doubt about who I was going to sign schoolboy forms with before Iturned thirteen. But I’d been really happy training at Spurs and got onwell with their Youth Development Officer, John Moncur. It was alsoimportant that White Hart Lane was fifteen minutes down the road fromhome. Much as Dad might have dreamed about me playing for United,he put that to one side when we sat down to talk. It wasn’t: this is whatyou should do. But: what do you want to do? We decided we shouldat least find out what Spurs had to say.Maybe I knew all along that it had to be United. The meeting betweenme, my dad and Terry Venables, who’d come back from Spain and wasthen managing Spurs, left me feeling like I had more questions thananswers. John Moncur took us along to Terry’s office. I can picture thescene now: Terry had dropped something on the floor, either somecrisps or peanuts, and was bent down in his chair, scrabbling on thecarpet, trying to pick them up. He looked up at us:‘So, John, what have you got to tell me about this young lad?’Never mind not remembering me from Barcelona: that must haveseemed like ages ago. I got the impression that, although I’d beentraining at Spurs for a couple of years, the manager didn’t really haveany idea who I was. I couldn’t help thinking about the times I’d beenup to Manchester. Alex Ferguson knew all about me. He knew all aboutevery single boy. He knew their parents, he knew their brothers andsisters. That seemed important to me, important for my future. It alwaysfelt like you were part of a family at United.Spurs made us a really generous offer, which amounted to a six-yeardeal: two years as a schoolboy followed by two years as a Youth TrainingScheme trainee and then two years as a professional. A thought flashedthrough my mind. By the time I’m eighteen, I could be driving a Porsche.‘So, David, would you like to sign for Tottenham?’ Terry saideventually.Dad looked at me. He’d never been one to make my decisions forme. I took a breath:‘I’d like to think about it, Mr Venables.’In my head, though, I was shouting out: United! It’s got to be United!Of course, Mum and Dad and I talked about what we’d heard. I thinkMum would have liked me to join Tottenham, because of Grandad andbecause it would have meant me being able to stay at home, but shekept that to herself. Neither she nor Dad were going to put pressureon me one way or the other. We all knew that, if I ended up signingfor Spurs, things would be fine. I’d be happy and well looked afterat White Hart Lane. We had an appointment at Old Trafford to get tofirst, though.I drove up with Mum and Dad and we had this conversation on theway up. We knew what Tottenham had offered, and Dad and I agreedthat the actual amount of money involved wasn’t the important thing.This wasn’t some kind of auction. All I needed was a sense of security.I wanted to know I’d get a chance to prove myself. If United offeredthe same six-year commitment that Tottenham had, then my mindwouldbe made up: the wages wouldn’t come into it. If not, we’d drive backto London and I’d sign a contract with Spurs.It was May 2 1988, my thirteenth birthday. United were at home toWimbledon and Alex Ferguson was waiting for us:‘Hello, David.’This bloke knew me. I knew him. And I trusted him. So did my mumand dad. I’d had a special blazer bought for the occasion and Unitedgave me a red club tie that I wore for the rest of the day. We wentaway to have lunch in the grill room where the first team had theirpre-match meal: there was even a birthday cake. Not that I felt much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mlike eating. At half past five, after the game, we went up to Mr Ferguson’soffice. He was there with Les Kershaw, who was in charge of YouthDevelopment at the club. Malcolm Fidgeon was there too. It was allpretty simple. United wanted me to sign and the boss set out the offer:‘We’d like to give you two, two and two.’I looked over to Dad, who was in another world. He’d been lookingforward to this moment even longer than I had. I could see that hehadn’t taken in what Alex had just said. I knew, though, I’d just heardwhat I’d been wanting to hear: two, two and two, equalling the six yearsI’d been offered at White Hart Lane. I didn’t need to wait for the details.‘I want to sign.’And out came that pen. How long had it taken? A minute? It didn’tmatter. I’d been ready, waiting to say those words, for the best part often years.Home from Home 3‘You may have signed for Man United,but you haven’t done anything yet.’‘You know I’m Man United, but I don’t want that to put pressure onyou. If you decide to sign for somebody else, I won’t be upset.’Dad had always made that clear to me. Of course, I’d always knownhe was lying about the last bit. So the day I signed at Old Trafford wasas fantastic for him as it was for me. By the time we left Mr Ferguson’soffice, Mum was in tears. She was happy for me but she knew it meantthat, sooner rather than later, I was going to be leaving home. She’dput so much love and so many hours into a kid who was mad aboutsoccer; and the moment we’d arrived at our destination was also themoment she was going to have to get used to the idea of her boyheading north to start a career.She did a fair bit of crying in the months between me signing up andstarting my YTS at United. But I knew, deep down, she was as proudof me as my dad was. Not letting my parents down meant everythingto me. They never made me feel like I owed them for the support they’dgiven me, but I felt I had to do all I could to make sure they didn’t endup disappointed. Think about it: if I let them down, it would mean I’dlet myself down as well. It’s never been a case of me having to live upto their expectations. It’s just that I’ve taken my parents’ expectationsof me and made them the starting point for what I expect of myself.Even now, when my own family and career mean I don’t see as muchof them, I think I still judge myself by the standards I learned from Mumand Dad.What could have been more exciting than that day? Everybody shakinghands, me in my blazer and club tie, a United player; or, at least, alad from Chingford who’d just taken the first step towards becoming aUnited player. Out in the corridor, Dad and I met up with the Unitedcaptain, Bryan Robson. We’d spent hours in front of the televisionwatching videos of this man, our absolute all-time hero. Dad had triedto hammer his qualities into me: courage, commitment, energy, visionand the ability to inspire players around him.I’d met Bryan before, but this was the boss introducing me to himas United’s latest signing:‘Congratulations, David. You’ll find out for yourself but, I’d say, youcouldn’t be joining a better club.’I don’t remember us driving back to London at all. At least Daddidn’t forget we were on a busy highway. I couldn’t have thought aboutanything else that evening, and I didn’t want to. I’d just lived throughthe happiest day of my life.Although I’d done the adding up in my head and got the answer Iwanted, that first contract at Old Trafford wasn’t actually for six yearsbut for four. It was against regulations, anyway, for a boy signingschoolboy forms to have full professional terms set out there and then:I was only thirteen, after all, and so much could change before I turnedeighteen. The rules were there to protect youngsters from gettingtrapped somewhere they didn’t want to be; not that there wasany chance of that happening to me. United told me that, if everythingwent well, I could expect to sign as a professional in four and a halfyears’ time.In a really important way, I think that bit of uncertainty was best forme and for all the other lads who joined the club at the same time. Iknew I was wanted. But I also knew that I had to prove myself over thenext four years. If I’d known all along that achieving the ambition ofbecoming a professional player at United was already settled – downon a piece of paper in black and white – who knows if it wouldn’thave taken the edge off my determination to seize the chance I’dbeen given? I think that extra hunger has had a lot to do with mysuccess and the team’s success in the years since. The day I signeddidn’t feel like the day I’d made it. The hard work was just starting. Iwanted a challenge and Manchester United was the biggest challengethere was.I knew I was in good hands. Even before I signed at United I had thefeeling I was joining a family. It’s about there being really good peopleeverywhere at the club. I don’t just mean the ones everybody wouldknow about like the manager or the players, but people like Kath Phipps,who still works on Reception at Old Trafford. I can still remember, whenI was just a boy, every time I went up to a United game she’d be there.She’d lean across her desk and give me a little kiss and the programshe’d saved for me. Later on, Kath used to help me with answeringmy mail. She’s part of United and she was with me right through mycareer there.Whenever I came up to Manchester to train or to be at a game, I’dbe looked after by Joe and Connie Brown, who had an office at theground. They would take me – and Mum and Dad, if they were withme – around Old Trafford, take us for a meal, show us down to thedressing rooms and introduce us to the players and staff. Joe andConnie made me feel really welcome. Joe was Youth DevelopmentOfficer at United. He was responsible for young players’ expenses andtravel arrangements but that job stretched to him and Connie takingcare of just about everything when youngsters from outside Manchesterand their families spent time at the club.Then, when it came to the soccer, there was Nobby Stiles. I worked