21

HOLD YOUR HEAD UP HIGH

My old man wrote an open letter to the club and the fans in the days after my last appearance – including a mention for the late, great Bobby Wilcox, a legend on The Kop and in The Albert for his generosity, his fabled Wilcox Tours away trips and his duets with fellow leg-end Lenny Woods. Here’s what Dad wrote:

Words fail me but I’m going to try.

I had a lovely time on Sunday at the Liverpool v Charlton match. I cried much of the time, not because the dream was ending, but in gratitude that it had ever taken place. I am grateful for the highs, too many to recount, but also for the lows which gave friends and the extended Red army/family the chance to show how much they cared, keeping him going and hoping against hope for a miracle.

The miracle happened and the unfinished business of his first ‘leaving’ has been resolved. Robert got to say goodbye and thanks, receiving the same in double measure. To picture, even now, him standing at both ends of the ground with his family, on and off the pitch, is a memory which will never end. I can’t thank all who deserve to be thanked, including Liverpool staff past and present – particularly the latter for making Sunday happen – but thanks to Bobby Wilcox and gang for their lasting support. Liverpool can rest assured they’ll never walk alone. The club will always be in the Fowler hearts.

Well said, Bobby! I couldn’t have put it better myself. But, me being me, I knew that I could still do a job at the highest level. Numerous clubs came in for me, including Portsmouth, now being managed by my old mate Jamie Redknapp’s dad, Harry. I’d met Harry loads of times and always found him great company and genuinely innovative in the way he thought about the game. I’d been lucky in that respect – Roy Evans was at the time one of the pioneers of a three-man defence in the modern game and Harry was an advocate, too. He also talked a lot about a midfield diamond, which I hadn’t heard before. Harry was in his second spell at Portsmouth who, this time around, were flush with cash, courtesy of a new owner, Alexandre Gaydamak. He talked about playing me at the tip of the diamond, effectively a third striker rather than a midfielder, but with the transfer deadline looming, our initial conversations hadn’t translated into a firm offer. Maybe Harry was already working on his TV persona, where he drives to his office on transfer deadline day, his arm half out the car window, ready to tell the waiting media that he’s still expecting ‘one or two’ to sign as the day goes on!

Meanwhile, Cardiff City made me a very good offer. I’d always really liked Dave Jones as a football fella, but there was also still a sense of ‘once bitten’ when I found myself on the receiving end of another Peter Ridsdale charm offensive. You have to hand it to Ridsdale, though – he genuinely loves the game and I do think he sincerely believes the vision (and the version) he is trying to sell to you. He’d recently taken over as Cardiff chairman and had already used his Leeds connections to bring Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink and Stephen McPhail to the club.

With a promising crop of young Welsh lads like Aaron Ramsey and Joe Ledley, Cardiff City held high ambitions. Dave Jones laid out a three-year plan to move the club into a brand-new stadium and for the team to be playing in that arena, in the Premier League, within that time frame. To achieve that, like any team with ambition, they needed goals and Dave felt certain that, in tandem with Jimmy Floyd, I was the man to provide them. Walking around Cardiff to get a feel for the place, I found the people warm, hugely welcoming and passionate about their team. So, on 21st July 2007, I signed a two-year contract and went away honoured and excited to be joining this great club.

I’d missed the start of pre-season with Dave Jones and the squad and was keen to get myself up to speed as soon as possible. Once again this was my undoing as, almost from my first flat-out sprints, I tore my quad – so, essentially, I injured myself trying to get match fit! That didn’t keep me out for long, though. I got back down to training and, little by little, built up my fitness once again – then I started to feel these shooting pains in my back. The pain would subside for a while and I’d convince myself that it was all just a reaction to pre-season training and re-acclimatising myself to the intensity of our routines. Anyone would think I might have learned my lesson by now, but I did the worst thing possible, which was to stay quiet and push on through the pain. Seeing my lack of sharpness, Dave Jones drew the conclusion that I was way behind on my fitness. I wasn’t even on the bench for the first couple of games and, at that point, I really should have said something to the club doctor rather than taking it upon myself to step up my training.

Towards the end of September – mainly, I think, to give me some much-needed match fitness rather than any sense that I was tearing up trees in training – I was handed a start against Preston. I got myself on the end of two crosses, scored two goals and, just like that, I was back – except I’d go back to the hotel where I was based during the week and barely be able to sleep, my back pain was that bad. Driving back to Merseyside to see Kerrie and the kids was such agony that, increasingly, it was literally becoming a labour of love.

But the goals against Preston kept me in the team. I probably knew this subconsciously but, in effect, every sprint I made, every game I played, I was making the injury worse and prolonging the recovery time. Yet I carried on scoring. I got two more in a League Cup tie against West Brom, setting us up for a fourth round tie at Anfield, where the entire ground seemed to be willing me to score! That was an odd night for me – so much love from both sets of fans, yet I came off the pitch knowing that I was letting everyone down, including myself. It was time to face the music: I got medical examinations done.

The outcome of the tests was a recommendation that I be seen by one of the top specialists in Europe, Hans Mueller-Wohlfahrt, based in Hamburg. He was brilliant! Straight away, he told me that he could see from my stance that I was ‘carrying’ on my left side – in other words, I was listing to the left. His first impression was that this was a chronic injury – a deep-lying, historic issue that has developed and got worse over time. Once again, those thoughts popped into my head that perhaps my problems could be traced back to the ‘clicky’ hip I was born with.

Mueller-Wohlfahrt started telling me about a specialist in Colorado, who might be able to address the condition with micro-surgery to the other hip (which was over-compensating for the weaker, left hip). Before he had time to finish his sentence, I knew who he was about to recommend – Dr Richard Steadman, the sports fractures guy who had got Jamie Redknapp playing again. I was keen to get the problem sorted once and for all, but it was late November, the ‘new’ season at my new club was well underway and I just wanted to play and give a good account of myself. I asked the doctor whether there was any way I could delay my operation until the summer so that I could get back out on the pitch and play some football. Was it within the realms of possibility that I could take anti-inflammatory drugs to help me ‘play through the pain’ or would I just be making the injury worse? His solution was a course of injections – 28 of them, in fact, which I had to administer before training and before matches. It was a massive pain in the arse – the sheer amount of jabs became a saga – but I got back in the team and was managing to move without pain, when my old pal Darren Purse, a colleague at Cardiff by now, whacked me in training! This time it was the old ankle again. It was sore and swollen, but didn’t need anything more radical than elevation, ice and rest to fix itself – but still, the specialist was projecting at least a month before I could run freely again.

Rather than sit around waiting for the swelling to subside, the Cardiff management and I decided to use this ‘dead’ time to take a leap of faith and head out to Colorado for corrective surgery on my hip. I was under a hip specialist called Dr Marc Philippon, who initially thought keyhole surgery and a little clean around the joint would clear up the issue. It was only when he had me under the knife, though, that the surgeon realised the full extent of my hip problem and how that, in turn, was contributing to my ongoing back pain. He decided that micro-fracture was the only way of curing the problem long-term, so in effect, broke my hip and reset it. The theory was that, once the bones knitted together properly, I would have a regular, pain-free gait and hips that would last me into my dotage – and I was all for it.

The op was done in the January of 2008. Cardiff issued a statement saying I would be back flying for the start of the 2008–09 season in August, but for the time being, we wouldn’t be seeing any more of Robbie Fowler in the Bluebirds shirt. As soon as I could walk again though, I started my rehab programme – physio, stretches, manipulation, gentle jogging and so on. I kept expecting to feel a twinge or worse, but the hip stood up to everything. I was made up! Cardiff, meanwhile, went on a mad FA Cup run, beating Middlesbrough 2–0 at The Riverside to set up a semi-final against mighty Barnsley. Wembley Stadium was newly reopened and – much in the same way as Harry Kane must have had his eye on Madrid as he worked his way back to fitness for Tottenham – I was starting to harbour dreams of an unlikely return in front of 90,000 at New Wembley for a Cup Final against Portsmouth or West Brom.

Cardiff beat Barnsley 1–0, Harry Redknapp’s Pompey beat West Brom by the same score and, for the first time since 1927, Cardiff were contesting an FA Cup final. The atmosphere in the city was incredible, almost as though they’d been given a month-long bank holiday as the big day drew near. There were flags and blue bunting everywhere and there was almost daily speculation around the game. Would Wembley play the Welsh National Anthem alongside God Save The Queen? In the event of a Cardiff City win, would the FA put us forward as one of the English qualifiers for the UEFA Cup – and would they accept us as participants?

In the week leading up to the final, I felt good enough to fast-track my rehab. Myself and the physio team upped the intensity, putting me through sprints, turns, all sorts of joint-intensive pressure training, trying to get me match-fit for the final. The thinking was, even if I could go on from the bench for the last 20-odd minutes, I might be able to make a telling contribution. This time, though, we all recognised that I was pushing myself too hard, too fast, and that it was best all round if I sat this final out. It was a fabulous day though, with both sets of fans providing an unbelievable spectacle of noise and colour. Kanu put Portsmouth ahead and Cardiff desperately searched for an equaliser in the closing minutes, but it wasn’t to be. Because I’d been out injured since the turn of the year, I hadn’t played in any of the earlier rounds of the competition, either. So, with zero minutes on the clock and no real case for me gazumping one of the other 18, I missed out on a – admittedly unexpected – finalist’s medal, too.

Things changed over the summer. I can’t quite put my finger on it and I really don’t want to rake it all up again, but Peter Ridsdale called me in and asked if I’d help the club out by signing a pay-as-you-play contract. It wasn’t stingy – the rewards would be there if I put together a decent run of games. But my issue with it was that I already had a contract, I was happy enough with things as they were, and if I laid myself open to the whims of selection by signing this new proposal, I might go an entire season without being picked, played or paid. It was hardly pistols at dawn, but it’s fair to say the club and I had a bit of a falling-out over it. On reflection, I wish I’d just signed the revised contract; not doing so is easily my biggest mistake and biggest regret in football. Cardiff is a brilliant city, a great club, and looking back, I would have loved to have done something for those fantastic fans – given them something to remember me by. But the family was by now firmly and happily ensconced in West Kirby and I began to think a move nearer home might be best all round.

Enter my old comrade Paul Ince, now manager of Blackburn – and enter the embers of my career as a top-flight player in the English Leagues. In September 2008 I signed a short-term agreement with Blackburn, primarily on the basis that Incey was there, Ewood Park was a 45-minute drive away from our house and I’d get to see much, much more of my family. But the move turned out to be one of those that you just consign to the ‘didn’t quite work out’ folder. Blackburn in those days were still very ambitious. They’d won the League not so very long before, had enjoyed semi-regular incursions into European football, and with lads like David Dunn, Ryan Nelson, Brett Emerton, Benni McCarthy and my old teammates Stephen Warnock in defence and Paul Robinson between the sticks, had genuine Top Six aspirations. They’d sacked Mark Hughes – who’d done a decent job – over the summer, so Paul Ince was under the spotlight, right from the start. But, for whatever reason, Blackburn were stop-start under Incey, winning difficult away games then fluffing the ones that looked easiest on paper. I wasn’t getting much of a look-in anyway, but when local rivals Wigan Athletic won the derby game 3–0 (including a goal for one Emile Ivanhoe Heskey), I knew that the writing would be on the wall. A run of six consecutive defeats saw him getting an early Christmas present. The sack. I knew the writing would be on the wall for me, too, and I don’t think I came back in after that to formally receive my P45. I can summarise my highlights in a Blackburn shirt as follows:

24th September 2008: Everton (League Cup, home), Won 1–0

Have that, drug rumourmongers!

Over the years, I’d had no shortage of enquiries from emerging football nations – Japan, USA, Thailand – but the one that appealed to Kerrie and I was Australia. We’d spoken quite a lot about the possibility of sampling a whole new lifestyle in a completely new country and The Land of Oz was one we particularly fancied. As a family we’re into the Great Outdoors – even if that’s just a walk around Marine Lake in West Kirby, these days – and there was something about the simplicity of the Australian lifestyle that appealed to us at that point in our lives.

In a similar way that our old Division One became the Premier League, Australia’s big-league football was re-branded as A-League in 2007. Part of the new set-up allowed for each team to sign a ‘marquee’ player, the idea being that they’d bring in a player of international standing who, first and foremost, could still play to a high standard but, secondly, would raise the profile of football, locally and nationally. In short, they hoped we would put bums on seats! I actually received an offer from Sydney FC before I went to Cardiff, but Jacob was still only a baby and I needed to be as close to Kerrie and the kids as possible.

Towards the beginning of December 2008, I started to receive serious interest from North Queensland Fury, based in Townsville, right up on the North East coast of Australia, between Brisbane and Cairns. If Kerrie and I were serious about a new culture in a new world, then the opportunity to play my football on Australia’s Gold Coast was definitely one to consider. Big Sam Allardyce came in at Blackburn to stave off the looming threat of a relegation dogfight. Neither Sam nor myself are fools, we both knew how this was going to play. Before the week was out, Blackburn and I tore up my contract, allowing me to leave as a free agent.

I had two firm offers from the States, but the North Queensland opportunity was intriguing. The club had only been founded earlier in 2008, but had made swift progress to Australia’s top division, the A-League. Anyone who has followed A-League football on the telly will know the standard is very high. The League has a commitment to developing Australian football, so there are strict budgetary rules as well as limits on the number of ‘marquee’ players a club can sign. So, for example, if a club’s annual budget was $2 million (that’s a decent amount in the A-League), the challenge is to use that money to build a balanced, homegrown squad that can punch its weight but also win enough games and play with a style that will bring the crowds through the turnstiles. This is where the marquee signings come into it. A lot of clubs will look to keep a portion of their budget aside to lure the kind of big, international star that could attract more fans to the game. There was a huge catchment area around Townsville and the Fury had big ambitions of growing the club and its supporter base. Their coach Ian Ferguson was continually on the phone, selling the area and the lifestyle, as well as the club itself. It’s difficult for people who have never been there to appreciate how vast Queensland is, but let’s just say you could hide the entire United Kingdom in it, many times over. It’s yowge! And within that region, there is so much history, variety and culture.

Townsville itself is an old port, originally founded to transport gold, silver, copper and zinc from the Queensland mines, all around the world. There was also a major sugar industry, as well as farming and, in more recent times, tourism – the Great Barrier Reef runs right alongside the Queensland coast. The 2009–10 season was to be North Queensland Fury’s first in the A-League. Ian, and the Fury chairman Don Matheson, were passionate about building this new club for a new generation of supporters. So, as soon as Christmas and New Year were out of the way, I jumped on a plane and spent a week out there – mainly to check out the club, the ground and the training facilities – all of which were top-notch. I also really liked the kit – a nice, green and white design, almost like a cyclist’s shirt. I could definitely see myself wowing the A-League fans in a shirt like that – Queensland’s next Tommy Hilfiger model (or, in my case, Tommy Full Figure).

But if I was going to make this move, then the family would be coming with me, and I wanted to be sure this was a place I could see us settling. Over the course of the week, I was hoping to get a real sense of North Queensland as somewhere Kerrie would be happy and the kids would thrive, and in that respect I couldn’t have asked for more. If your image of Australia is based on Neighbours and Home & Away – a friendly, outdoorsy community centred on family, barbecues, surfing and sport – then you’re not far wrong! I could see my family settling very nicely in Townsville so, in February 2009, I signed for an initial two years.

Ian made me club captain and, as irony would have it, I scored on my debut – against the first club in Oz to come in for me, Sydney! On an individual, professional level, the season went well. I found that the climate and the lifestyle suited me. I was fit, scoring regularly and won Player of the Year as voted for by the fans, Players’ Player of the Year and, as top scorer, The Golden Boot. On a club level, though, I started to see some of those same ominous signs that began to creep to the surface at Leeds. The common denominator was two clubs with huge ambition, both of them in a hurry to be the biggest and the best.

With Fury, based in a vibrant but remote little city, while everyone’s heart was in the right place, perhaps the dream was more lucid than the reality. Almost inevitably, there were cash flow problems, to the extent that Football Federation Australia had to intervene towards the end of the 2009–10 season. As the club’s marquee player, I was simultaneously its most valuable asset and the biggest financial commitment – and there’s the rub. The marquee player’s contract is treated as an entirely separate entity that falls outside of the general cashflow and accounts of the football club. So, when North Queensland Fury hit financial problems, the FFA stepped in to cover all the players’ wages – except mine!

From that point until the end of the season, it was actually costing me money to continue playing in Australia. Still, I found out a lot about the way sports franchises work in the A-League, as well as the kind of first-hand experience that will serve me well as I forge my way in management. The upshot was that I left NQF in May 2010 and signed for Perth Glory for the following season. Fury subsequently went into administration, eventually being removed from the A-League in 2011. But I was on my way to the other side of that vast continent, continuing a love affair with Australia that was to be rekindled in years to come.