times at home. I would take Joanne out in the garden or in the frontroom to play so Mum wouldn’t be tripping over a toddler while she wascooking. When it came time to sit down, I used to have the job of layingthe table. Then, at secondary school, I opted to do Home Economics– cooking, basically – because the alternative was a double period ofScience. I enjoyed being in the kitchen when I was at home anyway.By the time I was thirteen, if Mum was working, she’d leave me to getdinner ready for all of us. If she was cutting hair at home, I’d make cupsof tea and arrange little plates of biscuits for her clients while they werethere at the house.There must have been some kind of mistake, because when I movedon to secondary school – Chingford High in Nevin Drive – it turnedout they played rugby instead of soccer. Lucky for me, our rugbyteacher, John Bullock, was tough and disciplined but a lovely man. Hewas great with all of us and always seemed to have a lot of time forme. He was a fantastic teacher. He died a few years back, on the samenight I got sent off against Argentina in Saint-Etienne, but he was theone teacher I stayed in touch with. Even after I first went up to OldTrafford, I used to write to Mr Bullock, as well as go back to see himand the school, which I think meant a lot to him. People have told mesince that he really adored me, and just talked about me all the time.I don’t think Mr Bullock was very interested in soccer, but there werethat many of us boys going on at him, pestering him, that he agreed togive it a go. And everything changed. As soon as we had a schoolsoccer team, we started winning leagues and cups, which was greatfor us. It was great for the school, as well. Maybe the soccer helped meto be happy there. I wasn’t that interested in lessons. I was cross-countrychampion for the local borough and swam for Chingford High, but therewas only one thing I ever wanted to do with my life. I was lucky that Ihad that drive from a really young age. Knowing what I wanted in thefuture, what would have been the point in messing about along theway? I got in trouble once or twice for being cheeky, like every schoolboydoes. But, most of the time, I kept my head down and did my homework:蚂蚁加油更衣室打造完美球迷衫m足球市场-更多更全的球星自传下载mI used to pop into Alan Smith’s house and his mum, Pat, would helpme with some of it. She was really good at Maths, I remember, andAlan was too. He’s in insurance now, working for Rothschild, and I runinto him now and again: he’s married and has moved away but heworks from an office in his mum and dad’s loft. The important thingwas that I never missed a day’s school, unless I was ill, at either ChaseLane Primary or at Chingford High.If it hadn’t been soccer, I don’t know what I would have ended updoing when I grew up. I liked Music lessons and, at primary school,they thought I had a decent voice. I sang a solo in the school choir justbefore I left there. One subject I really enjoyed all through school wasArt. Even before I went to Chingford High, I loved drawing and painting.As well as doing it at Chase Lane Primary, Joan had all the stuff weneeded for painting inside the hut in the park. On a rainy day at home,I’d spend hours copying Disney cartoon figures out of comics. I seemto remember Donald Duck was my specialty. As I got older, I begandrawing cartoon figures that I’d made up myself. Even the artworkended up coming back to soccer, though. Once I started playing forRidgeway Rovers, instead of Mickey and Donald, I started drawingcartoons of games and the other people involved with the team: greatgoals, complete with Stuart Underwood in the background, his speechbubble describing what was going on in the rest of the picture.Playing for the school team was the way into higher level soccer, ofcourse, and I was able to represent my District with Waltham Forestand my County with Essex. I’ve been lucky to have such good coachingever since those evenings over in the park with Dad. Don Wiltshire andMartin Heather were both great for me as a teenager, though theycouldn’t have been more different. Don, who managed the District side,was this solid, well-built man with a deep voice and a way about himthat told you he knew exactly what he wanted for the team. When Ifirst started playing for Waltham Forest, it felt like being selected to playfor England.People criticize schools soccer sometimes, saying it’s all about gettingthe ball down the other end quickly, using kick and rush tactics, withthe bigger kids always being the ones who get a game. All I can sayis, it wasn’t like that for me at school, at District or County level. It tookme a little while to get into the side because I was so much smallerthan most of the other boys my age. But once I had a chance, Don andMartin both used to encourage me, and the rest of the team, to playto our strengths.Martin Heather was the Essex manager and the exact oppositeto Don – or Stuart Underwood, for that matter. All the boys lovedhim. Martin was also the sort of man that our mums would fancy:quiet, always smart, very well-spoken. He was a very different kind ofcoach, too. He hardly ever shouted, which meant that when he didyou knew he wasn’t happy. He really looked after us. I remember hetook us on a soccer tour to Texas when I was thirteen.Though back then it didn’t make any difference to me if I was inChase Lane Park or at some tournament in a foreign country – eitherway I was playing soccer. I vividly remember going with Essex to playin America.I love the States. I love the patriotism, the way of life. For once, Ididn’t even feel homesick. That trip was different because instead ofstaying together, we lodged on our own with local families. The firstpeople I stayed with were Mexican. Their house was just a couple ofsteps up from being a shack, to be honest, but they turned out to bereally nice people. They had a son who was taking part in thecompetition.They were mad about soccer and couldn’t do enough for me. Allmy Essex team-mates were staying in these huge houses and beingdriven around in huge cars. We’d just get in the pickup and drive downto McDonald’s for breakfast every morning. I had such a great weekwith that family: I sometimes find myself thinking about them even now.Happy at home and playing as much soccer as I was, there was onlyone worry in my life: I thought Manchester United were never going tonotice me down in London. The Ridgeway policy of young boys notgoing off straight away to professional clubs didn’t bother me. I washaving a great time playing and training with the team and, because ofmy dad, there was only one professional club I ever wanted to play for.In the back of my mind I just had to trust that, if I got on and workedhard, United would hear about me. What else could I do?Word got around about the success of Ridgeway Rovers and we gotused to the scouts turning up at our games every week. I know my dadwas approached by scouts from West Ham and Wimbledon, as well asfrom Arsenal and Spurs. When the time came to train with a professionalclub, I had to choose between the two North London clubs, as I couldn’thave gone to United anyway, unless we’d moved up to Manchester. Ichose Spurs. Maybe it had something to do with my grandad beingTottenham mad. I remember saying to Mum at the time:‘Grandad will be pleased, won’t he?’Tottenham seemed a friendly club; back then David Pleat was themanager. I just felt more at home there. The coaching was good andSpurs had some excellent players of my age: Nick Barmby was in thesame group and so was Sol Campbell, who already had this greatpresence about him. I don’t know what the coaches and the other ladsthought about me turning up to train in my Manchester United uniform.I wasn’t going to hide the fact that I was a United fan, even though Ienjoyed my time at White Hart Lane.Despite the interest from London clubs, for me it was alwaysManchester United. I might have ended up being a supporter or playingfor them anyway, but I’m sure Dad was the main factor. He was theoriginal Cockney Red. And he was passing the passion on to me evenbefore I knew he was doing it. Dad was ten years old at the time ofthe 1958 Munich Air Crash. He had already been following United butthe disaster turned it into a lifelong obsession for him. I think it was thesame for a lot of supporters of his generation. When I was young, weused to talk about the United team of the time: Robson, Strachan,蚂蚁加油更衣室打造完美球迷衫m足球市场-更多更全的球星自传下载mHughes and the rest. But he used to tell me about the Busby Babes,about the European Cup at Wembley, about Best and Stiles and Lawand Charlton. What other club could there have been for me? Here Iwas, almost a teenager, with people saying they thought I had half achance of someday making it as a professional player. I don’t knowabout United born; I was definitely United bred. And what kept megoing was the idea that, eventually, I’d get the call I’d been waiting forever since I’d first kicked a ball.2The Man in theBrown Sierra‘So, what have you got to tell me aboutthis young lad?’‘What’s the matter, Mum?’‘Lucky you had a good game today.’‘Why?’I’d been playing for my District side, Waltham Forest, away toRedbridge. I must have been eleven. My dad had been working andcouldn’t come to watch, so Mum had taken me to the game. The ‘goodgame’ was probably one of the best I ever had for that team, andafterwards I remember coming out of the dressing room with the restof the boys. Mum was waiting for me. We got to the car park and I putmy bag in the back of the car. It was only then that I noticed she hadtears in her eyes.‘Just lucky you had a good game.’‘Yeah. But why?’‘That man over there: he’s a Man United scout. They want to havea look at you.’I can still remember the rush of joy and excitement. There was reliefin there too. I burst into tears on the spot, just cried and cried. I couldn’tbelieve how happy I felt. I’d wondered for such a long time if I’d ever