FourFourTwo

Manics annoy Roberto Carlos

The Manic Street Preachers frontman on spotting John Charles after busking, disrupting Roberto Carlos’ family feast – and how Joe Allen nicked his haircut

- Niall Doherty

What was the first match that you ever saw live?

In my mind, it’s Newport- Colchester in the FA Cup in January 1979. There was an organised coach from our street – in our town [ Pontypool] you either supported Newport or Cardiff – because Newport were on a little cup run and beat West Ham 2- 1 in the previous round. They played Colchester at the old Somerton Park and it finished 0- 0. The glamour caught me right there!

Who was your childhood hero and did you ever meet them?

Because my mum was quite a fierce Welsh woman, if there was a writer or a sportsman, she’d go, “He’s Welsh.” If I saw some Welshness in somebody’s name, I’d pick up on it. At that point, Liverpool were massive, A Question Of

Sport was massive and I loved Emlyn Hughes [ above], even though he wasn’t Welsh, but I thought he was because of his name. The first book I ever read on my own was Emlyn Hughes: Crazy

Horse. I was fascinated with him. But I also remember seeing John Charles walking down the road in Cardiff. I was 16 and had been busking. I’m thinking, ‘ F** k, that’s John Charles!’ Awestruck.

What do you like most about going to a match?

Me and Jeff Barrett [ boss of Heavenly Recordings, who put out a few of the Manics’ early singles] used to go and watch Nottingham Forest a lot in the mid- 90s. I liked getting the train with him, seeing how messed up he was when I met him at the station, seeing how much damage he’d done himself on a Friday night, and then getting the train up there. We’d have a good chat, a beer on the train, and you knew you were in for a long day. I loved going to watch the Tricky Trees in Nottingham because it’s such a lovely setting. Jeff would always know a decent place to get a bit of food and he’d always know the pub with the best pint, that sold the perfect cold temperatur­e Grolsch. He knew his territory.

How has watching football changed for you since you were a kid?

I’ve always been a bit of a football tourist – wherever I’ve been, I’ve gone and seen loads of matches. I’ve been to Kenilworth Road a lot as our boss is a Luton fan. I love it because it doesn’t seem like much has changed. The last time I went, they had to wait for the ball to come down from the roof – that just doesn’t happen any more. Once you start going to Premier League grounds, everything feels completely different: the prices, the organisati­on, the food. To flip that on its head again, things feel the same again for me at internatio­nals. I’ve obviously been watching Wales for a long time, and the Euros before last... those qualifiers were brilliant. I felt like I was 10 years old again – the expectatio­n was more than you could deal with.

What’s your favourite goal you’ve ever seen?

Easy: Johnny Metgod against West Ham in April 1986. It used to be on

the credits of Match of the Day, it was that good. It was like a special effect free- kick. You know when Thunderbir­ds tried to make something go fast and you’d see the string attached to the missile? It’s a bit like that. It goes so straight, it’s unbelievab­le. It’s the straightes­t free- kick that you’ve ever seen in your life! I remember watching and just going, “F** k me!”

Which footballer do you reckon would best fit in as a member of the Manics?

Joe Allen [ below]. He stole my haircut from The Holy Bible: my slightly, nearly mullet- esque haircut. But Joe is such a dude. He’s a thinker who enjoys his music... good West Walian stock. He’s got a bit of flair, but realises you can’t have that on its own. I think Nick [ Wire, Manics bassist] and Richey [ Edwards, the band’s guitarist who went missing in 1995] knew you needed to do a lot of ditch- digging to make the glamour work. I think Joe would just be one of those utility players that makes any team work, and therefore the Manics.

What’s your favourite football book?

I really enjoyed A Season With Verona by Tim Parks. And Calcio, A History Of

Italian Football – a big, comprehens­ive book. I was a huge Italian football fan back in the ’ 80s.

What’s the most important piece of memorabili­a that you have or wish you still had?

I wish I still had that programme from Newport vs Colchester in the FA Cup. I kept my internatio­nal programmes and ticket stubs. And I kept my Wolves scarf. As there was a bit of fascinatio­n with Emlyn Hughes, when he won the League Cup [ in 1980], I bought it when he was Wolves’ captain. That was cool.

Which musician you’ve encountere­d is the best footballer?

Oh, Nick – by a mile. He was brilliant up until his knees went in the mid- 90s. He had this strange relationsh­ip with other football players when he was at school, as his hair would sometimes be like Ian Mcculloch, or sometimes he’d

resemble Limahl from Kajagoogoo – there was a hint of glamour about him. Some of the boys he was playing with would occasional­ly call him Shirley or Klinger from Mash, as they thought he was a little more feminine. But he still commanded respect off them because he was the captain of the football team and had that Alan Hansen- esque thing – whenever his team were attacking, he was centre- back and would stand on the halfway line just directing play. People listened to Nick, even though he wasn’t a macho male like them. He was a really good player. I saw him get sent off once – he was 15 and swore at the referee. Then he cried.

Where’s the strangest place you’ve ever met a player or manager?

Me and Nick were doing some promo stuff at the Grand Hotel in Madrid and spotted Roberto Carlos [ above]. I just remember walking past this room and there were five kids inside, his missus, him: a mini family banquet in a private room. It was like a mafia scene. He was obviously such a star at that point, for Madrid and Brazil, and had this whole room to himself with all the food out on the table. Then he suddenly realised that me and Nick were looking at him and was like, ‘ Close that f** king door, those idiots are staring at my family’ – a kind of Sopranos moment.

If you could drop yourself into your all- time five- a- side team, who would you be playing alongside?

I prepared for this. Everybody’s at their peak here, by the way: you’re talking me in 1994, The Holy Bible- era. Neville Southall is in goal, then it’s Des Walker, Franco Baresi and me – I’m like the Neil Taylor. Then Gazza Bale up top. So it’s quite defensive, but you just ship it to Bale and know it’s f** king happening.

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