MICK McCARTHY
on his inner peace and why he should have quit Ireland job post Saipan
FOOTBALL never ceases to amaze Mick McCarthy. As he prepares to celebrate the 25th anniversary of becoming Millwall player-manager in March 1992, it was the words of a little old lady that stopped him in his tracks. This is somewhat of a watershed year for him. August marks 40 years since the bruising centre back made his debut for Barnsley against Rochdale aged just 18, while in November 15 years will have passed since his resignation as Ireland manager.
The 58-year-old takes charge of his 908th game as a manager when his Ipswich Town side travel to local rivals Norwich City in the Championship today. It’s a managerial career which pre-dates, the Premier League and the gentrification which has followed but still, after all that, and with the landmark 1,000 games firmly on his radar, the vitriol of a pensioner left him stunned.
‘A very lovely old lady said to me, “you better win against them… the scum”, she said. And I said “wow,”. I couldn’t believe it, it was a nice old lady. Well, I thought she was nice. I don’t know why I am surprised. You’ve got to hate somebody haven’t you, I suppose.’
Only this seems like a very different Mick McCarthy to the bawling presence who has prowled touchlines with Millwall, Ireland, Sunderland, Wolves and now Ipswich.
A laminated photograph of the Serenity Prayer is one of a few mementoes pinned to the notice board in the office he shares with assistant Terry Connor. ‘I think it sums up perfectly what a manager should be,’ McCarthy explains, before reciting it off by heart. ‘God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference.’
McCarthy reached this point of understanding about the limitations he has within his own job when he witnessed the devastating impact addiction can have on those close to him. ‘A friend of mine went on the 12-step programme and he went into the depths of despair.
‘I’m very proud of him now, he has three or four businesses and mentors other people, so I’ve spent quite a bit of time with him and gone through the demons with him.
‘Not with him,’ McCarthy clarifies. ‘He’s through the other side doing great. That’s the first time I saw [the Serenity Prayer] and it’s pretty significant, I think.
‘It does give you more perspective. Paul McCarthy died the other day. Forty five. Played for Ireland. That’s when you... I’m older than my mother when she died.
‘The bad results still annoy me, but if I dwelt on every bad result, every bad performance, it would drive me into an early grave. And I do think some people almost dwell on it and make more of it than it actually is − as if to say that they care more. Let’s all get angry about it because we care more, I’ve had that. People swearing and shouting and cursing, making a lot of noise. Most of it is bulls***.’
Some of the pictures on the noticeboard have more meaning than others. In the top left is Norman Rimmington, a Barnsley club stalwart who mentored McCarthy when he was a teenager. Such was their bond, he gave a moving eulogy at the 93-year-old’s funeral last month. ‘Oh, wow, that was hard. The reason I became a footballer is because of Rimmo. He was wonderful, like a Dad to me.’
In the bottom left corner is a team photo of the Lyon side he was part of for 10 months during the 1989-90 season. It was sent to him out of the blue by a supporter at the start of the season, and when McCarthy explains the reasons why a picture of a great white shark baring its teeth is placed beside it on the board, you come to understand why it is he operates as he does. In France, the custom each day was for players to shake everyone’s hand at the club, and that is now the norm at Ipswich. ‘The players, I’m sure they sometimes walk past the door and go “nah, I’ll avoid that”, but I shout and say “come on, let’s have you”. It does create a nice atmosphere. I don’t see friendliness as a sign of weakness at all,’ McCarthy says.
‘In any walk of business you can be an absolute ghost if you want to be, let me tell you, you can come in, do your bit, and go and no one knows you or what you’ve done. Footballers generally are insecure; about their health, fitness, position, contracts, wages and being cold and hard with them.
‘They would be happy to walk in here every morning, peak-cap pulled down, earphones on and take not a blind bit of notice of me or anybody else. Just train and go home. That’s not right for me
‘Managers don’t shake hands with players, some don’t talk to them. You can do what you like with them then, ignore them, show you’re a tough guy who’s not bothered, so are they going to be bothered about you?
‘I’d rather call them into the office, tell them I’m not picking them, listen to him telling me I’m wrong and explain why. It adds to the anxiety
We had two bad results and a lot of things changed
for me having to tell a player, but at least I know every player will walk away from here and say “he’s not a bulls ***** r”. I don’t think you’d ever find anyone who’d say “ah, he’s insincere or I wouldn’t believe anything he tells ye”. Nobody ever will. I would hate it.
‘And fans know, if we go out and we were s***e, they know, and I will come out and say “yeah, we were s***e”. Not everybody likes it but… so behind that smile is a 500lb shark that’s got sharp teeth. I think that was the idea, at the end-of-season dinner they flashed it up on a screen and said “the gaffer’s door is always open and he’s always happy to see ya”.’
In January, it looked as if McCarthy might be closing it behind him for good at Ipswich. They were dumped out of the FA Cup by Lincoln City, lost three of their five Championship games and supporters were singing ‘Mick McCarthy, your football is s***e’.
He’s turned it around this month, going unbeaten with three draws and a win, and victory today will only serve to strengthen his position at the club, which, with another season to run on his contract, he plans on discussing with owner Marcus Evans in the summer.
McCarthy feels it is a similar scenario to the one he faced with Ireland when events in Saipan lingered into the Euro 2004 qualifiers.
‘I should have left at the end of the 2002 World Cup,’ he admits. ‘I’d gone from coming back and how many people in the Phoenix Park? Thousands.
‘We had two bad results and a lot changed.
‘It didn’t all change because I think I’m still well thought of in Ireland but for those two games, certainly the last game against Switzerland, everything that I’ve done and achieved with Ireland, all of a sudden is gone.
‘For that moment in time, that night.
‘And ye think, “that’s not the way I wanted it to end”. And I wouldn’t want it to end like that here either. I loved the Ireland job that much. With the players that I had [I felt we] would qualify for the Euros, so why would I have even contemplated giving it up?
‘Except for all the other stuff that had gone on, the sidebar was always going to make it difficult for me if we didn’t win games and of course we didn’t and it ended.
‘It’s alright. It’s 20-20 vision looking back but I should have gone, I should have walked away.
‘It was only ever waiting but, I tell ye what, when you love something it’s hard to walk away.’