I don’t know if Ramsey had a problem with Francis or if it was the other way around, but apparently he had recommended that both Trevor and central defender Joe Gallagher should be transfer-listed. Both were big favourites with the crowd; indeed, Francis was already a legend at St Andrew’s. Trevor was a fantastic player so obviously it would upset the crowd if he was allowed to leave, more so than if Ramsey went, which turned out to be the case. The situation was obviously down to Trevor as he left the following season anyway.
Such matters were no concern of mine and I just carried on training hard in the hope I would get my chance to impress. I had only been at the club ten months and when Jim Smith was appointed he was the third manager to cast his eye over me. Some of the training staff were taking a shine to me and one in particular nicknamed me ‘The Stallion’. Believe me, at that stage of my life, it was due to my fitness during training and nothing else!
I began to watch a player who, from the first time I set eyes on him, made me realise that I had so much to learn. Colin Todd was coming towards the end of his career but was pure quality. The way he read the game was world class and I studied the way he played the game and tried to copy his style, which was not easy, as he was an unbelievable player.
Jim Smith lasted longer than my previous two bosses and, during the 1978–79 pre-season training he began involving me and few other youngsters, including my mate Mark Dennis, with first team sessions. Mark was always in with a chance of making the grade because, as well as being a decent footballer, he was that fast he could catch pigeons. Smith told us all that there were places up for grabs and that if we trained hard and played well in the reserves we would get our chance. Mark and my good self were then selected to go on the first-team pre-season tour to Spain and I played against some Spanish side and did really well. As we were coming off the pitch, Smith put his hand out and congratulated me on my performance but, before I had chance to thank him, a bottle was thrown from the crowd and landed on my head which spoiled the moment somewhat!
Jim was true to his word and Mark Dennis made his début at the start of the season and, a few weeks later, both of us were selected to play against Manchester City on 14 October 1978. Allegedly, it was in an edition of the Guinness Book of Records that Mark and I were the youngest pairing full-backs to play at the same time in a top-flight fixture. However, I bet the record books don’t mention that it was one of the worst débuts ever and the most horrendous day of my young life to date.
I was up against Peter Barnes, the England left-winger, who showed me no mercy as he took me to the cleaners. He totally took the piss and even nutmegged me twice in the game that ended in a 2–1 win for Man City, although I was dragged off long before the final whistle when the boss put me out of my misery. And in all honesty, he would have been within his rights to shoot me – that would have been better than facing Barnes any longer.
It was indeed a début from hell, although what came next was soul-destroying. In the dressing room, Jim Smith went absolutely berserk at us all and started swearing and throwing tea cups at the wall. He then picked me out, in what I remember as the worst moment of my career. I will never forget his words; he pointed at me and said, ‘You, you fucking useless cunt, get changed … you’ll never wear this kit again.’
He then went on to say I’d not only let him down, but every one of the lads in the team, and it hurt me for quite a while. I was distraught. I think Smith was poor doing that, his man-management skills were not the best. Surely an arm around me and a ‘get your head up, son …’ would have worked better. It took me a long, long time to recover from that incident; my confidence was at an all-time low.
It was six months before I got another game and, by then, we were as good as relegated and Smith decided to give a few reserves a run out. I had never been so nervous in my life as I knew that, if I played as badly again, I’d be finished. Luckily enough, I did well and played out the last few games, although I think Smith had seen enough of me as a left-back as I played just about everywhere else on the pitch. Of all the positions I played, I think I was best as sweeper; I was no Colin Todd, but I felt comfortable there. Maybe it was because you didn’t have to do much running!
I only played one game during the 1979/80 season, against Fulham, and it was another nightmare as I was injured when I went up for a header, landed awkwardly and jarred my back. I carried on the best I could but from 3–0 up we lost 3–4. Back in the dressing room, the manager started having a go but took one look at me and shut up; he could see I was in a bad way as I was walking like a zombie and could not even bend down to take my boots off. Maybe I should have asked to come off but after Fulham began to get back into the game, I didn’t want people to think I was trying to escape out of the firing line, so to speak. Maybe the manager should have clocked that I was struggling; had he subbed me, I would have gladly come off. As it was, neither of us made the decision and it was the lack of communication between us that almost blew the whistle on my football career before it had kicked off.
My condition was going down hill rapidly and I was unable to walk at all after a few minutes, so the lads carried me into the shower and washed me down, helped me to get dressed and I was taken straight to hospital where I an X-ray revealed that I had dislodged a disc from my spine. It was not a straightforward slipped disc but far more serious and, after some treatment, I was put into an upper-body cast. It was the most uncomfortable thing you could ever imagine having to wear. The contraption was heavy, hot and itched like the worst case of crabs imaginable. There was a cut-out to allow your stomach to expand but food and drink were the last thing on my mind as I shuffled about looking like something out of a horror film.
I had to stay in the cast for almost two months and stay completely still. It did my head in so I went back to London and stayed with my parents until the cast was removed and I began a long, hard road back to recovery. The doctors warned me that it would be a lengthy process as the disc could move again, as once something like that had been injured it would never be the same again. I had to take every day at a time and it was months before I could jog, let alone run or participate in any training that involved physical contact. Without me, the lads did great and we were promoted back to the top flight having finished third in the league.
Both I and the club knew that it was a serious injury, a possible career-threatening one, but I don’t think anyone thought that I would be out for nearly two seasons with it. I was a very fit young man and that helped me immensely. As it was, it took from August 1979 to April 1981 before I made my comeback as a substitute during a home game against Crystal Palace.
The problem with back injuries is that it is a truly complex part of your body. If you break your leg, the medical staff can look at the X-ray and tell you roughly within a month or two when you will return to action. With serious back injuries, they cannot do that and, although I felt about 90 per cent right, there was a niggle in the back of my mind that had me wondering whether I was ready to play again.
I discussed it with the gaffer and we agreed I’d give it a go. The ground was empty with less than 10,000 in attendance, but it could have been played before one man and his dog and it would still have felt like I was running on to the pitch before 100,000 at Wembley, such was my delight to be back on the pitch.
Those 20 months on the sidelines seemed like 20 years. It was a horrendous part of my career and, had it not been for the support of my team-mates, the management and the backroom staff at St Andrew’s, I’d probably never have played again. As it was, I played in the next couple of games and felt OK, not fully fit, just OK, but in my third game back at Leicester City the injury flared up again and I wondered if I was finished and that all the hard work had been a waste of time.
I was back in hospital and met a specialist who put my mind at rest, telling me that although the injury was connected to the original problem, once again I just needed to rest and that I would eventually regain full fitness. For once in my life, I took the advice of those who knew best and let the injury clear up until I felt no discomfort at all. I felt I was ready to start playing when we all returned