What You See Is What You Get: My Autobiography (85 page)

'Oh, okay then, when you put it that way, I suppose you're right. Anyway, Bergkamp is not a striker; he's more of a midfield player.'

'Fine, well, we'll leave it at that then. I'm just passing on the information - you do what you want with it. If you want to pursue any of the leads I give you, it's completely up to you.'

When it comes to managers,
no one,
let alone the chairman, should suggest players to them. It's what I call the 'not invented here' syndrome. I've seen this many a time in business, when the person in charge belligerently rejects ideas they see as an encroachment on their seniority. If I told a manager I could get hold of Zidane, Kaka and Ronaldo for a hundred grand each, I'd see the suggestion rejected with a weak excuse. I learned quickly, both in football and in business, that the art of overcoming this is to put things in such a way that it looks like the idea has come from the person who's supposed to be in charge. On the rare occasions I was contacted by an agent about a player who David Pleat or I felt was a good buy, I adopted this tactic, telling the agent, 'Call the manager directly and don't mention that you've spoken to me.' If it
did
go somewhere, then when the manager informed me, I would feign surprise and say, 'That's a good idea.'

*

In the 1995-6 season, Chris Armstrong had a moderate impact, but regrettably he suffered a bad ankle injury which kept him out for quite a long time. Gerry's team performed reasonably and we finished mid-table, as we did the following season.

I'm fast-tracking the football story for two reasons. Firstly, it's painful to recall all the events which effectively turned out to be a waste of my time, and secondly, to tell the whole story would need a book of its own.

At the end of the 1996-7 season, we lost the last game to Coventry at home. Gerry Francis told me after the match that Teddy Sheringham wanted to have a discussion with us both. If there was one criticism of Gerry, it would be this: he should never have allowed me to discuss football matters with players like Sheringham.

We all met in Claude Littner's office after the game. Sheringham, who still had two years to run on his old contract, demanded I tell him which players we were going to bring in next season, so he could decide whether or not he wished to remain at the club - this despite the fact that he was in contract and
couldn't
walk out! His attitude wound me up. I told him it was none of his business, save to say there was a budget for players and the manager would decide which ones
he
wanted to buy.
I
was certainly not prepared to discuss target players with him.

Sheringham said, 'That's not good enough.'

I lost my temper with him and told him, 'If that's not good enough, you can go. Clear off - get yourself a contract somewhere else.' I walked out.

When I got home that evening, Gerry called me and said, 'Teddy doesn't really want to go; it's just his immature manner. He thought that was the way he needed to talk to you. He just put himself over badly. He's a good lad really - he doesn't even use an agent.'

I told him that Sheringham had been hostile to me since I'd sacked Venables and, unlike the other players, I'd never had any dialogue with him. He had distanced himself from me. I continued, 'Gerry, the manner in which he has spoken to me, the chairman and owner, is disgraceful. If he wants to stay at this club, he should call first to apologise, then to see if we can discuss a contract. I certainly won't be calling him.'

Gerry should never have allowed this situation to arise - he should have dealt with the player via the club secretary, not put me a position where a player was arrogantly demanding things from me. It would be a dangerous situation indeed if I were ever to be dictated to by a player.

Sheringham called me at my office. He didn't apologise, he just announced
himself. I said, 'I don't want to mess about. Let's cut straight to the point and get this contract over and done with quickly.'

In short, Sheringham wanted PS1m a year and a five-year contract. Gerry told me to sign him for three years only because of his age (he was thirty-one at the time). Statistically, based on other players of his age, it was unlikely he'd be good enough in three years' time to perform at the highest level, so Gerry's decision was a reasonable one to make at the time.

Sheringham, however, was adamant he was not signing unless he had a five-year deal. Again, he stated this in a very arrogant manner. Looking back, I think he was trying to be some sort of tough guy, imagining that's the way you deal in business. I think he'd picked up his negotiating skills watching Del Boy on TV. It went down like a lead balloon.

I told him it was impossible for us to sign him for five years and suggested that he take my word for it that if after three years he was still playing well, we would certainly extend his contract.

He refused, but I told him to go away and think about it and call me back later. His attitude was disgusting in that he was dogmatic in his insistence on five years, and made it clear it was non-negotiable. He eventually called me back to say he'd decided he wasn't going to sign for us because we wouldn't give him the contract he wanted. I told him maybe we could agree to four years, but he insisted on five years and told me to take it or leave it. I had to say I'd leave it. I finished by telling him that if he sent me a letter requesting a transfer, I would let him go.

Sheringham went off to join the England squad under the management of Glenn Hoddle and during the close season I sold him to Manchester United for the same amount of money we'd paid Nottingham Forest several years earlier.

The irony was that Sheringham went on to play for a good few years afterwards, both for Manchester United and England. He kept himself very fit and had we given him the five-year contract, he could have played for Tottenham right through. But, as I've said, I was guided by Gerry Francis, who quite rightly assumed that three years was prudent at the time, given Sheringham's age.

I had never met Glenn Hoddle or spoken to him personally, but as a so-called loyal Tottenham man through and through, his comments to the media about Sheringham's departure were not helpful. He gave an interview saying that this was a bad time to disrupt poor Teddy with uncertainty over his club future. He said he needed him fully focused, with a clear head, to do
a good job for England. On top of this, Hoddle was waffling on about his concerns over Darren Anderton being fit to play for England.

It got to the stage where I made contact with Hoddle at the FA to ask why he was poking his nose into our club's affairs. We had struggled to get Anderton fit after his numerous injuries, as of course it was in our interest to do, and I was wound up by Hoddle's public comments. Effectively, he was suggesting that we didn't know what we were doing.

When I spoke to him, it was clear that he had a dialogue going with Anderton. Hoddle told me that Spurs' training and physio regime was treating Anderton incorrectly. He'd heard that at our traditional pre-season training session, Gerry had taken the players for a run through Epping Forest to get them psyched up. Hoddle commented, 'This is all
wrong,
Alan - you made Darren run up hills over rough ground.' I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

'What?! What did you say? Oh dear, the poor diddums professional footballer was being asked to run! Are you bleedin' joking, Glenn, or what? Are you taking the piss?'

'No, Alan, I'm not. I've spoken to Darren and he wants to see Eileen Drewery. She's done wonders for other players and I hope you don't object.'

I didn't have a clue who Eileen Drewery was. My immediate assumption was that she was some doctor or expert in sports injuries. I also didn't know that Anderton was seeing her already, in his own time.

I met with Gerry and our club physio Tony and told them about my conversation with Hoddle. I asked Tony about this woman and expected to hear about the special medical techniques she employed. Imagine my shock to hear she was simply
a faith healer
who asked the player to lie on a bed while she hovered her hands over the offending injury.

'So that's it?' I exclaimed. Anderton lies on a bed while Eileen waves her hands over him, telling him to have "positive thoughts"? I don't believe it - he's lying there thinking of England while schmock-me is paying him twenty grand a week! Are you fucking joking or what?'

It was amazing how Anderton always seemed to manage to turn up and play for England, but when he returned to Tottenham he claimed his injury had come back again. I could not understand how Gerry was able to stand by and let this go on, but it seems you can't argue with someone who says they have pain.

It seemed to me that some players just did what they wanted, when it suited them.

*

During the close season, I bought Les Ferdinand, a player Gerry wanted, having known him from his QPR days. I also bought David Ginola, who turned out to be one of the greatest players ever to perform at White Hart Lane. I'd been negotiating with Newcastle for over a week over Les Ferdinand and Ginola and had struck a deal for Ferdinand when, in a pre-season match, their main striker, Alan Shearer, suffered a serious injury (which ended up keeping him out of football for nearly two years). Freddie Fletcher, Newcastle's commercial manager, tried to renege on the deal so as to keep Ferdinand, but they had signed a contract. I told them they had to stick to it otherwise there would be problems with the league, to whom I most certainly would have complained.

Once again, I was on my boat when we signed Ginola. He called me and asked where I was located in the South of France. He was coming from the St Tropez area and my boat was positioned near Monaco. In his typical, flamboyant style, he got a friend of his to hire a very fast speed boat - a Cigarette - and came all the way from St Tropez to Monaco to meet me at the harbour at Villefrance. His agent met up with us on the boat and we discussed the terms of the contract and agreed to sign him there and then. Ginola was a revelation for Spurs - I would say he had more impact on the team than Klinsmann did. He really gave the fans a great lift.

One funny incident that occurred during Gerry's reign was an attempt to buy the player Emmanuel Petit to shore up our midfield. Gerry had been following the progress of Petit when he played for Monaco and decided he was a target for the club, so Claude and Daniel agreed to meet with Petit and Gerry at White Hart Lane to discuss the virtues of him joining Tottenham. Gerry and Daniel spoke about the usual sort of things: what players we had, where Petit would fit in and where we were going as a club. Claude, however, wanted to assure him that home life in England would be great and asked what Petit's girlfriend's interests were. Petit said she was 'a dancer'. What sticks in my mind was the report back from Daniel who told me that Claude, who was bending over backwards to try to make Petit feel comfortable, said we could arrange dancing lessons for his girlfriend. Apparently, Gerry gave Claude a strange look - I wonder why!

There was a twist to this story. Petit thanked us very much indeed for our discussions and said he would make a decision within the next day. He asked if we'd kindly call a taxi for him. We imagined that he was going back to his hotel, but it turned out that the taxi we'd arranged and paid for took him straight to the home of Arsenal chairman David Dein. There he met Arsene Wenger, and the rest is history. Emmanuel Petit signed for Arsenal and turned out to be a great player.

Piers Morgan, one-time editor of the
Daily Mirror
and mad Arsenal fan, thought this was hilarious. He must have told the story at least 10,000 times and has the habit, after becoming inebriated, of repeating it six or seven times on the trot. So much so that even Arsenal fans tell him to shut up.

The 1996-7 season didn't go very well for Gerry. At one stage, around late September 1997, he came to me saying he'd reached the end of the road and couldn't do much more for the team. He felt he'd lost the support of the dressing room. He said that despite the investments I'd made and the support I'd given him to try to build a squad, it was clear it just wasn't happening on the pitch. He wanted to throw in the towel and resign.

I asked him to stay and go back to doing what he was good at - motivating the players and getting them back on track. I still had confidence in him. Also, it would be hard for me to find a replacement mid-season. Gerry agreed to stay on, but a month later one could see we were going nowhere. He came to me again, asking me to accept his resignation.

I have to say that, as far as managers go, Gerry was a gentleman. Normally, managers are signed up on big contracts and despite the fact that poor performances on the pitch are usually down to them, they sit it out until they're sacked, in order to claim substantial compensation. In Gerry's case, there was never a suggestion that he wanted any money for leaving. In fact, I remember him telling me he was grateful for the support I'd tried to give him - in particular for purchasing players such as Ferdinand, Ginola and others. He said he couldn't have asked for any more support from his chairman. Regretfully, I had to let him go.

It popped back into my mind that prior to appointing Gerry, I'd been thinking about this director of football and coach system, which was the way many famous continental clubs were managed. I asked David Pleat to again consider the position of director of football and this time he agreed and joined the board. He also held the fort with the team while we tried to recruit a new manager.

Unfortunately David wasn't very forceful when it came to getting his point over at the right time. Unlike me, he had a tremendous wealth of knowledge about football and I wish that in his position as director of football at Tottenham - with this idiot Alan Sugar not knowing what to do about managers - he'd been more assertive in telling me what to do, as well as talking me out of other people's ideas, usually agents trying to line their pockets.