Steve Nicol on... Chris Rea
The Scot won 10 trophies in 13 years at Liverpool, thanks to some musical inspiration
You joined Liverpool from Ayr in 1979. What was it like making such a leap? I know it’s hard to believe, but it was actually an easy transition. At first I thought, ‘Oh my goodness, how am I going to fit in?’ But it was never a big problem. At Ayr I was playing with a bunch of older professionals, then I joined the European champions and they behaved in pretty much the same way. The players looked after me from day one, especially the Scottish lads like Alan Hansen and Graeme Souness. Why were you nicknamed ‘Chopsy’? Terry Mcdermott called me it first, when I was a rookie in the squad and not playing regularly. We were sitting together at the table, having some dinner. They told the waiter not to give me any chips, but I was persistent. With my Scottish accent I call them ‘chops’, which the waiter couldn’t understand. So from then on, I became known as ‘Chopsy’! You broke into the first team after Joe Fagan replaced Bob Paisley as manager. What was Fagan like to work under? He was a great coach who kept things simple, and he had everyone on the same page. There was no difference between Fagan and Paisley. Tactically they were pretty much the same and they thought about the game in the same way. Absolutely nothing changed, except the name of the manager. How hard was Graeme Souness? Let me put it this way – I’m glad I didn’t play against him! He was very hard and people like to remember him that way, which is a little bit of shame as he was also a fantastic footballer.
He never lost that fire he had. If someone was in trouble, he was either standing right behind you, pushing you forward, or right in front of you, protecting you. He had a reputation and never shied away from responsibility. A leader. What was Kenny Dalglish like to play with? He always wanted the ball, so you had to give it to him, otherwise you’d hear about it! On the pitch we were always conscious of looking for him, because his quality was obvious. He was the most talented one, but there was no ego. If you passed him the ball, he’d pass it back to you. That was our philosophy – no one was better than the next guy. But if he didn’t get the ball, he definitely wasn’t happy! [Laughs] When he became manager, did any players ever have difficulty understanding what he said during team talks?! Well it wasn’t a problem for me, obviously, but some of the English boys couldn’t follow him. When he got deeper into a passionate speech at half-time and criticising people, it was more beneficial for them not to understand, or they might have got upset... How special was the bond in that squad? The special thing was that we all looked after each other, regardless. It sounds simple, but it’s extremely difficult to get in a squad at that level. Players make mistakes and it often takes all 11 to dig you out of the mud. That applied off the pitch, too. Senior players were always there for everyone else. We could talk about normal problems. There was no taboo and no shame – we all pulled in the same direction. Then, whenever we went out as a squad, we were always looking for an excuse to be out late together. Baby shower, Christmas party... you name it. We only had one rule – no friends or girlfriends were allowed. It was always us, and only us, and we had to stay together until the end. I know it sounds a bit pretentious and corny when someone says ‘our team was like a family’, but in this case it was true. What we had going on was rare in professional football. How much do you remember about the 1984 European Cup Final against Roma in Rome? It was a fantastic experience. I missed our first penalty in the shootout, but we won so it was all good! We got to the stadium an hour and a half before the game, everyone went on the field and Graeme took us over to see our fans. They applauded us, then Graeme said, “Why don’t we go to the other end?” We all stared at him, completely puzzled, but he was dead serious. So we walked towards their fans and they were booing us and throwing stuff… but at that moment our captain led us by example and we sent a message – we weren’t scared of them. We also had a little routine – we’d all sing the Chris Rea song, I Don’t Know What It
Is But I Love It. That night, Sammy Lee started it in the tunnel and we all joined him, singing out loud. Speaking about camaraderie, that’s another example of it. We were singing while walking out. Then on the field, my team-mates bailed me out and we won the cup! What were Merseyside derbies like to play in during that period? Every derby game was phenomenal. You don’t see those kind of matches these days. Now, if you touch a player, they will just fall over. Back then, players would run towards each other at full pelt, hit hard, collapse, then get up, shake
“KENNY ALWAYS WANTED THE BALL SO YOU HAD TO GIVE IT TO HIM. HIS QUALITY WAS OBVIOUS”
hands and play on. Derbies were ferocious and it was a battle from start to finish. Where did the 9-0 win over Crystal Palace in 1989 rank in Liverpool’s best performances? I remember one moment in that game well – we were walking off at half-time, leading 3-0, and I looked at Steve Mcmahon. We just stared at each other for a few seconds. We thought, ‘It’s unreal, it’s so easy’. Two halves are never the same – the other team make adjustments and are more compact in the second half, but that day it wasn’t the case. We put on a clinic. It was a perfect game and could have ended up about 15-0. We drove them into the ground. And you were the only player to score twice... I got the first and last! John Aldridge was off to join Real Sociedad after that game, and was on the bench. It was 5-0, we got a penalty, and we all wanted him to take it, so we asked the gaffer to put him on. John ran straight into the box and, of course, put it in the net! What are your memories of the FA Cup final defeat to Wimbledon? We simply couldn’t run. We’d won the league title three or four games before the end of the season, and we were done and dusted. We let it slip a little bit, and lost our edge. We knew they were a decent team in the top half of the First Division – a strong, physical side playing good football at the time. They were no mugs. They got the free-kick, they scored, then John Aldridge missed the penalty – it was just one of those days when everything went wrong. You were the Football Writers’ Association’s Footballer of the Year in 1989. What did that award mean to you? When you’re playing for a team like Liverpool, winning trophies all the time, you don’t really think about it. It just becomes a part of your reality – it’s normal. Later on, you sit back and think about what you did. At the time, you’re dominated by a drive to be as good as you can be, so you don’t appreciate individual awards like that when they happen – at least I didn’t. I definitely do now, though! You played for Scotland at the 1986 World Cup, with Alex Ferguson (below) stepping in as manager after Jock Stein’s death. What was that like? Alex was Jock’s assistant in the qualifiers, so he’d been with the group throughout. Losing Jock was a massive blow, but Ferguson played a huge part in getting us to the World Cup and knew the squad very well. Unfortunately, we were drawn in an incredibly tough group with Denmark, West Germany and Uruguay. That would be called a Group of Death, even today. We were playing in Mexico at 4pm, at altitude. We just couldn’t run. Picture 11 ginger-haired, pale-faced lads running around for 90 minutes in 100 degrees – that’s a recipe for disaster! We actually didn’t play badly and were close to getting out of the group, but no lollipop. You’re based in the US these days. How did that move come about? I was playing non-league football at Doncaster in 1999 when I got approached by a Scottish guy called John Kerr. He asked me to go to the US and become player-coach for the Boston Bulldogs. I decided to give it a shot. I thought, ‘I’ll go to America for a year, then come back’ and I’ve been here ever since! While in Boston, New England Revolution fired their coach and asked me to step in for two games. Later on, I worked as an assistant, then interim coach, then coach. I led them to four MLS Cup finals in 10 years, losing all of them! By the end, the job took its toll on me and I needed a break, so when the chance to work at ESPN presented itself, I jumped at it. The best job in football is to be a player, and I used to think the second best job was coaching, but I’ve changed my mind. It’s being an analyst. I sit in a studio talking about the best players in the world, and they pay me! I can’t think of anything better for an old man like myself!
“I MISSED A PENALTY In THE SHOOTOUT, BUT MY MATES BAILED ME OUT AND WE WON THE CUP!”