played particularly well that day. It was after that match that I came into contact with Harry Dunn, the well-known scout who would eventually help me to get a start in professional football.
He told me that Motherwell FC might be interested in giving me a trial, but a couple of weeks later he called the house to say that Rangers were also interested and would like to invite me to visit Ibrox Park for the day.
My dad was stupefied. But shortly afterwards we received a letter from Jock Wallace, the then manager of Rangers, confirming their interest in my future. You can read that letter and see the picture of me at Ibrox in the illustration section—proof positive that Rangers were following my progress as a fledgling footballer.
It was one of the few times in my life that I saw my father look absolutely stunned as he read the message on that Ibrox-headed notepaper. He just could not believe it at first, but when he realized it was serious he expressed his grave reservations about me ever signing for Rangers, not least because it could place my personal safety, and that of the rest of the family, at risk from the actions of extremists—given what happened to me when I was chosen to captain Northern Ireland, his fears were sadly justified.
Despite my father’s concerns I also consulted Dessie Meginnis and it was decided all round that I should go over to Glasgow to see what Rangers had to offer.
The visit took place after an international youth tournament at Ayr where I was lucky enough to be named best player in the Under-14 section. The Lurgan Mail reported that ‘Neill (sic) Lennon has attracted the interest of Birmingham City, Glasgow Celtic and Rangers.’ Later on it was reported that ‘13-year-old Neil Lennon accepted an invitation from a top Scottish Premier League side to view their set-up. Neil, who was accompanied by his father, enjoyed the experience and may well be invited back at a later date for a trial. The club asked that their name should not be disclosed at this stage.’
That is probably a reference to the fact that the whole situation of Rangers taking an interest in a Catholic schoolboy was very delicate, to say the least. At that time, because of their culture as the club of the Protestant and Unionist tradition, Rangers did not sign Catholics. The club had stated several years earlier that it would sign a Catholic if he was good enough, but funnily enough by the early 1980s, Rangers still hadn’t signed anyone of my religion. The first boy to sign for them who was reported to be a Catholic was John Spencer later in that decade.
It was obviously going to be problematic for me to sign for them and perhaps that’s why everything was kept pretty hush-hush, but I have never doubted that their interest in me was genuine, not least because Jock Wallace told my father face to face—and as people who knew him will recall, Jock didn’t do whispers…he could be heard out on the pitch!
With my father along to watch over me—and make sure I didn’t sign anything—I enjoyed my trip to Ibrox, in company with three other boys from the Northern Ireland Under-14 side. We were accompanying the Under-15 side which went to Glasgow to play a Rangers’ youth side, and after the game we four were given our own guided tour of Ibrox, including the dressing rooms and the trophy room, which was empty as usual—only kidding!
Ibrox was very impressive, particularly the marble halls, and Jimmy Nicholl, the Northern Ireland international who then played for Rangers, looked after us well. My dad had a conversation with Jock Wallace in which the Rangers manager said that he had known about me for some time. The subject of my religion was mentioned and my dad recalls that Wallace knew it would be a problem. Even so I was only thirteen and the time for deciding my future was a long way away, though even by then I was pretty certain that I wanted to be a professional footballer.
Over the next few months, Harry Dunn also assured me that Rangers were keeping an eye on me. The interest from Rangers was intriguing, but never came to anything. I reckon I would have been about fifteen or so when Graeme Souness took over and started the revolution which brought Rangers their first high-profile Catholic signing of the modern era, Maurice Johnston, and Catholics have played a considerable part in their subsequent success. Could I have been the one to break the mould before John Spencer and Mo Johnston? I don’t know, because the question never arose. Still, it’s certainly something to ponder.
With nothing concrete coming from Rangers or any other club, I began to wonder if anyone would sign me up, but I need not have worried. The occasion which really brought me to the attention of scouts was the Milk Cup in Coleraine in 1985. Although I had only just turned fourteen, Dessie Meginnis asked me to captain a ‘Craigavon United’ select side which contained several older players.
The Milk Cup was a huge tournament for youngsters, and the best teams from all over Northern Ireland as well as visitors from as far away as Italy and San Francisco participated in a week-long competition with the final being watched by 10,000 people.
We played as Craigavon United but in reality it was the Lurgan Celtic team of two years earlier. Given our loyalty to the club in the east end of Glasgow it was somewhat pleasing that our best performance came against Rangers in the final. We had done well to get that far, but Rangers were hot favourites. Ironically, their side was managed by none other than Harry Dunn. His boys had wiped the floor with everyone, scoring fifty-five goals and losing none in romping to the final, and had the likes of John Spencer and Gary McSwegan playing for them. They were a very good side, but we gave them a huge fright, only losing to them on penalties after drawing 1-1 at full-time. At the end of the tournament, players were selected to contest a Northern Ireland versus the Rest of the World match. With Dessie Meginnis as manager, I was chosen as captain of our side which won 1-0.
There was high praise at home for this bunch of youngsters from Lurgan who were representing Craigavon. When I got back to my house it seemed as though the telephone did not stop ringing. Scouts from Manchester City, Oxford and Motherwell all called my dad, but the interest which excited me most was that of John Kelman, chief scout for Celtic, who knew Dessie Meginnis. Kelman told my father that Celtic would like me to come over for a trial at some point in the future. I was ecstatic that I was even being thought of in connection with Celtic. When I was first told, I bounced about the house like some crazy fool, jumping up and down and doing somersaults.
I was now on the fringe of the Northern Ireland schoolboy team, so it was a very exciting time for me. Football was almost taking over my life, but then I suffered my first major setback. I had been selected in the initial squad of eighteen players of ages fourteen and fifteen who would train together to prepare for schoolboy internationals. That training period lasted about six or seven months, at the end of which the squad was reduced to sixteen. I was one of the players cut at that point, and I felt as if the roof had fallen in on me. I had put a lot of effort into my training for the national squad, and I was gutted to be left out. I kept thinking of the other players going off to feature in matches at big stadiums in Scotland and England while I was stuck back in Lurgan. I seriously began to doubt whether I would make it into the ranks of professional football.
Looking back on that period, I was probably carrying a bit too much puppy fat—like any teenager, I was quite conscious of it. I decided that I needed to get fitter and then perhaps my turn would come. Motherwell and Manchester City were still interested in signing me, after all, though I had heard nothing more from Celtic and a trial for Oxford United had produced nothing solid.
Everyone at Hillsborough Boys Club was really good to me at that time, encouraging me to carry on. I went back to play a full season for them, which proved to be highly successful. In 1986, when I was fifteen, Craigavon United returned to the Milk Cup but I was too old to play for the junior side which won the tournament that year.
As I studied for my ‘O’ levels, Harry Dunn assured me that there was still very strong interest in me from Motherwell. Indeed there was—one of the directors of the club, Malky McNeill, came over to see my parents and me, and he took us for dinner to a very nice restaurant at the Chimney Corner, an upmarket hotel on the outskirts of Belfast. I will never forget that meal, because not only did it lead to me starting my professional career with Motherwell, it was also the first time I had seen someone cracking open a bottle of champagne. Malky stuck a silver coin into the cork and handed it to me saying ‘you keep that for luck’. I remember that the bill came to ?8, which was an absolute fortune to my parents in those