Ollie Read online

  I ended the relationship and we went our separate ways, but within a month I was missing her terribly. I’d been a bloody idiot but my pride was holding me back. The new season began and I bumped into her mum, who was a member at Cadbury Heath Social Club where I was playing snooker and I asked how Kim was doing. She told me I should go and talk to her and, needing a haircut, I went to her where she was working. I had every intention of asking her back out and I think she was expecting me to say as much, but for some reason I bottled it and said I still wanted space and all that crap! What was I thinking? I’ve got a beautiful girl whom I’m as besotted with as the first day I saw her and I’m behaving like a bloody idiot. Not only that, but I tell her while she’s cutting my hair. Her revenge was swift and she murdered my hair exactly the opposite to the way I usually had it. She shaved it up the back and left a big lump on the top and I looked like a member of Kajagoogoo – she did a right number on me, but good on her because I deserved nothing less.

  I’d entered a different world to the one I’d loved and felt secure in, and things were about to get even worse as my dad had a heart attack, shaking the foundations of our family to the core. I think what happened to dad came as a result of his pride as much as the condition of his heart, because he was an immensely proud man. He’d help anyone out and give his last penny if he thought it would help, but on this occasion his body couldn’t keep up with his good intentions. He’d always been incredibly fit and looked younger than his 52 years and I think that might have actually worked against him on this occasion. As per usual, he went out to see a Sunday League game the day after watching me play for the reserves and I’d normally go along with him, but for some reason didn’t that day. He’d watch the game, then go and have a pint with his mates at the club and be home in time for Sunday dinner. On this occasion, he came home about an hour earlier than normal and sat down in his chair. His face looked grey and I could sense something was badly wrong.

  “Is your mum in, son?” he almost whispered to me. I said she was. “Call her down for me would you?”

  Mum came in and he looked at her and said, “I don’t feel very well, love. I’d like you to call an ambulance.” Mum asked what was wrong and he said he had a really tight chest. She held his hand and made to go over to the phone but as she did he grabbed her and said, “But I’ve got to tell you, I played football this morning. They were a man short and I couldn’t let them down.” Mum said for him not to worry, but it summed him up that he’d had to tell her the truth, because that was what he was all about. It was an awful time and the hospital later confirmed he’d had a heart attack and kept him in for a few days. They did some tests and discovered he had angina and would have to take tablets to help him keep it under control. It had been a real scare for all of us.

  I had dad on my mind constantly and I was missing Kim more than ever by now and being apart was tearing me up, but it had been my own doing and I still couldn’t summon up enough courage to tell her how I felt. I’d borrow my mate’s dog just so I could walk past her house and if she saw me she’d come out and walk with me for a while, telling me about her new boyfriend, which didn’t come as a surprise because there was always going to be a long queue.

  I kept tabs on her all the time and my mate Phil Kite, who was the goalkeeper at Rovers, gave me regular updates because his mum used to get her hair cut at Kim’s hairdressers in Kingswood. Time moved on and I tried to get on with my life and took another girl out at one point, but I treated her badly and was off-hand and rude to her and nobody deserves to be treated that way. My progress at senior level also seemed to be at a standstill with Terry Cooper gone and Bobby Gould replacing him as the new manager. The one game I did get during his first season in charge was during a 1-0 defeat at Wimbledon. Wearing the

  No 2 shirt I made my full debut playing right-back. I thought I was doing well enough in the reserves but Gouldy obviously didn’t agree at the time.

  I was all over the place mentally, and though it seemed like a lifetime since I’d split with Kim, I still harboured hopes we might get back together some day and would regularly call to see her to chat and go on the odd walk. I needed to concentrate on my football and dad encouraged me to channel my frustration into positivity on the football pitch, which I managed to do, finally breaking into the side during the 1982/83 season.

  If I wasn’t playing first-team football, I always thought there was something wrong with the manager rather than look at what I was doing negatively, because I always believed in my own ability. My chances under Gouldy had been limited, mainly because he brought in some top names – well past their prime – over whom there was no chance on Earth I would ever get preferential treatment. Mick Channon came to Rovers from Newcastle, which was fantastic for a club like us, but he took my place in the team. When Gouldy did play me, I’d get stuck out on the right wing, but that was all I needed because I was damned if I was about to let him drop me again.

  I wasn’t happy with the way Gouldy was treating me, though I could see he was under pressure because Channon’s wages would have been substantial by Rovers’ standards, and if he didn’t produce the goods, it’d be his neck on the line.

  Mick was larger than life, immersed in his horses and an amazing bloke, really, but he was the reason I wasn’t in the side and I’d felt I was establishing myself up to his arrival. Mick arrived in October 1982 and Gouldy stuck him on the bench for the first two games, which inspired me to score my first senior goals, one during a 4-0 home win over Millwall and then two more away to Orient. Unbelievably, Gouldy dropped me for the next match, bringing Mick in claiming I was “mentally tired.” I was fuming, but I had to get on with it. Later on, we drew Plymouth away in the FA Cup second round and, having won my place back, I’d put my bag under the No 7 shirt. Gouldy read the team out and I wasn’t even on the bench – Mick was back in the side but I hadn’t been warned and was seething at Gouldy for that. Mick could see this and went into his bag and brought out a sealed bag containing £1000 and said to me, “Here, go out and buy yourself a coffee.” I went to take it from him and as I did he pulled it away and started laughing. I was steaming. I sat in the stand and Gouldy came and sat next to me. Mick had missed two sitters and he put his arm around my shoulder and said, “Do you think you’d have put those chances away?” and I said, “Yes, I do, but YOU don’t.”

  He didn’t like that and told me to see him on the following Monday morning. I had ideas above my station but I needed a streak of arrogance to push on. I never had a problem with Mick, who was a fantastic bloke, it was the manager I didn’t agree with for not selecting me on merit. Whereas I was focused and committed, Mick was more interested in how his horses were doing and it’d be like, “Oh my horse just bloody lost. I’d better get my kit on.” He made more of an impact on the coach and in the dressing room than he did on the pitch because I don’t believe we were really good enough to play with him. He left for Norwich just before Christmas and was outstanding for them. Maybe he needed to play at a higher level to perform to his maximum potential and I think he needed quality players around him to be at his best, but what a treat to be able to train and play with a bloke of that calibre. Alan Ball arrived after Mick had gone and what an absolute pleasure it was to have him at the club. It was another coup for Gouldy who proved he could pull in the big names, and I wanted to learn as much off Bally as I could.

  He was a terrific character and the lads were in awe of him because this guy had seen it, done it and was still wearing the T-shirt. He loved his horses, too, but that was for his spare time because when he trained and played, he was outstanding. I was picked occasionally, but mainly out of the team at the time, but after a couple of games alongside Bally, I was dropped again for an away game at Wigan. Gouldy told me he was going to play Bally out on the right and said he just wanted me to watch what he did and absorb it all in. In all fairness, I believe I witnessed one of the best performances I’ve ever seen that afternoo
n. Gouldy said, “You won’t ever get a chance to see another player who knows his next pass like Alan and on his day, he can run a game, and I think today just might be his day.” Bally was outstanding and we won 5-0 and I think he created them all. I was sat on the bench with Gouldy next to me and he kept nudging me saying, “Look at that,” or “Did you see that?” Eventually, I snapped and said “I can bloody see it!” He was 36 but had lost none of his brilliance and was four or five passes ahead of everyone else that afternoon, and to this day, I’ve not seen anyone who has played better. Bally was always first class with me and the lads and there was one occasion we turned up for training one time and Gouldy said, “We’re not training this morning, we’re training this afternoon so go away and do what you like.” He was like that, always changing things or doing unusual stuff but it was good because it kept you on your toes.

  Bally looked up and said, “Is there a café around here, lads?” There was one called the Monte Carlo so Bally said that we had to go there. I’d not long passed my driving test but he threw me his keys and said that I could drive us there if I wanted. We went outside and there in front of us was a brand new Mercedes 500 coupe parked. Bally, sat next to me at the front with his training kit and cap on, marking his horses off for the afternoon, and he didn’t look up from his paper even once on that journey. He paid for us at the café without us knowing and we nipped in and out of the bookies next door for him over the next few hours. I chatted to him and asked him about his family, and he told me he had three kids and that he and his wife had adopted another. I asked why and he said, “Well, we’ve been lucky and had a good life. We just wanted to help someone else who’d been less fortunate. He was a proper fella – outstanding in fact – and he was a World Cup winner, but would you know it? What a top man and I really can’t speak highly enough of him.

  As for me, I was still a young kid and a bit erratic at times, too intent on proving Gouldy wrong rather than getting my head down and concentrating on my own game. I was making mistakes and was guilty of perhaps trying too hard, but I was still producing enough to warrant selection, creating a few goals and scoring here and there.

  I had the pleasure of scoring the winner against Bristol City, in the Gloucester Cup Final when I smashed a left-foot shot into the top left-hand corner – on my life it was a stunner! Terry Cooper, by then City’s manager, said afterwards, “I worked with him for years and know he hasn’t got a left foot. It was a total fluke.” Cheers, Coops!

  I wasn’t physically the strongest or the quickest and there were always a lot of quality midfielders at Rovers during that period. Dave Williams, who went on to play for Norwich, Frankie Prince, Geraint Williams and Tony Pulis were all good players and older than me, so it was a constant battle to be in the starting line-up. I was forever arguing with Gouldy because I never felt he gave me a chance, but looking back, he did, because he did play me, even if it was sporadically. It was when he brought in a couple of lads who played non-League football and played them ahead of me that upset me the most, and even though both lads did well, I just didn’t feel it was right at the time.

  Dad had always taught me to confront someone if I felt the need for an explanation so I said to Gouldy “What’s wrong with me? What do you want me to do?” and I kept asking the same kind of question, which annoyed him, I think. But I trained hard and kept my head up and the insubordination was just part of my prickly character at that age. I wanted to show him he was wrong and that I wasn’t going to put up with it. I mithered him on the bench so much one time that he just gave up. “Go on, put me on, I’ll get us the win, come on, stick me on…” and on that occasion, I did score and we did win, but I was cocky with it. “See, told you I’d do it.” I had to be fairly happy with my return of seven goals from 26 starts – I was still only 20 and it was a solid base for me to build upon.

  Gouldy left for Coventry City and I now realise the things he did or said were 99.9% right and I’ve a lot of respect for Bob. They should have awarded him a medal for putting up with a bolshy, headstrong little slugger like me, if truth be told. Dave Williams took over for the start of the 1983/84 season and I played 36 times and felt, with some justification, that I’d established myself in the team. I’d always had a great relationship with the Rovers fans who just took to me straight away, presumably because I gave everything every time I played and I was a local lad. They’d voted me Young Player of the Year in successive seasons when I was 18 and 19 and I hadn’t even been in the first team at that point. Neil Slatter was 18 and a full Welsh international as well as a regular in the senior side and yet I beat him. How could that be? It was quite embarrassing, really, though flattering all the same.

  I was full of anger in my late teens and early twenties and that was almost completely down to not being with Kim. I was doing all kinds of weird things like going on sun beds, wearing lots of gold, dyeing my hair bleach blond and going to the gym all the time to make me feel better about myself – egotistical stuff I would never have dreamed of doing normally. Looking back, I looked a complete pleb, but I suppose at least I can admit that.

  I was nerveless on the pitch, though, where I would try anything to catch the eye of the manager. I remember one time I was up against an old centre-half, Les Chapman, playing against Preston, and Dave Williams played a ball out to me and as it came, I sort of nodded over Chapman, ran past him and whipped the ball in. The next time he came near me he punched me in the stomach and said, “You try that again and I’ll snap you in fucking half and you’ll get much worse than that.” I just went for things and didn’t care about the consequences because I always believed that was my time and if I didn’t make an impression of some sort, I might not get another go.

  Looking back, it was a miserable period and I was lonely and selfish in my ways. I bought an expensive stereo for myself and idled away my spare time listening to music in my room. I’d buy records like Tavares ‘More Than a Woman’ and dozens of others I could relate back to Kim – I’d even write my own lyrics to some songs – sad, I know, but I couldn’t help it.

  There were more reasons to leave Bristol than to stay and I felt my situation with Kim had to come to a conclusion before too long. I’d been thinking of moving on anyway.

  Not being with her while still living in the same neighbourhood was killing me, in truth, and seeing her fairly regularly to chat to only made things worse, so I made the decision to keep away for a couple of weeks – at least. I had to move on and on one particular afternoon, I was handed the incentive I needed to leave Rovers, quit Bristol and start afresh somewhere else.

  I was over at Phil Kite’s house and his mum Miriam came in carrying a bag of shopping. “Hello Ian,” she said. “I saw your ex-girlfriend today – isn’t she stunning?” I just nodded and smiled. Funnily enough, I’d been talking to Phil and his girlfriend about the way I still felt for Kim just moments before and I noticed him in the corner of my eye attempting to shush his mum up, but she didn’t understand and continued with her news. “I saw the ring – beautiful ring it was, too, she looks so happy.” It was a tumbleweed moment and you could have heard the proverbial pin drop.

  “What ring?” I asked.

  Phil got up and said, “Come on Ollie we better be getting off…”

  “She got engaged to that lovely boy she’s with,” his mum went on. “You don’t like her anymore though, do you?”

  “She’s got engaged?” The colour drained from my face and I had to leave. Why hadn’t Kim told me herself? Why did I have to hear it from somebody else? I spent the rest of that day thinking seriously about driving the fast car I’d bought straight into a wall and having done with it. I was an idiot and I thought I’d probably never be happy again, so why bother going through the motions? Eventually, I managed to calm myself down, went home and thought long and hard about what I wanted to do next. I still had a year of my contract left at Rovers and Pen had by this time come back to the club after playing
for Mangotsfield United. I had good mates and my family around me so I decided to soldier on for another season at Eastville.

  I arrived for training in July, still wanting to be somewhere else, but glad to be able to get my head down and start grafting again. There was a local pre-season tournament at Longwell Green that we were taking part in, mainly designed to build our stamina and sharpness up, and the heat was intense. Mickey Barrett was a brilliant winger for Rovers – a popular lad among the squad and with the supporters, but you could see something wasn’t right. He kept having to come off during the games, which were only six minutes each way and was drenched in sweat and the lad just looked ill. Initially, we thought it was heat stroke, but afterwards his condition deteriorated rapidly and he was rushed to hospital. It turned out Mickey had hepatitis but, tragically, further tests revealed he was also riddled with cancer. Mickey, who was just 24, died a couple of weeks later. It was a total shock because he’d seemed a fit, young lad who was preparing to become a father for the first time. How do you get your head around something like that? More tragedy surrounded another of my team-mates, Tim Parkin, who’d lost his little boy to leukaemia not long before Mickey’s death. The day after Mickey’s funeral, one of my best mates, Phil Kite, left for Southampton, which, while nowhere near as devastating as the other events, still was a blow to me. I couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening around me and the events of that summer made me look at life through different eyes.