Simp-Lee the Best

by Lee McCulloch

  ‘Stéphane, do you mind if I ask you a question, big man? The boys are all quite close here and we tell each other what we’re earning. How much are you on a week?’ I curled up in a corner with embarrassment. Most of the lads stared at the floor, but Jimmy looked Stéphane right in the eye. Our new signing was totally taken aback but realised at that moment that Jimmy was very influential in the dressing room. He was a wee cockney wide man but I had so much time for him. A great person.

  Henchoz told the lads he was on around £40,000 per week at Liverpool and had a similar deal at our club. He said he would tell Jimmy in private the exact amount. They immediately stepped outside and Jimmy was back less than two minutes later to tell us the big man was on £38,000 per week. He had a huge grin on his face as he broke the news. Jimmy wanted us all to go and see the gaffer to see if we could try and get a bit of parity for the rest of us. His rallying cry was, ‘Let’s go and kick the gaffer’s door down, troops. We ain’t having this shit.’

  Ellington had received a huge wage rise and others considered that might be the route to go down – look for a move to another club to cash in on the fact people in the game were taking notice of us and knew we must have something to offer. It was at this time I was told by someone – albeit with no direct connection to Wigan or Rangers – that Alex McLeish was interested in taking me to Ibrox. My ears pricked up at the thought but nothing came of it. It’s hypothetical, of course, but I think I would have wanted to stay at Wigan at that point to sample the Premiership with them. But it was good to know McLeish had followed my career and knew I was doing well. Again, it made me think of the phrase he told me: ‘Be the guy on the telly …’

  It had taken me more than four years to get to the Premiership with Wigan and I was really looking forward to getting stuck into this fantastic challenge. Our first game was at home to José Mourinho’s Chelsea and their multi-million pound squad of superstars. They were the Premiership champions and showed their class and willingness to play to the very end when Hernán Crespo scored the winning goal in the 94th minute to defeat us 1–0. It was heartbreaking, but a valuable lesson was learned about the quality and desire in the league we were now operating in. We lost 1–0 at Charlton the following weekend. We kicked on from there and took 25 points from our next nine games. Our next defeat was to Arsenal, 3–2 on 19 November. It took another five games for our next victory to come along when we beat Charlton 3–0. Then I also scored my first Premiership goal in a derby match against Bolton Wanderers. It’s a strike I’ll never forget. The ball came across and from about fourteen yards I caught it on the half-volley and rattled it into the bottom corner of the net. Match of the Day here we go! I was glued to it that night.

  We also had a nice distraction throughout that period as we got to the semi-finals of the Carling Cup after wins against Bournemouth, Watford, Newcastle and Bolton. We were fortunate to be drawn at home in every round. The game that sticks out for me in that run was when we beat Newcastle 1–0. I played up front that night on my own. I was really pleased with my performance and I was involved in the winning goal when I helped get us a penalty kick with a couple of minutes to go. David Connolly kept his nerve to tuck it away in front of the Sky cameras. I got Alan Shearer’s top off of him that night too. Newcastle had a strong team and it was a real achievement for us to beat them.

  We then beat Arsenal 1–0 at home in the semi-final first leg. I remember that game well. I came off within half an hour with a hernia injury and my groin seized up. It was an on-going problem I’d been having for months and the medical staff and myself tried as best we could to manage it, anything we could to avoid going under the knife.

  Arsenal had a strong side out and there was no doubt Arsène Wenger was desperate to win the tie and make it to the final. He often used the League Cup tournament as one to play his younger players in the squad but there was a clear determination to do well that year. He expected his team to beat us and so did the Arsenal fans.

  After the game it was decided I had to go in for an operation. It was going to do more harm than good if I tried to play on. I was in too much pain and I had to admit defeat. I wanted to avoid an operation so I could play in the return leg and help us get to the final to play in the showpiece game at Cardiff’s Millennium Stadium but there was no way I could keep playing through the problem.

  On the day Wigan went to Highbury for the return game, I was getting my operation done in Manchester by Mr McClelland, one of the top surgeons in his profession. I came out from theatre and went to my room. I watched the game on television and was probably still feeling a wee bit drowsy – full of drugs, basically. But I came alive as the game wore on. The boys left loads of messages on my phone, saying they hoped my op went well and that they were going to go out and win the game for me. That perked me up, for sure. I appreciated the gestures of the lads and I knew they meant it 100 per cent.

  Wenger played Thierry Henry, Robin van Persie, Dennis Bergkamp, Sol Campbell and Robert Pirès. Henry scored to give them the lead and the game went into extra-time. Van Persie then scored with a brilliant free-kick to put them in front but we never gave up, and Jason Roberts scored our goal in the 119th minute to take us through on the away goals rule. He ran to the Sky cameras to celebrate and was joined by Jimmy Bullard and the pair of them screamed into the lens that the goal was for me, ‘That was for you, Jig!’ It gave me an amazing feeling. I filled up and came close to tears. But the real hero that night was our keeper Mike Pollitt. He was sensational. He made a string of superb saves, including a penalty from José Reyes. Mike is a great guy and we still keep in touch.

  I vowed there and then in the hospital that evening that nothing was going to stop me from playing in the final against Manchester United. I spoke to Mr McClelland the next day and told him my target. He said it would be unlikely but not impossible. That was all I wanted to hear. Mr McClelland said if I made the final then he’d love my jersey from the game.

  The negative from that semi-final was that Stevie McMillan picked up a serious knee injury in the first leg at the JJB Stadium. He would have played in the final but wasn’t fit. He tried so hard to make a comeback and worked himself into the ground day after day to get going again, but it wasn’t to be. He had to admit defeat in February 2007 when he retired from the game aged just thirty-one. It was a tragic end to the career of a dedicated and talented footballer.

  I had just over three weeks to prove my fitness to the gaffer and I gave it my all. I pushed myself in rehab, kept my upper-body strength going and then got into some light jogging very quickly. I pestered the Wigan physio, the legend that is Alex Cribley, and the medical team every day, non-stop. They must have been sick of the sight of me and my moaning and my constantly voiced concerns about whether I’d be fit or not for Cardiff. But it paid off and I was passed fit to play and was given a place on the bench by the gaffer. I was chuffed to bits. Obviously I would have preferred to start the game but, considering the previous few weeks I’d had, I had no complaints.

  There was Cup Final fever around the town and a real demand for tickets. It seemed as though everyone wanted to go to the Millennium Stadium. Our preparation couldn’t have been better. The club looked after us really well. But there was a shock for me on the journey to Cardiff on the team bus.

  People from a certain era will remember a television series called Fun House which was popular with kids from the ages of between eight and fourteen. It was hosted by Pat Sharp, a popular guy with the kids, and was set inside this wacky warehouse where all sorts of ridiculous games were played and challenges handed out to the two teams, one dressed in yellow outfits and the other in red. The researchers came to our secondary school to look for kids to appear on the programme. They held auditions. I was in first year and our school randomly picked out pupils to attend the auditions. We had to sit in a circle and then stand up and say three jokes. My crackers were: What do you call a dog with no back legs and metal balls? Sparky; and a guy went to the doctors and sa
id, ‘Doc, I feel like a cowboy.’ Doc asks, ‘How long have you felt like that?’ Guy said, ‘Almost a yeee haaaa.’

  I can’t remember my other joke but it’s safe to say I’m never going to threaten Billy Connolly or Kevin Bridges! That said, my classmates loved it and were all in stitches. We were sent back to class and I thought nothing more of it. Next thing, I got called to the head teacher’s office to say I had been picked and my partner on the show was my cousin, Donna Spence. I was taken aback at the time as I heard the jokes from my uncle Les. It was all his fault!

  We travelled to the studios and were put up in lovely hotel. It was great. We recorded the show the next day and we were the yellow team. Let the embarrassment begin.

  Firstly, I was on a snooker table full of slime with a small pool cue on my nose. I had to go on my knees and attempt to pot balls into the pockets. I won. We then had a question and answer round and we were asked: Which elephant packed its trunks and went to the circus? I stuttered ‘Nelly’ in a squeaky voice. Donna then made a brilliant contribution and caught loads of different items in her dungarees. The last part was the go-kart race and we were well ahead going into the final round. We collected plenty of tokens as we drove round the track but they fell out through the holes at the pedals. So, we ended up losing and didn’t reach the Holy Grail – getting into the Fun House for all the prizes.

  Anyway, since I became a footballer I was always anxious to keep this episode of my life under wraps. I was scared it would ever get out. And then it did. On the team bus on the way to Cardiff. Unbeknown to me, someone at the club had got a hold of the tape and put it on the telly on the bus. Paul Jewell was also in on it and made sure he didn’t miss me during the team meeting that night. He let the boys rip into me. It was all part of the team bonding but I’ve never lived it down!

  The Carling Cup Final didn’t go to plan either. Chelsea had quickly become the benchmark in English football and Manchester United were trying to keep up with them. Normally, they would have fielded a few ‘squad’ players against us in a final but they had to get some silverware on the board in an attempt to dilute Chelsea’s dominance so put out a really strong team. We were 1–0 down at half-time when Wayne Rooney scored in the 33rd minute. Louis Saha then made it 2–0 in the 55th minute and four minutes later Cristiano Ronaldo added another. Rooney made it 4–0 on the hour.

  A couple of minutes later I came on as a substitute and played centre midfield. It was a struggle and we tried our best to keep the score down. We didn’t want it to get out of hand and end up losing by six or seven goals. United were in full flow but they didn’t score again. They played unbelievably well and we just couldn’t live with them on the day. Sir Alex Ferguson’s men gave us a wee slap and put us in our place. Of course, it was said that it was a great achievement for us to get to the final, and that was very true. But we wanted more than that. We wanted to go there and win, write another new chapter for the Wigan history books. This time, it wasn’t to be.

  My dad and other family members were at the game. They were in the posh seats with other family members of the Wigan players and the Manchester United players. Dad wasn’t coping well with the scoreline and in the final few minutes of the game he started to shout for Chelsea and declare his love for them. It was his way of trying to noise up the Manchester United people but I dare say the Manchester United WAGS were not amused by my dad’s infantile behaviour. Chelsea and José Mourinho may have been the supreme team at that time but that day Manchester United really showed their class.

  We went back to the hotel in Cardiff and stayed the Sunday night. Amanda was pregnant with Jack at that time and she stayed over. I had a right good bevvy and made the most of the night. The gaffer got up and made a speech and it was nice to reflect on the whole journey from beating Watford in the first game all the way through to the final of a major competition. Our fans turned out in huge numbers and we wanted to send them back up north with a win. I felt we had let them down.

  I still have my medal from that final. It was one of three I got from my time at Wigan. I also have the Second Division Championship-winning medal and a beautiful medal from being runners-up to Sunderland when we made it up to the Premiership.

  The run to the Carling Cup Final was great but our aim throughout the season was to make sure we stayed in the Premiership. We tried to never lose sight of that. The fact we had such a good start in the league gave us breathing space. That was invaluable. We reached the magical ‘40 point’ figure by mid-February and stayed in the division, effectively, with eleven games to spare. I played in thirty-five games. Jason Roberts finished top scorer with fourteen goals in all competitions. Camara notched a respectable ten. We ended the 2005-06 season in tenth place on 51 points. It remains the club’s highest ever position, and with the strength and depth in the Premiership these days, that won’t be easy to beat any time soon. And we really deserved that finish.

  Everyone worked ever so hard to achieve it. Everything was really thorough. It had to be. Jewell and his assistant Chris Hutchins worked hard all season on team shape. We’d spend ages on where to be when we had possession and where we had to be when defending. A lot of the time we’d just be walked through different scenarios, took our time over it all. In previous years the tactics were all about ourselves and what we would do to the opposition, but this was a different ball game now. We were the underdogs and we had to be 100 per cent aware of the damage the opposition could cause us. From that point of view, it was interesting to watch the gaffer and Hutchins grow into their roles in with the big boys. They handled it well. Very well.

  If you make a mistake at SPL level and Championship level you will have a fair chance of getting away with it. Not the case in the Premiership. One mistake, a split second of loss of concentration, and you get punished. Simple as. You had to be on it for ninety minutes. There was no let-up in that environment. Most players had pace and power and had the capabilities of inflicting physical and mental pain. In a few games I felt like walking off the pitch because I was so frustrated and felt I was contributing nothing. I rarely got a sniff of the ball when up against Sol Campbell and I hated it. Papa Bouba Diop was also massive. He had thighs like tree trunks. I could never get close to him when we played against Fulham. I came up against him a couple of times in the middle of the park and he blew me away. He’d take a touch and I’d try to nick the ball and then this big Inspector Gadget arm would come out and just hold me off. He totally put me in my place. That was a lesson. But I had to get up, dust myself down and try to get on with it. Now I feel the better for it now, it definitely improved my all-round game knowledge. The uncomfortable and frustrating experiences stood me in good stead.

  A lot of teams used to say we were a nightmare to play against purely because we would work so hard, run ourselves into the ground for the cause. We had to have unbelievable amounts of energy and the Prozone stats often showed several of the boys in the team running around 13 kilometres per game, and sometimes we had three games in eight days. It was honest graft but we had no option. We wouldn’t tolerate slackers in the team and we couldn’t carry passengers.

  We were the new team in the Premiership and we had to scrap, fight, pull, push and run our bollocks into the ground to get even just a point from a game. We were brilliant at stopping teams playing. We didn’t give the top players a second on the ball until we were in their faces.

  It meant we were also dedicated off the park and myself and the lads were not ones for going to the pub and having major sessions. I preferred a glass of wine or a beer in the house, or we would meet at one of the lads’ houses with the wives and partners for food and a couple of drinks. I can’t speak for the rest of the guys, but I know on a personal level that if I was out a couple of times a week, even once a week, for a right good kick at the ba’ then I would never have survived in the English Premiership. I would have been found out very quickly. My body would have packed in. To be honest, when I came off the park after every game in the top
flight, particularly away from home with the travelling built in, I was absolutely knackered. I felt as though there wasn’t an ounce of energy left in my body. I just wanted to go home and relax. I never had a problem with being disciplined off the park because from my early days at Motherwell the importance of preparation was drummed into me.

  For home games we were allowed to stay in the house, but the kids were young and I preferred to go to a hotel the night before a game to make sure I got a good kip. Leighton Baines was the same. So the two of us would go for something to eat, go to the movies and then go to a hotel in Haydock. The hotel was just five minutes from my house so I wasn’t far from home in case anything went wrong with Amanda or the kids. I liked to be close by because of the kids and also because of Amanda’s epilepsy. It meant she was not allowed to drive for a year and I had to be there for her as often as I could to make sure she could get around and we could go to the supermarket and take the kids shopping, all of that kind of stuff. Amanda not having full freedom wasn’t easy on either of us – it’s amazing how you take having a car for granted – but the most important thing was that she got back to full health, which she did.

  I would miss Amanda and the kids when I was away from home and even more so than when we were on away trips, purely down to the fact I had Jimmy Bullard as my roommate. To put it in the nicest possible terms, he was totally unpredictable. We’d have two beds in the room but there was one occasion I woke up and found him naked beside me in the ‘spoon’ position. When I asked him what the hell he was doing, he just smiled. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘You know I’ve always fancied you, big boy.’ He was obviously joking with me but I got out of bed, grabbed him and threw him out into the corridor. Jimmy was brilliant that season. He took to the Premiership without a hint of a problem and looked as though he’d played in it for years.