Neil Lennon: Man and Bhoy. Neil Lennon

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СКАЧАТЬ as a senior player, and probably because of that experience and my feelings that things couldn’t go as badly as they had done at Motherwell, I packed my bags with a lighter heart.

      City’s scout Peter Neill accompanied me on the trip to Manchester, which included ten hours on a ferry from Belfast to Liverpool—not fun, I can tell you—followed by a bus journey to Manchester. We arrived at my digs where the landlady warned me I had an early rise as I was wanted at Maine Road at 8.30 a.m. the following morning.

      The guest house was just fifteen minutes’ walk away from the stadium in Rusholme. As I set out for the ground my first thought was that I had somehow woken up in the wrong country. I had seen maybe only a few brown—or black-skinned people in my life, and here was I now in the Asian quarter of Manchester. I think I probably stared goggle-eyed at women in saris and men in turbans with big long beards—sights I had only seen on television before. As I walked along the road to Moss Side, which is the Afro-Caribbean area of the city, I really did begin to wonder where the white people had gone. It shows you how naĭve I was when I arrived in Manchester, and it was to be the first of many culture shocks that I would experience over the next few weeks and months. It was a whole new world to me, yet I never found it intimidating. On the contrary, it was exciting to find new cultures on my doorstep, and I thoroughly enjoyed exploring Manchester.

      I was back on the apprenticeship treadmill, having signed a two-year contract. Once again I was on the government’s Youth Training Scheme stipend of ?8.50 per week, but City did pay us an extra ?0 for travel expenses. I was also determined not to repeat the Motherwell debacle, and the main difference in my environment this time around was that within a few days of arriving at Maine Road, I was put into digs with an incredible, wonderful family called the Ducketts.

      They lived in a rambling three-storey Victorian house in Stockport. Len and Jackie Duckett were the mother and father in charge of the household which included their two grown-up married daughters, a younger son and a grandson. Everyone in that house brought their own distinctive personality to a warm and supportive environment in which I was immediately made to feel at home. They were all hard-grafting people who contributed to the household income, and while you had to toe the line and respect their house rules, there was always plenty of humour and laughter around.

      Len Duckett became almost like a second father to me, looking after me and making sure I knew my way about Manchester. I still talk to him to this day, and indeed I regret not keeping in touch more regularly because the Ducketts really were very good to me over a number of years. At City and later at Crewe Alexandra I would sometimes move into a flat with other players, for instance, but the Ducketts would always take me back if I needed somewhere to stay.

      What makes their kindness and support of me even more astonishing is that Len was a season-ticket holder at Manchester UNITED. But he would often come to watch this City boy play, even travelling to Ireland when I started playing for Northern Ireland’s youth side. They are still a warm and caring family, and I will always be grateful to the Ducketts for the start they gave me in England.

      In my first year with them I had the whole of the top floor to myself, but after that they provided lodgings for three more players, namely Michael Hughes from Larne, later a Northern Ireland international who is still playing, Mike Sheron who went on to become a prolific scorer at several clubs, and John Wills. We four had a great time together, and all played in the FA Youth Cup Final of 1989. Regular as clockwork, we would catch the bus to Maine Road each morning, and, unlike Motherwell, training was something I looked forward to.

      Billy McNeill had left the manager’s job to return to Celtic in September 1986, and that had triggered something of a slide at City. During the summer before I arrived at Maine Road, Mel Machin had taken over after Scottish manager Jimmy Frizzell had taken over briefly and presided over the club’s relegation to Division Two. Jimmy was kicked upstairs to become general manager, while Mel’s job was simple—to get City back to the top flight as soon as possible.

      It helped him that the club had a brilliant youth set-up producing some talented players, as evidenced by the fact that City had won the FA Youth Cup in the 1985/86 season. We apprentices were looked after by coaches Tony Book and Glyn Pardoe, and it is these two men that I credit for giving me the basis of my professional career.

      Tony had captained the side in a vintage era for City in the late 1960s and early 1970s when the likes of Colin Bell, Mike Summerbee and Francis Lee were at their peak. He had also later managed the club. Glyn was an outstanding full-back who had been forced to retire prematurely. He had suffered some appalling injuries including a horrific broken leg in a tackle by George Best, but it was a knee injury that finally forced him to stop playing.

      What these two City men did not know about football was not worth knowing. The quality of their coaching was superb. They concentrated always on teaching us the correct things to do on the pitch, such as passing the ball accurately time after time. As all good coaches should do, they tried to get us to develop good habits both on and off the pitch.

      Our routine as apprentices consisted of making sure that the kit for the senior professionals was properly prepared for them. Each of us looked after two players, and at first mine were striker Trevor Morley and the big goalkeeper Eric Nixon. Trevor went on to play for several clubs and is now a scout, while Eric later became something of a living legend at Tranmere Rovers. He was a huge fellow, six feet four inches tall, who would happily give you a thump on the shoulder if his boots weren’t prepared exactly as he wanted them.

      It was the sort of apprenticeship where, if you got sent for a pot of tea, then you went without argument and fetched it. Another of my jobs was to clean out the toilets and the baths. It may sound as if it was slave labour, but I didn’t mind as I knew I was getting a good grounding.

      The coaching by Tony and Glyn more than made up for the more tedious aspects of the job. They always tried to keep things varied and interesting, though we concentrated a lot on retaining possession, playing hundreds of hours of the game called ‘keep ball’. We would also play small-sided games, while Tony would give me special coaching in the afternoon sometimes, working on my ability to trap and pass the ball. I think it’s fair to say that the sort of player I became was established under the tutelage of Tony and Glyn. Later, Dario Gradi and Martin O’Neill would add to my game but my basic grounding was at City.

      There was one unexpected development for me right at the start of my time at Maine Road. I had spent most of my youth playing in the forward line or at half-back, but as soon as I got to City, they tried to turn me into a right-back. Is it any wonder that I struggled a bit at first in that position? The move came about because I was put in at right-back in one of the early trials that I played for City. I didn’t do too badly, and then the club became short of cover at right—and left-back so that was me stuck in defence for the next three years. Though I mostly played on the right, they also tried me at left-back and even centre-half. It wasn’t until I moved to Crewe Alexandra that I got back to playing in my favoured midfield position again.

      Mel Machin took a real shine to me when I first started at City. Almost from the start of my time there, I was able to do what I loved best which was playing. Mel put me into the youth team but as the 1987/88 season wore on, I began to play a lot of matches in the reserves.

      It was terrific experience for a youngster, as we would often be playing against top professionals. I recall one particular match against Liverpool reserves when their team featured the likes of Jan Molby, Kevin McDonald and Craig Johnston. I was credited with having kept Johnston quiet during the game, which we won 2-0.

      The club was suffering an injury crisis in February and March 1988 and I found myself becoming a regular in the reserve team. We were due to play Hull City when Mel Machin told me that I was on standby to play for the first team. I was covering for Paul Lake but in the event he passed a late fitness test and my debut had to be postponed. There were СКАЧАТЬ