Ian Holloway on player- bosses

With the life of a modern manager so all- encompassing, the role of player- manager has died a gradual death. But no wonder, insists FFT’S columnist – doing that job himself with Bristol Rovers almost cost him very dearly...

As I write this, there are no player- managers in the EFL this season. We see the odd one pop up, usually towards the end of a campaign, but in reality I think they’re gone forever.

It was hard enough when I did it for three seasons at Bristol Rovers from 1996. Now, the stresses and strains of a modern manager make it impossible. There’s nowhere near enough time to train yourself to the level you need to be and do all the other off- field planning, scouting, squad building and board meetings. You end up a physical and mental wreck. It nearly killed me actually, and almost wiped my relationship out. It’s so constant that it’s crazy.

Being brutally honest, the only successful player- manager I can ever remember was Kenny Dalglish at Liverpool. When I spoke to him about it once, he said, “I didn’t do it. They just told me to go and train. I sat in meetings where we picked the team and they kept putting me in it.” He said he’d named himself as a substitute 17 times one season as he felt so embarrassed.

Kenny also advised me that it was the people around you who really mattered – he had Joe Fagan and experienced blokes who knew what they were doing. Fortunately, I had two mates – the goalkeeper coach and physio, Phil Kite, and my assistant/ striker Gary Penrice. We were all doing two jobs at the time because of the club we were at. They didn’t try to save money at Liverpool like that, let me tell you...

Rovers could pay me one lot of money for two jobs. They knew how fit I still was, so at 33 they gave me a four- year contract on a player’s deal – I couldn’t turn that down. QPR offered me two years on better money, but I took the career- changing deal as I felt that was the right thing to do. What they didn’t realise was that they couldn’t sack me on that contract!

But it still caused all sorts of issues, as I was so entwined with the job. I thought it was my whole identity. It was really difficult for my wife and kids because I lived and breathed it every second of every day. To be honest, I had no experience so it would take over my moods – hence me going to anger management in the end. It’s so tough, but you learn as you go along.

My first act as manager was losing our best goalscorer, Marcus Stewart. We were at risk of losing him for free, so I came up with this hare- brained scheme that I’d get a local garage to sponsor the new car he wanted. If he signed a form that said he’d turned down his contract, we could get a fee for him. If he’d gone for free, it would have killed us – we’d have gone bust. So I got this car with a ribbon around it, on a deal with the garage that we’d buy it for Marcus if we sold him. He couldn’t believe it. He signed the bit of paper saying he wanted to go and I got a big hug from the chairman – we sold Marcus to the team that had just beaten us in the play- off final, Huddersfield, and got £ 1.2 million.

Wrestling with my identity was the hardest part of being player- manager. I still wanted to be one of the lads but realised very quickly that I couldn’t, because I had to be the one who was making decisions. I had their respect but knew I could lose it easily. On the pitch I was ‘ Ollie’ and didn’t want to be called ‘ gaffer’ – how could they say, “Come on gaffer, that’s rubbish” if I’d messed up? It doesn’t work. Gary and Phil told me to pick myself a lot, but I found it really embarrassing being 36, trying to tell young lads they were going to be good enough and then playing myself ahead of them.

The job was a baptism of fire, but it taught me loads about how not to do things. The crucial thing as a manager is taking responsibility, and I found it to be a greater responsibility when I wasn’t playing. I could make a difference on the pitch, but not being out there forced me to entrust others. I finished playing after the 1998- 99 season aged 36, even though I could still carry myself physically. But that wasn’t the point – I needed to get to grips with the mental challenge of management.

Today, I just don’t know how anyone would be able to pull it all off. Maybe there will be someone so exceptional on the pitch that they can – but I think those days are over. Long live the player- manager…

“WRESTLING WITH MY IDENTITY WAS THE HARD PART. I STILL WANTED TO BE ONE OF THE LADS BUT COULDN’T – I WAS THE ONE MAKING DECISIONS”