Taking le Tiss

by Matt Le Tissier

  I flew back to Perth to caddy for Richard and played in a pro-am with Craig Parry and two Aussie Rules footballers with handicaps of 12 and 14. I thought they were playing off dodgy handicaps because they continually smashed the ball past mine—until they came to putt and still smashed the ball. When I caddied for Richard he put his first tee shot almost exactly where I had put mine in the pro-am. There were some tall trees in front of the ball and he said he was going to punch the shot and go under the branches. I told him it would be difficult to get the ball to stop on the green, and he’d be better using a wedge and going over the trees like I’d done the previous day.

  Instead he punched the ball low and saw it fly through the green costing him a bogey. I resisted the temptation to say, ‘Told you so’. He struggled to make the cut and needed three birdies from the last five holes. He had the choice of going round the water or over it. I suggested he go for the flag because he needed birdies but he played safe, made par and missed the cut. It meant he was able to have a night out and, as the alcohol flowed and tongues loosened, I asked why hadn’t followed my advice. He said, ‘Did I ever tell you how to play football?’ And that was the last time I caddied for him, not because of that but just because we have never been in the same place at the same time, especially because of my Sky commitments. But I’ll always be grateful for that experience.

  The best thing about retirement is that I’ve been able to play a lot more golf on some wonderful courses, including St Andrews and Sawgrass, which is the best course I have played. I’ve also been lucky enough to play at Valderama on a charity trip where I found myself having dinner with Bob Willis, David Lloyd, Ian Botham and Paul Allot. It was one of the most surreal experiences of my life because they were all cricketers I’d idolized as a kid. I barely joined in the conversation because I was so in awe of them.

  An annual treat has been the footballers’ golf classic at La Manga, organized by former QPR defender Terry Mancini. It isn’t just a test of golf but of who can drink the most and still swing a club. In my first year I finished second—at golf, and nowhere near the top in drinking. I’m sure the two things are related. I finally won it at the sixth attempt in 2007 when I pipped Pat Jennings by a point. But I put up a very embarrassing defence of the title. Alan McInally won it and cried during his acceptance speech because he had been trying to win it even longer than me.

  The best week’s golf I ever had was playing alongside Richard Bland in the pro-celebrity event at the Alfred Dunhill Masters. I was so excited I was like a kid at Christmas. I still treasure the goodie bag I received. We played at Carnoustie, Kingsbarns and St Andrew’s, the home of golf. I was so nervous I was shaking. I couldn’t even put the ball on the first tee properly. I was desperate not to let Richard down and, in the final round at St Andrew’s, he only beat me by one shot, and that was by sinking a 10ft putt at the last.

  I EVEN WON THE

  MBN SOCCER

  SPEAKER OF THE

  YEAR AWARD IN

  DECEMBER 2008

  …IT WAS MY

  FIRST TROPHY IN

  20 YEARS.

  The best moment though came at Carnoustie. We started at the tenth so the final hole was the ninth and, as I walked up to the green, I looked up at the scoreboard to see ‘LE TISSIER IS A LEGEND’. It turned out that one of the guys putting the names on the leaderboard was a Saints fan. I took a picture which I still have, so I can show everyone that my name was on the leaderboard at a European Tour event. Being an ex-Premiership footballer certainly does open doors and it has given me opportunities I’d never otherwise have got. And that includes the occasional after-dinner speech.

  If you’d said to me that one day I’d feel comfortable addressing crowds of 500 I’d have said you were mad. I started off doing a few Q&A sessions at dinners and they seemed to go OK. People laughed in all the right places and said I should take up after-dinner speaking, but I said I was too nervous. Then Peter Osgood stitched me up, in a nice way, although I was mad at the time.

  He said he had a job for me at a club near Reading in November 2005. They wanted a Q&A so I got there nice and early to find it was a real spit and sawdust working man’s club with no tables laid out for dinner, and just a stage with a chair. I asked what they wanted and was told that I had to go on and do 25 minutes on my own, and then there’d be a break for a raffle before the Q&A. I asked for a pen and paper and, in the next 45 minutes, I wrote what became the crux of my after-dinner speech.

  At the next dinner I was asked whether I would do a Q&A or a speech and, before I realized what I was saying, I said I’d do a speech. It was all thanks to Ossie stitching me but I quite enjoy it now—I even won the MBN Soccer Speaker of the Year award in December 2008. I was up against Craig Brown, Mickey Thomas and Duncan McKenzie. We all had 15-minute slots but I went last, which gave me a bit of an advantage because I was able to rabbit on for 25 minutes. It was my first trophy in 20 years.

  25

  REACH FOR THE SKY

  ‘JEFF STELLING HAS AN UNCANNY KNACK OF ASKING ME TO

  SPEAK ON CAMERA WHENEVER MY MOUTH IS FULL WHICH,

  TO BE FAIR, IS MOST OF THE TIME.’

  My career on Sky’s Soccer Saturday show almost ended before it had begun.

  I hadn’t set out to become a television pundit, it just happened. Towards the end of my final season as a player I did a midweek soccer special in the studio, probably because no one else fancied doing Middlesbrough v Ipswich. Boro made lots of changes and fielded a load of kids I’d never heard of. I was really nervous, mainly in case I swore, but I managed to muddle my way through. Also on the panel was George Best who was quite softly spoken, almost shy. Everyone had their own opinion of him and his drink problems, but the whole time I worked with him he was an absolute gent. I never ever saw him drunk on air. Some days he was more lucid than others, but that was more to do with his general condition. I got on well with him and it was a very sad day when he died. I only ever saw him play at the tail end of his career with Fulham, but I’ve seen enough footage to know he was a great legend. At the end of his own book he mentioned me as a player to look out for, which made me feel very proud.

  I must have done OK that first day because I was invited back to fill in for a few more midweek shows, as and when I was needed, until eventually I made my debut on the prestigious Saturday afternoon flagship show with Jeff Stelling. Whoever came up with the idea for that show is a genius. It must have taken real nerve to approach Sky with the idea of a six-hour show featuring four people watching matches on screens which the viewer can’t see, while a presenter reels off the scores from around the country. It doesn’t sound like a winning formula—but it works so well.

  Much of that is down to Jeff who is absolutely brilliant and I love being part of it—although I could easily have been bombed out after making a schoolboy error on my debut. I had been given the task of reporting on Manchester United v Aston Villa. It was a crap game with hardly any goalmouth action and I was getting bored. Frank McLintock was sitting to my right watching Arsenal who were playing some really good stuff. They were 2-0 up and were having wave after wave of attacks so I sat back in my chair and started watching that match instead. Thierry Henry fired just over the bar and instinctively I cried out, ‘Ohhhhhh!’ Jeff came to me live on air and said, ‘Matt, what has happened at Old Trafford?’ I looked at the screen to see the ball in the back of Man Utd’s net—and I had no idea how it had got there. I was just about to own up when the replay came on and I was able to talk through the goal as though I had seen it live. The cameraman and producer have no idea how much they saved me.

  I could have gone the same way as Rodney Marsh who lost his place on the show in January 2005 after he made an inappropriate joke about the tsunami. But I did OK and was asked to take over. At the end of the season I was given a contract to be a regular instead of filling in on a casual basis. And I’ve enjoyed every single minute. It has been a great way of staying involved in the game—with minimal ef
fort on my part, as ever. I have loved watching the Premier League and the fantastic stars on show, particularly the likes of Steven Gerrard, Cesc Fabregas, Theo Walcott, Cristiano Ronaldo (when he stays on his feet), Ashley Young and Dimitar Berbatov, who makes me look energetic.

  I love watching Wayne Rooney but I think he is a victim of his own work-rate because he gives so much for the team that his own game suffers. He has played in all sorts of different positions whereas if he just played off a striker and did not chase so much, he would probably achieve more. My advice to him would be to stop running around so much—it worked for me.

  It has been a real privilege to watch these top stars week in, week out—while getting well paid, well fed and having a laugh. My only worry was that I might put my foot in it and let slip a swear word, especially when I was watching Saints games and I felt the ref wasn’t being fair. That’s no longer an issue now that Southampton are right out of the Premier League but it was tough when I did have to report on them, especially when they got relegated from the top flight.

  Saints played at home to relegation rivals Norwich two weeks before the end of the season and got a last-minute goal to win 4-3. I so nearly yelled, ‘Effing get in there!’ but I just managed to stop myself. I’m much more used to not swearing now. You just go into a zone and know that for six hours you CAN’T use any expletives. I did describe a ref as ‘crap’ once. I didn’t think it was too bad but I got a telling-off from the producer who said through the headphones, ‘I think the word you are looking for is rubbish’.

  I took a while to get used to hearing the producer in my earpiece. There is a set of controls under the table so I can turn down the volume whenever Jeff comes to me for an update, but it isn’t easy listening to four voices simultaneously—the producer, Jeff, the match commentary and the production people. It’s worse for Jeff because he has also got to listen to the statistician. I don’t know how he does it. The man is a genius; the way he copes is incredible. He has so much stuff to concentrate on—and he does it for six hours. AND he has to keep the four panellists under control, join in the banter and come up with his own witty quips for the viewers. He must be mentally drained on a Saturday night.

  I ONCE MEANT

  TO SAY THAT A

  PLAYER HAD

  BEEN TACKLED

  FROM BEHIND

  BUT ACTUALLY

  SAID HE HAD

  BEEN ‘TAKEN

  FROM BEHIND’.

  He has a sheet of A4 paper for every division with a lot of facts and stats written down, but it is beyond me how he manages to pick out the right one at the right moment and keep an eye on all the action and the incoming scores. He is definitely getting quicker with his quips and mickey-taking against us—and we give him plenty back. The fact that he is 5ft 6in and 16 stone does give us a bit of ammunition. He is the only presenter I know who needs to sit on a booster seat.

  Jeff has a great way of building up the expectation before he goes to a live update at one of the grounds. He’ll make people think the goal has gone one way before reeling in the viewers with the news it has gone to the opposition. But he also knows when it is funny and when it is just too painful. In the closing weeks of the season, when every point matters so much, he’ll build up the suspense but he does not clown around or build up false hope. As it said on the cover of his own autobiography, Jelleyman’s Thrown A Wobbly, he knows our joy and our pain—but mainly he knows our pain. That’s so true and it comes though very clearly in his book which, fittingly, is very short! It is just as well his surname begins with the letter ‘S’, given that books are usually stocked alphabetically. If his name began with ‘A’ he would never be able to reach the top shelf to get a copy!

  He is so sharp though that all the panellists are on their guard to make sure they don’t say anything stupid or stumble over their words because you know he will pounce on it. I once meant to say that a player had been tackled from behind but actually said he had been ‘taken from behind’. I was crucified. And I still laugh every time I remember Frank McLintock being handed a team sheet and asking Charlie Nicholas, ‘What is Dennis Rommedahl’s first name?’

  Likewise Jeff delights in trying to catch us out. If he knows we have just taken a bite of a sandwich, he will always try and come to us—obviously that affects me more than the others. I must admit, it is lovely to be in the warmth of the studio while some of the other lads are clearly freezing their nuts off reporting from grounds up and down the country knowing we are being supplied with Coke and sandwiches and chocolate bars. I think four chocolate bars in one show is my record—on top of the sandwiches. Normally we eat during the adverts but if I sneak a mouthful during a quiet moment, Jeff will always try and come to me. And it’s that kind of devilment, fun and banter which makes the show so successful.

  There’s a fine line between good-natured abuse and sheer cruelty, and Jeff knows exactly where it is. When Saints needed to beat Sheffield United at St Mary’s on the final day of the 2008 season in order to stay in the Championship it was far too serious for any mickey-taking, and all the lads respected that. I was going through real agonies. When they went 1-0 up it was like someone had punched me in the stomach. Saints got 2-1 in front and I thought they would be OK until United equalized and I was almost sick on screen. Thankfully Stern John quickly scored the winner. After that it reverted to being fun, and the lads were able to make fun of my reactions—and I was able to share the joke because we were safe. But the last few minutes were hell. If Sheffield had scored again or if Leicester had put one in at Stoke then we’d have been down. I was more drained after that game than I ever was playing.

  We try to outdo each other predicting results in the studio sweepstake, and give each other grief over our respective teams—particularly me and Phil Thompson. Quite apart from the rivalry over who has the biggest nose, we enjoy winding each other up. And I took great delight covering Liverpool’s FA Cup defeat by Barnsley in 2008 just so I could give him some stick. Some Liverpool fans took that the wrong way and thought I had it in for their team, but not so. It just made for good television. And if Phil suffered, how do you think I felt when I was jokingly told that Burnley had missed a penalty when they’d actually scored in the final home match of the 2008-09 season. That game confirmed Saints’ relegation to League 1, putting them on—10 points for the 2009-10 season. That was too serious and too painful to be funny.

  Likewise, when we went down from the Premiership I was actually at the ground as an analyst with Alan Parry, and he didn’t even speak to me for the last 20 minutes of the match because he could see by the look on my face how sad I was. It was so hard to watch the inevitable happening as the team went down without a fight. After all the battles down the years and all the effort so many of us had put it, it really hurt to see it all thrown away so tamely.

  Generally, though, there is real good banter between us. And, with my nose, it was like giving Jeff an open goal when I had an airplane named after me. Flybe made me their community ambassador for Guernsey. They also decided to put my picture on the side of one of their planes which was a real honour. George Best had had a plane named after him for the Manchester to Belfast route, so I was very flattered when they did the same for me between Guernsey and Southampton. The plane itself does not do that route too often. I’ve probably only flown on it half a dozen times, including one memorable occasion when the stewardess checked my boarding pass and gave me a funny look and asked, ‘Do I recognize you from somewhere?’ She went so red with embarrassment when I pointed to the side of the plane. At the naming ceremony Lawrie McMenemy questioned the wisdom of Flybe’s marketing staff for naming a plane after a player who was slow and not very good in the air!

  26

  LIFE BEGINS AT 40

  ‘I WAS SO EXCITED TO SEE ANGELA AGAIN THAT WHEN

  I WENT TO MEET HER FROM THE AIRPORT, I MADE A POINT

  OF FILLING MY CAR WITH PETROL. UNFORTUNATELY IT

  TOOK DIESEL.’

  Wa
king up on my fortieth birthday was horrible. Not because of the actual milestone—after all reaching 40 is better than the alternative, which is not getting there at all. It’s just that the big day did not get off to a good start. My beloved wife Angela planned a surprise but wouldn’t tell me what it was. All she would say was that I had to be ready at eight o’clock in the morning, wearing a suit and tie.

  I don’t particularly like wearing a suit and I hate getting up early. I never wear a tie, I detest them. I find them uncomfortable and even on Sky’s Soccer Saturday I’m the only panellist not wearing one. It just looks wrong on me. So you can imagine my joy when I had to get dressed up. It was my birthday so I should be doing what I wanted, not poncing around like a tailor’s dummy. I couldn’t think of any possible birthday treat which would require me to wear a suit and tie. I ate breakfast with a face like hell, getting more and more wound up while Angela took pictures of me. I did wonder briefly why she wasn’t dressed up. I said, ‘If I’m smart, you should be too.’ She snapped, ‘Don’t be cheeky, I AM smart!’ The day was rapidly going downhill.

  Then there was a knock at the door and I was confronted by three of my best mates in golf gear wondering why I was looking like a lemon in a shirt and tie. Talk about being set up. Angela had booked a round of golf for us at Wentworth. I couldn’t get changed fast enough. That was followed by a surprise dinner in town with a large group of my friends. It was a milestone and a moment to take stock of life, and I have to say I am pretty happy with where I am and who I am, with the life I have had and with the way the future is shaping up.