Wayne Rooney: My Decade in the Premier League (16 page)

The Goals felt like my space. I felt privileged to be able to play there. If it hadn’t been for that pitch, I probably wouldn’t have developed as a footballer in the same way; I would have been different somehow. Playing there every night gave me the skills and the confidence to go up against opponents when I played for my school teams and Liverpool Schoolboys, or local sides like Copplehouse Colts, where I was first spotted by Liverpool and then Everton, who I later went on to sign pro forms with.

As a kid I always wanted to score goals, whoever I played for, but I was a midfielder for a little bit when I was younger, probably because I was skilful and could pass the ball well. It didn’t stop me from getting in the box though. I scored loads from the middle of the park. Later, when I was pushed upfront, I scored even more goals. Scoring and winning was everything to me, even then. It’s what the game’s all about. If a footy player doesn’t like scoring goals, there’s something wrong with him (or her).

When I was a kid, I didn’t really model myself on any one player. There was Duncan Ferguson, of course, because he had heart, but I was a big fan of Alan Shearer and Paul Gascoigne. Gazza had skill and imagination, but Shearer had everything: strength, technique, heading ability, and leadership. I buzzed off watching him play for England. He was the player I most wanted to be back then.

If a spectacular goal was scored at the weekend, I’d spend
my
weekend trying to recreate it, trying to pull off the same technique. I remember Tony Yeboah scored a blinding volley for Leeds against Liverpool in 1995. It dipped over the
keeper and crashed into the back of the net like a bullet. For a week I spent hours hitting the ball towards the goal at The Gems in the same style. The same happened when Michael Owen scored that mazy goal for England in the 1998 World Cup against Argentina – I tried it in games until my manager and teammates started getting angry with me, telling me to pass, to lay it off to another lad in the team because I was hogging the ball too much.

Playing in The Goals started my career, but if someone had told me then that the end result would be me playing for Everton in the Premier League, Man United in the Champions League, and that I’d be the Premier League’s youngest scorer (for a while), I’d never have believed them. It’s something I could never have imagined happening to me, as much as I wanted it.

When it did, it was down to The Goals. That’s where the skills in my game first came together.

*****

I tell the fan about my first game for Everton. How mad it was. I’d been playing footy with the club for a few years; when I signed professionally I was getting £75 a week at first, which was probably a lot less than some of my pals from Crocky. They were working on building sites for loads more money, but then I was playing footy every day with the likes of Big Dunc, Kevin Campbell and Steve Watson. I wouldn’t have swapped places with them, no way.

I remember I used to see Gazza all the time when I was a youth team player. I loved watching him around the training ground. He was loud, always up to something. There was one time when I was 16, sitting in the dressing room before a youth team game. Gazza came in and let on to all of us as we got changed.

‘Alright lads,’ he goes. ‘Any of you lot going out tonight?’

Everyone looked at one another. Everyone was thinking the same thing:
What’s he up to?
In the end, I had to say something.

‘Yeah, I am.’

Gazza got out his wallet and handed me two £20 notes.

‘Here you go pal,’ he said. ‘Have a nice night on me.’ I looked down at the money. None of the other lads could believe it – I’d just got a pay bonus off one of the greatest English midfielders ever.

When I moved up and started training with the first team it was weird, but only because I didn’t get overawed or star struck, even though I was an Evertonian, a proper fan. I felt that I was already good enough to mix it with the other players (that Scouse confidence again); the senior lads always helped me to feel part of the side. Whenever I travelled with the first team to games during the pre-season campaign of 2002/03, I’d play computer games with Duncan Ferguson in his hotel room. It was brilliant.

Then, 24 hours before the season started, the manager, David Moyes, told me I was starting the game against Spurs at Goodison. I couldn’t believe it, my debut was actually going to happen. He called me into his office and sat me down.

‘Wayne, you’re starting tomorrow,’ he said. ‘But I don’t want you telling anyone apart from your parents. I don’t want Spurs knowing before kick-off.’

So I went home and had to keep my mouth shut. I told my mum and dad, I called Coleen, but that was it. I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone else. It was my cousin’s birthday party down the road that night and I couldn’t go. Instead I had to hang around the house while Mum made excuses for me. When I crashed out for the night I couldn’t sleep because I was dead excited. I was walking around the house on my own; I was tossing and turning all night. I’d wake up every hour and look at the clock, praying for it to be morning, but it seemed to take forever.

At 7.30 a.m. I was up, dead keen, but there were still hours and hours to kill before I could leave for the game. I sat around the house and forced myself to relax. I looked at the clock: 8.11. I watched
Soccer AM
and looked at the clock:

9.32. At midday, Mum made my pre-match meal of chicken and baked beans and I looked at the clock again: 12.11. I swear the hands were moving in reverse, time seemed to be going that slowly. When it got to about one o’clock, it was time to get my kit bag, just as I had done for years and years playing Sunday league football and youth team games for Everton. But this time the stakes were a lot higher.

My Everton debut; Premier League football.

Dad drove me to the ground because I wasn’t old enough to drive myself. I wasn’t even old enough to drink, I was that young. He’d grown up an Everton fan and was so excited as we made our way to Goodison. Overexcited probably.
Normally all the players parked their cars in the players’ car park, but Dad dropped me right at the main entrance of the ground, where all the directors walked in. I suppose we both went off to prepare for the game in our own way: I went into the ground and got changed, he went home, got a taxi to the pub and met his mates before the match. He was bursting with pride.

When I got into the dressing room and met up with the lads, I was excited, too. I felt ready. I’d believed in myself for so long and I knew I was good enough; I knew I should have been starting that game and when I saw my shirt hanging on the wall, it really hit home.

Rooney.

18.

Gazza’s old shirt number.

As I started to prepare myself, David Moyes came over for a chat.

‘Go out there and enjoy it, Wayne,’ he said. ‘Just relax and express yourself in the game.’

I focused myself; I looked around to take it all in. I could see that the other lads were up for it because it was the first match of the season. Everyone had been working so hard in the summer and we were desperate to make a good start. The funny thing was, they couldn’t wait for the game to kick-off, but I couldn’t wait for the
warm-up
. Everything was so new to me that even running around in a bib and stretching in front of the supporters was exciting. I was working with players that I had cheered from the seats. Now it was my turn to understand how an Everton player felt before a
match. When I ran out onto the pitch for my Premier League start, the home fans gave me a massive cheer. I was a local lad and they wanted me to do well. I didn’t want to let them down.

*****

A mad thing happened as I kicked a ball around before the start of the match: I imagined I was back in The Goals. I ran onto the pitch and saw them as clear as day. I was firing shots towards our keeper Richard Wright, warming up in front of the fans, and to calm the nerves I imagined I was back at home, shooting at the rusty goal frames and torn netting behind the old youth club. It got my head set for the game.

Everything felt so exciting; the supporters were dead pleased to see me play. I suppose some of them had watched me on the telly in the FA Youth Cup games – we got to the final the previous season but lost to Villa. There was a lot of talk in the local press and the national papers about me. The supporters had noticed me on the bench at the end of the 2001/02 campaign and must have wondered what sort of player I was going to become, but I reckon they were more chuffed that a real Evertonian had made it into the first team.

I was one of them.

As the game kicked off, I could hear the fans singing my name. I got my first touch and everyone cheered. Spurs were a great team to play against and they had some top players at the time, like Teddy Sheringham, Les Ferdinand and
Jamie Redknapp, but I wasn’t going to let that overawe me. I loved getting stuck in. I remember Tottenham got a corner and as I went back to the edge of the box, Sheringham started arguing with one of our players. I said something to him, even then. I was a kid, he was a 30-something England international with goals in European Championships; he had a Champions League winner’s medal from his time with United, but I wasn’t afraid to speak my mind.

After 67 minutes, I knew I’d played alright, but the manager brought me off – I think he thought I was going to wear myself out. I was upset, I wanted to stay on, but the fans gave me a standing ovation. They wanted me to know that I’d done my bit to get us a 2–2 draw. Meanwhile, I’d felt the buzz of playing Premier League football for the first time and I wanted more, much more.

*****

After the match my dad went to the local ale house for a couple of pints like he always did. I went in to see him for a chat about the game. The fans in the pub couldn’t believe it when I walked in. They were made up for me, coming over to say hello, wishing me luck for the rest of the season. Everyone was proud that a lad from Crocky had come through at such a young age, they were delighted for me. I sat there with my can of pop, trying to take it all in.

Bloody hell, I guess I’m a Premier League player now.

*****

My first two goals came against Wrexham in the Worthington Cup and, yeah, it was great to score for the Everton first team, but I wasn’t as excited as I thought I’d be because it was the Worthington Cup and I wanted to score in the Premier League. I had it in my head that I could get a goal in the league before I reached the age of 17. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait that long for it.

Arsenal, 19 October 2002, the last game before my birthday.

The match was at Goodison. I was a sub that day, but the one thing I remember more than anything was seeing the Arsenal players lining up in the tunnel before the match. I spotted Sol Campbell, David Seaman and Patrick Vieira. Thierry Henry and Kanu were there. All of them were huge. I’d never realised just how big David Seaman was. I’d seen him on the TV loads, but when I stood next to him I thought,
Wow, he’s massive
.

They seemed to loom over us in footballing terms as well. Freddie Ljungberg scored for them just seven minutes into the game; our striker, Tomasz Radzinski equalised 15 minutes later. I was desperate to get on. I was watching the Arsenal back four from the bench and I noticed that whenever any of our players got the ball in behind their midfield, their centre-halves would drop off a lot.
I thought: If I can get into that space I’ll have a go at goal
.

Then, in the second half, the boss gave me a nod.

‘Get warmed up, Wayne,’ he said. ‘You’re going on.’

I looked up at the clock; there was only 10 minutes to go, but I was delighted to be getting a run-out because
Arsenal were a quality side. They were top of the table and unbeaten for 30 league games. I wanted to try myself out against the best.

Then, in the 90th minute I scored the winning goal.

The ball got played up and midfielder Thomas Gravesen got a touch. The ball bounced over to me and I brought it down. Suddenly I was in that space between Arsenal’s defence and midfield and I stuck to my promise.

Sol Campbell has backed off, I’m having this.

I took a touch and whipped the ball as hard as I could, curling it towards the near post. It left my toes and whizzed past Seaman who was standing on his line, the ball smashing the underside of the bar and bouncing down behind him. There was nothing he could have done to stop that one.

I’ve scored!

I went mad, I ran to the fans; it felt amazing, incredible. I could see the faces on the supporters and I knew then that I’d done something special for them. God knows what must have been going through Dad’s mind, but when the game ended and I sat in the dressing room, 20 minutes after the final whistle had blown, I could still hear the crowds singing my name in the streets outside Goodison Park.

*****

After the game I went into the pub with my dad. The locals were all over me. Then I went to Coleen’s house and played footy with my mates in the garages around the back of her house, like I always did on a Saturday. It was dark. The
streetlights were shining down onto the scrap of land where we were playing. I’d just scored the winning goal for Everton against Arsenal, but I was still kicking the ball about with the lads from home like it was as important as 90 minutes in the Premier League. That was my way of celebrating. It’s mad I know, but all I wanted to do was play football back then.