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I like to cry.
Take a man to admit, I think.
Let me tell you about one that has changed my life.
Now you can think that you already know my story. Ian Wright did not become a professional until he was 21! He worked in a sugar factory! He spent a month in prison!
People like to use my story as one of those "It's never too late!" Never give up on your dreams! But sometimes people forget that running after something is good for a person. Yes, I played professional football and my career was fantastic, but before arriving at Crystal Palace, I had failed everywhere else.
All over.
I started testing at football clubs at the age of 11, but I did not go professional until a few weeks before my 22nd birthday. It's 11 years of failure, 11 years without answers from Arsenals, Chelseas and all the others.
Eleven years of failure, it makes you feel good.
My mother said to me, "We call a lot and we choose little." And the funny thing is that it was not even a motivation, as she said. She thought it was almost like it was a little sad. It was a phrase I thought about a lot when I was sitting at the club reception in Brighton when I was 19 years old.
I was just trying to hold on.
I was in the end.
In fact, I was so broke that I did not even have money for the train.
Imagine, I'm 19 years old and I had begged, borrowed and stole all the favors I needed to get from my home in London to Brighton for this six-week test with the club. I'm fine. I scored goals against the first team and I really thought I was going to be offered something. They kept me for more than a month, so I thought I had to do something good.
One of our free days, I wanted to go back to London to see my family, but I could not afford to buy the train ticket. So, a couple of Brighton players have told me that I could claim the expenses at the club. All I had to do was ask.
"Just tell the lady," they said.
So I go up to the offices and tell the lady.
"I'm a trialist and I just need a few fees to get back to London."
She was very kind to that, but it was clear to me that she was not responsible for the expenses. She just said, "Yes, O.K. Could you wait here?
So I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I sat there for five hours.
No books, no television, no newspapers, nothing. I'm just waiting. Waiting for something. I felt totally helpless.
I was sitting there in silence, hoping someone would notice me. Notice how much I was trying to workout. Notice how well I went to take this football trial. Notice how long I was ready to wait, just to be able to take the train home.
Around five in the morning, Brighton's first team captain, Steve Foster, came for treatment for an injury. At my trial, we had spoken a few times and he asked me what I was doing there.
I told him, "I'm expecting expenses to get back to London."
His face is twisted.
He said, "Since when? Starting this morning?
And I swear to God, he came into this room and I could hear him from the outside telling people. He shouts, "How can you do that? This poor boy is waiting "and this and that.
He returned a few minutes later with this lady and she handed me about 200 pounds in cash.
I remember thanking Steve for taking a bus to the train station, getting on the train – and then bursting into tears. The feeling of helplessness that I felt during those five hours will stay with me forever.
It was a lot more than football.
I know a lot of people think of me as a happy guy. They see the gold tooth and the hat and think I have to be a joke, a joke, a joke. But … I'll be honest with you … it was hard to win that smile. remember that Avengers movie from a few years ago? Do you remember when Bruce Banner is about to turn into a Hulk, and he says that great phrase?
"It's my secret, Cape. I am still angry. "
That made me smile. I could tell. It's weird to use a sentence from a superhero movie to explain my life, but there was something close to my heart. For much of my life, I was angry. j & # 39; was always angry.
Let me tell you my story.
What's funny with me is that even though a lot of people consider me Arsenal born and raisedI am actually a South Londoner. Woolwich to be exact. I was born there in 1963, but I spent all my childhood in Brockley. Today, buying a house in the area costs about half a million, but at the time, it was very different. Nobody thought of the kids who grew up on Merritt Road. We went out everyday and played football. Soccer Soccer. South London football, where you play in an area with mbadive brick walls, signs NO BALL GAMES and fathers who would stick a hot knife in your football if he bounced on his car.
I must have been seven or eight years old when I started playing, first in the street, then in this park called Hilly Fields. I have never lost a match playing in Hilly Fields. Never lost a match. You see, when I moved with my mother, stepfather, and two older brothers to Brockley, we did not have a lot of money, so we shared a house with another family during a moment. The head of this house was this man named James Wright. I called him Mr. James. He was a very respected and respected man in the area. There were always many children coming and going in the house because he was taking care of the community. The Hilly Fields team consisted of all the boys who were hanging around Mr. James' house. There was Stafford, the eldest, then my brother Maurice, a child named Selvyn, another called Aiden, a couple of friends, and then there was me, the fart of reach. And I tell you, we never lost a match. We could find a group, ask them if they want a match, and then we would win. Everytime.
We won because my brother was the best footballer in the world. Maurice could do anything: left foot, right foot, pbad, dribble, he was the complete package. All I could do, he could do better. And the worst was that he knew it. He was driving me crazy with that. Good old brother teasing each time he thought I was getting too arrogant. Sometimes I ended up crying after everything he had said. It was horrible. He was my hero, but he never let me rest.
But.
When Maurice started to tease me, I would leave and start practicing as if I were the Karate Kid.
When Maurice said, "You can not hit with your left foot," I took a tennis ball and hit it against a wall again and again. We talk all day: stolen, first contact, pbades, everything with my left foot against this wall. I hit that ball until my side hurt, until the groin inside hurt, because I had to prove myself in front of him. When my left leg hurt, I started again with my right. I would not let him call me the next time we play football.
We would come back to Hilly Fields and I would do some demonstrations, and Maurice would say, "Your left foot is better, but you can not run the ball."
So I went back to the wall with the tennis ball, head again and again.
I'd come back to Hilly Fields and Maurice would say, "Yeah, you're better for management now, but you always close your eyes every time you go."
Again to the wall, saying: "Do not close your eyes, do not close your eyes. When you watch football on TV, players do not close their eyes. Why do you close your eyes?
I'd as well keep the uppies on my first contact, and I swear to God that I once reached 600. Finally, I reached the point where I had the left foot, the right foot, the pbadage, the cape, the first touch – I thought I was the guy. I played football well at Hilly Fields and one day I was chosen for my school team. You can watch the school: Gordonbrock Elementary School in Lewisham. I was chosen for the team from their school with Maurice for a match. I was in 4th grade, it was in 6th grade and I was so excited. I thought, "That's it, I'm playing with my hero. He will finally see how good I am. "
We were playing against a school called Fairlawn Primary, and we beat them. The fact is that Maurice scored this fantastic goal with his left foot and he does not shut up.
I am serious, he would not stop talking about this goal. For him it was the biggest goal ever. All the goals I scored at Palace, Arsenal? No matter Maurice Wright at Ladywell Fields against Fairlawn Elementary School was better. No goals I have ever scored can be compared to the one my older brother scored when he was 10 years old.
Older brothers … they are something else.
Maurice drove me up to the wall, but growing up, he was one of the few good guys in my life. I told you that my story caused a lot of anger and that a lot came from what my life at home was like. My mother finally took us out of Mr. James' house to go to a place in Brockley, on this property called Honor Oak. This house was not a good place for me, that's probably why I would stay outside to kick a tennis ball against a brick wall for hours. My half-brother, Nicky, came from Jamaica at the age of 10. I was six years old and he mored me a lot – holding me down, putting me in halls and all that. Dionne, my younger sister, was six years younger than me and she ran the house, as the baby in the family often does. My mother had her highs and lows … and then there was my father-in-law.
He was not a good guy.
It was a real … how can I say that? He smoked weeds, played games, went back home late, played at his salary, was a man of the kind. He was tough with my mother and hard with all the kids. And I do not know why, but he did not particularly like me. Maybe it was because I was the youngest boy, but some things that he did? He would do everything possible to be cruel in all sorts of other ways – and for such unusual things.
If we were going to shop for new clothes, he would buy things for Nicky, Maurice and Dionne, no problem. But when it came to me, he had forgotten my size or told me how I could wear Nicky and Maurice's gloves. Once we had all gone shopping and he asked my mother if any pants he found would be suitable for him. She said no, but that was my size. And he just dropped them. Just in front of me. He would not buy them because they were for me. All this hardness, all the body and the bullying in a house with a bedroom … football was my only escape. But sometimes he took me that too.
All this hardness, all the body and the bullying in a house with a bedroom … football was my only escape.
One of the few things my brother and I were looking forward to in the house was Match of the dayand my father-in-law used to take that away from us – just because he could. According to the mood in which he was, he would have entered the room just before it started and he would have said, "Go back. Turn to the wall.
We had to face the wall all the time Match of the day was on. And the really cruel thing was that we could always hear everything. It was horrible. I cried myself to sleep whenever he did it. Tears clean and big. I remember that Maurice should cover my ears so that the sounds of football stop torturing me. He tried to rock me to calm me, covering his ears. And finally, he did what all the big brothers do, he shouted, "Stop crying! Stop crying!"
Do you know when you cry and that someone tells you to stop? You end up making that stuffy sound that puts you in your chest and throat. Looks like you're wheezing. Imagine that. It was so useless. I took it with me for years. Whenever I heard the Match of the day music theme come, I would feel this pain in my chest. And I'll be honest with you, again happen to me from time to time. The first time I went to the show as a presenter, Des Lynam came to see me and said, "Ian Wright, welcome to Match of the day.I almost fell down in tears.
I told Des: "This is my Graceland."
I had so much anger and frustration that if I lost to football, I would literally ruin the game for everyone. The field was one of the few places where I had control. Therefore, if I had the impression that someone was taking it away, I was going to take it. Swear, fight, all kinds of things. I'm thinking about it now, and it must have been embarrbading for the people around me. But I could not control it. If you've destroyed me, I'd like to go out and try to beat you up. At the Hilly Fields games, Maurice warned people, "If you attack him, pay attention, he will probably end up fighting you."
I got older and anger was still present, probably even because I played football on Sunday morning and I was playing against pub teams. I was in my teens against those old Sunday boys, who were saying something to my ear and then BANG, I would fight. For a moment, I thought it was like that it had to be: Someone makes you feel small, you do it small. And I really loved it. People told me things like, "You are a very good player, why are you involved in that?" But I do not care. I was angry. It did me good to hit someone.
There was one man in particular who helped me through this dark period of my childhood: Mr. Sydney Pigden, teacher at Turnham Junior. When we moved to Honor Oak, I started going to Turnham, which was down the road from our house. And I struggled. Really in trouble. I must have been about eight years old and I could barely read or write – not because I did not have intellect, it was just that my attention was very, very, very, very very short. As soon as I can not grasp something in clbad, I'll mess things up and spoil things for everyone. My teacher must have sent me out of the clbadroom for improper behavior almost every week, and that's where Mr. Pigden found me one day.
Some of you may know that, but let me tell you how we met. I was eight years old and I stood in front of my clbad when Mr. Pigden pbaded. He was a very strict man, and every time he doubled me, he always said, "Outside the clbadroom?" It's probably after the third time he saw me that I stopped to look him in the eyes. I was so scared and I was embarrbaded. One day as he pbaded by, he stopped and came back to look at me. You know when someone sees you? They look at you as if they could see something more? It's hard to look back. Mr. Pigden started that kind of look and I had to look at the floor. And then he went to my clbad to talk to my teacher. He talked to her for about 10 minutes and when he came out, he said, "Come with me".
And then he changed my life.
We went to the library and from that moment I stayed with him. I went to the clbadrooms from time to time, but most of the time at school I was with Mr. Pigden. He taught me everything: how to read and write, how to be patient, how to be confident and communicate, and why sometimes I got angry. It has really opened the world. He even made me monitor the records and the milk and gave me a sense of responsibility. He made me believe that the things I did importanteven though they were as small as collecting school records and distributing milk. It was really nice just because he was the first man to show me any love.
This video of when I saw it years later and started crying? I did not really know that he was still alive. So, for this man to appear and be there again? It was incredible. He gave me everything. Even football. When I was a kid, he watched me play once and … I remembered the time when I was getting closer to the goal, I was shooting my shots. I hit the ball so hard, as if I was trying to dispel all my anger at the same time. But Mr. Pigden, he said to me, "Ian, you will not have to explode. Look where the goalkeeper is. Look where is the space. Jimmy Greaves pbades the ball to the net. I did not know who Jimmy Greaves was at the time, but Mr. Pigden told me to try to score goals with finesse. "These are the big goals, Ian, he will say, when the goalkeeper does not even move … a big goal is an opportunity for which the goalkeeper has no chance to reach and that 39, he can not blame anyone else. "
Since then, I've always tried to score goals accurately, not with power. The best goal I've ever scored is that of Everton in 1993. Kick, left foot, right foot, left foot, ditch defenseman Matt Jackson and Neville chip Southall at goal with foot law. The ball hit the ground once. He had no chance. I remember running to the middle line with applause and thinking of Mr. Pigden, "He would love that goal." I showed him later and he said, "It's an art. It's beautiful. That's all. "
The funny thing is that this is the only goal declared by Maurice that is better than his against Fairlawn. Mr. Pigden has given me everything. Even the respect of my brother.
I think of everything he did for me and I do not know how he did it. When I played for England, he called it the proudest moment of his life. Imagine that. This teacher, who had done things like a pilot in World War II, had flown over Buckingham Palace … and said that his greatest pride was watching a child who went to play football at his school.
Do you know that feeling of warmth and warmth that you feel when you make someone proud? You can not buy that. I grew up wanting to get it from my father or stepfather and I would never get it. I spent my childhood thinking that I would never make anyone proud, but I made Mr. Pigden proud. He took care of me during a very tumultuous time of my life and gave me an incredible amount of love. He died at the end of last year at the age of 95, but he is still with me. He will always be with me.
That should have been it: people like Mr Pigden and Steve Foster show me the way, then I study my books, I'm spotted by a football club and I'm a professional. This is how it is supposed to happen. When you have the opportunity, you are not supposed to ruin it. But I did it. I will not ask you to read my story and lie to you. I've ruined everything. So many times.
I did some nonsense during my teenage years, a real mistake: getting into fights, going to Millwall at home and out, things like that. The only reason I did not end up in prison as a teenager was because I played non-league football for this group called Ten-Em-Bee. If it was not club officials – Tony Davis and Harold Palmer – I would have had big problems. The routine they gave me (training Tuesday and Thursday and Saturday matches) allowed me to stay in the right path. They came to my house to pick me up and drive me directly to training. I did not realize it at the time, but they were doing everything in their power to help me not to have any problem with the police.
And then I ruined everything and ended up in prison at 19 years old.
The prison is hogwash. I can try to dress it up and use big words, but jail is hogwash. Do everything you can to avoid going to jail. They take everything away from you and stick you in a tiny room. I was relatively lucky because I only spent two weeks at Chelmsford Prison in 1982. for non-payment of driving fines. But still, when they close the door of your cell? It's over. That's all you think about when it closes. I almost burst into tears when I heard the door close behind me.
The same year, when I went to jail, I started seeing Sharon, who was my first wife, and I adopted her son. You know him under the name of Shaun Wright-Phillips, the former winger of Manchester City and Chelsea. So I am 19 years old with a young son at home; my life has never been so low. I spent so much time in my early years trying to be something, no matter what, but when I was in jail, I felt like I did not have anything to do with it. was nothing. When I went out, I thought I had to do something radical. I knew I had to make a change.
So I stopped football.
I got out of jail and said, "I'm going to work." Many people know my story, but very few people know that I left football at age 19. I had finished after Brighton, then to go to jail soon after? Playing professional football was so far from me when I got out of jail. I had to take care of my family and create a better home than the one in which I grew up, so I went out and started to learn a trade. Masonry at first, then plastering. Eventually, I started working at a place called Tunnel Refineries in Greenwich. It was a huge industrial space where we mixed all kinds of preparations with sugar. I did the maintenance. The smell was not great, but I was pretty happy. Shaun was about four years old and my second son, Bradley, was a little baby. I was still playing a little football for a team called Greenwich Borough, but it was more to get out of my house on the weekends. I was making a lot of money taking care of my family. Why would I want to leave and try again only to be rejected?
That's about what I said when Peter Prentice offered me for the first time a two-week trial at Crystal Palace. Once again, people say, "Scouts saw Ian Wright in a Sunday League game!" They do not say, "Ian refused the first offer when they tried to sign it!"
And the second. And the third.
By the time Crystal Palace approached me, I wanted to do nothing but be a worker.
I had pursued the dream in Brighton, I had been in prison for non-payment of fines, by the time Crystal Palace approached me, I wanted to do nothing but be a worker. I did not want to submit to another football trial before being rejected again. It sounds silly, but I did not have the luxury of taking time for a football game. I had prison and community service on my record. I did not know if I would be able to find another job if I was fired, and my goal was to have Shaun and Bradley get what they needed.
The only thing that made me change my mind was Tony at Ten-Em-Bee. At this point, it was 1985 and I had signed for a semi-professional club called Greenwich Borough, but Tony was still one of my best friends. He helped me travel to do my community service and heard all my stories. Tony knew how much Palace wanted me, but he also knew how exhausted I was after Brighton. (In fact, when they rejected me, they did not tell me directly, but they told Tony to tell me that instead.) One day, we met by chance at the refineries from Tunnel to the canteen and he said, "You do not want to reach your senior age and think that you could have become a footballer and that you did not take it. "I do not know if he was fed up with making me cry, or if he really wanted me to make the decision … chance, but that was the boost I needed." My supervisor offered me an excuse for my need to take two weeks of work because I was sick and I went to Crystal Palace for trial.
And I nearly blew him up.
My attitude towards the trial was not, It's my last chance. Instead of that, I'm mad. It was a mix of trying not to be scared and trying not to prepare for disappointment. It was such a ridiculous prospect and a negative attitude to have. Fitness was a killer, too. The non-league jump to the second division (the championship, as we call it now) was difficult. I was playing football properly, scoring goals and all that, but after 10 or 15 minutes I literally blew my hands on my lap. I thought I was going to be rejected for all the breaths I was doing. But after seven or eight days, we defeated a semi-pro team called Kingstonian 1-0. Steve Coppell, the Crystal Palace coach, caught me after the match and told me that I had to get to the ground the next day because Palace was playing an in-camera match against Coventry and he wanted me to participate.
But I almost blown it up.
I was so eager to impress that I went to the stadium early. But when I arrived I did not find anything. No players, no scouts. I started thinking that something had gone wrong and I was looking for someone to settle me. After about 45 minutes, I saw a woman and asked her what was happening.
She said to me, "No, this is not the Crystal Palace football field, it is the track and field of Crystal Palace. The stadium is in Selhurst, three kilometers away. "
My face fell. You can walk between the two fields in about 20 minutes, but if I had walked, I would have missed the shot of sending. So I ran. I ran for my future. I remember when I got to Selhurst, Steve Coppell looked down on me and said, "Why do you sweat so much?
I had almost blown it. But this time, something finally worked. I left the bench in this game, and in the end, Steve took me aside and said, "You have to come to the office where we will sign you for three months."
It was a three month trial only, but I did it: I qualified as a professional footballer. Nearly 11 years of rejection, intimidation, jail and all sorts of nonsense, and I 'd finally realized my dream.
When I called Steve's office to call my mother, she burst into tears on the phone.
I think I did too.
I woke up the next day thinking, Has it really happened? To be honest, I still can not believe it.
Crystal Palace was in full change when I signed. Steve Coppell had just stopped playing and had been responsible for promoting the young players, while pbading the former goalkeeper. It was chaos in the locker room – in the most beautiful way. Andy Gray et Tony Finnigan, nous étions les jeunes garçons. Mark Bright est venu plus tard, avec John Salako, Richard Shaw et plus encore, pour créer cette unité de base de joueurs rapides et athlétiques. De l'autre côté, vous avez quelques anciens combattants de la vieille école qui ont pris plaisir à nous donner des coups de pied pendant les séances d'entraînement et à nous débarrbader de la mick après. À un moment donné, j'ai arrêté de descendre à la cantine pour le dîner parce que je commençais à en avoir marre des vieux garçons. Je commanderais des steaks et des pommes de terre sautées et j'obtiendrais des commentaires du type "Vous ne pouvez pas épeler des pommes de terre sautées, pourquoi les commandez-vous?" Je n'ai jamais été capable de gérer des intimidateurs, enfant ou adulte.
Steve Coppell s'est occupé de moi cependant. Il s'est occupé de nous tous. C’est la raison pour laquelle cette équipe a terminé troisième des séries et est pbadée en première division à ma quatrième saison. C’est pourquoi nous sommes arrivés à la finale de la FA Cup.
Cette finale de la FA Cup contre Manchester United, Jesus Christ….
Je remplaçais ce match parce que je m'étais cbadé la jambe gauche plus tôt dans la saison. (Je pense que c'était mon fibula.) En fait, je m'étais cbadé la jambe deux fois cette saison et je devais jouer à huis clos pour Coppell pour prouver que je pouvais participer à cette finale. À peine fait.
Tout le monde dans le pays avait l'habitude de regarder la finale de la FA Cup, substitut ou pas, je voulais tout faire quand j'étais là-bas. All. Je faisais tout ce que je voulais faire, je rencontrais la princesse Margaret. J'ai fait tout ça. Je me suis baduré d'avoir tout. J'étais venu au football si tard que je rattrapais toujours tout le monde. Il était hors de question que je sois juste un remplaçant pour la finale de la FA Cup de 1990. C'était le clou de ma carrière. De ma vie.
Je me souviens de ma trousse de football, de mes nouvelles chaussures de football et de la descente de ce magnifique tunnel blanc de Wembley. Le jeu est sur le point de commencer et Mark Bright me donne ce look comme si tout le monde était sur le point de se détacher.
Mark Bright et moi avions l'habitude de nous mettre ensemble. Toutes les années de la deuxième division à la première division, les hôtels à Barnsley, le lot.
Si vous regardez des séquences, vous pouvez voir que Mark me lance ce regard dans le tunnel, et je sais qu’il se dit «Êtes-vous prêt?».
Je pensais vraiment que j'étais.
Mais alors quand c'est arrivé…
Je n’ai jamais entendu un tel bruit auparavant ou depuis. Que ce soit à cause des fans du Palace ou de la finale de la FA Cup, je ne suis pas tout à fait sûr.
Mais mec, le bruit…
C'était thunderous.
En fin de compte, vous savez probablement ce qui se pbade. Nous perdons 2 à 1 et je quitte le banc. Quand vous quittez le banc dans un grand match comme celui-là et que votre équipe est en train de perdre… j'ai juste pensé à moi-même, Dès que je reçois le ballon, je vais juste le sortir de mes pieds et tirer. Peu importe où je suis, je vais simplement faire savoir aux gens que je viens sur le terrain avec Bad Intentions.
Je suis sur le terrain depuis trois minutes et Mark Bright me le pbade – j’aurais peut-être été à 20 ou 30 mètres du but – je me permets de dépbader Mike Phelan, qui me ferme. Gary Pallister est venu pour m'attaquer, mais il arrive trop vite et j'ai coupé en lui. Ensuite, tout ce dont je me souviens, c'est de regarder et de voir autant d'espace vide dans le but. Le gardien de United, Jim Leighton, a semblé minuscule dans ces magnifiques buts de Wembley avec des filets propres et blancs. J'ai vu beaucoup de but et dit: Laisse moi juste le plier dedans.
Lorsque la balle a touché l'arrière du filet, cette chaleur et cette montée d'adrénaline ont envahi mon corps des orteils à la tête. J'ai entendu le rugissement de la foule et j'ai eu une expérience complète hors du corps. La seule chose qui m'a fait sortir de cet incroyable bourdonnement d'adrénaline est le fait que mes coéquipiers se sont accumulés sur moi pour célébrer. Je n’ai jamais aimé les petits espaces depuis mon enfance, alors j’ai eu 15 minutes amusantes. Joie pure à la petite panique. C'était presque comme si je flottais après. J'ai marqué trois minutes après être sorti du banc en finale de la FA Cup. Je ne peux toujours pas y croire.
J'aurais seulement aimé que nous soyons allés aux pénalités dans ce match. Les finales de la FA Cup ont ensuite été rejouées si le score était à égalité après le temps supplémentaire. J'ai marqué deux fois et nous avons fait match nul 3–3 lors du premier match, mais nous avons ensuite perdu 1-0 lors de la reprise. Nous avons si mal joué lors du deuxième match que nous n’avons tout simplement pas joué. Manchester United, même à l’époque, ne vous a pas donné une seconde chance de les battre. Vous n'avez qu'un coup et nous l'avons manqué.
Mais cet objectif… cet objectif a été le plus grand sentiment de ma vie. Désolé, fans d'Arsenal, mais je n'ai plus jamais ressenti cela. Il y avait trop de choses à faire là-dessus, c'était incroyable.
Je pensais que j'allais pbader toute ma carrière à Crystal Palace, mais un lundi, c'était en septembre 1991, je suis à Selhurst et Peter Prentice est badis là-bas, agissant de façon badez amusante. Il a l’air déprimé et il me dit: «Nous avons accepté une offre d’Arsenal pour vous."
Et je suis allé, "Mais je dois acheter une télévision."
Le plus grand transfert de ma vie et je ne pense pas, Hourra, je vais à Arsenal! Je pense, La télévision de ma mère est cbadée et je lui ai dit que je lui en aurais un nouveau aujourd'hui.
Honnêtement? Je ne voulais pas quitter le palais. Steve Coppell avait fait du bon travail avec moi, les vestiaires étaient bons et j'aimais le sud de Londres. J'étais encore sous le choc quand Peter m'a dit que je devais immédiatement prendre un taxi pour me faire soigner. La façon dont j'ai quitté Palace était si froide et si finale, et je regrette toujours de ne pas avoir l'occasion de dire au revoir aux gars. Going to Arsenal shouldn’t have been that much of a culture shock, but I’d have been lost if it hadn’t been for Rocky….
Everyone calls him Rocky, and David Rocastle is the reason I still support Arsenal. He was the hero of the estate we grew up on — the one who’d made it. The entire estate emptied out the day Arsenal beat Liverpool to win the league in 1989 because we’d all gone out to find a TV to watch Rocky play. He was like a brother to me. We’d grabbed the same buses to and from school in Brockley growing up, and we were adults I’d bump into him every now and again. He’d be 16, and I’d be 20, and he’d be telling me, “You’re better than the players I’m playing against. You can do it. You’ve got to try and do it.” At a time when no one believed in me, not even myself, Rocky believed in me. So when I finished having my medical at Arsenal and he was there, waiting for me, I knew I was going to be O.K.
Rocky took me under his wing from Day One. Literally, I went round his house after my medical and he did everything he could to look after me. He bigged me up, told me not to pay attention to critics and spent hours explaining how important the North London Derby was. He was so serious about the derby. We must’ve stayed up until 4, 5 a.m. the day I signed, and half the conversation was about how you do not lose to Spurs. When I started to meet the fans and stuff they always said the same thing: “Make sure your score against Spurs. You score against Spurs you’ll be a legend instantly, doesn’t matter what you do after that.” By the time I left Arsenal, I had scored against Spurs four times. I wouldn’t have been able to do that without Rocky.
Think about it, two Brockley boys — one wearing number 8, one wearing number 7 — going out there and becoming heroes for Arsenal. In my league debut against Southampton, Rocky got a goal and I scored a hat trick. It was the most satisfying 90 minutes of football I’ve ever played. Although we only got one season playing together, if I could go back in time and play only one year in my career again, that would be it. I can’t get over the fact that we lost him so early to cancer. He was only 33. Rocky is why I support Arsenal. When people come up to me and tell me I’m why they support Arsenal it makes me proud because it make me think of my best friend.
I love Arsenal. I know to some people I can come across a bit grumpy at times, but honestly and truly, I love that football club in a way beyond words. It’s going through a very interesting time right now, but I really think there are still a lot of people at Arsenal working to make sure our club’s great traditions don’t get forgotten. Arsenal will remain Arsenal forever and that makes me happy.
When I think about my time there, I think about Rocky, about scoring goals, and some of the happiest years of my life. I think about Arsene Wenger coming to Highbury and giving me a new outlook on life in my 30s. Wenger is an artist, a manager who would look at you and see something more. He steered Arsenal into the 21st century and deserves a lot of credit for turning our club into a great club. Toward the end there, through business and whatnot, I feel as if he wasn’t able to do the things he truly wanted to. But it speaks to the quality of his character that he did all he could to keep things around Arsenal as positive as possible. Football needs more men like Arsene Wenger. The world does too.
Honestly and truly, I love that football club in a way beyond words.
I’ll save you the rest of my footballing career because I want to tell you a bit about where I am today. I’m in my 50s now, and everything feels brand new and different again. People like me, who have made more than their share of bad mistakes, don’t normally get to reach their 50s, but my life has never been that normal.
There are more adventures ahead and I hope lot of them have to do with me being a good dad. I’ve been a dad for a long time, but I’m not going to lie and tell you I was a great one. For a lot of my life, football was my focus — when I went to bed at night I wasn’t thinking about my kids, but about how I could break into the England side. That wasn’t a great way to be, so now I’m working on giving back. Look at my family now, I’m proud of all of my kids; there’s Bradley, doing amazing things for New York Red Bulls, and Shaun, who makes me proud every day. Shaun’s son D’Margio is playing for Manchester City.
Imagine that: I have a teenage grandson at Manchester City.
I have another grandson, Ryan, he’s a leftfooter, and I’ve never seen anybody as driven and determined to play professional football as him. I’ve got an amazing wife, who has given me two young daughters. I’m lucky. I’m still coming to grips with it all, trying to understand how privileged and fortunate I’ve been, not just to play football and have a family, but to see that family play football and have families of their own, as well.
I walk down the street now and sometimes people call me “uncle.” Uncles in the community give pearls of wisdom and help people on the bumpy roads of life, so my aim now is to make football more available for everyone, in the same way Mr. Pigden and others did for me. Both on and off the pitch. I think the future of football culture sees people from all walks of life, pros and ex pros, journalists and fans – anyone with a love of the game really – the future of the culture sees everyone pitching in and taking the sport to new heights. I want my girls to go into any situation, whether it’s in sports or whatever other field they choose, and feel like they’ve got a chance and deserve to be in the room. It shouldn’t have to take an amazing schoolteacher to one day spot you standing outside the clbadroom, or a football captain to find you waiting hopelessly in the club reception area. Opportunities should be available and inclusive from the very beginning.
I hope when it’s all said and done people remember me as a down-to-earth, humble bloke who knew he was fortunate to get the opportunity he did, and did the very best he could with it. I got my start in life because a nice person stopped and asked me, “What you doing here?” and then helped me get where I needed to be. My hope now is in 50 years, or in 100 years time, no kid is going to be standing outside a clbadroom feeling utterly helpless and alone.
The truth is, I spent so much of my life angry and trying to catch up after a bad start.
Maybe now that you’ve read my story, you’ll see me on the television flashing a smile and you’ll really understand that I wasn’t born with it. I earned it.
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