Journeyman

by Ben Smith

  Putting these fears aside, I was relatively happy with my progress in my naïve mind. In that first season I played the most games out of anyone in the youth team. However, if I knew then what I know now, I would have realised I was not doing anywhere near enough – either on or off the pitch – to be a successful player at any decent level.

  At the end of that 1995/96 season I got my first taste of how a change of management can have a huge impact on someone’s career.

  Pat Rice was clearly wasted working with the youth team and, although he was doing a fantastic job with us, he deserved to be working with international players and not chubby teenagers like me. With him moving on, I was going to get my first experience of the so-called managerial merry-go-round. The man who eventually got the job was Tom Walley, who had a great pedigree in youth football with the likes of Watford and Millwall, including winning the FA Youth Cup with the latter. During my career I came across lots of players who spoke very highly of Tom, but, unfortunately, I cannot share their sentiments.

  He was very strict. Now, I can understand the phrase ‘If you give footballers an inch the vast majority of them will take a mile’, but Tom took it to the next level.

  By the end of that first season, the apprentices fortunate enough to have signed professional contracts were training with the reserves and the others were off trying to win contracts at other clubs. This was Tom’s cue to run the legs off us ‘little fuckers’, as he would say. The season was about to end and I could not understand why we were doing athletic work and not technical stuff.

  I do not think my sharp tongue and sarcasm impressed him. I remember on one morning he was telling us where to put the equipment for the reserves and first team. There were four stations – three were a few hundred metres away and one was about 5 metres from where we were standing. I thought it would be funny to just move the equipment to the nearest station. Well, that went down like a lead balloon and got me the first of many Tom bollockings!

  Even though our relationship had not got off to a great start, I put any fears to the back of my mind and went away for the summer looking forward to the new season – though I was aware that with the quality of the players coming through I would have a real challenge on my hands to earn a place in the team.

  Stupidly, however, I did not really work hard over the break to gain an advantage over my teammates. Instead I took it as an opportunity to continue my inappropriate lifestyle.

  As ever, the break flew by, and next thing I knew I was back at London Colney preparing for my second season as a full-time player. Going back as a second-year apprentice gave me a lot of confidence: I was no longer the new boy and I knew what to expect.

  That pre-season training was as intense as any I had ever done. Anyone who knows anything about youth football will know that lads going from school to training every day have to be treated very carefully. Not only is your body still growing and going through changes but it is adapting to the demands of professional football. This was not a philosophy shared by Tom and, over the course of the 1996/97 season, many players suffered from stress fractures. One or two could have been a coincidence, but not the amount we encountered.

  His aggression continued and I saw him on more than one occasion make players cry. This hostility did not seem to have much of an effect on me. In fact, I found it quite amusing although I know a lot of my teammates did not see it that way.

  As that season wore on, my initial fears about the talented group joining our team were confirmed: fifteen of them had been signed as apprentices. Considering they only took on five from our age group, it was clear how highly they thought of this pool – and rightly so.

  I was beginning to get frustrated because I was struggling to get into the youth team, let alone push for the reserves like I needed to doing be at that stage of my development.

  The club must have sensed my disappointment as, out of the blue, I got the opportunity to train with the first team on a couple of occasions. This was brilliant as I got the chance to work alongside the likes of Adams, Bergkamp and Ian Wright. I seem to remember performing pretty well on those occasions, but it didn’t change anything.

  The sessions were not really any different to those we did in the youth team, but the speed and intensity was of a different level. Strangely I do not remember being overly nervous either; I suppose at that age you just take it all in your stride. I remember the senior players being welcoming but giving us no extra leeway once the session started.

  Around October of that season I made the decision that I did not want to hang around until May to be told I was not being offered a contract. Instead I went to speak to Liam Brady, who had been appointed as the new head of youth, and asked for permission to try to win a professional contract elsewhere, which he agreed to. In hindsight, this might have been a rash decision as it was still early in the season, but I didn’t want to waste time at a club where I didn’t seem to have a future, even if that club was Arsenal.

  I also thought that being associated with Arsenal would have clubs queuing up to sign me and that it was just a question of which one I wanted to sign for.

  Again I was very wrong…

  Clubs invest a lot of time and money in their youth players and become emotionally attached to them. This means that if you go to a new club and attempt to win a contract already earmarked for one of their established players, you need to be head and shoulders above your competition.

  I sent my CV out and waited for the avalanche of phone calls. There was not exactly a deluge but eventually Southend United took the bait. Peter Johnson was the youth-team manager there and asked me to come down for a couple of weeks. This was ideal for me as, at that time, Southend was in what is now the Championship – and only thirty minutes from my family home.

  The initial trial went well and they asked me to stay until Christmas. I was playing regularly in both the youth team and the reserves and felt I was good enough to earn a contract. Unfortunately, I think the main reason they wanted me to stay was that I was better than the apprentices they already had and they just wanted to use me for as long as they could get away with.

  The situation eventually came to a head just before Christmas as my frustration was getting the better of me. During one Friday training session we were playing a small-sided game where you were restricted to a maximum of three touches every time you had the ball.

  Someone took too many touches.

  Now I know it sounds petty but I have always been a stickler for the rules of these games. I complained loudly to Peter and made my feelings known when he did not make, what I believed to be, the right decision.

  He clearly did not like that as, when I went to see him after training to find out what time we were meeting for the game the following day, he told me I was not required for the game – or indeed ever.

  I hope that doesn’t make me come across as a troublemaker because I am definitely not. However, I have always been opinionated and I do not think there are many managers who like players with an opinion – especially players who have just turned eighteen.

  I was still not learning lessons off the pitch either. During my spell at Southend I regularly went out with friends at inappropriate times. At that stage in my life it was more important for me to go out with my friends than concentrate on what had the potential to be a successful career.

  I was now back to square one. I had burned my bridges at Arsenal and was deemed not good enough for Southend. This was a real wake-up call as I realised clubs were not desperate to sign me. I had a battle on my hands to find a club that would give me an opportunity to progress.

  As I have done many times throughout my career, I sent out letters asking for a trial to all the local professional teams. The first club to respond this time was Brentford FC. At that time they were riding high at the top of what is now League One and were managed by ex-Chelsea player David Webb (who ended up managing me at two different clubs during my career).

  The manager of the y
outh team at Brentford was a guy called Bob Booker and I initially went there for a couple of weeks. As soon as I arrived I knew I would be one of the better players and I felt comfortable when training with the younger professionals as well.

  What really struck me during this entire phase of my career was that it seemed even lower-league professional clubs signed apprentices as a form of cheap labour. It was clear the vast majority of players in the Brentford youth team had no chance of forging any kind of career in football, but they were being used to do an abundance of totally unrelated tasks dressed up as ‘learning your trade’. Surely the best way to do that was to be out on the training pitch working on technique rather than cleaning kit and painting dressing rooms? The one bonus of being an apprentice on trial was that I didn’t have to do any of these jobs.

  I ended up staying at Brentford for about a month and the end result was the same as Southend: they told me I was not good enough. My star was waning and I was dropping down the leagues rapidly. I found it really hard to believe that I was not good enough to sign for either of these clubs and, for the first time, I became a bit disillusioned with football.

  I was still contracted to Arsenal so should have returned there, but I knew that there was not much communication between Arsenal and Brentford so I just decided not to go to training.

  In hindsight, that was a ridiculous thing to do. My assumption that there was no dialogue between Arsenal and Brentford was also misguided, as proven by the phone call I got from a very irate Liam Brady, who had realised I was no longer training at Brentford. He basically said if I was not at London Colney the next day I would be sacked. I decided I did not want that on my CV and sheepishly returned to Arsenal.

  When I returned, Tom Walley took great pleasure in telling me that, according to Bob Booker, I had been poorly behaved during my time at Brentford. He said that I did not listen and frequently juggled the ball when he was talking. I was furious about that because, although I was no angel, my behaviour and respect towards other people is impeccable, drummed into me from an early age by my parents. Whether this was true or something Tom had made up I do not know, but it had a galvanising effect: it wound me up and made me more determined to prove people like him and Bob Booker wrong.

  I stayed training at Arsenal until another opportunity to go out on trial presented itself. After about a month, and another round of CVs being sent out, Steve Kean, the youth-team coach of Reading FC, asked me to go over to train and play a couple of games with them.

  At that time, Reading were competing in Division One (which is now the Championship) and, as soon as I went there, everything seemed to fall into place.

  I felt really comfortable and my performances were good. I was playing for the youth team and also getting regularly selected for the reserves, which is always a good barometer of how things are going as a second-year apprentice. The reserve-team manager was Kevin Dillon, who had played for Newcastle United and Birmingham City among others. He seemed to take an instant like to me and the feeling was mutual.

  The first-team management set-up was pretty unconventional, however. Instead of having just one manager, Reading had joint managers in Mick Gooding and Jimmy Quinn. Not only that, but they were both player managers. Mick was an industrious midfielder and Jimmy was a traditional target man. This was a pretty unique situation – I remember Charlton Athletic had Alan Curbishley and Steve Gritt as joint managers once, but I cannot recall any clubs having joint player managers. Also on the coaching staff was West Ham legend Billy Bonds, which, with me being a Hammers fan as a kid, was especially thrilling.

  Initially my main point of contact was Mick. He seemed to take an interest in me and I presumed this was due to the positive reports he was getting from Steve and Kevin. It was at Reading that I got my first taste of regularly training with the first team. I remember the squad being pretty small and, after a couple of weeks, I was called up to train with the big boys frequently.

  Although there was only one division between Arsenal and Reading, the gulf in class between the players was instantly clear. I was initially nervous during the sessions but soon realised I could compete with these guys. A lot of the senior players seemed to take to me and I was made to feel really welcome. It probably helped that Darren Caskey, the club’s record signing, was based in Essex and banned from driving, so I drove him in on almost a daily basis.

  After a month or so of being on trial I got called into a meeting to get the news I had always dreamt of: Reading wanted to offer me a professional contract. I was ecstatic, especially after rejections from both Southend and Brentford. I had started to doubt whether this day would ever come.

  The club offered me a one-year deal, which started immediately. However, as it was late March 1997 at that point, in effect I had a fifteen-month contract since all Football League contracts run until 30 June. I was offered £200 per week, plus £80 a week payable to whoever was my landlord. The club had allowed me to do the commute from Witham – a 200-mile round trip – while I was on trial, but I was now expected to move to the area.

  I just sat there open-mouthed and nodded in acceptance.

  As a youngster with no experience, that was the full negotiation – you just took what you were offered. There was no agent involved; it was just you and the manager – or, in this case, managers. I think it would have been frowned upon if I had started to barter over an extra £50. Even someone as clueless about the business side of professional sport as I was back then realised this was a wonderful opportunity.

  CHAPTER 4

  THE DECLINE BEGINS

  THERE WAS STILL a month of the season left and I trained with the first team pretty much every day. I had not officially signed until after the transfer deadline, which I believe was the last Thursday in March, and Reading had already secured their place in the division for another season. Man City could only finish fourteenth, irrespective of the result on the last day of the season, so I was given special dispensation by the authorities to play a part in the game if selected.

  We travelled up to play Manchester City, who were not the force they are now but still attracted crowds of over 25,000 every other week. On 3 May 1997 I was named on the bench at Maine Road in front of 27,260 fans. An inconsequential last game of the season often produces a carnival atmosphere and this was no different; Manchester City and their fans had designated it as a day to convince the Georgian midfield genius Georgi Kinkladze to sign a new contract. He did not play, unfortunately, but he did partake in numerous laps of honour to milk the applause.

  I was named as a substitute and went on to make my League debut in the seventieth minute of the second half. My main recollection of that day is us not having enough pairs of shorts, so I had to change into Lee Nogan’s (who had come off ten minutes earlier) in the tunnel. The steward patrolling the area seemed to find this especially amusing!

  I remember playing pretty well when I came on and really enjoying the occasion. Playing for Manchester City were both Eddie McGoldrick and Paul Dickov – two players who just a year earlier had scared the life out of me every time I put a foot wrong while training with the reserves at Arsenal. Now I was competing against them in a ‘proper game’, although we lost 3–2 after leading 2–0. The negative turnaround was nothing to do with me, I hasten to add!

  Paul and Eddie seemed pretty surprised to see me but I had always got on well with Eddie – he had christened me ‘Curtains’ due to my 1990s Jason Donovan-inspired mop. Eddie had an especially cutting and harsh sense of humour but I liked him and often tried to give him some back if I was feeling especially brave.

  As I am sure you can imagine, I was thrilled to get on the pitch and I had adrenalin coursing through my veins. I was everywhere, trying to both support the attack and supplement the defence. My performance was more than acceptable and I felt comparable to the players I was competing against.

  Suddenly I had gone from someone who had struggled to earn a contract in lower-league teams to making my League deb
ut at the age of eighteen in front of over 27,000 people. I went away at the end of that season confident I could compete to play regularly next term for Reading in Division One.

  However, during the summer break, there were the early signs that I was getting a little carried away with myself. At the end of the season, most clubs will go on a small jaunt, which can take the form of ‘official’ or ‘unofficial’ club trips. Either way, they are normally four or five days for the players to ‘let off some steam’ after what is a physically and mentally demanding season. This normally includes a lot of drinking – day and night.

  Now, some people may frown at the fact professional sportsmen can behave in such a manner but personally I do not see a problem with it when you have participated in a fifty-plus game season. However, I am not so sure you earn the same privilege after playing twenty minutes of the last game of the season! That fact did not stop me though – in my head I was now a fully fledged professional footballer with £200 burning a hole in my pocket every week. Why would I not accept the offer of a free holiday to the Cypriot resort of Ayia Napa?

  In hindsight I should have been at home working on my fitness and physique and preparing to compete for a place in the first team the following season – not getting drunk every day for a week. Admittedly it did help integrate me into the group, but more as a good socialiser than a good footballer.

  This is not a criticism, more an observation. It is the sort of situation when I would have benefited from having someone in my family or close to me who had been involved in football or a professional sport themselves – someone who could have reined me in. My dad and I were both novices in this world and we were learning together. I might not have appreciated any such advice at the time, but it could well have made a difference in the longer term.