Brian Little - A Little Is Enough

PROLOGUE

A look back at the extraordinary career of Brian Little

by Simon Goodyear

Brian Little was born in Newcastle-upon-Tyne in the early 1950s and brought up playing football for several local sides before leaving school at the age of 15. He was even scouted by the one and only Sir Stanley Matthews, who at the time was manager of Port Vale, but Brian was to join Aston Villa as an apprentice.

Two years later, he turned professional and made his first-team debut as a substitute against Blackburn Rovers in October 1971 in front of 25,558 at Villa Park, and that season went on to help Villa win the FA Youth Cup by beating Liverpool. In the same year, he helped England Youth win the Little World Cup in Spain, by beating West Germany in the Final – on penalties.

Early in his Villa career, Brian was part of the 1975 and 1977 League Cup winning sides and in May 1975, his starring roles for Villa earned him his first (and only) cap for the full England team in a substitute appearance against Wales at Wembley. His appearance, although brief, was rewarded when he laid on England’s second goal for David Johnson.

By the 1979–1980 season, Brian was a regular in the Villa side and a proposed £615,000 move to cross-city rivals, Birmingham City fell through because of a persistent back problem. One year later, after making 302 appearances for his one and only club, scoring 82 goals and having a clean disciplinary record to boot, just before Villa’s victorious 1980–1981 season, Brian’s career ended prematurely because of a knee injury.

Although football had been Brian’s life since the age of 15, he briefly quit the game following his retirement and worked in a printing company, later to return to Aston Villa, among other things, working in the promotions department. Brian returned to football when he was appointed youth team coach in September 1982, the season that followed Villa’s greatest ever triumph – winning the 1982 European Cup. Brian stayed at Villa for two seasons before leaving to take over at Wolves as caretaker manager before Graham Turner took over nine games later.

Middlesbrough were next up for Brian, two months after being released from Wolves, when he was recruited as the youth and reserve team coach by his former Villa teammate, Bruce Rioch. Like Wolves, Middlesbrough were financially troubled, but Brian became an important part of the club’s coaching staff. As their form improved, and with two successive promotions, ’Boro found themselves in the First Division for the 1988–1989 season; however, the season ended in relegation for Middlesbrough, and in February 1989, he left Ayresome Park and became manager of Darlington.

Darlington were bottom of the Fourth Division when he took over; however, Brian was unable to prevent them from getting relegated to the Conference National League, but they were promoted back into the Football League at the first time of asking. The next season brought more success as Darlington won the Fourth Division championship.

Brian’s success was by now being monitored by some of the bigger clubs, and in June 1991 Leicester City appointed him as a replacement for Gordon Lee. The Foxes had just avoided relegation to the Third Division and Brian was seen as the right man to turn the club’s fortunes around.

At the end of 1991–1992 season, Leicester came fourth in the Second Division (second tier) and for the first time in his managerial career Brian had led a team to the promotion playoffs. They overcame Cambridge United in the semi-finals and faced Blackburn Rovers in the final, but the Foxes lost to a late penalty. At the end of the 1992– 1993 season, Leicester qualified for the play-offs again in the renamed Division One (second tier). They beat Portsmouth in the semi-finals, but in the final were 3-0 down shortly after half-time to Glenn Hoddle’s Swindon Town. Leicester fought back to bring the score-line to 3-3; however, Swindon scored a controversial late fourth goal from the penalty spot to progress to the Premier League.

With a place in the new Premier League as the prize, Leicester finally won their third consecutive play-off Final with a 2-1 win against local rivals, Derby County in 1993–1994 season. In November 1994, Brian quit his role at Leicester and returned to Aston Villa to replace Ron Atkinson as their manager. When he arrived at Villa Park, they were at the foot of the Premier League. There were a lot of senior players at the club, such as Nigel Spink, Earl Barrett, Shaun Teale, Ray Houghton, Garry Parker, Dalian Atkinson and Dean Saunders, so Brian faced the task of building a new team.

A 1-1 draw with Norwich City on the last day of the 1994–1995 season meant that Villa remained in the Premier League for another season. In came a whole set of new players into the Villa line-up for the following season, the likes of Alan Wright, Gareth Southgate, Gary Charles, Ian Taylor, Mark Draper and Savo Milošević. The new look Villa team gelled well, and the 1995–1996 season was the most successful season at Villa Park in recent history. The club finished fourth in the Premier League, reached the FA Cup semi-finals and won the League Cup with a 3-0 win over Leeds United at Wembley. Trinidad and Tobago striker Dwight Yorke had now firmly established himself as a world-class goal scorer and the Villans were on fire. Villa qualified for the 1996–1997 UEFA Cup and, although they were knocked out at the first stage by Swedish side Helsingborgs, they also qualified for the 1997–1998 competition after finishing fifth in the Premier League. In February 1998, although he had managed to lead the team into the quarter-finals of the UEFA Cup, with the club in the bottom half of the league, Brian suddenly resigned after just over three years as Aston Villa manager and was replaced by Wycombe boss, John Gregory.

After a short break from football, Brian was appointed manager of Stoke City in May 1998. His appointment was met with approval from the club’s supporters. Stoke had moved into a new all-seated Britannia Stadium, but poor performances had led to the side being relegated to the Second Division (third tier). His main objective was to gain an instant return to the First Division (second tier) in 1998–1999. Stoke began the season in fine form winning 14 of their first 20 matches and they sat well on top of the division. However, their form fell away after Christmas and ended up finishing in eighth place. In July 1999 Brian resigned as manager of Stoke.

During the summer of 1999, Brian was back in employment as manager of West Bromwich Albion. The club were languishing in the First Division (second tier), and he was unable to revive their fortunes. In January 2000, things got worse for Albion as the promising Italian midfielder Enzo Maresca was transferred, under the nose of the manager, to Juventus for £4 million as Albion battled against relegation, and then Brian was sacked in the March of 2000 after just eight months in charge.

Just one month after leaving the Hawthorns, Brian was appointed manager of Third Division (fourth tier) strugglers, Hull City. The Tigers were hit by huge debts, and by the end of the 2000–2001 season, had been saved from closure by new owner, Adam Pearson, and the club’s future looked brighter. Brian took the Tigers to the Third Division play-offs but lost to Leyton Orient in the semi-finals.

By February 2002 Hull City had suffered some indifferent form, but Brian was unexpectedly sacked after a home defeat to Macclesfield.

After another break of around 18 months, he made a return to football management with Tranmere Rovers, who were in the Second Division (third tier). His first season with the Merseyside club was a success. When he took over they were battling against relegation, but by the end of the season they had climbed up to eighth place and had reached the quarter-finals of the FA Cup. In his first full season as manager, Brian guided Tranmere to a third-place finish in the newly formed League One (third tier), but they lost in the play-offs.

Tranmere began the 2005–2006 season as League One promotion favourites, but by the turn of 2006 they were facing a relegation battle. The club only avoided relegation with one game to go and, because of the club’s poor final position, Brian left the club by mutual consent on 5 May 2006.

After yet another break from football, Brian took the reins at Wrexham in November 2007, but could not save the club from relegation. Wrexham were relegated to the Conference on 22 April 2008 after losing 2-0 at Hereford United; however, he signed a two-year contract, promising to revive the club’s fortunes. The following season started well, with a 5-0 home victory against promotion favourites, Stevenage Borough; however, a run of poor results followed, with Wrexham being only four points above the relegation zone. Following a 3-0 home defeat against Rushden & Diamonds, Brian left Wrexham by mutual consent.

Conference North side, Gainsborough Trinity appointed Brian as their new manager during the early part of September. He then began the task of building a squad of professionals at Trinity, picking up many players from the Football League and other ex-League players from the Conference, but despite boasting a large squad of experienced players Trinity narrowly avoided relegation to the Northern Premier League during the 2010– 2011 season. On 22 August 2011 following two defeats, Brian was sacked as manager of Trinity, after almost two years in the post.

Brian was then appointed as Jersey FA’s director of football in November 2014, to oversee the work of first-team manager Jimmy Reilly, who went on the following May to lead the islanders to their first Muratti Vase Final victory in four years. Months later, Jersey announced their intention to join UEFA, and when Reilly stepped aside in early 2016, Brian was appointed to replace him and won the 100th Muratti in May 2016 but stepped down as manager the following month and left his position as director of football, which allowed him to concentrate on his commitments in an advisory role to the board at Aston Villa – a position which he still keeps (at the time of writing).

Simon Goodyear

www.goodyearpublications.com

Chapter 1

THE APPRENTICE

Aston Villa apprentice: 1969–1971

Look, Listen and Learn

Many people have asked me over time, Why did you become a footballer? Well, I had always been the sporty type at school; I played county and area basketball; I could have run cross country for the North East, but, quite frankly, it all got in the way of my football (and school). My dad once said to me, I’d just be careful if I were you, you know if you finish in the top 10 the county will want you to run here, there and everywhere and they might be able to get you out of a football match, so be careful. He never told me not to be my best, but he was warning me not to get involved in every sport. When I did my cross-country trial, I remember being tired and thinking, Crikey, if I have to do this every week I’m going to be absolutely shattered. So, I eased off and finished about 20th and it meant I wasn’t selected for the squad, thankfully, and so it gave me a chance to concentrate on my basketball and foot-ball. I loved football more than anything else, but I was never the tallest or the strongest and I never made the county team. Strangely enough, I also enjoyed basketball, mainly because I thought taking the ball off the rebound from the back-board could be good for my timing and jumping.

When I was at school, I used to say to people I wanted to become a car mechanic, not that I knew anything about cars, but I liked them. We had a Morris Minor Traveller when we were kids, but it hardly worked and my brother, Alan and I used to sit in it, sometimes all morning, just having a laugh and a joke, pre-tending we were driving the car.

My dad was an electrician down the pits in a little village called Peterlee. It was a pretty mucky job with long shifts.

We were often in and around the pits, usually attending the pubs and clubs for events. One day, when I was about 15 years old, he asked me to come to the mineshaft to work with him, and he said to me, That’s where I work, and for me, that was enough. He said, You don’t have to follow in your dad’s footsteps, that’s for sure. I guess that was the first time I’d really thought about what I wanted NOT to do when I left school. At some stage I had to leave home and if I wanted to be a footballer, I knew I’d have to work hard at it. The fact that I never really thought I was good enough to be a professional actually became part of my motivation to become one.

So, in answer to the question, why did I become a footballer, I just think it was something inside and in my blood.

Being brought up in a mining area became a major influence in me wanting to become a footballer. Between the ages of 13 and 15, I’d been to a few clubs for trials, and if there was something that made me want to become a footballer more than anything else, it was the fact that my dad worked at the pit for such long hours that we hardly saw him. In fact, I recall one of my school report books where I wrote: I want to be a football player and I want a nice house. I want to be a coach and work for TV when I retire. Looking back, I’d actually mapped out my whole life at the age of 15.

I remember playing for the East Durham boys’ team, and amongst others there was a lad called Harry Wilson, who ended up going to Brighton and another called Colin Morris who went to Sheffield United and of course my brother came on later. From a tiny little area, there were several footballers that made it.

So, it was my dad who had an influence on me; he never pushed me but supported me with my football and my parents came to every single game I played in, and they were exactly the same with my brother.

I’d had a few disappointments as a youngster. I played in the Durham county trials, but I didn’t perform very well and after the game I was told I wasn’t in the squad. I was so disappointed and began to say to myself, If I can’t even get into the Durham county side at 15, how am I going to be a football player? How on earth am I going to be good enough? I’d had trials at several clubs, including West Bromwich Albion, Leeds United, Port Vale and Manchester City, but that was the first real doubt for me in my life, even though there were other top clubs chasing me to go for a trial with them; I began to think I wouldn’t be good enough to get in any of those sides anyway, and that played on my mind a little bit.

However, I had a bit of luck in that my relative, Malcolm Musgrove actually played for West Ham in his younger days, but he was the first-team coach at Villa at the time and that’s from where my first trip to Villa stemmed. Having been rejected by Durham, I began to think that a club like Aston Villa would be perfect for me. A message was sent to Malcolm saying I was doing OK at football, and the county scout, Brian Wilson, was sent along to watch me and on the back of that performance, I was invited to go to Villa Park.

At the time, Villa were in the Second Division, and during my visit to Villa Park, we went to see a game and straight away the club was sold to me; the atmosphere; the fans singing in the Holte End; the whole thing just grabbed me. Before I went to Villa Park to meet the officials there, I had been to Sunderland, West Bromwich Albion and Burnley, but I liked what I saw at Villa.

It was April 1969 when I signed a three-year apprenticeship contract at Aston Villa F.C. It was crazy looking back on that time, because if I remember rightly my wage was a mere £7 a week in year one; £8 a week in year two and £10 a week in the final year. On top of that, the club looked after my lodgings, with bed, breakfast and evening meals all paid for; food was also provided when I trained.

I also got to play the game I loved, so it wasn’t a bad life really.

I travelled down to Birmingham with my dad to sign the contract; it was quite a daunting experience, truth be told, because at that time, I had no idea where or with whom I was going to stay. After signing the forms, I went back home to the North East for a month before I started in earnest. It was exciting, but at the same time it was a worrying time. Had I done the right thing? There were opportunities to join a club closer to home and Birmingham was over 200 miles away, but deep down, I really thought Aston Villa were the club for me. There was just something about them that I liked.

Fast-forward to the day I left home in June 1969. I was a skinny 15-year-old who had barely left school. I remember that day well. Mam and dad were already up when I woke that morning; I guess they had mixed feelings and I’m not sure whether they were excited, sad or apprehensive. Dad had a Morris Minor 1000 Traveller, a collector’s car these days, but then just the mode of transport for our 45-minute journey to Durham station to pick up my train heading south, to Birmingham New Street. My dad gave me £1, 10 shillings pocket money, which to me was a lot of money and he told me to buy something for my journey. He then gave me a big hug, shook my hand and saw me onto the train. There was no real fuss made, to be honest, and no tears in his eyes.

Having been informed by the club that I wouldn’t need to bring much, I only had one piece of luggage with me, not that I had a lot of possessions anyway. I was also told that my training gear would be provided, and as time went by I’d have enough money to buy my own things. The trains were steam back then. The journey took three hours, and three hours on my own on a train was my worst nightmare. I was a poor traveller at the best of times. I hated public transport, mainly because smoking was permitted in public places and I hated the smell of cigarette smoke. The train was no exception. It seemed that everyone smoked in those days and I couldn’t get away from it. The journey wasn’t easy and I didn’t enjoy it one bit. Nowadays I love travelling by trains, it was just the smell of the smoke in those days that I hated. You had to sit down somewhere and if the person next to you smoked, you just had to put up with it. Unsurprisingly I was glad when smoking was banned in public places some years ago.

When I arrived at Birmingham New Street station, I had no idea what to do or where to go. Bear in mind I was a 15-year-old and it was the first time I’d travelled on my own. I didn’t do too bad to get that far. I exited the station, looked around and recognised a familiar face; it was Peter Doherty, the Aston Villa chief scout and he’d come to collect me from the train. Peter was a lovely guy who I’d met before, and he welcomed me to Birmingham. We got into his car and he drove me to Villa Park. By that time, I still didn’t know where and with who I was going to be staying. Usually, clubs put you up in digs with another apprentice so I began wondering whom I’d end up with. I knew I was going to meet somebody new and possibly I’d spend the next three years of my life living with that person.

Coming from a small village in County Durham, moving to Birmingham was a big deal and even the journey from the station to Villa Park seemed to take an age. Even though it was in the late 1960s there was still a lot of traffic on the road and it was so much busier than it was back at home. When we arrived at Villa Park, Peter left me in the reception area and went off to find out where I was going to be staying the next three years. It wasn’t just me who had started that day, but several other lads arrived while I was waiting. I think I was one of the last people to arrive, as I’m pretty sure the other lads had been given their itinerary already. For me, it was a journey into the unknown – but ultimately, a journey I wanted to follow.

It was mid-to-late afternoon and Peter came back to meet me in reception and said we were going to meet the other lad who was going to stay in the digs with me. That lad was Roy Stark (Starky) and I when I first saw him I couldn’t get over the size of him. Roy was twice my size and compared to me looked like a fully-grown man. I asked Roy what position he played and it didn’t surprise me when he said he was a centre-half because I could see he was built like one. We both hit it off and little did I know at the time, but it was the start of my first friendship as a footballer. Roy turned out to be a great friend of mine in later life.

Once Roy gathered his belongings, Peter drove us to our digs in Boldmere, Sutton Coldfield, a leafy suburb north of Birmingham, about five or six miles from Villa Park. Again, it seemed like a long journey to me. Roy and I didn’t really say a lot. I was quite quiet and shy and wasn’t one for asking loads of questions in those days. I was probably really nervous and, given his size along with the fact that he was very confident in himself for a 15-year-old, Roy seemed a bit intimidating. He was definitely the more dynamic character of the two of us. He wasn’t worried about leaving his parents and going to meet two strangers who would look after us for the next three years. Roy told me he was looking forward to the experience, whereas I probably wasn’t ready for any of it, if truth were to be told.

When we arrived at the digs, Peter knocked on the door and we were introduced to our new ‘mam and dad’, so to speak. From the first moment that Mr and Mrs Mallard both came to the door to let us in, I knew I’d be just fine with them. For about an hour, Roy and I sat down with Peter and talked to the Mallards about ourselves; what we liked to do; what we liked to eat and drink; just a general chitchat to settle us in more than anything. I was still nervous, but at the same time, I enjoyed it and felt more comfortable as the time went on. Peter stayed with us for a little while before heading off home and I distinctly remember him saying to us, just before he left, Now lads, Mr and Mrs Mallard know exactly what you’ve got to do to get to Villa Park in the morning. That was quite intriguing, but also very welcoming to me.

I soon settled into my new home, and I felt straight away that I was with a couple who were genuinely looking forward to having two young footballers stay with them. It was really quite an unreal situation and looking back on it, it seems a complete contrast to how the youngsters enter the game now.

After Peter left us, Roy and I sat down together and had a bit of tea – beans on toast I think, my favourite at the time. The house was semi-detached with three bedrooms and I took an instant liking to my new home, and to the Mallards. They were brilliant. Mrs Mallard had a lovely personality and Mr Mallard was a very funny man with a great sense of humour, and his job as a postman suited him. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who could fall asleep so quickly once he sat down after eating his tea.

As time went by, we both settled into a routine, but I remained nervous for a while. The Mallards were lucky enough to have a TV, black and white of course, and we’d always go to bed around 9pm. Roy, being more relaxed and comfortable with the situation would go to sleep before me. I was in a strange bed, in a strange house, with strange people. I was used to having my two brothers with me when I was at mam and dad’s home so this was a massive change.

On our first morning, we got up bright and early, had some tea and toast for breakfast and headed out to catch the bus. Mr Mallard explained what our routine for the next day would be, but nonetheless it seemed daunting, as it was something else to get my head around. We had a 20-25 minute walk to the bus stop to catch the number 7, Outer Circle bus to Witton Island, which was the closest stop to Villa Park.

We both knew we were walking into the unknown, but hopefully to begin our new life as professional footballers.

Roy and I had been told to arrive at Villa Park before 9am on that first morning and we got there with plenty of time to spare. When we arrived at the ground we met up with the other lads, and then we were introduced to Ron Wainwright, the kitman. We were told his job was to basically look after the apprentices and to teach us how to do the chores, but more about that later.

Ron showed us into the away dressing room, where we were to get changed for training. A few of the first-year pros were also sent into the dressing room too, and then it was a case of sitting and waiting for everyone to walk in. With every lad that walked in we’d shake hands and introduce ourselves. Looking back, that first day is all a bit of a blur, to be honest. I only knew Starky, so it was going to take a while to get to know so many new faces.

After about an hour of talking between ourselves and trying to get to know as many people as possible, we got changed into our training gear. We were surprised to be told we would be all training together; our coach, Graham Leggat, came into the dressing room, introduced himself and told us we would be training with the senior pros. It was our manager, Tommy Docherty, who had bought into the philosophy of getting the apprentices training with the seniors. It meant that no matter what the senior players did, the youngsters did exactly the same.

We had a minibus to take us to training; we didn’t have a fixed venue like most teams do now so we made use of about four different facilities in the local area. On that first day we went to a place called Barr Beacon, which was near Walsall. When we got there I couldn’t believe it, because it was just a load of hills and no sign of a football pitch anywhere. Here we were, a bunch of 15-year-olds and expected to run up and down hills against the senior pros, the likes of Andy Lochhead, Bruce Rioch, Charlie Aitken and Ian ‘Chico’ Hamilton, all well-known players to the Villa faithful. To this day, I can genuinely say I’ve never run so far in my life as I did that day. That first morning was the most horrendous training session I’ve ever had in my life. I have never felt as sick as I did after that torture, and I don’t use that word lightly. It was torture. In fact, it was quite strange watching grown men being sick all around you. Luckily I wasn’t sick myself, but it was brutal for me just the same.

I promised myself I would not do that to anybody and I never made anybody run that far when I became a coach later in life.

I have a lasting impression of that first training session that has stayed with me since that day. I believe their plan was to see who would last the pace, and who would be ‘last man standing’. It was absolute punishment at the highest level. I look back now, to when I was 15 years old. I could have run for the County Durham cross-country team and fortunately I was fit and could have run along with anybody. That morning, we must have run around Barr Beacon Country Park for what seemed like several hours, and anybody who didn’t put the effort in was tortured by the coaches. It was a case of, Keep moving and don’t stop... There was no method or point to it. Even at that young, tender age I had an opinion and it went something like, What the hell are we doing here? What on earth is going on? This isn’t right. For me, there should be some logic and structure to training sessions, but there was none that day.

I will never forget it, and I’ll never forget how ill I felt afterwards. At that stage it was the toughest day I had ever encountered, but I can tell you there were some even tougher days to come. I think it was tough because we had no idea what we were going to do that first day. It hit us unexpectedly. We were apprentices on our first day and we were expecting to be in and around other young players, taking it easy, passing the ball to each other, but we ended up being thrown in among the most senior players at the club, running up and down hills. It was the craziest situation I think I’ve ever been involved in – and it was only day one.

When we returned to Villa Park, the club gave each of us some money to buy a well-earned lunch. There were two cafés near to the ground and Ernie’s Café on Nelson Road was where all the senior pros went, so we were banned from going there. Funnily enough, I never went into Ernie’s Café, even when I made the first team, as I wanted to be with my mates. Ernie’s was the place they had their chat between training sessions; the place they moaned and groaned or whatever they wanted to do. We all had about 90 minutes in between sessions and the apprentices and young players had to go a bit further down the road, to a place called Pearl’s Café. It was clean and tidy and had a pinball machine in the corner, and it soon became a second home to us. In time, Pearl got to know each and every one of our names and got to know exactly what we liked to eat. It eventually became a familiar place, so much so that when I walked in, Pearl would say, Here comes Brian: a well-done bacon sandwich?

The café got us away from all the hard work and grind of training for a while, but it also became an interesting place to go to; it was a time to relax, sit down and chat, tell some jokes and have some laughs together. It was also a place where we got to know each other really well. From the bonding point of view, it was a great place because, over time, we’d spend hours and hours there ‘chewing the fat’. However, I don’t think any of us ate a great deal of food there, as we were all too tired to eat, especially after that first day.

The second part of the first day’s training saw us going back towards Barr Beacon, to Cooksey Lane, which was a training complex with loads of pitches. The afternoon session wasn’t as hard, thankfully, and consisted of a lot of shorter distance work; sprinting and running around the pitch a few times. It was much more of a dynamic type of training, but again, it was hard, and I dread to think how many laps we did. We just ran and ran and ran and ran even more. It was a crazy day, and one I can honestly say, I didn’t enjoy and I’m sure I speak for the other lads as well.

To get that day over and done with, and to get through it unscathed was an accomplishment in itself. When we returned to Villa Park to get changed, we all sat in a bath for a long time, to take in what we had just done and to try to recover from the aches and pains.

If we thought the day was over once we’d bathed and got changed, we were very much mistaken. The other side of being an apprentice then kicked in the chores. Ron Wainwright was the kitman and the man who showed us the jobs we had to do. There were lots of them as well: cleaning the professionals’ boots; cleaning the old wooden floors in the dressing rooms; cleaning the toilets; cleaning the shower rooms; we were even expected to sweep the terracing. You name it, we’d have to clean it. Each week, there was a rota and everybody would get their chance to learn a different job so we could each learn all the tasks and not get bored doing the same thing every day. I admit I wasn’t ready for it. I mean, I’d never cleaned anything in my life and I mean anything. My dad used to clean my shoes and mam did the housework, but now I was expected to learn how to clean up after professional footballers.

We were all given jobs each day. They ranged from tidying up the boots to cleaning the boots to hanging the training kits up in driers. The kit wasn’t washed every day in those days so we had to put it into large driers. The kit was sweaty and stunk like hell and it was just left out on the huge drying racks to freshen up, ready for the next morning. It was that bad that I can still smell the kit to this day. Thankfully, at least once a week the kit would be laundered, but on the days it wasn’t, the smell of 25 or 35 stinky kits was horrendous. I don’t know why they bothered with the drying racks, because the following morning, the kit stunk just as badly as it had when we’d hung it up. The very thought of those sweaty shirts hanging up will stay with me forever, that’s for sure. However, as time went on, some of the lads, especially some of the seniors actually took their gear home every day to get it washed. Some of the pros like Bruce Rioch, Geoff Vowden, Fred Turnbull and Ray Graydon would do that without any hesitation, but they were in the minority.

Like at a lot of big clubs in those days, there was a ‘boot room’ at Villa Park. Cleaning the boots of senior pros was a hard job in itself, because it wasn’t only cleaning the boots and trainers, it was sweeping up all the mud and dirt and keeping the room tidy, after training. Our boot room was an iconic place, just like the famous Anfield boot room. It was the place the boots were brushed, washed and hung and it was located underground, and you’d have to take them back upstairs to put them back on the appropriate players’ pegs when they were clean. Each player would have their own boots, trainers and kit, all numbered from 1 to 40 and they would all have three or four pairs of boots each, so you’d end up cleaning around 100 pairs of boots of all shapes and sizes, every single day. On top of having responsibility for the boots, we were all given a number of professionals boots to clean that we had to prioritise. I remember my ‘priority’ pros were Bruce Rioch and Pat McMahon, who I thought were really decent fellas. As time went by, Bruce had a real influence on me, my initial impressions of him were very positive, but more about Bruce later. Pat was also a lovely fella and a good footballer and someone whom I later admired greatly.

Another tough job was to scrub the wooden floors after training. We had large, heavy machinery to do that, but it was a hard job because the machinery was so heavy to push around the small changing rooms. We used brushes to get underneath the benches and into the corners so we could get all the dirt and rubbish out to avoid Ron catching us out. Not only did we have to clean the dressing room floors, we also had to clean the toilets, the bath and shower rooms. The bath was huge; it could hold up to 20 people at a time, they left a right mess afterwards and it had to be cleaned every single day. Health and safety wouldn’t allow that these days, but in 1969 we knew nothing else.

And that wasn’t the half of it. The tunnel had to be cleaned properly, the passageway had to be cleaned and mopped out every single day. Our own dressing room had to be done, and the coaches’ kit and boots had to be cleaned. The amount of work we had to do, after the two sessions of proper training was phenomenal. I can’t for one minute imagine the youth players these days doing any of that work.

Having said all that, we all learned so much about cleaning, about cleanliness and tidiness; we weren’t allowed to walk past a piece of paper without picking it up and putting it in the bin. If we did and Ron saw us, we’d get a right rollicking. It was so strict that we were even told to pick up any rubbish off the floor, wherever it was and put it in the bin straight away. If we saw boots in the wrong place, we’d have to put them in the right place. Anything that was out of place, we were told to put it right. In fact, Ron used to hide pieces of paper in your job areas, underneath any nook or cranny, in the hope you’d miss it and we’d be given another rollocking. I remember Ron used to smoke and he’d cruelly hide his cigarette ends behind different places and say, Let’s have a look here – that’s not done, do it all again. That meant we had to do our job again and do it properly, because if we didn’t we’d soon get found out. It caused some great arguments amongst the apprentices at times. Looking back, it was the first bit of proper work I’d had to do in my short life, but with hindsight, it was a brilliant way to teach young people about discipline.

There were lots of jobs we didn’t particularly like doing; however, there was one task that soon became a favourite of ours. If the groundsman ever said there was loads of rubbish that needed burning and he wanted a volunteer, all the apprentices would put up their hands. If you were lucky enough to get picked, you’d be expected to take all the rubbish to a patch of ground behind the Witton End stand at Villa Park, an open terrace that in those days, had a huge grass bank sloping from the top of the terracing to the bottom. Once we’d gathered all the rubbish, we’d have to burn it and keep an eye on the fire. Although I use the term loosely, it was a job everybody enjoyed because it got us outside, away from all the hard slog of cleaning and scrubbing in the changing rooms.

Even though at first we weren’t very good at our jobs, once we were taught properly how to do them we became experts at cleaning. Having said that, I thought we were training to become footballers, not cleaners.

So, that was our introduction to being an apprentice – and that was only day one. Bring on day two!

If I had looked back on the timeline of that day, Roy and I would have left our digs at 7:30am and I think we got home at something like 7:30pm. I can remember Mrs Mallard asking us what we wanted to eat, and on that first day we both had a bowl of soup and then went straight to bed. We weren’t that hungry and we were both knackered.

As I lay in bed that night, recapping the day, I said to myself, Crikey, this is hard work. What have I got myself into? Am I really going to get through this? I found it hard to get to sleep that first night; I was so tired; physically my body ached from head-to-toe.

It was a massive learning curve for all of us apprentices and there was a realisation that being an apprentice wasn’t going to be an easy job at all, and not a job you could take lightly. If I found the first day tough, I thought to myself What is it going to be like tomorrow, and the days after that? I obviously wanted to be a footballer from an early age, but it certainly wasn’t as glamorous as I’d first thought it would be.

In fairness to the boys who were in the first-team, whilst they had the grandeur of playing every Saturday in front of thousands of fans, I was genuinely, totally gobsmacked how hard they had to work, day in and day out to get to where they were.