by Ben Smith
Dean Beckwith (Dagenham defender and future teammate) and I were chosen to speak before the Sky cameras. I was determined to come across as an articulate, intelligent footballer and, as Dean came out with the usual monosyllabic answers, I was looking more like Einstein with every question I answered. Then I was asked whether I thought a draw was a fair result. I wanted to say it was an even game and tried to explain it was like ‘six and two threes’, but unfortunately what I actually did was mumble a mixture of about three different sayings, instantly undoing all the good work I’d put in dispelling the lazy stereotype of footballers. Suddenly it was Dean who looked like Einstein!
When I got home, instead of having a phone full of text messages and voicemails congratulating me on my goal on national telly, I had loads of messages taking the piss out of my interview – typical!
After the Dagenham game we continued our slightly stuttering form with a 0–0 draw away to Chester (but this, in isolation, was actually a good point earned, as they were our main rivals). We then dispatched of Harrow Borough 6–1 away in the FA Cup fourth qualifying round, where I scored a rare header from a corner, and we progressed to the first round proper.
It was now the end of October and I had already scored nine goals from central midfield, all from open play. I had not, perhaps surprisingly, had any direct interest from any other clubs but I was starting to get some interest from agents who were becoming aware of my exploits. I spoke to a few, but I don’t really know why – I suppose I just felt I ought to have an agent. I eventually signed to a company that had one of my former Reading teammates Michael Meaker working for it.
That was a mistake.
The company kept telling me about potential interest from other clubs – nothing concrete, just clubs looking for players of my ilk. The same clubs kept cropping up in conversation (Bristol Rovers and Shrewsbury Town, to name two) but it did not dawn on me until later that nearly all the managers or teams they were mentioning were ‘friends’ of the company.
It’s clear, in hindsight, that the agency just wanted me to go to a club that would result in the best deal for them, rather than me. I imagine this is something that happens to a lot of young players.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not against all agents per se. Some are very good and give their clients invaluable advice. If you are a young player – jumping up from, say, League Two to the Championship – or a top player with a multitude of areas of earning potential away from football – such as sponsorship or endorsements – then having an expert in the field can prove to be a lucrative decision.
However, there were, and still are, many agents who have only one priority – and it is not their clients’ best interests. After all, how profitable is it for an agent when his client extends his contract at his current club? I would hazard a guess at not very. If they move club, on the other hand…
Clearly I did not need an agent and should have just concentrated on my football rather than obsessing over where I might be playing the following season – I couldn’t have been happier at Hereford anyway. It all seems crazy when I think about it now.
After securing our place in the first round of the FA Cup, Hereford had two more Cup games in quick succession. For a few seasons the Football League and Conference Premier experimented with the idea of allowing Conference teams to play in the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy (then known as the LDV Vans Trophy). This collaboration did not last too long as even Conference teams thought the competition was an unwanted distraction.
To be eligible for the tournament a team had to finish in the top six of the Conference, which we had done the season before. After knocking out Exeter City earlier in the season we had drawn Northampton Town at home where we drew 1–1 and eventually lost 4–3 on penalties. As I have alluded to, I have always hated being substituted and I was replaced midway through extra time. Like a lot of the team I was admittedly tiring, so I accepted the decision with nothing more than a dirty look at the management as I trudged off.
That was not the case, however, when I got replaced in the last minute of our next game, which was away to Peterborough United in the first round of the FA Cup. We lost 2–0 but I had played really well and was really frustrated at being replaced. I had been up against Curtis Woodhouse, who was a really highly rated player, and had given as good as I got throughout.
I mean that only metaphorically of course because Woodhouse subsequently went on to be a professional boxer!
You might say it was only in the last minute but I knew how easily this situation could become a trend. As I walked off Richard O’Kelly said I had played well and I responded by mumbling some obscenities at him as I sat down on the bench to sulk through stoppage time.
After getting knocked out of two cup competitions in quick succession, we had no choice but to focus on the League campaign. After a blistering start, our form was levelling out and, at one stage during November, we dropped from top to fourth.
The eagerly anticipated A49 derby against Shrewsbury Town took place at Gay Meadow at the end of November. Shrewsbury had just been relegated from the Football League and were historically regarded as the bigger club, but we were really optimistic of getting a positive result.
We could not have been more wrong: they beat us 4–1.
The team played terribly overall and I was even worse. I got subbed midway through the second half and scuttled to the back of the bench with my tail between my legs.
When I first joined Hereford the established players had warned us that the manager could, when he wanted to, hand out some aggressive bollockings. Up until that point I had not really witnessed it, but I certainly did in that away dressing room. We had been dismal and deserved everything we got. GT went mad at the team in general – and then I caught his eye. He started hammering my performance, which was fair enough, and then mentioned the fact I’d worn moulded boots and had been sliding all over the pitch. Apparently I was unprofessional for not wearing studs and my lack of professionalism was why I was playing ‘at this fucking level’.
I did not agree with everything he said, but I knew he was frustrated and wanted to get it off his chest so I just took it all. I thought once he calmed down he would apologise for his personal outburst.
GT is a legend with Shrewsbury after his previous spell in charge of the club in the late 1970s and early 1980s, so he was clearly embarrassed with the performance his current players had put in.
That weekend was also my twenty-fifth birthday, but I spent it sulking in my room waiting for the apology I was sorely mistaken in the thinking I would get.
GT called a meeting first thing Monday morning to further discuss Saturday’s debacle. I expected a more analytical approach this time but he just went off on another rant – mainly focusing on me and my footwear. I was pissed off but took it again. I had no complaints about him criticising my performance, but I didn’t think it was down to my choice of footwear.
Looking back, because of the sort of character I am, he may have done it to get a reaction from me. If so, then it definitely worked – I was fuming and determined to prove him wrong as I had been pretty consistent all season.
I did not have to wait long for a chance as we were playing Halifax Town at home the next day. We beat them 7–1; I scored two, set up three and was voted ‘Man of the Match’, even though Steve Guinan scored a hat-trick.
Was that the reaction you were looking for? I thought to myself. Not bad for someone who does not even wear the right boots!
It was by far my best performance of the season and, to make up for the worst birthday ever, I got a £100 cheque as part of my ‘Man of the Match’ award.
We followed up the spanking of Halifax with a more routine 2–0 victory at home against Farnborough Town and I got the opening goal of the game.
Our challenge to the top of the table continued throughout December, including another 7–1 win away to Forest Green Rovers where I grabbed two goals. That took my tally for the season to fourteen goals from centra
l midfield before Christmas. Surprisingly, despite my new agent mentioning Bristol Rovers again, I still received no interest during the January transfer window.
Then, for me personally, disaster struck. It was the middle of February and we were playing Gravesend away. The game was only twenty minutes old when I twisted away from an opponent with the ball in the middle of the pitch. As I did so, my opposite number pulled my right arm – the same side I had dislocated my shoulder eighteen months before. Instantly I knew what had happened: my shoulder had come out of its socket!
With that type of injury you either need to put it back in the socket straight away or wait for a doctor to do it as the muscles around the injury spasm to protect it. I waited in the Gravesend physio room while they called an ambulance. The pain was off the scale and I asked them if they had any relief. Someone offered me a Nurofen! I didn’t think that would quite hit the spot so I politely declined.
I knew the script now – I waited in agony at the hospital until a doctor was free. I received the gas and air and was off with the fairies until they put my shoulder back into place. Once the effects of the drugs had worn off I was distraught, though. I couldn’t sleep that night. All that was going through my head was how my season was over – and I’d been enjoying the best one of my career.
After a period of letting the injury settle down, and a consultation with a specialist, it was agreed that surgery was required to ensure this would not become a recurring theme, thus confirming my worst fears.
I spent the majority of my time after that convalescing in Essex. The team did not miss me in the slightest – they went on a Conference record run of winning eleven games in a row including a 9–0 away win at Dagenham.
We finished the campaign in second place on ninety-one points, scoring 103 goals in the process. This was over a 42-game season and it would be interesting to know in how many other seasons that total would have been enough to gain automatic promotion.
My season personally finished on 14 February after playing thirty-two games and scoring fourteen goals.
• • •
30 MARCH 2013
I have got through another term and it is now Easter. My timetable has changed immensely, which has made my life easier, but I am still struggling with teaching and I’m feeling quite low at the moment.
School football is terrible. I want to be in a professional environment and I am miles away from that. Once I familiarise myself with the teaching I’ll probably be OK in this comfort zone and do the job for years – but I don’t want that. I’d rather really push myself and fail than never know.
To top it all off, I am back playing for Thurrock. While I was unavailable for two months, the club signed another central midfielder so I find myself playing down the right or left flank now. My form has been decidedly average and the team in general is really struggling. I am seriously considering hanging up my boots at the end of this season.
CHAPTER 11
MAKING THE SAME MISTAKES
SUMMER 2004 – INJURED again, but I had been really effective when I was able to play the previous season. I’d had the operation on my right shoulder and was due to be fit for the start of pre-season 2004/05. But, such is the short-sightedness of many football clubs, my shoulder injury did not seem to matter too much as it was ‘only’ my upper body.
GT had made it clear he wanted me to stay but we were struggling to come to an agreement regarding my wages. Once it became evident we were not getting promoted, he came up with his best offer of £550 per week.
As I mentioned earlier, I could not have been happier at Hereford and everything had gone great from an on-the-pitch perspective. But I was also aware that I was twenty-five. I wanted to play in the Football League and needed to earn some decent money – all my hometown friends were buying their own houses and I wanted to do the same.
Money, in hindsight, should not have come into it. If I had continued to perform well, the finances would have looked after themselves. Plus, what is better: to be a bit-part player in the Football League or a key player in the Conference? I’d made that mistake once already when leaving Yeovil and was about to do the same again with Hereford, with my new agents also pushing me to move as there was obviously no value to them in me staying.
I had to give GT a response regarding my future within a couple of weeks of the season finishing. I had three concrete offers from Shrewsbury Town, Chester City and AFC Hornchurch. All were offering substantially more money so I told GT I could not accept his offer.
I still regret that decision.
A couple of days later I wrote GT a letter thanking him for saving my career. I do not know if he ever received it as he has never mentioned it. I hope he did as I really appreciate the opportunity he gave me.
None of the three teams mentioned above were exactly big clubs – and none of them really excited me – but they were all keen for me to join.
Garry Hill was the manager of AFC Hornchurch and had tried to sign me previously for Dagenham & Redbridge. There was never really any chance of me going to Hornchurch as they were playing in the Conference South, but I met up with Garry and chief executive Gary Calder (though I’m not sure Hornchurch really needed a chief exec). Their first offer was £1,000 per week on a two-year contract. I’m pretty sure if I’d been serious about joining that figure could have gone up, but I had no interest in dropping down a league. This was one of my few correct career moves as Hornchurch went bust about a third of the way through the season. I then spoke to Shrewsbury Town – by far the biggest of the three clubs mentioned. I went to Gay Meadow and met manager Jimmy Quinn, who I knew from our brief time at Reading, and his assistant Dave Cooke. Normally when you go and speak to a manager you get a gut feeling about them and the club – mine was not a good one. Jimmy, rather than speaking to me like a manager, was chatting to me like a friend and telling me all about numerous irrelevant events. I could not have cared any less about all that, to be honest. I had plenty of friends and did not need another one. What I wanted was to find out about the team, where I would fit into it and what they did in training. Jimmy and Dave were clearly good guys, but nothing they told me made me want to sign for Shrewsbury.
I visited Chester City next and met Mark Wright, their manager and former Liverpool defender. The meeting went well. He spoke positively about me and how I would fit into his team, but there were a few problems. I spoke to a few former Chester players and none of them had a good word to say about the club or Wright. These were not bitter players who had been rejected by the club, but people whose opinions I valued. With three or four people saying the same thing, I would have been a fool to ignore the warning signs. I had also heard rumours that players did not always get paid on time and, if the chairman took a disliking to you, wages could be stopped or you could even be forced out of the club. With all this evidence, and the fact I had a well-run and financially stable club like Shrewsbury showing an interest in me, it was not a hard decision to turn Chester down.
This again turned out to be a good decision as Chester lurched from crisis to crisis over the ensuing years before finally going bust in 2010.
Due to this process of elimination, I was left with just Shrewsbury Town as a real option. I tried to drag the situation out, hoping a more attractive option presented itself, but nothing did, so I went up to Shrewsbury to finalise the deal.
I arrived at Gay Meadow with my new agent in tow ready to thrash out the details of my contract. You can imagine my surprise when, in Jimmy’s office, my agent just sat there and hardly said a word while I negotiated the deal. I was pretty pissed off with that but relatively happy with my new contract.
We agreed a two-year deal on a basic wage of £800 per week. The club also agreed to pay the first three months of my rent as part of my relocation package, plus a £100 goal bonus. It meant, as this was a Football League contract, I would get paid through the summer during both years.
When I’d agreed to be represented by my new agents, I’d s
igned a contract entitling them to 5 per cent of my wages. They neglected to tell me that I had to also pay the VAT on that 5 per cent, so that meant £204 a month over the course of my new contract – a total of £4,896. Not bad for making a few phone calls! I wouldn’t be surprised if they were paid by Shrewsbury too. You could argue that they had managed to nearly double my wages, but I think my performances really dictated that rise. Moreover, when I really needed them in the final negotiations, I was left to do everything myself.
The contract would run from 1 July 2004 to 30 June 2006. All I had to do to confirm the deal was pass a medical, which I did. Just…
I subsequently heard from Rachel, one of the physiotherapists, that she really hadn’t wanted to pass me. Looking back, I bet the club wish they’d taken her advice!
CHAPTER 12
UP THE A49
SEASON: 2004/05
CLUB: SHREWSBURY TOWN
DIVISION: LEAGUE TWO
MANAGERS: JIMMY QUINN/GARY PETERS (GP)
PRE-SEASON STARTED AT the beginning of July. My girlfriend Emma and I had found a house to rent in Telford. Emma was moving away from home for the first time and this was great for me as it was nice to have someone by my side. Moving clubs can often be a lonely experience, especially initially.
Emma and I had first met each other – or, I should say, quite literally bumped into each other – in the luxurious surroundings of the Chelmsford branch of a Yates’s Wine Lodge about five years previously. Even then I only frequented top-quality establishments. Somehow she managed to resist my advances over the ensuing three years whenever I managed to track her down. My persistence eventually paid off as we began an on-and-(quite often)-off long-distance relationship during the two years I played for Hereford. With my newfound wealth I managed to convince her to join me on my national tour of footballing backwaters.