Ian Appleyard: Bidding emotional farewell as I step down from the press box
Some might say I am crazy but I don’t want to stay and fall out of love with the game.
It is ironic really because, at school, I was always warned never to let football ‘rule my life’. Guess I never listened. Now, 30 years on, it is time to pull away and get my life back.
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Hide AdIt was November, 1994 when I took my first tentative steps into a press box.
If I was not good enough to be paid for playing, the next best thing was, surely, getting paid for watching?
My first season ended with the departure of Owls manager Trevor Francis, who invited the Yorkshire press into his office after the final game. I still have a photo of us toasting his exit with a glass of champagne.
Across the Steel City, Dave Bassett was coming to the end of his reign as manager of Sheffield United.
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Hide AdBassett was, and still is, one of the most likeable characters I know in football and I was delighted when our paths crossed again at Barnsley and Leeds.
Howard Kendall, who replaced Bassett at Bramall Lane, once made the mistake of telling a journalist he was ‘unqualified’ to judge a side because he had ‘never played the game’.
The journalist was Tony Pritchett, of the Sheffield Star, whose instant reply stays etched in my mind.
“No, Howard, I haven’t played the game professionally,” said Tony. “But I have never baked a cake – and I can still tell you when one tastes c**p.”
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Hide AdSuch hostility from managers towards journalists is not uncommon. Manipulation of the media plays a big role in their job survival so, understandably, if they do not get their way, they do not like it.
Some are happy to play that game but I always stuck to the belief that if I never upset a manager – at least once in a while – I could not be doing my job properly.
There were times, especially in the early years, when I may have been a little naive. Apologies to Terry Yorath.
There were also times when managers could have helped things along by being less arrogant.
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Hide AdMy favourite was Neil Warnock and, for nearly eight years, I was a daily caller to his mobile. Now with Leeds, I genuinely hope his career ends with another promotion.
I was at Wembley when Paul Gascoigne scored his wonder goal against Scotland in Euro ’96 and again when Germany beat us on penalties.
I shared the agony and ecstasy of clubs going up and down the leagues and was proud to regard supporters of many different clubs as friends.
Sadly, football in Yorkshire has been slipping off the pages of the national press due to the absence of clubs in the Premier League.
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Hide AdI hope, that in some small way, I have helped readers of this newspaper stay informed and entertained.
I covered seven different clubs in the top flight and Barnsley’s one-season stay in the elite was easily the most enjoyable.
On the day the Tykes won promotion, I was sat in the Oakwell press box.
Thousands of home supporters spilled onto the pitch and the players eventually reappeared in the directors’ box over my shoulder.
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Hide AdAs the locals sang up to the team with pride, it felt as if they were looking at me. Clearly they were not but it was a great moment to dream.
Leeds United once gave me the opportunity to save a penalty in front of the Elland Road Kop. Granted, the stands were empty at the time – but that hardly mattered.
The penalty taker was Leeds defender Richard Jobson and I pushed his shot around a post.
When Leeds were in the Champions League, I covered games in Moscow, Milan and Sofia. Bizarrely, on one trip, I ended the night sitting at a hotel piano with Chris Kamara singing Hello by his look-a-like Lionel Richie.
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Hide AdOn my last visit to Old Trafford, I was sent down the touchline by stewards ahead of post-match interviews in the players’ tunnel. The final whistle had just blown and thousands of Peterborough and Huddersfield Town supporters were still in the stands for the League One play-off final.
This might sound soppy but it was ‘exciting’ and the hairs stood up on the back of my neck. Guess I will not get that sort of experience in my next job.
Hopefully, my departure will open the door for another young journalist to climb the ladder and make his mark.
In some respects, I am sad to leave. Ideally, I would have spent the rest of my career in football journalism but, trust me, now is the time for a change, though I will continue to play the game, see picture.
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Hide AdI will miss the good people I have met in the game down the years and feel honoured that so many often mistook me for ‘fans’ of their own team (maybe due to the way I reported events sympathetically?)
My opinions were always unbiased. I regarded integrity as a priority and I always treated people with the respect they showed me.
Back in May, when covering the League One play-off final between Huddersfield and Sheffield United, I could not help but think of Kevin Keegan’s farewell as England manager. A voice in the back of the head was also telling me it was time to go.
I think there may even have been a tear in my eye, too, as I stopped and looked back at the view one last time. It has been emotional. Goodbye.
and another thing...
DO I hang up my football boots, too?
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Hide AdTowards the end of last season, I was playing in goal for my local Sunday League team.
It had been 25 years since I last pulled on the gloves and the opportunity to dive around the goalline again was too good to turn down.
Things had been going brilliantly up until the final minute of the final game. Leading 6-5, I had even saved a penalty – yes, another one, after famously denying Leeds defender Richard Jobson at Elland Road (see main article).
But the heavens were now wide open and my eyes lashed by rain as the ball dropped out of the sky.
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Hide AdRegretably, I opted to try to hold the ball when, in hindsight, I should have palmed it over the bar.
End result? The ball dropped out of my hands and was tapped home for an equaliser.
Sinking to my knees in the mud, I just wanted the ground to swallow me up.
Thankfully, we have signed a new goalkeeper this summer so I am unlikely to be called upon again to deputise. Whether my knees and back, at 41, will stand up to the rigours of another season in defence is another question.
But I’ll give it a go. Because that’s how much I love football.