When you’re competing for a championship title, it’s like walking around with a constant, irritating companion.
Wherever you go, whatever you do, it’s there with you, chirping. You go to bed and it infiltrates your brain. You toss and turn because sleep doesn’t come. It’s the first thing you hear when you finally wake up. There is no escape from that piercing, nagging voice that continually reminds you exactly what is at stake.
In the coming weeks, players from Arsenal, Liverpool and Manchester City will tell us that they are just focusing on their own games, just themselves. They will tell us that they have absolutely no interest in what the other teams are doing. Let me tell you one thing: these are bulls***. I said it myself when Blackburn Rovers were trading blows with Manchester United all those years ago and I didn’t think a word of it. It was a defense mechanism.
You say the same thing when you face your big competitors, as City and Arsenal do this Sunday. Big clubs regularly employ sports psychologists to promote the idea of approaching every match in exactly the same way, regardless of venue or opponent – which is a good idea, but there is no denying that these matches take on increased importance. Adrenaline flows through you. Everything is magnified.
As for Liverpool, they will watch the end of their home match against Brighton & Hove Albion, keeping everything crossed for a draw.
As a footballer, I prided myself on being able to block out the world. The pitch was my zone and I focused on it. My task was to score goals and nothing and no one would stand in my way. I rarely, if ever, doubted myself because that doubt had no fertile ground on which to grow. Even in difficult times, I knew that if I continued to do my job, repeating what I had perfected on the training ground, fortunes would turn.
Off the field, I wasn’t too different. I was never worried or overthinking; It’s just the way I’m built. As a professional athlete, this pin has always helped me and is something I have performed in public. I revealed little in interviews, I was Mr Chicken and Beans (my usual pre-match meal), who supposedly celebrated Blackburn’s Premier League title in 1995 by creosoting my garden fence ( I didn’t do it; I asked my father-in-law with a drink while he did it).
However, I would be lying if I claimed to have never been afflicted. As this season approached May, we were all nervous. The previous season we were neck and neck with Manchester United at the start of April, when we beat them 2-0 at Ewood Park. It was an important moment for us. That’s about when everyone started thinking, “This Blackburn team isn’t going to go away, they’re going to keep going until they actually win.” » We were thinking about that too.
We could have and maybe should have done it that season, but Manchester United ended up expanding. So there was a balance; our big win was a big boost and we started again the following August with no hangovers and full of confidence, unbeaten in our first seven league matches, winning five times and scoring 16 goals.
The following spring we were still aware of our own inexperience, while Sir Alex Ferguson’s fine and fierce team knew exactly what had to be done. Eventually Blackburn fought and fought their way to the title, but boy did we barely sprint to get across the line. We came across it.
That’s why my instinct is to make Manchester City the favorites to win it now, even though they are third in the table, one point behind the other two. They know this position better. No team has ever won four consecutive Premier League titles, but their record is valuable. If you’ve ever done it, you understand that defeat is not a disaster; you trust yourself, you trust yourself, and you rely on your knowledge. If you’re new to this area or less familiar with it, hesitation can get worse.
People say the first trophy is the hardest and there is some truth to that, although at this point I have to point out that Blackburn’s first was also our last. We got to the top and left the edge. Kenny Dalglish became director of football, we had a disaster in the Champions League and we just couldn’t get that chemistry back. There was a huge exhale and we couldn’t go anymore.
A year later I joined Newcastle United, my boyhood club, who were coming off their own disappointment in the Premier League. After leading Fergie’s side by 12 points in mid-January 1996, Newcastle’s failure was spectacular, but what is rarely talked about is how relentless Manchester United were in the second half of this season. They have won 19 of their last 21 matches in all competitions, an astonishing record. They tried hard to pursue anyone.
At Newcastle, as is still the case, the big idea was to win something and that was always beyond us. Doing it once helps ease the hiccups that invariably occur. It won’t be perfection for City, Liverpool and Arsenal over the next couple of months because life is rarely like that. It’s about learning to live with these hiccups – it’s not the end of the world, so move on. At Blackburn, every setback would fuel that little voice: “Oh my God, we screwed it up, we blew it, game over.” »
I told everyone who would listen that I didn’t care what Manchester United did. I told them I avoided their matches like the plague, because what’s the point of squirming through those emotional ups and downs? I told them if you can’t control it, why subject yourself to it? In reality, it was the opposite. I watched every game, hoping and praying that they would be beaten. Hoping and praying that we get a favor or two.
Either way, I couldn’t avoid it even if I wanted to. As players we would talk about other matches in the dressing room, but usually in passing and usually with a feeling of reserve, almost as if it was a weakness to acknowledge the existence of Manchester United. Looking back, it seems strange, but maybe psychology didn’t want to show that you were talking or thinking about the other team. We just had to take care of ourselves.
Maybe we were wrong, but off the training ground it was a different story. The newspapers were full of stories and reports. The fans reminded you why you played every time you met them. It was all over television. It’s much worse now because there’s more radio, more TV channels, while the unfiltered mania of social media is just an app on your phone. It is impossible to completely shut down.
Having three teams instead of two will amplify the noise and increase the pressure. This is great for neutrals, but if you’re one of them, the little negative voice will remind you that every time you stumble, two rivals are waiting to pounce. So much of elite sport has to do with the mind, which is why Sir Alex knew exactly what he was doing when he was hitting us and pushing our buttons during his press conferences.
In those circumstances it helped us to have Kenny as manager at Blackburn. He had seen and done it in Liverpool and dealt with Fergie’s mind games. His impassive attitude helped us take the pressure off. When Fergie said we had to do a Devon Loch to lose the title, a reference to a horse who led the Grand National and fell in the final straight, Kenny replied: “Isn’t that a stretch of water in Scotland?
When people talk about the Blackburn story, it’s usually in the context of Jack Walker’s money, but we were the underdogs too. We were a much smaller club. During my first 12 months there I took my own kit home to wash up every night and we didn’t have a training ground. That us-against-the-world mentality definitely helped. The same goes for the type of players Kenny has recruited. There were no massive egos and everyone was treated the same.
Kenny kept repeating simple messages, about how good we were, how we had already proven it, to keep doing the things we were doing. We were never criticized in public – and in private it was always with a specific purpose. Towards the end of the season we went through a difficult period when we picked up four points from four games, Sir Alex spoke again and Kenny called us in for a team talk. He reminded us that he was still in our hands. This calmed us all down.
We needed it. At this point my little voice sounded more like a screaming scream. Despite my ability to block things out, I had trouble sleeping. After games, my brain wouldn’t stop whirring, replaying everything I had done or could have done. I found myself doing rudimentary calculations, determining all possible outcomes and permutations. Burning off all that emotional energy was exhausting.
Arsenal, Liverpool and Manchester City will feel the same way – if not now, then soon, as the matches go on. The game may have changed a lot since my time, but I don’t think any of that has changed. It’s going to be fascinating to see how this plays out, how each team reacts to the ups and downs ahead of us, how the momentum changes.
Each of them has their own motivations and contexts. Arsenal have not won a league title for 20 years, but fought hard to achieve it last season; does this help or hinder them now? Without doubt, they are the ones who have the most difficult matches. Liverpool won it once under Jurgen Klopp, during a prolonged and Covid-19-affected season, and are desperate to add another before the manager leaves. Does it propel them or stifle them? In my opinion, City will be the most relaxed, but that can change.
When that little voice starts chirping, there’s only one way to silence it.
(Header design: Eamonn Dalton, photos: Getty Images)