THE 60-SECOND DOSSIER
when Tony Adams informed misfiring midfield duo Emmanuel Petit and Patrick Vieira to shape up or ship out. The Gallic pair heeded their captain’s call and the end-of-season celebration at the Cafe Royal, after Arsenal had won the Double, was altogether more upbeat.
Fergie vs Sharpey
“I opened Sharpey’s front door,” recalled Ryan Giggs, “and there was the manager. I was holding a bottle of Becks, and there was no escape.” Getting wind of Lee Sharpe’s raucous house party from his network of informers, Alex Ferguson curtly dismissed all invitees, then informed the petrified duo that if there was any repeat of such shenanigans, their Manchester United careers were over.
Cruyff in hot water
A few days before Holland played the hosts in the 1974 World Cup Final in Munich, German tabloid Bild ran a story under the headline ‘Cruyff, champagne and naked girls’ that alleged the Dutch players had partied in a hotel swimming pool with bikini-clad women – and they certainly weren’t wives or girlfriends. Johan Cruyff spent the entire pre-final night on the phone being grilled by wife Danny. The following day, the Dutch were beaten 2-1 by the Germans. “Maybe swimming all those lengths took it out of us, eh?” Johnny Rep later sighed.
“I’m trying to behave better; I have a child now,” insisted Brazilian striker Edmundo in 1999. To prove his new, mature approach to life, ‘the Animal’ poured a glass of beer down the throat of an actual animal: Pedrinho, a chimp who was part of the circus that the striker had hired for his son’s party. The former Fiorentina forward had forgotten that he’d invited press photographers along, too. Oops.
Black Cats brought down to Earth
If Sunderland’s 1973 FA Cup winners reckoned their Wembley heroics against Leeds would bring them global stardom, they were mistaken. On a booze-laden end-of-season trip over in Mallorca, goalscoring hero Ian Porterfield uttered the immortal words to a nightclub doorman: “We are Sunderlando. We win FA Cup. We a famous football club.” The doorman rubbed the fingers on his right hand together and growled: “Pesetas.” The players moved on.
“All friends again, eh, lads? Patrick?”