PINNED ON SOCCER ROCKER

couldn’t miss it now. The invite back to the caravan was unexpected and as Pearce engaged with his heroes, Southgate and I began to wonder what we had let ourselves in for.

But it was typical of him to embrace probably the wildest experience in the UK at that instant.

Three days later he would experience the moment that would, so far, define his career.

His penalty miss against Germany in the Euro 96 semi-final is well documented. What followed afterwards, in the bowels of Wembley, less so.

Back in the dressing room, Southgate was inconsolable and on the verge of tears. There was no shortage of sympathy from team-mates and management but, as the dressing room emptied, it became an increasingly lonely place.

Half an hour after the final whistle there was only myself, Southgate and Bryan Robson, then England’s assistant manager, still there. I was there to advise him on handling the media – and clearly there was nothing he wanted less right then than to face the world’s press.

It was the right thing to do but, in a daze of disappointment and sense of letting his team-mates down, his self-belief had deserted him.

Southgate had been our articulate “go-to” man to face the media, his common sense and assurance making him a safe pair of hands.

But in this moment of despair, he could barely string a sentence together. Finally, he turned to Bryan Robson. “Bryan, what shall I do?”

Robson, hugely admired by all the players, replied: “Best get it over with, Gareth. You’ve got to do it sometime.”

Southgate silently nodded and, propelled only

Stuart Pearce and Gareth Southgate introduce the Sex Pistols in 1996. Right, John Lydon on stage during the concert Gareth is comforted by Venables