Under-15 side and I still remember the Muratti Cup Final against Jersey that year. We were the warm-up act before a friendly between the full Guernsey side and Tottenham Hotspur, the team I supported as a boy. I was a huge fan, mainly because I idolized Glenn Hoddle who was everything I ever wanted to be as a player. His skill, touch, vision and finishing were sublime. It was 1-1 when the Tottenham team arrived and they actually watched our match. We could see them all in the stand with the likes of Ray Clemence, Ossie Ardiles, Steve Archibald and Glenn watching us. I’d like to say I turned on the style but I made a complete idiot of myself.
With seven minutes remaining I was pushed in the box and we got a penalty—and I made a hash of it. I put the kick wide, a cardinal sin. A free shot from just 12 yards. It is the first penalty I remember missing and it had to be in front of the Spurs players. They weren’t best pleased because it meant our match went to extra-time so they had to wait to play their game. We won in the end but I was still mortified at missing in front of so many big names.
My dad was a big Spurs fan so I supported them too, and I’ll never forget when they reached the FA Cup Final in 1981. Every year my dad and a group of mates went to the final. I have no idea how he got tickets, but it always coincided with his birthday so it was his big annual treat to himself. He was more excited than ever when Spurs got to that final, and I nipped home from school at lunchtime to say goodbye but he told me not to bother going back for the afternoon, and handed me a ticket for the match. I was absolutely stunned. Instead of going back for lessons I was suddenly packing my bag and flying to the mainland to see Spurs v Manchester City at Wembley. Obviously, having me there cramped his style a bit because it meant he had to look after a 12-year-old boy instead of going out for a few drinks, so I’ll always be grateful. We didn’t get to see Spurs lift the Cup as it finished 1-1 and, in those days, there’d be a replay, but it was still an amazing experience and I was more determined than ever to make it as a pro.
I remember the thrill of walking up Wembley Way, jostling with thousands of other fans, seeing the Twin Towers (before they became an arch) and dreaming that one day Michael Gilkes would be cup-tied and that I’d get to take his place. I was absolutely buzzing as I handed in my ticket at the turnstiles and walked inside the stadium for the first time. Excitement? I nearly exploded. I can still recall walking out into that giant concrete bowl and seeing that famous pitch down there in front of me. I loved every second of the build-up, the flags, the scarves, even the smell of the place. It was then the most magical day of my life and I vowed I’d would be back as a player.
I was already on the right path. Manchester Utd didn’t exactly come knocking, but when I was 14 Oxford offered me a trial, ironically in a game against Southampton. I stayed with Keith and Gill Rogers, friends of my dad and the people who had got Kevin his trial. Ray Graydon was the youth team coach at the time and he’d pick me up each day and take me to training. Oxford wanted me back and said it would be easier if I lived there so I left Guernsey to start school in Oxford, and I absolutely hated it. I didn’t know anyone and wanted to leave after the first lesson. I think I managed two full days—so at least I gave it a good go.
Keith put me on a flight back to Guernsey and I think he was a bit annoyed, not least because the same thing had happened with Kevin. I just wasn’t ready. I hope he didn’t take it personally but it was too soon for me to leave home. Oxford were doing well then under Jim Smith, and had got to the League Cup Final, but I knew Southampton were interested. I had another chance. They’d spotted me playing for Guernsey Schools when we came over on tour and were keen for a closer look. They said they were happy for me to finish my schooling in Guernsey, and would wait to make a decision about an apprenticeship until I was 16. That was better. I still have the letter, addressed to ‘Matthew Le Tissieur’. Maybe they were already thinking ahead to shirt printing, charging £1 a letter.
When I went to Southampton I stayed with Andy Cook and Leroy Whale who were also on schoolboy terms. Their families made me very welcome and I had no hesitation accepting the apprenticeship. My parents had received a letter from the manager Lawrie McMenemy but again my name was spelled wrongly, and the letter stressed the importance of finishing my exams. Bizarrely it said, ‘I will quite understand if you do not want to tell Matthew of this offer until after he has completed his exams, but please let me know his decision within a week.’
Of course they told me, and I was always going to accept. My parents had ensured I was used to the surroundings at Southampton and that I was ready to move away. It also took all the pressure off my exams because I knew they didn’t matter. I was never too fussed about schoolwork though I was pretty good at mental maths, which came in handy for working out goal difference, and I once won the Guernsey Eisteddfod Society Certificate of Merit for an essay about a dream in which I scored the winning goal in the World Cup Final. In short, I always just did enough because I always knew I’d be a footballer.
MANCHESTERUTD. DIDN’TEXACTLY COMEKNOCKING BUTWHEN I WAS 14OXFORDOFFERED ME ATRIAL.
By that stage I knew I was head and shoulders above everyone I was playing against, often scoring five or six goals a game in the Under-16s and Under-18s leagues and also turning out at adult level for Vale Rec Reserves. And then I got a call for the England Under-17 training camp, which was a huge honour. It was also an opportunity to fiddle the expenses and make a few quid. We were able to claim train fare, food and taxi fares when of course I actually got a lift. Julian Dicks and Andy Hinchcliffe were also in the group, along with around 50 others I’d never heard of before or since. It’s quite astonishing how many of that group never made it at any level, so there must have been something seriously wrong with either the scouting or the development. Who’s to blame— the talent scouts or the players with no desire? Me—I’d had a burning ambition from the age of eight. I never thought about anything but football. I knew I was good on Guernsey, but what about on the mainland? What was the competition like? Did I have any? It didn’t take me long to realize that the answer was ‘No’.
When news spread that I was moving away to join Southampton, I received a special presentation at the Guernsey FA annual awards evening. Former QPR goalkeeper Phil Parkes handed me a framed cartoon which had appeared on the back of the local paper. It said, ‘Best wishes Matt for a long and successful career in England—from all the Channel Island goalies.’
Was I confident? It was weird. I was on a high because I’d just enjoyed a great season and I had faith in my own ability, but I was stepping into the unknown.
3 KNOCKED INTO SHAPE BY THE HAIRDRIER
WE WERE ALL LISTENING OUTSIDE THE DRESSING
ROOM AS IT ALL KICKED OFF AND CHRIS NICHOLL THUMPED MARK DENNIS.
There was just one great big obstacle: I’d been suspended for the first two youth matches. All the bookings were for dissent and I had to appear before the Guernsey Island FA where we argued that a ban could harm my prospects at Southampton. Thankfully they voted by six votes to five to overturn the ban and give me a severe warning about my future conduct. So that obviously worked well!
I had always been quick to voice my opinion. I still remember one schools match which we struggled to win away. The ref was one of the teachers at their school and he did all he possibly could to get them a win. I was only 13 or 14 but I let him have it. As we came off the pitch the ref went up to our coach and said he needed to ‘Keep an eye on that Le Tissier, and tell him to calm down and stop arguing.’ I overheard and said to my mate, ‘He’s talking out of his arse.’ Too loudly. The next thing I’m being frogmarched to the coach’s car and he’s driving me straight home to tell my parents, but what he didn’t know was that my mum had been at the game and she’d seen that the ref was a disgrace. A cheat. She stuck up for me but made it quite clear I had to be more careful in future.
And I remembered that at Southampton. What was it like there? Now Saints have a well-run lodge where all the trainees stay, but in those days you had digs, and it was pot luck what sort of family you ended up with. You were driven to someone’s front door and told, here’s your new home. I was very lucky and stayed with Pete and Pat Ford.