From my point of view the most memorable moment of that 1992-93 season came on March 24—an occasion etched in my brain. It was the only time in my senior career that I ever missed a penalty. Correction, it was the only time I ever had a penalty saved. I wouldn’t say I missed it. There is a difference, and to my mind it’s a cardinal sin to miss the target with a free shot from 12 yards. I always knew exactly where I was going to hit the ball but I always used to watch the goalkeeper, right up to the split-second before I struck the ball, and if he went one way I’d fire it in the opposite corner. I’d never put it down the middle because I could have ended up looking stupid. I reckoned if I struck the ball with power and precision then it would have to be a very good save to keep it out.
Nigel Clough had put Forest in front at The Dell and when Neil Maddison was upended we were awarded a spot-kick and everyone assumed it would be 1-1. Not a lot of people know that I was on 99 goals for the club and I remember thinking it wasn’t a great way to chalk up the ton. I liked Cloughie and Forest were struggling, so I thought I’d give Mark Crossley a chance—at least that’s my excuse. I put it to his right but he guessed correctly and stopped it fairly comfortably. The most embarrassing thing about the miss was that the ball came straight back to me and, from eight yards, I put it over the bar with my left foot. I was so shocked that I had missed my twenty-first penalty that I didn’t react quickly enough. It was quite a surreal moment for me because I had such confidence in my own ability. I remember staring in disbelief, along with the home fans, who’d practically started celebrating. Roy Keane put Forest 2-0 up before I pulled one back with a screaming left-foot volley from 25 yards. It was the best left-footer I ever scored and the proper way to get to 100, but it counted for nothing and no-one remembers it because it was overshadowed by the penalty miss which was all the press wanted to talk about afterwards.
I got 15 goals that season, including a hat trick on the last day of the season when we were away to Oldham who needed to beat us and hope that Crystal Palace lost at Arsenal to stay up. I remember feeling the tension around the ground and thinking, ‘Thank God it isn’t us in that position.’ Little did I realize how soon it would be. Our fans were in carnival mood and went in fancy dress with Francis Benali as their theme. His swarthy looks meant they all wore tea towels on their heads with false moustaches.
It was quite a low-key game. In fact, it was one of the few times I ever had a drink the night before a match. We were staying in Bolton and, as we were safe, Glenn Cockerill persuaded me it would be a good idea to nip out. It was very unprofessional really and not something I ever did on a regular basis, but I did score three the next day. The final goal was a header which brought the score back to 4-3 to Oldham after they had led 4-1. The tension around the ground was unbearable—for them. I found it quite amusing and in injury-time I almost got a fourth but my shot was blocked. At the final whistle their fans swarmed onto the pitch because Palace had lost; Oldham were safe.
Although I wasn’t enjoying my football, I still didn’t think about leaving because I was convinced Ian Branfoot’s reign couldn’t last much longer. So I was stunned when the club gave him a new contract that summer. Talk about rewarding failure. That wound the fans up even more, and the calls for his head grew louder and louder when we lost our first three matches. I was confident that I’d outstay him.
That pre-season brought a career highlight because, for some strange reason, we were invited to take part in a prestigious tournament in northern Italy where we faced Torino and the mighty Juventus. It was based in an amazing village in the Alps and, although there were four teams involved, we only played two matches each in order to avoid local rivals Torino and Juventus playing each other. It meant we didn’t get to play Cagliari but we did get to face the two Italian giants.
We lost 3-1 to Juventus with Roberto Baggio scoring a magnificent free kick. It was absolute genius and I just stood there and applauded. But my biggest buzz came when the great Gianluca Vialli asked to swap shirts with me. I was amazed that he’d even heard of me, but he asked before the game if he could have my shirt and then he came to the dressing room afterwards saying he didn’t just want to swap shirts but shorts and socks too!
In the league I scored a couple in a 5-1 win over Swindon, who had been led to promotion by Glenn Hoddle and who then quit to take over at Chelsea, leaving John Gorman in charge. I’m sure Glenn saw that Swindon were going to struggle at the top level and he decided it was a good time to jump ship and join Chelsea. For him it was a good career move. For much of the season Swindon were well adrift at the bottom of the table, and were rightly written off as certainties for relegation.
We had an awful first half to the season. We were 3-1 up at home to 10-man relegation rivals Sheffield United and only drew 3-3. Bran-foot said, ‘It was hard playing against 10 men because they all worked that much harder.’ Three days later we were dumped out of the League Cup tie by Shrewsbury. We had won 1-0 at home but lost 2-0 away. We had Ken Monkou sent off and Branfoot said, ‘We were up against it from the moment we went down to 10 men.’ Get your head round that.
The next day we took a group of disabled children to a local amusement and bird park as part of the annual taxi drivers’ day out. That was always an enjoyable, humbling experience. But Ian Bran-foot didn’t come with us which was a disappointment for the Echo photographer who wanted a picture of the manager in front of the vultures. We were struggling for goals and for any sort of creative spark, so Ian Branfoot dropped me. He left me out against Arsenal and for that Sheffield United match, as well as Coventry and both legs against Shrewsbury. It made me feel pretty good to know I was being sacrificed for the mighty Paul Moody, a lovely lad who been plucked from non-league and was clearly out of his depth.
I was probably the only player who could have lifted us above the mediocre but Branfoot left me out in favour of hard-working but very ordinary players who didn’t possess a fraction of my talent. That might sound arrogant but I’m just calling it as I, and thousands of Saints fans, saw it. They made their voices heard with red-card protests and marches and letters to the Echo. There were no fans’ forums and message boards then but Branfoot came under big pressure to recall me, and that’s exactly what he did for an unforgettable home game against Newcastle, which was live on Sky. It was the turning point of my career.
I remember Sky pundit Andy Gray having a full-on argument with comedian and radio personality Mike Osman, who is a lifelong Saints fan and a close friend of mine. Andy was slagging me off and saying that, in a relegation battle, the team needs someone to work hard and cannot afford luxury players like Le Tissier. Mike stuck up for me and it turned into a heated debate. I missed a chance early in the game but made up for it in the second half when the ball fell slightly behind me just outside the box, in the inside left channel. I controlled it with the back of my foot and flicked it over my own head, then over a defender, and slotted it in the bottom right-hand corner. It was a very special goal, even by my standards, although I was slightly disappointed with the scuffed finish. I mis-hit it ever so slightly which is the main reason why it isn’t my favourite goal of all-time. It wasn’t quite the crisp finish I wanted! But it came at the perfect time, not only for my career but also in the match. I noticed afterwards on the television coverage that the camera panned to the dug out and Ian Branfoot wasn’t even smiling. Paul Moody was warming up ready to come on and Branfoot turned to him and said, ‘Sit down Moods.’ I could read his lips. I’m pretty sure he was about to take me off.
Then Andy Cole equalized and, as the game drew to a close, I controlled the ball on my thigh and hit a sweet 25-yard volley for the winner. It was the best double I ever scored in a match and I was on such a high at the end. The fact that it was live on Sky made it all the better in terms of my profile, as well as sending a message to the manager. As the Echo said, it was one finger for each goal. It gave my self-confidence a massive boost and I began to think I might even displace the mighty Moody. He was
a lovely bloke but he would be the first to admit he was surprised to be keeping me out of the team.
In the next match I scored two again, this time in a 4-2 defeat at Liverpool. We weren’t helped by the uncertainty over the future of my mate Tim Flowers, who was about to leave the club. Saints had set up a deal to sell him to Liverpool with David James coming the other way. But Tim refused to speak to Liverpool because he was set on joining Blackburn so, of course, the Kop gave him all sorts of abuse and cheered madly as he let in four in his final game for us.
My two goals were the only ones I ever got at Anfield and it was another special moment in my career. I showed a neat bit of skill in the box, turning Mark Wright one way and then the other before shooting home in front of the Kop. It was only when I watched it on television that I realized a lot of Liverpool fans actually clapped. Maybe they might not have done if they hadn’t been so confident of winning the game. It was one of only two occasions in my career where the opposition supporters actually applauded one of my goals. I also noticed on TV that for some reason I was wearing a shirt with no sponsor on it. I have no idea why—it certainly wasn’t because I had thrown my head in bravely and got blood on it.
Those goals against Newcastle sparked a run. I scored two at Aston Villa and really started to find my form. My confidence was high, I was enjoying my football and Ian Branfoot was still under pressure—especially after we lost at bottom club Swindon just before Christmas. They were well adrift but closed to within a couple of points of us. Their fans taunted us with chants of ‘Going down, Going down’ and our supporters responded by singing ‘So are we, so are we!’ And it certainly looked that way. The manager was desperate for anything to reverse our fortunes—including the most unlikely plan which left me stunned. He made me captain.
I was gob-smacked because he hadn’t mentioned anything about it until an hour before kick-off at Everton when he suddenly told the lads, ‘Matt will be leading us out today.’ WHAT? He had the likes of Francis Benali, Terry Hurlock, Dave Beasant, Steve Wood and Paul Allen but he chose ME. It was probably one last desperate stab at keeping his job but it was still a very proud moment for me. Sadly we lost 1-0, but I led us to victory on December 27 when we beat Chelsea 3-1 at The Dell. Frankie Bennett, the flying waiter, got his one and only goal for the club and Tommy Widdrington scored his first senior goal. I remember the local reporter brought his six-year-old son to the match and he sat there good as gold through the press conference. Afterwards, his dad was interviewing the club secretary and Ian Branfoot’s closest advisor, the lad piped up, ‘Dad, now we’ve beaten Chelsea, do we still want Branfoot out?’ His red-faced dad tried to bluff his way out of it and said, ‘It’s not us who want Branfoot out, it’s the fans.’ Only for his son to reply, ‘Well, I’m a fan and I want Branfoot out.’ Out of the mouths of babes…
The club appointed Lawrie McMenemy as Director of Football, presumably in a desperate attempt to win the fans over and to avoid having to sack Branfoot. But results continued to dip. We lost at home to Norwich and had Francis Benali sent off for elbowing Ruel Fox. It was the most blatant red card and I remember Micky Adams leaping in to try and defend Franny because he hadn’t seen what happened. He was trying to get to Graham Poll but Dave Beasant held him back and told him Franny had to go.
The final straw came after an FA Cup tie at home to Port Vale in front of a crowd of just 11,000. The low turn out probably had more effect on the board than the mass protest by fans holding up red cards bearing the word ‘GO’. Once supporters stop coming to games the manager has no chance. If fans want the boss out, then stay away. If the club is losing money it’ll act quick enough. Trust me. It wasn’t a nice atmosphere to play in and we were lucky to get a 1-1 draw. My feeling was that the sooner the manager went, the better it’d be for me and the club.
I never used to buy the Echo, except when I had had a good game. It meant I hadn’t bought a copy for about two and a half years. But I made sure I got it the day they ran the front page exclusive ‘Branfoot sacked’. I remember being very relieved and thinking we could at least play our home games in a better atmosphere with the crowds behind us. It was like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. As I’ve said I liked Ian Branfoot as a bloke but completely disagreed with him about football. I had no idea who the next manager would be and, at that point, I didn’t care although I assumed that even the Saints board wouldn’t be stupid enough to bring in another long-ball man.
In the meantime we lost the FA Cup replay at Port Vale under Lew Chatterley and my old mentor Dave Merrington. It was a horrible evening in driving rain, it was a rubbish game and we deservedly got dumped 1-0. The only memorable moment was Tommy Widdrington committing the highest two-footed tackle I have ever seen on a football field. It was just frustration on his part but it was a horrendous challenge which could have finished the lad’s career. Tommy was sent off and was probably lucky not to end up in court for GBH.
Lew and Dave took charge again for the home match against Coventry and I was delighted we could give them a 1-0 win. Dave had a massive influence on me so I was thrilled to score a penalty for the only goal of the game. It wasn’t one of my better spot-kicks. Steve Ogrizovic got a hand to it and almost kept it out but the result was everything that day. The atmosphere was much better and it felt like a fresh start but we were still waiting anxiously to discover who would be coming in as the new manager. We didn’t have long to wait for the announcement. I didn’t know it then, but it was about to change my life…
11
GET THE BALL TO TISS
‘HE’S SHORT, HE’S FAT, HE GETS THE BEST FROM MATT
—ALAN BALL, ALAN BALL’
It was a stroke of genius when Southampton appointed Alan Ball to succeed Ian Branfoot in January 1994. It saved the club and I had my best season, ever. It was a real gamble by the club because, with the best will in the world, Bally’s managerial career hadn’t been anything special. He’d been in charge of Exeter City and the only real success he’d enjoyed was at our bitter local rivals Portsmouth. But he was well loved at The Dell from his two stints as a player under Lawrie McMenemy, who remained as Director of Football. They made a good partnership and, despite the sometimes heated rows, they needed each other. Bally was fiery, impulsive, full of bubble and bounce and Lawrie was the voice of reason who kept him in check.
Lawrie had won Saints their only major silverware in 1976 when, as a Second Division side, they pulled off a major shock by beating Manchester United 1-0 at Wembley, so he was nearly a god. He understood the club and its traditions, and with his knowledge and experience it was great having him around. He did seem conspicuous by his absence after some heavy defeats but when we won you could be sure the big man was ready to give an interview. I have a lot of time for Lawrie. I enjoy his company and he is a great raconteur.
THE GAME WAS
ON VALENTINE’S
DAY WHICH WAS
GREAT BECAUSE
IT MEANT I
DIDN’T HAVE TO
TAKE THE WIFE
OUT FOR AN
OVER-PRICED
MEAL.
I didn’t know Alan Ball personally but I certainly knew all about him. As a kid growing up I had seen him play, and as a World Cup winner he had legendary status. Instant respect. He bounced in like a breath of fresh air, full of energy and enthusiasm. And right from the start it was clear he wanted to play football the way it should be played. No longer were we to knock the ball up the channels. He wanted a crisp, incisive passing game. And it got even better when he and Lawrie took their first training session and set up the side ready for the game at Newcastle. Bally and Lawrie set up the formation. They put three players at the back, four in midfield and two up front. I was left standing there. I hadn’t been picked and I remember my heart sank. I wasn’t going to be part of their plans, then I realized there were only nine outfield players. Bally walked over, put his hand on my shoulder and put me right in the middle of the lads. He said, ‘Th
is is your best player and your best chance of getting out of trouble. I’m going to put him right in the middle of the pitch and whenever you have the chance to get the ball to his feet then you have to do it. If you get the ball ask yourself, “Can I get the ball to Tiss?” He will do the rest.’
A lot of players might have panicked at the responsibility and pressure. I felt I had grown four or five inches taller. I was so proud that Alan Ball was going to build a team around me. He was a World Cup winner but he rated me as his best player and I felt fantastic. I knew I was under pressure because the other lads would slaughter me if I failed to deliver. They didn’t say anything at the time but I knew they would resent me and stop giving me the ball, so I had to perform.
We went to Newcastle and set up exactly as Bally had said. I took a corner which Neil Maddison headed in to give us an early lead and something to hang on to. Andy Cole equalized just before half-time but we continued to cling on for a precious point until late on when I went on a crossfield run. I wasn’t really going anywhere and eventually, after I had been kicked three times, the referee gave us a free kick 25 yards out and towards the left of the penalty area. If I say so myself, it was a brilliant free kick. The wind was in the right direction and I hit it perfectly, right-footed over the wall and into the top left corner. Mike Hooper in goal never moved an inch. There were no away fans allowed because of redevelopment to the ground so there was this amazing deadly hush. I just ran to the dug-out to jump on top of Bally.
It was the start of a good run for me. We lost at Oldham in the next match but I scored and then we faced Liverpool at The Dell in what was Bally’s first home fixture in charge. There was a fantastic atmosphere around the ground. The game was live on Sky, it was snowing and it was Valentine’s Day, which was great because it meant I didn’t have to take the wife out for an over-priced meal. After 27 seconds we were in dreamland. I hit the cleanest half volley of my career and the ball went in like a rocket. It flew into Bruce Grobbelaar’s bottom left corner. New signing Craig Maskell put us 2-0 up after eight minutes and, just before half time, he was fouled by Julian Dicks to give us a penalty.
Taking le Tiss Page 9