Taking le Tiss

As we entered East Germany it was as though someone had flicked the view from colour to black and white. The whole place was so bleak and the poverty unbelievable. We had a stroll outside the hotel to try and buy souvenirs but the shops were empty apart from a few bits of rotting fruit. The food in the hotel was no better. We ate in a dungeon and it was the worst food I have ever tasted, but I did get one of the best tour gifts I ever received. Usually the players were given glassware or tacky commemorative souvenirs but we all got really nice watches from Zeiss.

The match was played in a stadium surrounded by a running track so there was very little atmosphere, and that was shattered by the sonic boom of East German fighters swooping low overhead every few minutes. But it meant a lot to the people that we were there. There was so little to brighten their lives that one guy cycled for four hours just to be there. We had a few souvenir pin badges to give out and each one caused a massive scramble, as though we were handing out food parcels. One guy burst into tears of joy at being given a simple badge.

Another grim trip was to Northern Ireland at the height of the troubles. We played a game at Cliftonville, a bizarre ground tucked right in the middle of terraced houses. We actually went in through some-one’s front door and out the back, into the stadium. Iain Dowie was a big player for Northern Ireland at the time but he was obviously the wrong religion as far as the home fans were concerned. They were hurling all sorts at him, not just verbal abuse but coins and bottles. Thankfully there were huge fences around the ground and it was easy to see why. It was a horrible atmosphere and the kids were so ill-mannered. They’d just stick a piece of paper in front of you and demand that you sign it without a please or a thank you or any patience. I signed for one scruffy kid who promptly kicked me on the shin and ran off. I would have chased after him but he was quicker than me.

I had a similar experience when we went to Portsmouth to play a testimonial for their long-serving goalkeeper Alan Knight. It’s no secret that there’s no love between the two neighbours. Most of the fans restrict it to heated banter but, for a small minority, it is pure hatred, even in friendlies. I remember one game at Havant’s ground when our goalkeeper Alan Blayney hung his towel through the back of his net only to turn round a few minutes later and find someone had set fire to it. The team coach had bricks thrown at it on the way home and that was just a Reserve game.

It might not have been a league game but the atmosphere for Knight’s testimonial was evil, even though we were there to do him a favour. They fielded a lot of ex-pros, 12 of them at one point. Despite their extra man we won 5-0. Afterwards I popped my head outside to see if I could find my uncle who had come to watch the match. There was a crowd of Pompey fans, most of whom were great and I was happy to sign autographs for them until one guy spat at me and threw a right-hander. I just saw it coming and dodged it.

A few years later, during Dave Merrington’s charge, we flew to Bahrain for a mid-season game. We were allowed to drink in the hotel and Dave was OK with us having a couple. He told us not to stay up late as we had a match the next day but he didn’t say don’t drink. Another Big Mistake. It was only an easy friendly against the Bahrain national side so a few of us had quite a lot to drink but the humidity was terrible. We’d have been struggling even if we had been in the right condition but we were all over the place. At half-time we were 2-1 down and Dave ripped into us saying, ‘I hope you lot haven’t been drinking.’ Lew Chatterley, the assistant manager, was standing behind Dave and his face was a picture because he knew what we had been up to. Dave was quite scary when he was in full rant and none of us dared look at him or at each other. He must have known by the way we were playing that we were still drunk, but we blamed it on the humidity. David Hughes literally couldn’t breathe because he had never played in such conditions and I risked Dave’s wrath by telling him he had to get David off the field. The gaffer was actually quite good about it and Hughesie has been grateful to me ever since because it was due far more to the alcohol than to the heat.

7 DODGY REFS AND HAT TRICKS

‘COME ON MATT, DO SOMETHING—WE DON’T WANT

TO BE GOING TO EXTRA TIME!’

The 1987-88 season was a bad one for me. I only got two goals, one in the FA Cup and one in the League Cup, and I got suspended twice and missed quite a few games. I got sent off in back-to-back Reserve matches and in those days that also meant you could miss first-team games. But, not usually, I blame the refs.

We had to play Millwall at the old Den on a Tuesday afternoon. It was always a horrible place and we got stuck in traffic so we had to get changed on the team bus. One of the coaching staff had to run to the ground with the team-sheet and we eventually arrived at 2.50pm. The ref kindly agreed to put the kick-off back—to five past three. So, that helped! By 3.15 I was back in the dressing room. I got dismissed for not retreating 10 yards and then telling the ref that he was stupid. Well worth all the time and effort of getting to Millwall then.

The following week I was sent off again, at The Dell, supposedly for elbowing, although I’ll never believe that a foul was committed. I was dribbling the ball when a player came in to tackle me. I stuck out an arm to hold him off and the next thing I knew the ref had produced a red card. It meant a double ban so, in all, I only started 10 first-team games that season with nine more appearances as a sub. I didn’t manage a league goal but scored at Reading in a 1-0 FA Cup win and in a League Cup draw with Bournemouth. It was a really poor spell for me and maybe I was spending too much time gambling and at the snooker club where I’d spend 10-11 hours after training.

Let me tell you about David Axcell. We got off to a great start in 1988-89. We actually won our first three games, which is unheard of for Southampton. We began by beating West Ham 4-0 at The Dell, I came on as sub and scored, and as of 2008 the club have still won only one opening fixture in the 20 years since then. It meant we were top of the table and full of confidence when we went to Highbury and I scored my first goal at a big club. I had previously netted on the road at Hillsborough, Elm Park and Vicarage Road but those were my only previous away goals. It was a surreal moment. When I saw the ball in the net I couldn’t quite believe I had scored at Arsenal—especially being a Spurs fan. There was a two-second gap before it dawned on me and then I went bonkers.

We played well and raced into a 2-0 lead, and were all over Arsenal but we hadn’t counted on referee David Axcell. First of all he failed to see Arsenal midfielder Paul Davis punch Glenn Cockerill off the ball, breaking his jaw. I must admit I didn’t see it either because I had been subbed. I twisted an ankle quite badly soon after scoring so I had to go off and, as Arsène Wenger will confirm, the view is terrible from the Arsenal dug outs. I only realized how bad the injury was when Glenn came off. He needed a plate inserting in his cheekbone and was out for about eight weeks, roughly the same length of time as Paul Davis who was hit by a nine-match ban. It had been a very sly punch but it was captured on TV and Davis was done by the FA in one of the first uses of video evidence. He also received more immediate punishment from Jimmy Case who ran over to Glenn and said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get him.’

And he did. David Axcell awarded the Gunners a very dodgy penalty when the ball hit Kevin Moore’s arm from all of half a yard away. There is no way he could have avoided it but the ref pointed straight to the spot. All eyes were on Brian Marwood as he ran up to score the penalty so no one noticed Jimmy standing a bit further back from the edge of the area. As players from both sides went to follow up, Jimmy took a long run-up as though he was also following up but instead he ‘collided’ with Davis, who went off two minutes later!

Having missed the sly punch, Axcell assumed that Glenn had been time-wasting and added an incredible nine minutes of injury-time. It was before the days of the fourth official holding up a board so it seemed as though he was just playing on until Arsenal equalized, which they did seven minutes after the game should have ended. And that point ultimately won them the title. Everyone remembers Michael Thomas scoring at Anfield to win the league for Arsenal in the last minute of the season, but if they hadn’t been gifted that undeserved point against us they’d never have been champions.

I reckon we were robbed of a win, not just by Davis punching Glenn but by the ref who punished us for time-wasting when he had missed the cause of the hold-up. It wasn’t the last time a David Axcell decision would influence a game I played in. In 1992 we played West Ham at The Dell in the quarter-final of the Zenith Data Systems Cup. It was the first week in January and it was bitterly cold. No one wanted to be there. That included the players, the fans and, I’m pretty sure, Axcell. With 10 minutes to go it was 1-1, and with no replays there’d have been extra-time and penalties, and the pitch was beginning to freeze.

Axcell jogged past me—I was running full tilt at the time. He said, ‘Come on Matt, do something, we don’t want to be going to extra-time.’ Next time I got the ball I dribbled into the West Ham box. Tim Breacker put his arm on me, and I went down like a sack of spuds. Axcell immediately awarded us a penalty. I can’t be sure how it looked to him, but I thought the ref was a cheat for giving the penalty; it never really occurred to me that I was the cheat for going down. After all, it was frosty and I was slightly off-balance and I was genuinely amazed to see him point to the spot. I scored the penalty and we all went home.

I THOUGHT THEREF WAS ACHEAT FORGIVING THEPENALTY; ITNEVER REALLYOCCURRED TO METHAT I WAS THECHEAT FORGOING DOWN.

That set-back at Highbury seemed to stall our season and we lost our winning momentum but had a resurgence in November when Chris Nicholl won the Manager of the Month award after we beat Aston Villa 3-1. I scored with a header which I knew very little about. Nigel Spink went to punch the ball which grazed his hand; it hit me on the head and flew in. I celebrated like I had known what I was doing. That win put us third in the table, but it was our last victory until April. We went on an awful run of 17 league games without a win, diving from third top to third bottom. We didn’t even look like getting a victory, apart from an away game at Newcastle where we led 3-1 with 15 minutes to go when they sent on a young lad by the name of Michael O’Neill who scored twice, and then pretty much disappeared without trace. Tim Flowers took a whack on the head with 20 minutes to go and got concussion. He was celebrating in the dressing room because he thought we had won 3-1.

I scored past Dave Beasant but it was my last goal of the season. I had 11 goals by New Year and then no more. The team weren’t playing well and I was dropped. After 21 games without a win in all competitions, we faced a six-pointer at home to relegation rivals Newcastle on April Fool’s Day 1989, with the losers looking certain to go down.

I watched from the stands and it was an awful game between two sides badly lacking in confidence. Chris Nicholl had left me out because he felt I wasn’t the right sort of player for that kind of match which, in my opinion, was totally misguided. Totally. I thought as we were in serious trouble the team needed a creative spark. The match had 0-0 written all over it until injury-time when Rod Wallace skipped past the keeper who made the slightest contact. Rod was heading away from goal so there was no need for the foul but ref Gerald Ashby pointed to the spot. Derek Statham was the regular penalty-taker at the time but he was out injured, and I remember being gutted that I wasn’t on the pitch to take it. I would have loved the chance to be the hero, especially as none of the other lads fancied it with so much at stake. Then up stepped the unlikely figure of ‘Razor’ Ruddock, who at least had the bottle to have a go in only his sixth game for the club. I swear half the crowd ducked, expecting the ball to go high or wide or both, but he slammed it home for a 1-0 win. The outpouring of relief was incredible and it turned our season around. We lost only one of our last eight to finish an amazing thirteenth while Newcastle were relegated.

I was still trying to establish myself at that stage, and it wasn’t until the 1989-90 season that I became a regular. That was my first really good season and the one which made me think I had finally arrived. We played Wimbledon early on and I scored twice, one of which was my first penalty for the club. I got behind Terry Phelan down our right and managed to lob in a cross. Alan Shearer jumped for it with their centre-back Eric Young and goalkeeper Hans Segers who punched it clear. Amazingly, the ref gave a penalty for handball. After scoring that spot-kick against Newcastle, ‘Razor’ then missed one and Paul Rideout missed against Villa so Chris Nicholl decided to have a penalty competition in pre-season. I had always felt pretty confident of scoring with a free shot from 12 yards so I lined up with ‘Razor’, Glenn Cockerill, Rod Wallace and a few others whose hearts weren’t really in it. Chris Nicholl saw how serious I was about it and gave me the job.

A few games into that season, the club sold Danny Wallace to Manchester United, a move he memorably described as ‘the icing on the jam of my career’. But it meant that the manager obviously felt that Danny’s brother Rodney and I had developed enough to be able to become regulars in the side. Sadly, the move never worked out that well because Danny was plagued by injuries. At the time it just seemed that he was unlucky with niggles and strains but it turned out that he was in the early stages of Multiple Sclerosis. He has good days and bad days now, but he has done a lot of work to raise money and awareness for the charity. However his move helped me to play more games and I scored 24 goals that season. We played some fantastic stuff. Rod and I were just breaking into the team along with Alan Shearer. Tim Flowers and ‘Razor’ Ruddock were beginning to establish themselves and we still had the experience of Jimmy Case, Glenn Cockerill, Paul Rideout and Kevin Moore. And we also had a young Jason Dodd breaking through.

He had been signed from Bath City for £40,000 at the tail-end of the previous season, and he might as well have arrived with a piece of straw in his mouth he was that much of a yokel. He got loads of stick for his West Country roots but he dished it back, and went on to establish himself as a key member of the team for many years to come. He was a big personality, one of the loudest in the squad. You always knew when he was around because you could hear his booming laugh or his whinging—but he was a top pro and a decent player, just the kind you wanted.

He must have thought life at the top level was easy because both his first two games for the club ended in 4-1 wins. The first came away to QPR on October 14, 1989, when he was thrown in at the deep end but coped very well and we won convincingly. I celebrated my twenty-first birthday by scoring a penalty with Rod Wallace netting twice and Alan Shearer once. I decided to put highlights in my hair for the one and only time in my life. I looked shocking. A week later we were home to Liverpool who were then The Team to beat. They were top of the table and won the title at a canter that season. When they came to The Dell they were unbeaten, but it is no exaggeration to say we could have had six or seven. We hit the woodwork twice and forced some good saves as we tore the leaders to shreds. We absolutely battered them and it was one of the most complete team performances I can remember. I set up Rod Wallace for two goals and he returned the compliment by setting me up for a header. I remember flicking the ball over the head of David Burrows and crossing for Rod to volley through the legs of Bruce Grobbelaar. I got the last goal when Rod crossed from the left and I outjumped Burrows to nod in. Bruce got a hand to it but could only push it into the net. By then Liverpool were all over the place. We adopted an attacking 4-2-4 formation and had a right go, and they couldn’t handle it.

There was still a real buzz about the city the following day and I remember watching it back on ITV’s Big Match programme and wallowing in what was the best result I had ever had against one of the big teams. We had a terrific side and were probably only one or two good signings away from being genuine title contenders. Rod and I were scoring regularly and Alan Shearer was leading the line strongly, but we probably needed a couple of defenders. The midfield was getting on a bit and Chris Nicholl was under pressure to strengthen, so he splashed out a then club record of £750,000 on Alan McLoughlin from Swindon. He had done well for them against us when we played them in the League Cup. We drew up there, which was a real blow as the replay completely messed up the players’ Christmas party that was scheduled for the same night. We had a tough battle to get past them at The Dell. It was 2-2 after 90 minutes but we won 4-2 in extra-time after Chris Nicholl sent on Shearer and Ruddock to rough them up. They were christened the Bruise Brothers by the local paper and the tag stuck. Alan McLoughlin was Swindon’s main threat, so Chris signed him.

He was a bit of a panic buy. Although he was a decent player, he wasn’t what we then needed. He was a good footballer with a nice touch but lacked a bit of pace. His best position was in the hole just behind the front two, but the only way he would fit in was if they got rid of me or Rod, so he ended up playing out of position. Having got past Swindon we really should have gone on to Wembley because we were drawn at home to Oldham in the quarter-final. We were 2-1 up going into stoppage time at The Dell but somehow referee Roger Milford found four minutes of injury-time, even though neither physio had been on the field.

Oldham equalized and we knew we had no chance in the replay because they played on a plastic pitch. We hated that surface and were beaten before we even got on the coach. We were in completely the wrong frame of mind which was highlighted when we had the chance to equalize at 1-0 down. The ball was played across the box and it was crying out for Paul Rideout to hurl his head at it. But he held back and Chris Nicholl had a right go at him. Paul said, ‘You must be joking, I’m not diving on that stuff.’ Chris had a face like thunder. I honestly thought I was going to see him punch a player for the second time. There was steam coming out of his ears which at least took the pressure off the rest of us because we were all crap. That plastic pitch gave Oldham a huge advantage and they beat West Ham by six in the semi-final and went on to lose to Forest at Wembley, on grass. It was a hard final to watch because we knew it should have been us in it.

IT WAS THE ONLYTIME IN MYCAREER ITHOUGHT IMIGHT MISSBECAUSE I KNEWIF I SCOREDTHERE’D BE HELL.

We were still leaking goals but had enough firepower to outscore a lot of teams. I was feeling at home on the big stage and full of confidence, apart from an away game at Millwall. The old Den was a horrible ground, caged in and menacing. It was a great atmosphere for the Millwall players because it gave them a real lift, but away teams never felt comfortable. I was stuck out on the wing so I was close to the crowd who were giving me fearful abuse. We were losing 2-1 with a minute to go when Glenn Cockerill broke through the inside right channel and the keeper brought him down, the ref pointed to the spot and I had the job of taking the penalty in front of their fans. It was the only time in my career I thought I might miss because I knew if I scored there’d be hell. But I came to my senses and sent Brian Horne the wrong way to get a point.

I also got a couple of hat tricks in quick succession. My first for the club came in the return game against Wimbledon at Plough Lane in a match when Francis Benali got a red card for launching John Fashanu into orbit. To this day I have never seen a player go that high. He came down with ice. Of all the people for Franny to pick on. We were losing 3-1 when we went down to 10 men, but we came back to draw 3-3. I scored another penalty after Rod Wallace fell over. It wasn’t even a dive. John Scales was nowhere near him but the ref pointed to the spot, it was really funny. It was my second hat trick but I never got the ball—typical Wimbledon. My first goal took a deflection off Eric Young so they wouldn’t give it to me.

Soon afterwards, against Norwich, I got my second hat trick at The Dell, which is still my favourite treble. The first goal was a tap-in from a Kevin Moore knock-down, but I really enjoyed the next two goals. I picked the ball up about 40 yards from goal and went on a dribble. I beat my old mate Andy Townsend but didn’t have the pace to get away from him. I found him back in my way so I beat him again and scored with a lovely low right-footer in off the post. Then Francis Benali nicked the ball off their winger and hit it up the left wing to me. Their defender committed himself and I nicked the ball past him. I was still a long way from goal and right out on the left touchline but I saw Bryan Gunn coming out a long way and wondered what he was doing. I didn’t have the energy to take the ball any further and I had the whole goal to aim at so I chipped it over him. The ball drifted and hit the inside of the far post and bounced in.

At the end of that season I won the Barclays Young Eagle of the Year award and the PFA Young Player of the Year award. The PFA was a huge honour, being recognized by my fellow professionals, even more so when I saw the previous winners. The worst thing was having to make a speech. I had an idea I might have won—or at least got close—because my agent had been told to make sure I attended. And he wrote a speech for me, just in case. I’d never done any public speaking so he offered to help—and I reckoned that if an agent offered to help free of charge I must have won. And the organizers getting Saints legend Terry Paine to present the award was another big clue. I found myself rehearsing the speech in the toilets 15 minutes before the announcements. When Rod Wallace came third it was a double celebration.

The Barclays Young Eagle award was a more low-key affair so I was able to wear an open-necked short-sleeved shirt with no jacket, although Chris Nicholl wasn’t too impressed by that. It was good of him to attend to support me, but I remember getting into an argument with him because I was convinced I could be a sweeper. That would have meant playing two hulking great centre-backs to win the ball and give it to me to ping around like Franz Beckenbauer or Glenn Hoddle, making me look like a world-beater. I was always cool under pressure so I felt I could do that—although I must admit part of me was winding Chris up, getting back at him for all the times when he’d kicked me in training.

8 WHY I TOLD SOUNESS, HODDLE AND VENABLES TO GET LOST

‘I SIGNED THE CONTRACT AND WATCHED AS IT WAS

LOCKED IN THE SAFE. IT WAS SETTLED. I WAS JOINING

MY BOYHOOD HEROES. I WAS ABOUT TO BECOME

A SPURS PLAYER.’

After those awards and those goals, people woke up to Matt Le Tissier. Especially Tottenham. I got a phone call from my agent Jerome Anderson to say Spurs were interested, asking if I’d speak to them. I wasn’t going to say no, not to the team I’d always supported. Though Terry Venables was the manager I didn’t speak to him, and the deal was done through their lawyers and their agent. We had a meeting at a solicitor’s office in north London a couple of months before the end of the season. Saints didn’t know anything about it, but I agreed terms and signed a contract which was locked away in the safe in the solicitor’s office. Then it’d be brought out at the end of the season, when the clubs had agreed a fee.