Neil Lennon: Man and Bhoy. Neil Lennon

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ on the way back to Glasgow. In reality, there was no way to catch a plane home at that time and I would have to spend a night in Lurgan.

      My statement read: ‘After close consultation with the footballing authorities and the Police Service of Northern Ireland I will not be participating in this evening’s international game.

      ’I am very disappointed that my desire to play for my country, on my first opportunity to captain my team at home, has been taken away from me.’

      In the car on the way to Lurgan, my father and I talked things over. He was very angry, of course, as was I, but funnily enough I was a bit more philosophical.

      In a sense there was an inevitability about these events. For better or worse, I had become a controversial figure, both in Scotland and in Northern Ireland. I was a symbol for one side, the epitome of what was wanted in a Celtic man dedicated to the club he loved, whereas for the other side I was something to despise. I could see that the two sides would never meet on common ground, and that there would always be extremists who simply could not tolerate my presence in a Northern Ireland jersey.

      My main thoughts were for my family. It was hard enough for them when I joined Celtic, and the graffiti before the Norway game had been an awful experience for them. My father told me that ‘a cold chill’ had gripped him when he first saw the pictures. So I just could not in all conscience put them through that strain again.

      And I had my daughter to think of. We had managed to shield Alisha—at home in England and just ten years old—from the dreadful facts of her father’s life in a divided city and country. How was I now going to explain to her that her daddy’s life was under threat because he played football for a certain team?

      All these things and more raced through my mind as we hurried back to Lurgan. In retrospect it was then that I finally decided I would not play for Northern Ireland again. Frankly, given my thoughts for my family, the decision was pretty easy for me.

      The proof of the effects such happenings can have on family members met me at the door of our house in Lurgan. My mother was very upset, and in turn that affected me. After a brief reunion with the other members of my family, who all backed my decision, it was agreed that I should get away from the house. We knew it would only be a short time before the news broke and then a media scrum would descend on us. As long as I wasn’t there, the journalists, photographers and camera crews would go away.

      My family were able to say truthfully to callers that I was not at home, for I was in fact at the house of my best friend, Gary McCavigan. We have been mates since schooldays and now, when I needed him most, Gary was there for me, and his presence would lead to the only light-hearted note in this whole symphony of sadness.

      As the evening wore on, Gary and I talked and talked but eventually we decided to try to get some sleep. Gary’s wife and daughter took one bedroom and we were in the other bedroom. It may not surprise you to learn that I didn’t get a wink of sleep that night. Every time a car went by the house I was startled, and I kept imagining that people were out there trying to find me.

      And maybe one of them had a gun…but it wasn’t that fear which stopped my brain from switching off—no, it was Gary’s snoring that kept me awake!

      In the wee small hours, the ludicrous nature of the situation really struck me and I had a laugh to myself—what else could I do?

      The next morning my dad called to say that a journalist who was known and respected by the family, Adrian Logan of Ulster Television, had made contact. I spoke to him and he pointed out that I would get no peace until I had given an interview and made some sort of statement. I could see that was true. He offered to make the proceedings available to other television stations and on that basis I agreed to do a short interview.

      The gist of it was my feeling that football had been irrelevant the previous night. I said: ‘My parents were pretty distraught really. I’ve got a ten-year-old daughter who knows nothing about this at the minute and we’re going to try to keep her away from it as much as we can. Obviously, I can’t put them through this every time, so I’ve thought long and hard about it and I’ve decided that I probably won’t be going back to play for Northern Ireland.

      ’It’s a decision that I’ve thought about previously and this time I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s probably for the best for everybody.

      ’My manager, Sammy McIlroy, was magnificent with me throughout it. He said if it was his son in the same position, he’d do exactly the same thing and he backed me on that and I can’t thank him enough for that, because obviously it was difficult for him, but this can’t go on.’

      With that I jumped in the car and headed for Scotland. It was a relief to get back to Glasgow and the catcalls I get there on a daily basis.

      That night Celtic’s security team put me up in a hotel as they feared that I would get no peace at home. I sat there alone in that hotel room making calls to my family and friends and watching the television. I was utterly amazed when the news programmes were completely dominated by what had happened to me. When you have reached a certain level in football, having to watch yourself on television is one of the more unnerving experiences that you go through. I had never quite got used to seeing myself play, never mind being interviewed off the pitch, but here I was now featuring in the headlines and in the main bulletins. It was almost as if I was watching a different person—who was this Neil Lennon they kept referring to along with the words ‘death threats’? How could a mere footballer gain such attention? But of course, it wasn’t my footballing prowess that was the issue.

      As I lay there contemplating my future I couldn’t help but think of quitting the game altogether. Only my desire to succeed at Celtic kept me from walking away.

      Even so, I had lost something very special. No one except another footballer can really know about the long hard hours of work that go into reaching the top level that is international football. All the other sacrifices such as special diets and the rigours of self-discipline through the years all count towards your achievements, and here was I with the pinnacle of my career to date snatched away from me by a man with a telephone. It seemed for a while that all the hard work had not been worth the candle.

      The following day the LVF announced they had nothing to do with the call. That actually made me feel a lot better—it now appeared that it really was a hoax, and the caller would also not want to make enemies of those lads.

      But I had made up my mind and before Celtic’s weekend match against Partick Thistle I told a press conference of my final and irrevocable decision to quit playing international football.

      ‘It’s’ not a snap decision,’ I said. ‘I’ve thought long and hard about it. It would have been nice in a way to turn things right round from that experience in the Norway game, but it has reared its ugly head again. I can’t keep putting the people I love most through the wringer yet again. They suffer most.

      ’Genuine Northern Ireland fans have sent me many letters of support during this whole period. I really feel sorry for everyone associated with the Northern Ireland team but I have to move on from this situation.

      ’It’s not only my parents and the rest of my family. I have to think about Sammy McIlroy and the team as well. It’s not right that the focus should be taken away from them for all the wrong reasons. It’s also disruptive to what Sammy is trying to do. Just hours before the game he was forced to change his whole plan because of this.

      ’So I feel it’s best for everybody that I make this decision now. The game will go on, it will continue and I hope the lads go on and do really well. But enough is СКАЧАТЬ