Men in White Suits
Page 25
Meijer would also engage referees.
‘Oh, yes, I liked the bastards in the black,’ he says. ‘In England, they are much better than in Germany, where they are militaristic. In England, there was Paul Durkin, who was the best. He understood that football is an emotional game and sometimes you might say something that is a little out of line. Those times it was, “Hey, big guy, I heard what you said … I saw your elbow. That won’t happen again. Next time, you’re in trouble.” That was fair. The referees had their own personalities and I think this is good. Players are more accepting of personality. It is bad when they cannot impose their character. They now officiate more to a system and the authorities do not trust their experience enough. Sometimes a match will have a feeling: “Hey, Tony [Adams], I know you are going to kick. I will allow it only once.” That builds up a respect between the player and the referee, and the game is better. David Elleray was more like a German referee. He was a schoolmaster in private education, wasn’t he?’
Journalists were also targeted. The Liverpool Echo reporter at the time, Chris Bascombe, remembers asking Meijer for a quote ahead of a big game with Leeds United at Anfield. Meijer gave him one line. ‘I told him to use this as the headline: “THE BIG DUTCHMAN IS READY”.’
Meijer was happy to cultivate his own image.
‘I embraced this identity. Football is a serious business. But every now and again you need to loosen it up a little bit, give something for the show. If you see the puzzle of Liverpool in 1999 and 2000, that was my role: to be The Big Dutchman.’
On another occasion the following season when Meijer was not in the squad, Bascombe did not mention his name in a report about Houllier’s striking options. ‘I was not happy about this,’ Meijer recalls. ‘So I went to the reporter when he was looking for a story at Melwood.’ Meijer stands up, pointing into the middle distance, re-enacting the moment. ‘“Hey, Christopher, I am still here, you know. I will fight until the end.”’
In his first months as a Liverpool player, Meijer was used as a substitute. On being introduced, it was as if he were already in tune with the emotions of the game, barking orders at teammates and challenging defenders immediately.
‘I knew exactly what to do. I was thirty by then. I trusted my experience. When I sat on the substitutes’ bench, I’d watch what was happening in front of me very closely. I did not complain that I was not playing, fiddling with my tracksuit top, playing with chewing gum in my mouth, or wasting time tying the laces of my football boots. I’d see my opponent, his weaknesses. I focused. This was one of my qualities. During the ninety minutes and at the training ground before, I would never stop. I needed the focus in my training to be good at the weekend. There are players who need to be relaxed so they can explode at the weekend. I was not one of those. For me, it did not work. I went all-out in the training sessions, then a little bit calmer the day before a match. All other times it was 100 per cent. War.’
Titi Camara, the Guinean striker signed from Marseille in the same week as Meijer, was his opposite.
‘Titi was a lazy cunt during the week,’ Meijer smiles. ‘He did nothing. Last in all of the sprints, his shooting was off. He would get tackled in five-a-side matches. But as soon as the whistle went on a Saturday, he was good: fast, skilful, quite powerful too. Titi also had a good relationship with the fans. There was a feeling.’
At Hull City, who were eighteenth out of the twenty-four teams in England’s bottom professional division when Liverpool travelled across the M62 on a cold Tuesday night in September 1999, Meijer, partnering Michael Owen in attack, was selected for the first time. He scored twice, both goals arriving by his weaker right boot. ‘I did my celebration, hands pumping in the air, and the crowd seemed to like it.’ At the beginning of October, he was given his full league debut against Aston Villa away.
‘We wore an ugly green shirt,’ he recalls. ‘Steve Staunton got a red card after thirty minutes, so we spent an hour fighting for a 0–0. I went into the dressing room at half-time shattered. I could not move. The pitch was so big at Villa Park and the tempo was so high. With ten men, it was very demanding. My feet were burning. Gérard was talking but I couldn’t hear him. I was gone. I knew I had to go for another forty-five minutes.’
Between the end of October and the beginning of February, Meijer was restricted to appearances from the bench. Then an injury crisis offered an opportunity at Anfield with Leeds the visitors.
‘An hour before the match, Gérard told me I was the striker. Leeds had a very good team under David O’Leary and could have won the league. I was calm. I shared a few jokes with the other players. I put my tapings on. I went out to warm up and the Kop was half-empty. Then the referee’s whistle blew and we had to wait in the tunnel. You can see the “This Is Anfield” sign, which is a piece of history. You step up into the stadium and there is a roar. “You’ll Never Walk Alone” is playing. The hair on my arms and neck go up. I am 1 metre 89. But I feel 2 metres 10.’
Meijer did not score during the 3–1 victory but supplied Danny Murphy’s third in injury time. He did enough to be selected in the win at Arsenal the following week then again at Old Trafford, with both of his parents in attendance having flown in from the Netherlands.
‘Jaap Stam fouled me for a free kick and Patrik Berger scored in front of the Stretford End. That gave me a tremendous buzz. Jaap was probably the best defender in the world: a massive bloke, an ugly guy. He would try anything to stop you. I was right up for it. I knew the supporters really wanted to win this game. Manchester people don’t like Liverpool people and viceversa. I could hear the chanting. This is what happens at football matches between two massive clubs.’
Meijer had experienced the intensity of the rivalry when attending Mike Tyson’s fight with Julius Francis at the M.E.N. Arena two months before. Tyson destroyed Francis, registering five knockdowns in four minutes, the final and most significant arriving at the end of the second round. But there was nearly another brawl that took place that evening.
‘I was with Sander and Sami. Some United supporters recognized us. They were shouting. They tried to come over. So I walked and stood in front of them. I was a lot bigger than the main guy, a lot bigger. I looked into the guy’s eyes and put my arm around him. I then told him that he had three options. He could fuck off like a scared cat, he could join me in the ring or we could all drink beer. He chose the beer.’
Meijer was given a run of games following a series of committed performances for Liverpool’s reserves at Knowsley Road in the Pontins League.
‘There were concrete terraces on all four sides. That for me was a real sports atmosphere. Too perfect is not so good. There is real grass but mud somewhere. You get dirty when you make a big tackle. The light is dim – not like Anfield when you feel like an actor on a stage. Here it is like the backroom of a pub. My idea was, if you can play well at St Helens, you can also play well at the beautiful stadiums in the world.’
During the 1999–2000 season, Meijer scored seven goals in fourteen reserve games. Unlike other foreign players, he took these encounters very seriously.
‘Titi, he would play for the reserves and not be bothered, but me, I knew it was very important. If I scored a goal, it proved I was capable – it showed others I could do it. When you are there, you have to do it for yourself and your own pride. That way, the manager focuses on you. When the manager makes his next substitution, he will be thinking about Erik Meijer who played well for the reserves, not about David Thompson who did not move his ass on the pitch, for example.’
Meijer was fond of Thompson, the midfielder who could not force himself into Houllier’s long-term thinking.
‘He was a very technical player and a great lad. I would say to him, “Come on, David, move your ass, you can do better than this.” But our situations were different. I felt like I had to show everybody all of the time that I had the quality to play for the first team. With David, his quality was obvious. Maybe he didn’t feel the need.’
‘Jon came from the academy, didn’t he? He was a small, skinny and technical guy. He played off me, buzzing around like a wasp. I think to have a good career everything has to fit. You need to have a good body, a good mindset, the character and a little bit of luck. When you have that all together, then things can happen.’
What Meijer really wanted was to score in a league game at Anfield. He did it twice versus Celtic in an end-of-season testimonial for Ronnie Moran. But never in the league.
‘There was a header against Middlesbrough,’ he says ruefully. ‘The score was 0–0. A cross comes in from the left side and I connect with it beautifully. Trickling, trickling, it goes wide. This is the one I think about even though it was fifteen years ago.’
Meijer would have celebrated by jumping in the Kop.
‘Even if the goal was at the Anfield Road end, I would have run the length of the pitch and hurled myself beyond the hoardings to celebrate with the fans. If the referee sends me off, who gives a fuck?’
Robbie Fowler and Michael Owen were already ahead of Meijer in the first-team reckoning when Houllier bought Emile Heskey for £11 million from Leicester City, a record fee for the club. Meijer says Heskey was similar in style to him, ‘only he was faster, stronger, more technical and scored more goals’. Meijer’s future appeared bleak.
‘Robbie was the best striker at Liverpool, though he was also lazy in training,’ Meijer says. ‘As soon as it came to finishing or being cool during five-a-side matches, he was unbelievably good. Robbie was better than Michael Owen. But Robbie was also living his life. Robbie was out with the boys. He enjoyed the booze. But that was part of him. He was a human being and this is a far more important thing. It was the way he’d grown up. Football and the pub belonged together.’
Owen was career-driven.
‘Michael was a kid. He had so many cars. Every day, he would turn up to training in a different one. But I didn’t want to swap my life with him. Everywhere we went with the team, there was a buzz. The young girls, the teenage footballers, all the cameras were focused in one direction. I remember being at the airport and a bunch of people were looking his way. “Erik, Erik, let me hide behind you …” That’s the other side of being a very popular sportsperson. It is a different type of pressure both mentally and physically. Michael’s game was based on speed, being able to open up his hamstrings. He suffered a lot from muscle problems. Maybe that was a result of the pressure: always being at the press conference, always Michael, Michael, Michael. He was always relaxed when he was at the training ground with the boys. He was such a nice guy, like a younger brother – always drinking Coca Cola and never alcohol on a night out. But for the media, there was a different face. It had to be this way.’
Meijer enjoyed Steve Staunton’s company the most. The Irish left-back had returned to Liverpool under Roy Evans and was not in Houllier’s plans.
‘The Irish and the Dutch always get on well,’ Meijer continues. ‘We enjoyed a lot of nights out. He drank Guinness and I was on strong lager. I liked Vegard Heggem too. He was the smartest guy. You could have a good conversation with him. Dominic Matteo was there and everyone liked him. Boy, he could drink a lot for a young man. We went for a winter training camp in Malta and Dominic found a way of taping his door so the staff could not enter and check we were asleep. We sneaked to the casino for a beer. Didi [Hamann] was there. The night ended with Didi on the piano singing “American Pie”. The song was his showpiece. Didi ate regularly at Jalons piano bar on Smithdown Road with me, Sander, Sami and Stéphane. We’d invite our wives. By the end of the night, Didi would be playing the piano, singing terribly.’
Living in Calderstones Park, Meijer made friends with people he still keeps in touch with.
‘There is Ray Watt, who is a big Evertonian. He sells women’s clothes in St John’s Market. I met him on the golf course when I was playing with Jørgen Nielsen, the Danish goalkeeper. Ray is married to Paula. They have three kids and to one of them I am the godfather. His name is Matty. As soon as I met Ray, I had such a warm feeling. Whenever I go back to see him, the whole family is there. They earn enough money. They share. Everybody sits in the back garden and there is food and beer. It is how life should be.’
When Meijer decided to sign for Hamburg, his wife, Sandra, who he is still married to after they met twenty-eight years ago as teenagers, did not want to leave Merseyside.
‘We were very happy there. It is a place where I could have lived for ever if football had not intervened. The Scousers, they are my kind of people: hard workers, respectful of the past, determined to make history in the future; they won’t put up with any bullshit. There is a healthy balance to their mindset that other communities could learn from if they were not so ignorant.’
Meijer’s departure from Liverpool was a gradual process. Frustration became a daily part of working life.
‘In the second year, I visited every away ground as the number 17. There were sixteen players in the match squad. I am not the player who is willing to sit a lot. My contract was huge – nearly £50,000 a month after tax. I never believed I’d earn that much. The contract had everything: a car, a house, a membership to a leisure centre. But money and material things do not mean everything. So I went to Houllier and said, “You take me to every away match, I see every stadium in the country. But I wear my suit and sit in the stands. There will come a moment when I will kill somebody in training. I cannot handle this any more.” I asked Houllier to leave me at home. He told me I was important for the team and the spirit. “That’s nice for the others,” I said. I was the one sitting up there in the stands like a melon. If Houllier told me I was not good enough, I would have respected it and left. But he never did.
‘Now and then at Melwood I would train with that feeling. Patrice and Sammy had to calm me down a few times. We’d play small matches and the coaches would act as the referee. I would argue about whether a ball had crossed the line for a throw-in. I was in that type of mood. I would tackle people even harder. I did one on Heggem and he did not deserve it. He was in the wrong position at the wrong moment. I was so eager to achieve something and I thought the manager was not right, so I took my anger out on somebody else. Houllier called me into his office a few times. He told me off. I told him again that I did not feel part of the team.’
Meijer admits now that he fell short of Liverpool’s standards.
‘When I was a Liverpool player, I would tell everyone that I was good enough, that I had different qualities to the other players. I knew that whenever I started a game, Liverpool never lost. I tried to convince myself. I would go to the manager and tell him to play me because I thought I was right. Only after it was over could I admit that the step up from Leverkusen was too big. Robbie, Michael, Emile – they were all better than me. They were the strikers that Liverpool needed to be successful. I was not at their level. You do not want to admit it. But later I realized that my qualities were not the same as Liverpool’s. I accept it. I went back to Germany and I said to myself, “Erik, you were just not good enough.” I am proud that I can admit that.’
Before moving back to Germany, he signed a short-term loan deal with Preston North End, where David Moyes was manager. Within eighteen months, Moyes would be appointed at Everton – a job he would keep for the next ten years.
‘He came to my house and explained that Preston had some bad injuries. Would I help him out? I liked Moyes. He was wearing shorts. He was one of the boys. The only difference was he had a whistle. We had a bad, bad pitch to train on. The facilities were poor. But after two days, I accepted it was not Anfield or Melwood. I realized Moyes had created a certain atmosphere. There were some good players. Sean Gregan was a good leader. [Gregan later played in the
Premier League with West Bromwich Albion.] The team was near the top of the Second Division. I knew I had to make something of it. At the end of my six weeks there, I think we were close to the play-offs.’
What happened next says much about Meijer’s personality. He is not a bitter man. Joining Hamburg, he rediscovered his goalscoring touch. Within six months, Liverpool had reached the final of the UEFA Cup final against Alavés in Dortmund. He acquired four tickets from Sander Westerveld and went along with three friends, starting the day in the Alter Markt.
‘I had four match-worn shirts with “Meijer 18” on the back. I wore one and gave the other three to the boys. We set off very early in the morning, parked the car at our hotel and got the tram into town. There were Liverpool supporters everywhere. We decided to have a beer, so my friend orders at the bar. He is approached by this guy, “Hey, why are you wearing an Erik Meijer shirt? He was crap.” My mate says, “Yeah, Erik’s just over there.” It was the beginning of a few funny hours.’
Meijer doesn’t remember buying many drinks.
‘The place was bouncing. The fans put me on a podium and started singing, “Erik, Erik, give us a song.” It went very quiet. Then I sang “You’ll Never Walk Alone”.’
Meijer doesn’t remember much about the match that followed either: a remarkable 5–4 victory.
‘It was as special as my wedding day,’ Meijer insists. ‘I was there with a beer in my hand, celebrating all the goals like I’d scored myself. I had left Liverpool and I would never go back but these were my best moments.’
Meijer played until he was thirty-six years old, finishing his career with Alemannia Aachen, a twenty-minute drive away across the German border. ‘My hobby became a profession – and a well-paid profession. I work now even though I don’t need to. How lucky is that?’
Although he describes his time as Aachen’s sporting director as ‘the worst fucking time’, explaining that he could not address the lack of commitment from some players on the pitch while he was sitting in the directors’ box, it taught him to slow down and ‘enjoy life’ by walking away.