I was upset about missing more time with injury, particularly because I felt like I was letting Sparky down. He had staked a lot on me and I had made a decent impact when I arrived. But now all the people who had warned him against me and said I would just get injured were being proved right. I was eaten up with guilt about it.
After I’d rested my knee and let it recover, I trained all through the summer again. Just like I had the last summer. My family loved me for that. It was an incredibly selfish way to behave but if you want to have a career as a Premier League footballer, you have to be selfish. If you want the rewards, you have to make sacrifices.
This time, I really didn’t have much choice. I knew City would go on another spending spree in the summer. If I wasn’t raring to go at the start of the season, I’d have no chance of getting in the side. But if I did get in the side, this could be everything I’d ever dreamed of. I could be part of something really big. It could bring me the honours and the medals I had always thought I needed to validate my career. It was my big, big chance.
I knew it was going to be a huge task but that if I succeeded, I was going to have the chance to play with some of the best players in the world. I knew I was good enough. The only problem I was going to have was if I was not fit. If I was in the treatment room, I couldn’t show everyone how good I was.
I went in on the first day of pre-season training and saw the fitness coach and the physios and told them that whatever they told me to do, I would do it. No more railing against what they told me. No more going my own way. No more ignoring their instructions. If they told me I had to miss training or do half a session, I would do it. I promised them.
So all pre-season, I was getting pulled out of sessions. There were days I wanted to train and they wouldn’t let me and I was chomping at the bit.
They brought in a fitness guy called Raymond Verheijen who I hated with a passion because he was one of the ones pulling me out of sessions. He was opinionated and a little arrogant but he had an annoying habit of being right about fitness issues.
Towards the end of pre-season, I began to feel great. The regime I had followed was paying off.
It was just as well. Before the end of August, City had spent more than £100m on new players. Carlos Tevez arrived from Manchester United. Emmanuel Adebayor was signed. So was Gareth Barry. So was Joleon Lescott and Kolo Toure. It was just a quality group of players. I felt like I was in Wonderland.
I didn’t make that much of an impact pre-season but I didn’t care about that. You make an impact when that whistle goes for the first game of the Premier League campaign. I made the starting line-up for the opening game away at Blackburn Rovers. That was my first goal achieved. I started up front with Adebayor because Carlos was not quite fully fit, although he did come on midway through the second half. Robinho was in the side, too, at Ewood Park. He started on the left.
Carlos started the next game, against Wolves at Eastlands, and I was on the bench. Then we played Portsmouth away and I started at left wing. I felt really fit. I felt stronger than I ever had.
We beat Blackburn, we beat Wolves and we beat Portsmouth. Adebayor scored in every game and we were flying. It seemed like the sky was the limit.
Then we played Arsenal at Eastlands. We knew that would be a test of how good we really were. Micah Richards put us ahead but then Robin Van Persie equalised a quarter of an hour into the second half and it was anybody’s game. We were the ones who stepped up. I put us 2-1 up and then Adebayor made it 3-1 with 11 minutes to go.
Adebayor had been taking fearful abuse from the Arsenal supporters throughout the game. He had also been involved in an incident with Van Persie where he had trodden, deliberately or not, on Van Persie’s head, and cut him above the eye. That had just ramped up the hostility towards him even more and made the atmosphere increasingly feverish.
So even though Adebayor scored at the opposite end from the away section, he celebrated by running the entire length of the pitch and throwing himself to the turf in front of them. I’d never seen anything like it. I doubt anybody in the stadium had. I understood why he did it but I also understood there might be consequences. Even I felt a little bit nervous about it and I went over to try to lead him away as a hail of missiles were thrown at him.
That was a crucial moment in our season and in all our careers. We had got off to a great start. We were about to record our fourth straight victory and we were starting to feel invincible. Adebayor was playing brilliantly. He was unstoppable. He was looking like the complete forward that so many had predicted he would become. With him playing like that, and with the strength in depth we had acquired, we would be a danger to anybody.
We beat Arsenal 4-2 in the end but the result was overshadowed by the furore that raged around Adebayor.
I was a bit puzzled by the stamping controversy. I saw Van Persie shake Adebayor’s hand after the game but then a few minutes later he was accusing him of stamping on his head. If you stamped on my head, I ain’t shaking your hand. I certainly ain’t going crying to the press and the authorities after it. If somebody did that to me, I would wait until next time around. I wouldn’t want the boy banned.
I don’t know whether Manu had a big problem with Van Persie (there were rumours afterwards that they had disliked each other when they were teammates at Arsenal) but it all seemed rather strange. I’d had a really good game and the team had played superbly but no one was talking about that. They were talking about Adebayor and how long he was going to be banned for. If the celebration didn’t get him, the stamp would.
In the end, he was banned for three matches for violent conduct for the stamp and escaped with a £25,000 fine and a suspended ban for the celebration. But that was enough. It pricked our bubble. It deprived us of him for the next game against Manchester United at Old Trafford and when he came back at the beginning of October, he wasn’t the same player. The magic had gone. The momentum had been lost.
The derby against United was an amazing match. We were still confident even without Adebayor but they were gunning for us.
There was extra needle because of Carlos and he got a lot of stick even in the warm-up. Carlos wasn’t back to full fitness then but he is a warrior. I’ve seen heart in a lot of top players but his heart is as big as anyone’s. I got on very well with him. He’s a great guy. We had the same work ethic and a good understanding.
I enjoyed his attitude. He made me want to be better. Just watching him took me on to another level. Even when things weren’t going well for him personally, he still made good decisions and still chased balls that looked like lost causes. When you are watching him at close hand, it inspires you to try to do the same things.
The United players said he wasn’t a good trainer but he put so much into games, it took him a long time to recover. His body looked battered after a game. He was tired for a few days afterwards. Everything was about Saturday for him. He didn’t let you down on Saturday. I have never seen a guy put their body through as much as him. He does not look like an athlete so imagine the hard work he has to put in to perform like one. I tell you this, you would want to go to war with him every time.
Old Trafford was baying for blood and two minutes into the game, Rooney scored. They were laughing. Same old City, always losing. They were expecting a rout. We all looked at each other. It was the last thing we needed. The last thing Sparky had said was ‘don’t concede early’. Well, Plan A was straight out of the window.
We dragged our way back into the game. Some hard work by Carlos caused a mistake in the United defence and Gareth Barry equalised.
We went 2-1 down just after half-time but three minutes after they had taken the lead, I equalised. Ji-Sung Park and John O’Shea came out to the edge of the box to try to close me down but I cut inside O’Shea and hit a screamer around Rio Ferdinand, across Ben Foster and into the top corner. It was one of those goals where I knew it was in as soon as it left my boot.
It was a superb end-to-end game. Ten mi
nutes from the end, they went ahead when Darren Fletcher headed in a Giggs free-kick. Set-pieces were City’s Achilles heel under Sparky. We couldn’t mark and if we did mark, we got it wrong.
But then in the last minute, Rio tried to chip a cheeky pass over Martin Petrov near the halfway line. Petrov fed it to me and suddenly I was one on one with Rio. Down the years, it had been hard to outpace him but I found myself sprinting away from him this time. He was an outstanding player, Rio. He can annoy me but he is one of the best players I have played against.
As I bore down on Foster, he came off his line to try to narrow the angle but I knew he would be anticipating that I would try to curl a shot round him. I think he got a bit disorientated because he left a gap at his near post so I jinked to the left and slid it past his right hand. That was 3-3 with 90 minutes gone and I thought I had saved the day. I thought I was the hero.
But the referee played six minutes of injury time and in the last of them, Giggs played a beautifully weighted pass through our defence. It went to a red shirt. I thought ‘who’s that?’ and then realised it was Michael Owen. I didn’t even know he was on the pitch. ‘When did he come on?’ I thought as he controlled the ball. He’d come on 12 minutes from time for Dimitar Berbatov but he’d hardly had a touch. Still, that was Michael Owen. He didn’t need many touches to score. He controlled Giggs’ pass with his first touch and, with his second, he slid the ball past Shay Given.
It was 4-3 to them. It was obvious time was almost up. But the game had been such a thriller I thought anything might still happen. Then I saw a United fan running on the pitch. Some stewards had grabbed him and wrestled him to the floor but he was delaying the restart. I marched over to where he was standing. I was thinking about getting my hat-trick.
“Get the fuck off the pitch,” I yelled at him.
“Fuck off,” he said.
So I pushed him in the face. I didn’t punch him, like some people said. I just couldn’t be bothered with him. I didn’t even get asked to see the FA. A few people tried to make it a problem but the police didn’t want to speak to me.
Then the final whistle went. I couldn’t believe we had lost. It was a great game. A joy to be a part of but we had lost. United and their fans were exultant. Maybe it was a bit early in the season for it to be a turning point but we struggled to recover from it. We beat West Ham at home in our next match but then we went on a run of seven successive draws.
I was playing well. I was creating goals and scoring them. I was getting plenty of playing time. But as a team, we just kept conceding daft, daft goals. We outplayed teams and took the lead but we made a habit of allowing the opposition to come back at us. We got panicky. If we hadn’t made so many errors, we could have been top of the league but we had slipped out of the Champions League places and below the notorious line on Garry Cook’s graph.
I got on well with Garry. I was playing well so I was everyone’s mate. If you’re playing well, everyone’s saying what a great signing you have been and what an asset to the club you are. I liked Garry’s passion. Whether he was talking bullshit or not, I still liked his passion. People ridiculed him and he did make one or two gaffes but he did an awful lot to establish City among football’s elite.
The run of seven draws left us in sixth place. We were only three points behind Arsenal, who were fourth, but the owners were desperate to qualify for the Champions League the following season and I think they were getting nervous about our prospects of achieving that. In the last of the draws, I was sent off for two bookable offences at Bolton. That meant I missed the next game at Spurs.
We played badly at White Hart Lane. Robinho was particularly poor. I had actually grown to like Robbie. He was a lot more approachable when Elano wasn’t around but I don’t think he ever really settled properly in Manchester. We lost 3-0 that night in mid-December and the loss dropped us to eighth. There was a lot of speculation that Sparky’s job could be in danger.
The following Saturday, we were playing Sunderland at Eastlands. I got up that morning and saw I had a couple of missed calls from Kieron on my mobile phone. I didn’t return them. No one can get hold of me the morning before a game. It won’t happen. But before I got to the ground, I turned the radio on and found out why Kieron had been ringing.
The Sun had printed a back page story saying Sparky would be sacked whatever the result against Sunderland. I didn’t think much of it. How could they have decided that already and let it leak out without telling the manager? It wasn’t possible, surely. I think that if we lost against Sunderland, that would be the end for him but I didn’t think we were going to lose.
I could see the strain in Sparky before we went out to play but nobody mentioned anything about The Sun story. We went 2-0 up quickly but then allowed them back into the game and they drew level. I put us 3-2 up and I was determined to get Sparky out of the mess it seemed he was in. Sunderland got it back to 3-3 but Roque Santa Cruz scored the winner for us 20 minutes from time.
After the game, we were all sitting in the dressing room and Sparky came in and made a speech. He thanked everyone for what they had done. He said he didn’t know what was going to happen to him or his staff. He said he did not know anything but that he was aware there appeared to be some uncertainty about his position.
“If this is it,” he said, “I would like to thank you all. We have started something here and no one will be prouder if you go on and win stuff. I would like to wish you all good luck.”
I looked at Shay Given. “What the fuck’s going on here?” I asked. Shay just shook his head.
A couple of minutes later, I’d climbed into one of the ice baths when someone came down from upstairs and asked Shay and Kolo Toure to go up to the boardroom. They came back down after 15 minutes and said Sparky had been sacked and that Roberto Mancini would be replacing him. We were told we shouldn’t say anything to the press and that our Christmas party had been cancelled. Like I felt like going on it now anyway.
It was reported the next day that I had flown into a rage when I heard the news. Well, I hate to damage my image but I was too tired to fly into a rage. I was more sad than angry. I went to see Sparky in his office. He was there with his staff. Everyone seemed a bit stunned. I didn’t know what to say. Part of me thought that he had brought me to the club and if he was leaving, maybe I ought to leave, too.
I had a quick chat with him. I said how sorry I was about what had happened and that I hadn’t been able to do more to get the results he needed. I asked him what he thought I should do now, whether I should leave, too. He told me to stay and to fight for my place and build on everything I’d already achieved. I felt angry towards Garry for the way it had all been handled. I felt Sparky had been humiliated. Everyone had known about this apart from him.
Sparky’s wife came into the room next and she was trying hard not to cry. Then his old man came in as well and he was tearful. And then I looked at Sparky and saw that he was welling up.
I knew it was time for me to leave. This was his big opportunity and now it was gone. It sunk in then what had really happened. I got out of there and drove back to Cardiff. There was still a Christmas do, which some of the boys went on. Life goes on. It’s football. That’s the game.
25
Lost In Translation
The following Monday, Roberto Mancini spoke to us all in a group. He spoke well. He said he felt sorry for Mark Hughes but that he had won championships at Inter Milan and been sacked. He was right about that. It happens. It wasn’t his fault that Sparky had been fired. Mancini had been given an opportunity. He had to take it. I didn’t feel any bitterness towards him.
I went to see him in his office later. I told him I had been close to Sparky and that I found the way he had been forced out hard to deal with. But I also told him I would give as much effort for him as I had for the last manager. I told him I believed in what the club was trying to do and would do everything I could to help it reach its goal.
It was quite a speech but
he looked a little bit blank when I’d finished. His English wasn’t great then. I’m not sure if he understood any of what I’d been saying.
Then Garry Cook and Brian Marwood, who was the club’s Football Administrator (whatever that meant) called me in and told me that they were going to let Robinho leave. They said that was a measure of how much they valued me. They were going to let the club’s record signing go because they recognised that I was keeping him out of the team and I deserved to be keeping him out of the team.
Roberto’s first game was against Stoke at Eastlands. He asked me whether I wanted to start that game or the match the following midweek at Wolves. I told him the tougher game would be Wolves away and that Robinho probably wouldn’t do so well in the away match. I said that, for that reason, it would probably make sense to start me against Wolves.
So that’s what he did. I was pleased he’d consulted me, to be honest. Of course, when I was named on the bench for the Stoke match, the papers said I’d paid the price for my loyalty to Mark Hughes and that Roberto had dropped me. That suited their narrative but it wasn’t true.
Roberto brought me on for the last 20 minutes for the Stoke game anyway. I replaced Robinho, who had had another difficult game. I felt for him a little bit when he came off. I got a massive cheer when I was coming on and it must have been a little bit difficult for him. I had come to like the guy but I didn’t worry about it too much. I felt proud of how far I’d come at a great club like City.
Roberto changed a lot of stuff straight away. I saw some good people who had helped me a lot at City lose their jobs. They got rid of Raymond, for a start. It was obvious they would do that because he was so outspoken. Every couple of weeks, someone else was gone. I felt guilty. These people had done so much for me. I kept convincing myself this was football, this was just how it was. I asked myself if it was acceptable that I was just standing by while they were getting fired. In the end, I just got on with it.
Craig Bellamy - GoodFella Page 25