney Street for a thorough medical before signing later that day. The medical was very rigorous, with all my joints, bones and major organs checked by leading consultants.
It seemed like an age before we were given the all-clear – and then Les came to tell me that there might be a problem. One of the consultants had detected a small defect in my back. He told me it was known as Spondylosis – a small curvature of the spine. Apparently, it was a birth defect.
I was shocked and very worried. My dream move back to Everton could be ruined because of this medical discovery. I was panicking but Les remained very calm. He tried to reassure me by pointing out that I’d played more than 300 first class games with this condition
, so it shouldn’t prevent me from playing another 300.
My fitness record and games missed through injury was very impressive. I told Les that I’d played three full seasons in succession without missing a game for either Oldham or West Ham. And I’d missed only two of a possible 57 matches for Man City in the previous season-and-a-half.
Les spoke to Howard Kendall on the phone and my fears eased when the manager responded emphatically by saying that, defect or no defect, I was signing for Everton.
It was with a feeling of great relief that I was rushed to Goodison, where I hastily put pen to paper before facing the media. It had taken me just over 10 years to make my way back to the club where I’d started as a 16-year-old kid in 1981. After a good deal of heartbreak and a tremendous amount of hard work, I was back where I belonged. Goodison was, and will always be, my spiritual home.
Howard told me that Colin Harvey, his assistant, was totally behind his decision to bring me back to Everton. Colin had been in charge of the reserves when I was released under Gordon Lee, although I no longer blamed anybody for Everton’s decision to release me at the age of 18. It was a long, hard journey to get back to the club I loved but it was worth it. I wasn’t ready for top-class football when they let me go in ’81 but now I was certain that I was good enough to pull on the famous blue shirt.
I couldn’t wait for my debut away at Nottingham Forest on the Saturday but my sights were also set firmly on my home debut – against reigning champions Arsenal on Tuesday, August 20. The Forest game ended in a disappointing 2-1 defeat but everyone was looking forward to Arsenal coming to Goodison. It would be a major test for us.
Howard explained to me before I signed that I’d be playing out of position, on the left of midfield, because he had, in his words, ‘a world-class winger’ in Robert Warzycha on the right flank. The Polish international had burst onto the Everton scene with his electric pace and attacking play following his £500,000 signing from Gornik Zabrze the previous March. But it didn’t bother me where I played. Right, left or centre – it was all the same to me.
The build-up to my home debut became almost too overwhelming. I’d picked up a little knock on my knee against Forest on the Saturday and didn’t go in for treatment on the Sunday because I didn’t want to jeopardise my place in the starting eleven against the Gunners. Nothing, and I mean nothing, was going to stop me running out at Goodison on that Tuesday evening.
Even though I’d be playing out of position, Howard said that he didn’t expect me to run down the left wing and cross balls with my weaker left foot. He told me to come inside when I could, to link up with the forwards – fellow new signing Peter Beardsley and Tony Cottee, my former West Ham team-mate – and to try shots from distance. I’ve always been able to hit a ball with pace and, given the opportunity, I relished striking long-range efforts.
In the dressing room before kick-off everybody was wishing each other all the best. As I pulled on the ‘11’ shirt – the number I’d worn throughout my second season with Man City – I looked around me at some of the great players I was about to take to the pitch with: goalkeeper Neville Southall, skipper Dave Watson, Kevin Ratcliffe, Kevin Sheedy, Beardsley and Cottee, plus Martin Keown, John Ebbrell, Alan Harper and Warzycha.
I contemplated how far I’d come in my career … all that hard work running 12 miles to training at Northwich when I couldn’t get a lift … spewing up in training at Oldham in order to become as fit as the rest of the squad … the learning process under John Lyall at West Ham. Now I felt at home. The only thing missing that night was Dad. How proud he would have been to see his son make his home first team debut for his Everton. Still, all my family and mates were at Goodison on what turned out to be a truly memorable occasion for me.
As the two teams gathered in the tunnel, I heard the start of the Z-Cars music. An amazing surge of adrenalin shot through my veins and all the hairs on my body stood to attention. It was a feeling I’ll never forget. My heart was pumping and I was becoming very emotional. All the years of dreaming of running out at Goodison with an Everton shirt on my back and now it was actually happening. It was unreal.
I ran on to the perfect lush turf and took in all the atmosphere that the Goodison crowd is so famous for. I was determined to make this a game that I’d never forget.
I was up against the Arsenal and England right-back Lee Dixon – a very strong and able defender. I knew I wouldn’t get much joy out of him on the outside, so I was planning to run inside to link up with Beardsley and Cottee – just as Howard suggested – and, if given enough space, unleash one of my bullet shots.
As the game progressed I wasn’t getting any change out of Dixon, so I started to probe inside more and more. Midway through the first half I picked up a ball from Harper and ran inside. A gap opened between two midfield players and I took the ball as far as I could, hoping to let fly with a shot from distance. Before being closed down by Tony Adams or David O’Leary – I can’t remember which central defender – I looked up and hit a shot from fully 25 yards. I scored most of my goals from distance and, usually, you know instinctively if it’s going to be a goal as soon as the ball leaves your boot.
I felt this particular shot lacked the power to beat the great David Seaman. Even so, I followed the path of the ball, hoping in anticipation, and just at the last second it curled away from the big hand of the England No.1 and flew into the top corner of the goal. ‘I’ve scored! I’ve scored!’ I couldn’t believe it. I ran back to the halfway line, where my team-mates congratulated me, saying what a great goal I’d scored. It was too good to be true. The shot wasn’t the best but it had just beaten the England goalkeeper.
I was brimming with confidence now and wanted the ball at every opportunity. As I walked off the pitch at half-time the applause from the Goodison faithful was deafening. The little niggling injury in my knee hadn’t bothered me and I was fully charged up and didn’t want the game to finish.
I thought about Dad and how he would have reacted when my shot hit the back of the net. I still believe to this day that he was there for me in spirit that night, blowing the ball past Seaman to give me my first Everton goal on my home debut. My greatest-ever game.
Later, I was to play and score in a Merseyside derby and collect a man-of-the-match award as well as a winners’ medal at Wembley. But, for me, this game is the one I’ll always remember most until the day I die.
But the dream didn’t end there. Late on in the second half I hit a free-kick and it whizzed past the wall and beat Seaman for the second time. Cottee put the seal on a 3-1 victory and it couldn’t have gone any better.
Howard brought me off with five minutes to go – Pat Nevin was my replacement – and the ovation I got from the 31,200 inside Goodison was very special. It meant everything to me – it still does. This is, without doubt, my biggest and happiest memory in football.
16. TROUBLE WITH MO
I COULDN’T wait to get up in the morning and arrive at Bellefield for training. In fact I’d usually be there just after Neville Southall. Big Nev was always the first in and the last to leave training.
We’d have coffee and toast and be in the gym playing head tennis well before any of the other players arrived.
For a goalkeeper, Nev had an unbelievable touch on the ball. He always wanted to play out on field in training and if you were on his team in a game you had a good chance of winning because he was an excellent target man.
It was his tackling that scared Howard Kendall. If Nev got a bit too aggressive, the manager would put him back in goal. It was so difficult to get the ball off the big fella. As a goalkeeper there was nobody better. I’ve always said he’s the best I’ve played with, which is saying something when you consider that includes outstanding keepers such as Phil Parkes, Andy Goram and Tony Coton.
Watching the great 92-times capped, Wales international No.1 train with the other keepers at the club, you realised just how good he was – head and shoulders above them. A one-off. If he didn’
t like you, he wouldn’t pretend and be false. He wouldn’t talk to you – full-stop.
He wanted everybody to give the same 100 per cent effort he always gave and if you didn’t do that, he’d turn on you. Nev was a true pro.
One thing he hated more than people who didn’t put in everything was to be chipped in training. In shooting practice, the lads would line up with a ball waiting to test the big fella with a shot from outside the box. ‘Go on, Wardy,’ Ian Snodin said, ‘chip Nev – it will do his head in.’
On this particular day I laid the ball into Howard and he knocked it to the side for me to strike a shot at goal. As I approached the ball, I chipped it over Nev’s head and it nestled in the net. All the lads started laughing and whistling. But not Southall.
He came charging towards me like a raging bull – and I was off. After three laps of the training ground I got brave and decided to take my punishment. All the lads and Howard had been watching the chase and the manager was shouting to Nev to go easy on me, as there was a game on Saturday.
Not that Nev took any notice of him. He grabbed me with his massive hands and pummelled me from head to toe. He picked me up, then threw me back onto the turf and his parting shot was to jump on me with his studs scraping the skin off my back.
As I soaked in the bath at home that night, trying to relieve the aches and pains from Nev’s assault, Jane asked if I’d been fighting after seeing the cuts and bruises on my body. ‘No,’ I said, ‘Nev did this to me – but he was only playing about!’
I never chipped him again and neither did any of the other lads. I learnt the hard way that you couldn’t take liberties with Neville Southall.
Alan Harper and I weren’t Howard Kendall’s only signings in the summer of ’91. Howard pulled off a major coup by capturing Peter Beardsley from Liverpool for £1m – and what a player he was. It was amazing that Reds’ boss Graeme Souness should let him go to their city rivals but it was certainly Everton’s gain and Liverpool’s loss. Outstanding for club and country, Peter was a pleasure to play with and such a nice fella, too.
