At their first meeting in Lilleshall, Sky remembers seeing Sol line up for food, ‘not once but three times!’ In his Arsenal days, Arsene Wenger would also notice his appetite. ‘He liked a good dinner. We had to watch his weight.’ Sol’s response is simple. ‘For my size I needed feeding.’
Sol thinks he first caught sight of his friend and future agent playing table tennis. Whatever the truth, their friendship marked a fork in the road for both. ‘We came from the same area and just started to talk,’ Sky says. He was at Lilleshall training with the England table tennis team. He travelled to the West Midlands from London every four weeks. The journey was a trip he always looked forward to. He loved it there as much as Sol did. Common pleasures such as having a shower or a bath every day were a treat. Although, the shower was something Sky never got used to. He always took one with trepidation. There was no shower at home and he always treated it as something different, out of the ordinary. He could only take a bath once a week and never took the indulgence of refilling with hot water once he had started to bathe. There was never enough of it. He never had the treat of twiddling the taps with his toes or experiencing an overdose of bath bubbles. But at Lilleshall he could stay in the bath for as long as he liked. The water was hot. In fact, very hot! It’s almost as if they were deliberately trying to scald the boys. Even when it got to a reasonable temperature, there was no guarantee it would stay that way. But he didn’t mind. He was being spoiled.
Their upbringing was similar. From the same background, the same streets, the same area. They shared a desire to get out, to better themselves. ‘We talked about East London a lot,’ Sky says. ‘We shared the same mentality, the honour of coming from that part of London.’ Sky would, some afternoons, head down to the football pitch and watch the young boys train. He immediately saw Sol was different. His attitude was unlike the rest. He had a focus and a determination. He knew he’d seen something special, not unlike the music manager who goes to a club and hears a sound he hasn’t heard before. ‘He was taller than the others and had incredible presence, even though he was a shy person,’ he says of Sol. ‘I watched him train and behave properly. He had a focus at a very young age. He has never lost it throughout his career. He didn’t need encouragement on that front; his intrinsic nature for hard work was already formed.’
• • •
Sky has popped out to get something for his mother from the local supermarket. It’s a journey he has taken many times. As he crosses the road, he catches sight of this huge figure dwarfing a BMX with long legs spinning round and round, virtually hitting his chest. There goes Sol. There is no-one like him. No-one would cycle in that awkward manner or have a face of such determination. Where are you heading? What are you escaping from? Slow down! He neither calls out nor follows him. He feels no compunction to chase after him. It’s as if this moment is destined. And nothing is going to change their reconnection. Sol is halfway down the street before he suddenly grinds to a halt. He doubles back and says hello. He doesn’t get off his bike. He talks to Sky still sitting, his long legs stretched out. This is the first time the two have met outside the Lilleshall grounds. They talk and decide to meet later that week. As he disappears down the street, Sky thinks to himself: One day that man will be a top footballer.
• • •
The friendship between Sol and his future agent grew. They spent more and more time together. They would hang out at weekends, and go out clubbing together. ‘He was always more fashionable than me,’ says Sky, who generally knew the guy at the door who treated them like VIPs, although Sol was not yet famous. ‘He’s the next big football star,’ Sky would whisper, and say it with such belief that doors would open and sometimes they were invited in without further questions. Maybe that’s the definition of success for boys so young. Before booking their Saturday night out, he would wait to see Sol’s result. If he’d lost, Sol wouldn’t join him, being too miserable to have a good time. It would be something that never changed throughout his career. A losing Sol was never a pretty sight. But when he won, they had a good time: Sol the quiet one, Sky the more vocal with sweeping gesticulations. His own sporting dreams were drawing to a close. His new job was to guide his protégé, teach him about how to look after himself. It was never discussed openly, it just happened naturally. ‘He loved watching me talk to people, make deals. He knew I had an acumen for it,’ says Sky proudly.
He seems to mourn the memory of forging their friendship, working together in their mutual passion for striking the right deal, to better themselves. He even helped Sol buy his first house in Woodford. ‘I bought it for approximately £185,000.’ (Sol would later correct him: ‘£159,950’.) You could almost hear Sky’s pleasure travel around the room. When Sol wanted a conservatory for his new home, he asked Sky to find someone to help. Within a day, Sky was leading someone up to his front door. ‘Come this way!’ He had brought along a local man. ‘A chirpy type,’ Sky recalls. The two had decided that Sol would wait in the kitchen while Sky negotiated. Sol already knew that, with him being a recognised footballer, the price would go up. He listened from the kitchen as the conservatory salesman talked up his deal. He could hear their voices distinctly.
‘How about twenty grand to do the whole job,’ the salesman says.
Silence.
‘You’re having a laugh?’ Sky says, not even looking at him. The salesman’s now out with his tape measure, measuring and re-measuring. ‘Fifteen?’ the salesman’s chin held up slightly, giving that look of self-assurance. ‘You have a good deal.’ But Sky is having none of it. Sol is still in the kitchen. ‘Twelve grand.’ Again Sky shakes his head. ‘Is that a no?’ Yes, no. And it goes on and on … The chirpy salesman is there for twelve hours. Yes, twelve hours! Sol is too nervous to come in. Finally, they agree. ‘We shook hands at three thousand, nine hundred and eighty-five,’ Sky remembers.
As the man slinks away, Sol comes into the room. Sky strides towards him with hands in the air as if playing the tambourine. The two men laugh and keep laughing. Slaps on the back. Sol had been upstairs for what seemed like an eternity while his erstwhile friend did his negotiation. And what a negotiation. When the salesman returned to check on the conservatory three weeks later, he explained that he was ‘camping out’ until a price was agreed. ‘I was told by my boss not to leave until we shook.’
When Sol bought his second home, a floor fitter came to the house. Same routine. Sol upstairs, Sky downstairs haggling the price. But this time when the negotiation starts, Sol comes downstairs, shakes the wood fitter’s hand, turns to Sky and says, ‘I’ll take over from here.’
‘It was the first time he did that,’ Sky remembers, like an older sibling. ‘He was becoming more confident.’
• • •
A financial advisor kept telling Sky that it was about time he formalised his relationship with Sol. ‘She thought it was time to make it official. Earn from it.’ He was still earning from his table tennis: he was doing some coaching in Germany and was part of the international setup. There were other jobs too. ‘I was writing scripts for Spitting Image, thinking of a career in television,’ says Sky. It was enough for him to get by. ‘I’d approached Sol saying I wanted to be rewarded for the work I had done. It was taking up a large part of my time. I said to him, “Give me what you think is fair.” He did. He gave me a grand.
‘Guys were approaching him all the time but he didn’t trust them,’ recalls Sky. But going forward, Sky needed to make things more official. This is not easy. I don’t know how to approach him. He thought about it, not for days but weeks. This usually confident man was for once unsure. Why should I ask for a commission? I’m his mate, aren’t I? Isn’t that what mates are for, to protect each other? Well, isn’t it? No. Yes. Of course…Yes. Would this change things between us? No. Why should it? It could. It might.
It did. After weeks of self-analysis, he became diffident to the situation. And we all become brave when we are diffident. When he finally brought it up (‘I think it w
as over lunch’), Sol did not hesitate. ‘Do my next deal with Tottenham, then,’ Sol said. It was the Gerry Francis deal, which wasn’t, as we know, the easiest negotiation. He secured Sol around £13,500 a week. They were now an official agent-player team, and Sol his demanding one-and-only client. ‘He expected me to be always available. I could get a call from him at any time of the day,’ says Sky. He had two phones and the peace was shattered by both suddenly ringing at once. ‘It would be Sol trying both lines. I didn’t mind… I suppose if I did, I would have stopped it.’ But it was consuming his life. His client was becoming the best defender in the world. The interest in him commercially, press-wise, was growing. The demand opened up both to a new world. Sky loved it, his mind fixed on financial numbers that the majority of us could only dream of.
‘I always watched his back and put him first,’ Sky says. ‘I never looked at what I was going to get out of it. That’s what most football agents do. They think of their own pockets. I would never advise or coax him to sign somewhere because my commission would be bigger. Barcelona was the perfect example. It was not how it worked.’
Referee Kim Milton Nielsen waves away the appealing Gary Neville after Sol’s header into the net against Argentina at France 98 is disallowed. ‘It was a goal,’ insists Sol.
Derby v Tottenham, Pride Park, October 1998 where Sol scores in a 1-1 draw. He is later charged with assaulting a steward at the game, only for the case against him to be dropped the following year.
Sol acknowledges the White Hart Lane faithful after his equaliser for Tottenham against Manchester United in the 2-2 draw in December 1998.
Farewell
‘I wanted Spurs to show me that they were going to challenge. Not just win cups but reach the very top.’
Sol
The clock had been tick-tocking away all through the 2000-01 season like an unexploded bomb. Everyone, fans, players and owner, were asking whether Sol would sign a new contract. Will he? Won’t he? Even old Spurs favourite Jurgen Klinsmann, who ran into Sol at a game, wanted to know. ‘Jurgen, please!’ Sol replied, not quite believing he’d be that interested. It was as if Sol had no idea what was developing in the outside world, as if he’d been in solitary confinement. Why would anyone be so interested? The injury at the Brentford game had given him too much time to think about things in the early part of the season. That is what injuries do. You sit around, not being active and sink into your thoughts. Too much spare time. He started to shut down, be even less communicative. Weary of what he said, watchful how he behaved in front of people. Ironically, he went out more to restaurants, to clubs, trying to relax, but he was alone in other people’s company.
He remembers being on the treadmill at Tottenham’s training ground at Chigwell working to regain his fitness. He found himself wearing dark glasses watching the team outside all training together. Someone walked in and asked why he was wearing dark glasses. He didn’t know. He had never done that before. Perhaps he was subconsciously beginning to hide even at his own club. He remembers the music he was listening to in his headphones. It randomly came on the radio: Craig David’s ‘Walking Away’ followed by Anastacia’s ‘I’m Outta Love.’
When he returned to the team he gave them a hundred per cent assurance that he was not going to change. But it began to be more difficult to turn in the performances. ‘I had lost faith in Graham and couldn’t see any change in the club’s ambition.’ He found himself tiptoeing around during those last months.
The plan to have Sol sign a new contract had started a year before. David Pleat made an initial approach to gauge what Sol was thinking. ‘He may have said, have you got something I can tell Alan, but I don’t remember,’ recalls Sky. ‘It was Alan Sugar I spoke to mainly, but it was about Sol’s ambition and what he wanted from the club.’ Halfway through the last months of his contract, there was still no official word. Just silence. The media kept hearing rumours as they sniffed around making enquiries, drawing conclusions, demanding to know more ‘in the public interest’ and printing ‘hot news’. And those who were meant to know, those closest to Sol, were a target for any connection to the story. ‘I had a journalist friend,’ Sky says, ‘who when it was announced that Sol was leaving Spurs, called me and said “I thought we were friends? How could you do this to me? Why didn’t you give me the scoop?”’
If Sol didn’t sign a new contact by the end of the 2000-01 season, he was free to move under the Bosman ruling. The ruling meant that Tottenham would not profit from his transfer even though the club had helped develop him into the player he was, an England international. ‘I wanted Spurs to show me that they were going to challenge. Not just win cups but reach the very top. I’ve always wanted that from them. I hoped to win a league championship with Tottenham,’ Sol says resolutely, with words that seemed to have been boiling up inside of him. ‘The fans may have believed in me, but I felt the club didn’t, or they would have done more. They didn’t ever make me a serious offer to show me otherwise. I was prepared to sign a four-year contract, with a break after the first year if it turned out they didn’t go and buy quality players. That’s how it was then and that’s how it is now. You have to buy good players to make a challenge for the very top. That’s how it works!’
David Pleat says, ‘Sol used to come to my office asking what was going on with the team. Who were we signing? I think he came three times. Very few players did that. Maybe David Ginola was the only other. Sol was always courteous, never critical. He was desperate for the team to do better. He was very serious about it. I may have tried to placate him with suggestions or ideas, but I could see he was uneasy. He was also very serious about his fitness. Even if he only had a slight niggle, he wouldn’t train or play. He knew that you had to think long-term, and to play when even slightly injured could cause lasting damage.’
So he waited and waited through November, into December. From the beginning of January 2001, he was in a position to listen to offers from foreign clubs and not be in breach of contract. Bayern Munich, Barcelona and Inter Milan wanted him. A representative from Real Madrid had courted Sky for two years but didn’t contact him once they were open to foreign offers. ‘I heard from them consistently over the previous two seasons but then they went quiet. Why, I don’t know.’ Bayern made an offer in February but demanded an answer immediately. If they didn’t get one, they would go elsewhere. Sky talked with Sol but he could hear his client was hesitant. ‘Okay, let’s leave it,’ Sky said. ‘I could tell, or rather hear, that he was still keen to stay at Tottenham. I was not going to push him in any direction. I was listening closely to what he was saying and supporting him. It was not about the money. It was about how ambitious the club were going to be.’
Bayern went away and true to their word never came back. Barcelona told Sky to call them when Sol was ready to make a decision. Even in March, with six weeks before the season’s end, the departure of Sol was, as Sky consistently says, ‘…Still some distance away. He wanted to stay. He was waiting to see if the new owners were prepared to build a squad. Clubs might have approached Tottenham but no British clubs approached me directly; I told any agents that contacted me, we weren’t speaking to anyone.’ (A British club cannot speak to a player without permission from the club that holds the player’s registration.)
Sol concurs but, although he believes what he says, he always follows up by bemoaning the fact that Spurs weren’t trying to get him whatever it took. He felt, during those months, like he was running down an endless tunnel, in which long arms grabbed at him. The long arms belonged to every team but his own club.
According to Sky, Spurs had made an offer but it wasn’t good enough for someone who many considered to be Tottenham’s most important player and probably the best defender in the world. Sol says: ‘I was on £13,500 a week, after starting on £10,000 initially. Even then I was the lowest paid player at my level. I had muppets as team-mates who were on treble the money.’ But Sky says this wasn’t the main point. ‘The issues were about what
squad the club would assemble for the following season, and making a reasonable offer for someone of his calibre.’ Tottenham have continually and consistently refuted this. They wanted to make it work. The club has said that he simply wouldn’t listen to them. That Sol had already made up his mind. The club’s frustration remains clear for everyone to hear: they wanted him to stay.
Fans were reading and hearing that Sol was staying. He said it himself on television; there was a snippet on YouTube. Sky says this: ‘Let’s be clear, once and for all. I will say it again. He did want to stay. He had no intention of leaving. He wanted to remain at Tottenham – but only if they went out and bought some new star players and we could negotiate the contract. Whatever anyone says about Sol, he is an honourable man. He didn’t, like other players, demand a transfer. He was contracted for a certain amount of time and then hoped to renew his contract.’ Sky was in full flight, and frustrated. ‘If a deal can’t be made, because neither side can meet in the middle and there’s inflexibility, then there is a stand-off and there’s little you can do. We were continually waiting for a serious offer.’ The reality is, communication between club and player had broken down some time before. Nothing of any sense could be heard from either side; there was an underlying mistrust that had been building for years.
Alan Sugar had left the club in February without having secured Sol’s signature to a new contract. ‘He blames George Graham, and me,’ says David Pleat. ‘He says that we should have dropped Sol and kept him in the reserves until he had agreed to sign. We didn’t. He was too important for the team.’
Sol Campbell Page 11