It meant we won the two domestic Cups in 2007-08. It promised so much more. We played sixty-eight games that season. I started forty-two, and made eight substitute appearances. Overall it was a brilliant experience, many ups and quite a few downs. I have to give special mentions to Cuellar and Weir. They were exceptional in the centre of defence. McGregor was absolutely solid behind them and that was his first full season as a Rangers goalkeeper.
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Gers in Europe
* * *
13/02/08
UEFA Cup – Rangers 0 Panathinaikos 0
21/02/08
UEFA Cup – Panathinaikos 1 Rangers 1
06/03/08
UEFA Cup – Rangers 2 Werder Bremen 0
13/03/08
UEFA Cup – Werder Bremen 1 Rangers 0
03/04/08
UEFA Cup – Rangers 0 Sporting Lisbon 0
10/04/08
UEFA Cup – Sporting Lisbon 0 Rangers 2
24/04/08
UEFA Cup – Rangers 0 Fiorentina 0
01/05/08
UEFA Cup – Fiorentina 0 Rangers 0
15/5/08
UEFA Cup Final – Rangers 0 Zenit St Petersburg 2
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13
THE NIGHT SCOTLAND STUNNED THE WORLD
AS WELL AS Rangers doing well in Europe and winning respect back on that stage, the national team also had some brilliant moments. Walter Smith set the ball rolling on that front and then it was carried on by Alex McLeish, his successor. The highlight of McLeish’s tenure was when we beat France 1–0 in September 2007. Just four days before that game we defeated Lithuania 3–1 at Hampden Park. I missed a sitter that day, but we won the game. I missed from three yards when the keeper saved my header. I was gutted. Quite embarrassed, actually. I had put a lot of pressure on myself to get my first international goal and I started to become anxious before and during games because I was still to break my duck.
McLeish subbed me that afternoon and I thought my chance of starting the game in Paris was gone. The night before the match, just as we were walking down the tunnel for our final training session, I pulled the manager to tell him that I wouldn’t let him down if he chose me to play the following night. I actually apologised to him for being rotten the previous Saturday. I assured him I was mentally and physically right to play and help get a positive result against the French. Perhaps I sounded desperate, I’m not sure. Frankly, I didn’t care. I wanted to play. The manager told me not to worry. He didn’t give me any assurances, but I felt quietly confident. He made four changes for the France game and I wasn’t one of them. Game on.
In the build-up to that game I was using Faddy’s boots to train with. They were nice and comfortable. I felt good in them. I had decided to ditch my own footwear and wear the pair Faddy had given me. I trained with them for the previous two days, but in the build-up to kick-off, he asked for them back. He now wanted to wear them against France. I was gutted, but I couldn’t refuse his request as they were his to start with. He also seemed nervous, which was unusual for him. Faddy then swallowed a few ProPlus tablets. I’d never seen anything like it. The wee man obviously was on edge, but six ProPlus? Incredible.
We set up in a 4-5-1 formation and I played left wing, but I was more like a left-back, doubled up to help Graham Alexander to try and keep Lassana Diarra and Franck Ribéry quiet. It was a shift and a half. We were constantly under pressure and only got out of our own half now and again. But the respite was always only for a couple of seconds and then they’d have won back possession and were coming straight back at us. But our defending was heroic and Craig Gordon made at least four outstanding saves. You always have a chance of sneaking something when the game is level. Every team always gets one moment during a game. Ours was a stroke of genius from Faddy. He had the ball inside their half and I remember shouting to him to pass the ball back to me but he took a touch and then rattled it in from the best part of thirty-five yards past Mickaël Landreau. It was unbelievable. What a goal. I’m glad I allowed him to have his boots back! We only had twenty-six minutes to hold out after the goal. No problem!
I feel so proud to have been a part of that team that night. Yet, we really should have been beaten. Trounced, in fact. The France team couldn’t believe they lost the game. Our backs were to the wall for almost ninety minutes. Due to their pressure and pressing the ball, we were very poor at keeping possession and that allowed France to come at us in waves of attacks. It was non-stop and there wasn’t a second to draw breath. It was such a relief to hear the final whistle. On the bus from the stadium to the airport, it was all very quiet, fairly subdued. We were all too tired to celebrate. I think there was also a feeling of ‘did that really just happen?’ Faddy offered to give me his boots from that night but I told him it was best he kept them. I think they are now in the SFA Museum. Fitting.
The ‘well done’ texts arrived from Coisty and many others. We became national heroes and our result made headlines all over Europe. The victory also gave us a really good chance of qualifying for Euro 2008, which was to be held in Switzerland and Austria.
The SFA showed a lovely touch by sending all of the players a beautiful, chunky silver medal with the names of the starting XI engraved around the edges as a memento of the occasion. I have it framed in my house along with my jersey, cap and team photo.
On a personal level, the following month was also special as I scored my first goal for Scotland in a game at home to Ukraine. It came from a set piece we had worked on. The ball came into the box and at the very last minute I lost track of it. That wasn’t part of the plan, I must point out. I was unsighted, my view blocked by a Ukraine player. But I knew where the goals were. I made contact with the ball and managed to bend it into the top corner. I ran away and went mental. We won 3–1 for another important victory. Kenny Dalglish phoned me that night to congratulate me. What a feeling!
We took it to the last game of the campaign and we had to beat Italy at Hampden Park. The build-up to the game was incredible. Our base at Cameron House was buzzing all week. The whole country was up for it and tickets weren’t available for love nor money. Qualification became a national obsession and there was a lot of pressure on us to deliver. But, hey, we only had the World Champions to beat!
When we got to the stadium, we were visited in the dressing room by Scotland’s First Minister, Alex Salmond. He came with a book that had good luck messages and signatures from famous Scots people from all over the world, every one of them a legend, from Billy Connolly to Sir Sean Connery. I felt like stealing the book. Sir Alex Ferguson also came to wish us all good luck before the game.
I was in the team and wanted to be part of an historical occasion. We lost an early goal through Luca Toni when too many of us switched off at a throw-in and Italy punished us. We kept our composure and had the backing of the Tartan Army. The noise they made inside Hampden Park was unbelievable. I had a chance cleared off the line in the first half. Barry Ferguson equalised in the 65th minute and we were back in it. I was involved in the goal. A free-kick came in from Faddy and it was deflected into my path. I tried to shoot but didn’t connect correctly with the ball. My first touch wasn’t good enough, really. Luckily, Gigi Buffon spilled my shot, the ball broke to Barry and he scored from close range. Brilliant. We then lost a late goal. And another controversial one, too. They were given a free-kick down near the dead-ball line. In my opinion it was a soft award by the Spanish referee, Manuel Gonzalez. We thought Alan Hutton had been fouled and we should have been given the award.
That said, we didn’t pick up their men in the box and Italy scored through a Christian Panucci header. It was a huge anticlimax. We lost 2–1 and we were out. The Italians and France qualified from our section. We finished third. Yet another glorious failure.
That evening, I thought about quitting the international scene. Maybe it was time to move on and let one or two of the younger guys progress. I spoke to Faddy about it. At that time, he was the golden boy of S
cottish football. The whole country looked to him to produce a piece of magic in every game. I think he got the nickname ‘The Fadiator’, a name by which I still call him. Faddy told me not to be so stupid and to stay involved. He is a very good friend and I took his advice on board, but there was no doubt I retained a small niggle at the back of my mind. Faddy is like myself and we have a lot in common. He is a top bloke and he is also blessed with a great family.
Although we never qualified, we received some positive coverage throughout that campaign. The win in Paris put us on the map and Alex McLeish’s stock rose because of it. Sure, he’d had a successful time as Rangers manager, but a win of that magnitude on the European stage gave him tremendous kudos. A few clubs down south wanted him and he chose to take over at Birmingham City. He attended the draw in South Africa as Scotland boss for the 2010 World Cup qualifying campaign but then flew straight to the Midlands for talks with City. He was gone as national boss a couple of days later. It was a sore one to lose him. Personally, I felt I had a bond with McLeish, from our days going back to Motherwell when he sold me on his ideas for the club. He also told me never to let anyone or anything get in the way of my career. He said I wasn’t to turn into a punter down the pub that sits and says that he could have made it at the top level, but ended up on the drink and had too many nights out or had a dodgy game when a scout came to watch. Don’t be that guy who failed to make it and does nothing but slag off footballers by saying that he was better than this guy and the next guy. Great advice. I listened from the early days at Fir Park and it helped take me all the way to making a contribution to my country beating a team of the quality of France.
I was disappointed when McLeish resigned as Scotland manager. George Burley was appointed as his successor. I thought about quitting the national team after McLeish left but I decided to stay on. That was a mistake.
14
THE PEP TALK THAT SAVED MY IBROX CAREER
I FELT I started to struggle to find the necessary form for Rangers in late 2007 and into 2008. There was nothing obvious to people on the outside, but I knew things just weren’t right. I had a few wee niggly injuries but that shouldn’t have led to my dip in performances. When I got back to fitness I continued to fail to reach the required standard. I couldn’t win high balls. I couldn’t score goals. I had no assists. I didn’t influence any part of a game. I struggled to pass from A to B. My confidence was shattered. I didn’t feel like a capable professional footballer. My only contribution was helping Saša Papac in his role at left-back. It killed me. The weeks off-form became months and I couldn’t find a way back. The fans picked up on it and they started to turn on me. Yet, the club was heading towards a UEFA Cup Final and going all the way with Celtic for the SPL title. Still, I’d never experienced such a loss of form in my whole career. I just couldn’t do anything of note on a match day. I was the same in training. I couldn’t even lift my legs at Murray Park. Yet, I still played in almost every game. I couldn’t believe Walter Smith still picked me. He must have felt I was just one goal or one good assist away from breaking through that horrendous period.
When I was at Wigan I was a fighter but I felt there was nothing in me to come out battling at Rangers. I went into a shell. I didn’t recognise the character I had become. Where was the Lee McCulloch of old? Where was the Lee McCulloch that came through the system at Motherwell to get a move to England? Where was the Lee McCulloch that helped Wigan climb the divisions into the Premiership? And what happened to the Lee McCulloch that fought his way to get his dream move to Ibrox?
Walter had paid all that money for me and I felt I was letting him down. I watched several foreigners come in, and they would still be laughing and joking after a defeat. It looked as though their attitude was that they were going to get paid their weekly wages regardless of the result. They were able to switch off without a problem. I wasn’t like that. I took defeats personally, particularly at Rangers. I took bad results home with me. Amanda and the boys knew to keep out of my road.
I remember many games at Ibrox where I’d be coming in at half-time extremely unhappy with myself. I was constantly concerned about what the Rangers fans were thinking about me. I was out on the left wing and was just an honest pro honoured to wear the jersey, give 100 per cent and make sure I gave my opponent as tough a ninety minutes as he could have expected. But my fear was that the Rangers fans wanted a tricky winger out there, someone who would beat three or four players and whip a ball in for the strikers. I’m sure that’s what Kris Boyd wanted too. But I’ve never beaten a player in my life. That was never my game. I wasn’t any good to the team wide left of a four. I’ve never had pace and been able to take on a defender and whip a ball in. I felt isolated and not in control of my own destiny as a Rangers player. I couldn’t see what I was doing at home games to merit my place in the team. Away games were different, because a battle took place, but the onus was on us to attack and entertain at Ibrox.
Two games in my mind really stick out. Lyon at home was tough. Yet, I scored against Lyon away from home. I also felt I had a stinker after we played Hibs at Ibrox in March 2008. We won 2–1 yet that day I sat in the car park with my Rangers suit on and gave myself a right talking-to. I told myself to get my finger out or I was going to ruin things at Rangers. I struggled to cope. I was in tears driving home. I didn’t want to let my dad down, didn’t want to be seen as a Rangers failure. Some fans were giving my dad a bit of stick in the pub when he was out and about. My brothers were getting it at their work. Fans were on the phone-ins giving me verbal abuse. Going out for dinner with Amanda wasn’t a pleasant experience. People said things to me. I was aware my kids were going to be starting school and I didn’t want them to be on the receiving end of any verbal abuse. My wee nephew Dylan was going to high school and he also got it in the neck.
People would be shouting, ‘You’re pish, McCulloch,’ stuff like that. It got to me. 100 per cent. But I always knew it would never totally defeat me and grind me into the ground. My biggest concern and fear was what it might do to my family. I didn’t want any of them subjected to taunts or being dragged into any unnecessary situations. That would have destroyed me. I knew I’d handle it in my own way, but could they? It was horrible. I didn’t mind the flak – I could handle it, but it made me ill at ease when my family were being picked on. I wanted to take the whole burden on. That drove me on more than anything. I knew I had to get my head right and move onwards and upwards. But it wasn’t a good time. I felt helpless. Maybe I was trying too hard, I just don’t know. What I do know is that the world of football can be a horrible environment and an unforgiving place.
I was in tears on at least three occasions in my car on the way home from games. I suppose every footballer has lows but I took it to heart because it was the club I wanted to play for and do well for. There was so much riding on being a success. It reached the stage where I didn’t want to leave the house. I would have been happy to become a recluse. The Scottish mentality may also be that people like giving you a wee kick when you’re down. They rarely congratulate you when you’re doing well, but they’re not slow to let you know if they feel you’re not performing to a high standard.
I felt awful. Walter took me out of the team and I was named as a sub for a few games. I was then dropped from the bench and sat in the stands. It was going to go one of two ways for me – I either cut my losses and asked to get away to start afresh elsewhere or I got my head sorted out and made sure I battled through it. I decided on the latter option.
I also considered turning to a psychologist. I moved into rented accommodation in Lanarkshire when I rejoined Rangers. I was getting into my car one morning and a neighbour approached me, introduced himself and said he was a sports psychologist. He told me if I ever needed any help from him then to feel free to ask. I was sure one day I’d take him up on his offer. I never got round to doing it. I don’t think there is any harm in sitting down with these guys but I was intent on getting through it on my own.
The football in the Premiership is different from the SPL. Down south there is more time to play and more time on the ball. We had a rigid formation at Wigan and we liked to counter-attack. At Rangers the onus was on us to take the game to the opposition and make things happen. If we managed to sneak a draw here and there at Wigan in the Premiership then we would be lauded. At Rangers, if we dropped two points in any game we had an axe hanging over our heads and the media and supporters would claim we simply weren’t good enough. There was very rarely any middle ground when it came to the opinion of people outside of the dressing room and manager’s office. But the standard of sides in the SPL was good and it was disrespectful not to praise the opposition, especially if we got a draw at Fir Park or Tannadice or Tynecastle. The opposition were always pumped up to play us and they would have had a good win bonus to beat us, and there may also have been the added edge for some of them if they were Celtic fans and really wanted to put us down.
It was important to make sure I was back to full fitness after breaking my foot in an Old Firm game. I wanted to have a right good bang at it. People said Walter was being too loyal to me and I wasn’t repaying him. But he showed confidence in me. I appreciated that. Sir David Murray pulled me aside in July 2008 and told me he had rejected a £1.5 million bid from Stoke City. He told me at Murray Park and he assured me I was to be a big part of the future at Rangers.
Simp-Lee the Best Page 14