I didnt ever turn to others. Everything about it was difficult. I was in digs and the house was owned by a family who hadnt put anyone up before so they werent quite sure how to act. They imposed curfews at night. It was strict and formal, a bit of a culture shock after the life I had been living in Cardiff. I shared a room with another apprentice who had grown up in a village a few miles away. So at weekends, he could go home. I couldnt. I was down. I moped around quite a lot and the family who were putting me up found that difficult, too.
I probably wasnt the best introduction to lodgers for them. They wanted to try to make me feel better but they couldnt. Pre-season was difficult in those days. It was hard work and it was unforgiving. It was all about long runs and supposed character-building. It was what I imagine its like in your first few days in the army. The senior professionals treated you like dirt. So did some of the staff. All the apprentices had a senior pro we had to do jobs for and mine was John Polston, the defender, who was a club stalwart by the time I arrived.
I had to clean his boots, get his kit for him, make him a tea or a coffee if he wanted one and generally. He was difficult. He made a point of it. Every so often, I would go away with Wales Unders or 18s and every time I came back, Id have to introduce myself to him all over again. Who are you? He knew who I was but he wanted to try to humiliate me. If he wasnt happy with the tea, hed throw it in the sink and tell me to get another one.
He complained about his boots all the time, too. He wasnt unusual. I think the rest of the players saw it as characterbuilding, too. Look, I agreed with certain aspects of it but it felt like bullying really.
You were intimidated. It felt like they were trying to break you. Every six weeks, I was allowed home for a long weekend. I played on a Saturday and the deal was I had to be back in training the following Wednesday. So I would get a few days off but then I found it difficult to go back. The first occasion I was okay but the second occasion, I was crying at my parents house when the time came to leave.
I didnt want to go back. My father rang Norwich and they gave me an extra couple of days off. They didnt rush me.
They had probably seen it before. In the end, my father got firm with me. He said I needed to go back. He said Id get over it and it would get better and if I could cope with this, I could cope with anything.
I wasnt so sure. I was missing my girlfriend, I was missing everything. I had just turned When I came back to Cardiff for a couple of days, I wasnt really one of my friends group any more. There was a distance between us. It was kind of understood that I had left, that I had chosen a different route. I suppose at a basic level, my friends felt I had rejected them and, at a basic level, they were right. I had gone in another direction. I became alone when I was at home as well as when I was in Norwich.
That period of being ripped away from my old life was agony. I refused to go back to Norwich during another one of my home visits and one of the other apprentices, another Cardiff lad called Tom Ramusat, came round to the house to persuade me to return with him. He put me on a guilt trip about how he couldnt face the journey back by himself. I owe a lot to him.
He went out of his way to make sure he looked after me. Ive stayed friends with him and his family ever since. Things were difficult for a long time because of how I felt. Once, I got involved in a fight outside the Norwich training ground with a triallist. It didnt go too well for that kid. He was a goalkeeper and I broke his arm.
I felt embarrassed about it afterwards and Norwich warned me that if anything like that happened again, I was gone. The thing was, part of me wanted to be sacked. I was looking for every excuse I could to get sacked. I thought if I got sacked then I could come home and I could say it was their fault.
I could say it wasnt my fault that it didnt work out. It was theirs. And then I could do what I wanted to do and blame everyone else for the loss of my football career. But Norwich knew what I was up to and they didnt half bend the rules for me. I was pushing certain things. I walked off the training pitch once. Then I refused to come back out for running. When I felt really unhappy, I was looking for ways to get myself out of it. But the people at Norwich were absolutely fantastic.
I will always be grateful that they persevered with me. Martin ONeill had been appointed the first team manager that summer. He wasnt particularly sociable with apprentices like me. In fact, he didnt even look at you. The only contact I had with him. Because I didnt go home at weekends, I had to clean up the first team dressing room after matches at Carrow Road and the best part of it was hanging around just outside the door, listening to the way ONeill talked to the players.
He would praise some of them like you wouldnt believe and he made some ordinary footballers play very, very well. Some of them never played at the same level again after he left that Christmas. But he wasnt shy about getting stuck into someone if he felt they werent pulling their weight. I remember one occasion. He had signed a guy called Matthew Rush for more than , from West Ham. It was ONeills signing, a biggish signing for Norwich and Rush was a flash Londoner who had a healthy opinion of himself.
But in one of his first games, he came on as a substitute for about 20 minutes and didnt do particularly well. Martin absolutely destroyed him after the game. He called him a big-time Charlie and generally lambasted him for his lack of effort and quality.
I was impressed. It showed he didnt care who he got stuck into. I admired that about him. Martin didnt take any interest in the apprentices but the reserve team boss, Steve Walford, who has been part of Martins coaching team wherever he has gone in football, went out of his way to get to know me. He was brilliant to me. Even when I was 16, he gave me a lift back to my digs a couple of times.
He told me about his debut at Spurs and about how, when he first began playing for West Ham in the early 80s, the hardest team he played against was Liverpool. As a Liverpool fan, that was music to my ears. Then there was John Robertson, who until recently was the other constant in Martins managerial life.
Someone told me that he had been a proper player once. I know that now. I know that people thought he was a genius, that he was Brian Cloughs favourite player at Nottingham Forest, that he won European Cups.
But back then, Id look at him with bandages round his knees, puffing on a cigarette and think no chance. It didnt work out for ONeill and his staff at Norwich, though, and they were out before Christmas, They were replaced by Gary Megson and although I didnt really think it would make much difference to me who was the first team boss, Megson soon made it plain he thought I had a future and the homesickness that had been crippling me began to fade a little.
I moved out of my digs after a few months. Tom Ramusat lived in some digs called The Limes with six or seven other apprentices from the club and I asked Norwichs youth development officer, Gordon Bennett, if I could move in with them.
I began to settle in a bit better. I was quite professional. For all the problems I had been having, I was trying to take my football as seriously as I could and do the right things.
Most nights, I would go to bed on time. If we had a game the next day, I would go to bed on time because I wanted to play well. Most of the other boys would stay up. There was no one to keep an eye on us like there would have. As I was the youngest of the kids in there, I became the victim of a lot of practical jokes and pranks. One night, we were playing Scrabble, which wasnt really my strong point.
We had Arsenal the next day so I headed off to bed. The rest stayed up playing Scrabble and I fell fast asleep. The next thing I know, theyve all come rushing into the room, all dressed and ready to go.
They were in a panic, shaking me awake and saying we had overslept and that we were going to miss the coach.
They looked scared. Wed been late before and been disciplined for it so I was in a real state. I started saying I had to pack my bag because I was being allowed home after the game but they said I didnt have time. I rushed outside and started trying to get into the car. Then I looked around and everyone was on the floor, laughing. It was only then I realised it was pitch black.
It wasnt time to get the coach at all. It was about 2am and theyd just finished their Scrabble. I had a major strop. I went stomping off to my room and all through the game against Arsenal, I was in a foul mood.
I played rubbish. I made sure I blamed them for that. The youth team boss was a guy called Keith Webb. He was strict and I found his regime hard to deal with in the first year. A lot of the time I was a substitute because the second year apprentices were generally given every opportunity to try to prove themselves. But when you are homesick, not playing regularly doesnt help. Keith was actually a brilliant coach and he was a great help to me in my second year but in those first 12 months, he intimidated me.
The youth team played in the South East Counties League and because we had a number of centre forwards, I would often play on the right wing. My chances were limited and I was moved around quite a lot. I was small, too, dont forget. In youth team football in that era, strength and size were prized as much as anything and I was a late developer.
But I got my head down and learned a lot, even though at times I tried my best not to, and at the end of my first season, Megsons first team coach, Mike Phelan, came to watch one of our games and immediately promoted me to the reserves.
That hadnt happened to anyone else from the youth team so it gave me a huge boost. In another game soon after that, Megson pulled me to the side and said you are going to be some player you, lad. That made me think I had actually got a chance. I played well in the reserve team games and one of them was watched by the Wales Under manager, Tom Whalley, who called me up for a match against San Marino. I was still I ended the most difficult year of my life on a real high.
I had the summer of 96 off and watched as much of Euro 96 as I could. I was only on 40 a week so Claire and I didnt have enough money to go on holiday but we were still inseparable and it was still very difficult when the summer ended and I had to go back to live on the other side of the country.
But being a second year YTS was a bit easier. We were given a little bit more respect by everybody and when I arrived back in Norwich, it didnt feel nearly as bad as when I had got there a year earlier. I looked around at the new kids and funnily enough, seeing lads who looked as though they might be feeling as uncertain and as homesick as I once had, reassured me. When you see other people miserable, it makes you feel a bit better.
Perhaps it was my first inkling of a sense of responsibility. A couple of the first years were from Plymouth. One of them was a kid called Darren Way, who behaved.
I understood when he was homesick. He was a long way from home. I knew what he was going through. I had ended the previous season so well that I arrived back feeling renewed and excited.
I set my target on getting a first team debut when I was 17 because that was what Ryan Giggs had done. But any hopes I had harboured that Megson would champion my cause had come to nothing during the summer when he became a victim of the first teams disappointing season in Division One and left the club.
He was replaced by Mike Walker, who took over at the club for the second time. I had been led to believe that Megson had been ready to give me a professional contract but now I knew I was back to square one. Pre-season training was hard, hard work. We didnt see a ball for what felt like weeks.
We just ran and ran. I knew I was going to have to prove myself all over again. Then I got the phone call that changed my life. It was Claire. She was pregnant. She was I was just turning A lot of thoughts rushed through my mind. What am I going to do? Are we going to keep it? What do I have to offer a child? How are we going to be able to look after a baby? Well, Claire was from a Catholic family for a start. There was no way we were not going to have the baby and that was fine by me.
But I was daunted by the idea of becoming a father. What do I have? I have nothing. I am living in digs. I am on 45 a week. So I went in to see Keith Webb and told him my situation. He was brilliant. He told me I had to go out and play the best football I had ever played and get the best contract I could. He told me it wasnt just about me any more. You better eat and sleep football, he said.
You better think about nothing apart from football. Thats right, I thought. I know I can do this. And after that, my attitude was perfect. There was no looking for ways out any more. I didnt cut any corners. If we were told to do 45 seconds on a bike, I did 45 seconds. If we had to run to a cone, I ran right to the cone. I thought constantly of providing for Claire and the baby. It influenced everything I did, every drill in training, every recovery session.
I knew what my options were. If it wasnt football, we would be living in a flat in Trowbridge. Claire would have been okay with that. It wasnt as if she liked me because she thought I was going to be a professional footballer. But I wanted her to have the best life possible. I wanted my kid to have everything. I had to do something about it. I wanted to be able to provide for the baby. It was all clear to me. I couldnt afford to bring Claire over to Norwich.
She had just left school and was working at the Forbuoys newsagents. Lads would just go in there to rob stuff, basically, and as soon as it was possible, I wanted us to be together. So I worked and worked and worked. When other boys went home, I stayed. I did extras. I trained and trained. The more I trained, the less homesick I felt. I went from looking like I might be a good player to people saying with something approaching certainty.
I was moving ahead of the other lads in the youth team. I was taking care of details. I cut out fizzy drinks. I drank water. I started doing weights. I found a new level of discipline. I didnt know anyone in Norwich anyway so all I did was football, morning, noon and night. I have had the career I have had because of that moment when Claire phoned me up to tell me she was pregnant.
I watched as much football as I could. I played as much football as I could. I trained as much as I could. I rested as much as I could. And if it turned out that, after all that, I wasnt good enough, at least I could look at my child and say I gave it my best shot.
One by one, they came out looking crestfallen. One by one, they said they had been released. Tom took it on the chin but I could see how down he was. The image of their faces kept coming into my mind. It was my other motivation. I was desperate to do well for the child we were going to have and I was also determined not to hear the words of rejection that those other lads had heard when my time came to be judged. I became very selfish and single-minded about that and the club loved it.
I was supported fully in all the extra work I was doing. The reserve team coach, Steve Foley, was fantastic. He was strict but his football knowledge was brilliant and if I stayed late, he stayed late with me. I think it meant a lot to him that a kid like me was willing to do all this work, but I got so much out of him.
I was educated so well at Norwich. We had a good youth team in my second year. Robert Green was the goalkeeper and Darren Kenton, who went on to have a good career for the club, was also in the side. Green lived at The Limes, too, but he wasnt for me. He liked to come across as someone who wasnt your stereotypical footballer, but that wasnt the Robert Green that I knew.
My determination to get a contract drove me on but it also brought me into conflict with people. I had been selected for Wales Unders in my first year and made my debut when I came on as a substitute in an away match against San Marino.
Fortunately, fate has been similarly unkind on a number of occasions in the past. Wales, a proud nation, have finished 3rd in a world cup, have reached two further major semi finals, and have a record comparable to England and better than France in European competition.
Click here to view the embedded video. So that achievement is shit too. Even with players as great as Ryan Giggs and… amongst their number in the intervening years, Wales have never qualified for anything else, other than the Euros, when they had to beat Luxembourg, Austria and Hungary to get there.
So, even from birth, Craig Bellamys chances of actually making anything of himself were pretty much scuppered. Also unfortunately, he was born in Cardiff, which is a renowned scuthole. You are more likely to have something stolen out of your car in Cardiff than any other city in the UK. There are a number of great players who have played both for Celtic and in the Premiership. But what do all these have in common? They played for Celtic before they played in England. When we turn the tables, the picture is much less glamorous, as Celtic have a habit of picking bits of poo from the sole of the Premier League.
And it is to this latter category that Craig Bellamy belongs. Bellamy was shipped out to Celtic from Newcastle more from them later and, proving that there is a football player locked in battle with the asshole within, played fairly well, including scoring a hat trick against Dundee.
It gets better :D :lux:. That and his penchant for punching women. I liked him on TV - but seeing him at Selhurst this year I changed my mind. He never stopped enquiring of the referee and his assistants a to whether he should have been awarded a free kick, whether anyone in red and blue could have been boooked, he picked up or kicked away the ball at free kicks and somehow managed to stay on the field.
I suppose he is so disliked because he is so talented. Its a British thing isnt it,trying to knock people down all the time. Originally posted by Gooders Maybe that was just playing alongside Bramble - but I have the feeling he'll turn out to be the latest in a long line of overrated centre backs doing a comedy turn at Newcastle.
For centre backs you could say managers; the present one being a total joke. Originally posted by Brixton Exile 2 I suppose he is so disliked because he is so talented.
With the exception of a couple of mackems I doubt many people on here would say they hated Shearer, but he's talented. No we hate people who are talented but use it wrongly. And few players were as close as Bellamy to the late Gary Speed, as classy a man as you could wish to meet in football. He ended up being a terrific ally for me at Liverpool as well as becoming a good friend. The sentiment is echoed by Carragher.
Bellamy loved Speed, and the death of the Wales manager had a profound effect on him. It made him re-evaluate his life and seek the help of Peters, a man he credits with making him the person he is, someone who feels equipped to pursue a career in management.
In the swing: Bellamy celebrates a goal for Liverpool against Barcelona with a golf-themed celebration in My life was going to be dark. Most moving, however, are the final few lines. Keep trying hard. I did that for too long. Even now, there are episodes that will make him reflect and cringe. But he should listen to his peers and, indeed, be thankful for what he did on a football pitch.
He was everything I tried to become. The tears started to fall. I knew it was real then. I just broke down. I wanted to do something for the country. The views expressed in the contents above are those of our users and do not necessarily reflect the views of MailOnline. Argos AO. Privacy Policy Feedback.
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