Portsmouth
’If you can get into Sol’s head, you’re doing a far better job than I ever did.’
Tony Adams
Sol was like a person who had made a great decision and now expected the changes to come at once – abracadabra! – but he slowly realised even he had to wait for the days ahead to pass in their own time; that what could happen might take longer to arrive than he had expected.
His desire to play abroad never happened. He was to be disappointed. From what he heard, the deal with Juventus was very nearly completed (a three-year contract) until the manager, Didier Deschamps, pulled out. ‘He didn’t want me in the end. It was as simple as that,’ Sol says, brusquely. ‘So, once again through my own choice, I was on my own without the support of a club, looking for a new club.’ There hadn’t been many enquiries since Sol announced he was leaving Arsenal. Wenger said, when the news was released: ‘Sol has been a giant for us but we respect his decision to move on and, of course, we are very sorry to see him go. His desire and presence have been instrumental to our success over the past five years.’
Sol believed the right team would come along. If it had to be in England, he was not ready to drop down a division. That was non-negotiable. But he wanted and believed he needed to go abroad, to get away from all the homegrown pressures.
Fenerbahce were interested. John Scales, the former Wimbledon, Liverpool and Tottenham defender, was helping him with the introduction. He had arranged for Sol to fly to Milan to meet Giuliano Terraneo and representatives from Fenerbahce. (Terraneo had left Inter as sporting director in 2003 and was now agenting deals.) ‘I listened carefully to what they had to say but Turkey wasn’t right for me,’ said Sol. The language and culture would be too difficult, too distant from the life he knew. After the disappointment of Juventus, he had no idea where he would end up. He usually had a sixth sense, but this time nothing. He wondered where he would find fulfillment in the next phase of his career. Where he’d settle and find a home, like when he first joined Arsenal. He also hadn’t given up hope of adding to his medal tally. Now where could he find a winning club that would give him peace and success? Not easy. In the end, it would be revealed in the most unlikely of places.
While he was away on England duty, Frank Lampard approached Sol. He had just sat down for some lunch. He was sipping a glass of water, thinking of how he had become better at assessing someone’s true worth after a short acquaintance, even after a nodded hello. ‘Hello.’ Frank appeared across his line of vision. ‘Can I have a word, Sol?’ He noticed Frank had a look on his face that said he had something up his sleeve. He did. He had just been talking to his cousin Jamie (Redknapp) who had mentioned that his uncle, Harry Redknapp, was interested in talking to him. He immediately knew what for. Everyone knew Sol was looking for a club. In football, like everywhere else, contacts make the business go round.
‘Tell Harry to give me a call,’ Sol said.
Harry Redknapp was manager of Portsmouth. He had returned to the club late in 2005, and saved them from relegation back to the championship. With a new owner and the promise of ‘loads of money’, Harry got to work in assembling a concoction of players that would make the team a threat to anyone.
Harry called Sol; he called him twice. Sol had gone straight to Prague from playing with England, and was celebrating at a friend’s stag do when he heard Harry’s voice. They arranged to meet in London a couple of days later.
The venue was a small hotel off Chelsea Green. Sol felt relaxed. This was so different to when he signed for Arsenal. Then it was clandestine, collar pulled up to the ears and looking like a spy, a series of false decoys just in case anyone was watching. They were, but no-one found out.
Sol was there waiting. He’d already had his first espresso when Harry strolled in first, followed by Peter Storrie, Portsmouth’s chief executive, a couple of steps behind. He immediately liked Harry. He had already met him, briefly, at son Jamie’s twenty-first birthday, but that was simply a ‘hello’ and ‘good to meet you’ greeting. Harry was well-liked in the football community. He had the reputation of extending older players’ careers and improving youngsters’ discipline. He was the classic man-manager. He spoke so freely, and indeed easily, that you would consider joining him just to be in his company. The type who’d make you laugh at his jokes, although you may have heard them before. He was exactly what Sol needed personality-wise at this point in his life. Someone who he felt would manage him in a fatherly way.
The two had good patter. They did not interrupt each other, nor even once talk at the same time. They spoke with the pace of great salesmen, as if their lines had been rehearsed. Harry spoke of his plans and ambitions for the club. He told Sol that Portsmouth was ‘a club going places, a good club to come to.’ Storrie spoke about money. The deal was being negotiated across that table. It was an all-in-one package. Make the deal and sell the club, all within half an hour. Sol was about to say something like: ‘You’re exactly what I’m looking for.’ But of course he didn’t; that wasn’t his style; never was, never going to be. A voice said, just listen to them and say you’ll call them with an answer in a few days. Which is exactly what he did.
They did not know but there was no need to oversell; they were the only Premier League side interested in him. But they spoke with ambition and excitement. About the new owner, Alexandre Gaydamak, that he was young, had money and was keen to spend it. They spoke of potential signings just as Wenger and Dein had done before he signed for Arsenal. David James, Kanu and Niko Kranjcar were names mentioned. As the bill arrived for lunch, Sol looked at his watch. He wasn’t seeing what time it was; he was thinking, how long is it to the beginning of the new season?
After the meeting with Harry, Sol flew to Verbier to get together with his girlfriend, Fiona Barratt, an English interior designer who he had met earlier in the year. They say you meet someone romantically when the heart needs it most. The statement is true for Sol. He had been involved with Kelly Hoppen, also an interior designer, who had introduced Sol to her social world. To outsiders, they were a novelty; the black football star with the ambitious socialite. It was like they intruded onto the stage as complete strangers and acted out their relationship in front of an audience. The whispers began again around Sol’s life; this time, on what he saw in her and the other way round.
‘It was rare that I met someone who was successful in their own right,’ Sol says. ‘I was attracted to someone different who was independent, responsible, knew where they were going and were driven in a nice way.’ They’d met at former Tottenham team-mate John Scales’ wedding. They were sitting at the same table. They were attracted to each other and spent the evening talking. ‘I think we were both intrigued by each other’s worlds. In the beginning it was good, we travelled together and when I introduced her to the England setup, she was fine, she was well-connected. Becks was there and I think they were quite good friends. Some of the guys had heard of her. Gary Neville actually got her to do up his house in Manchester. Yes, we spent a good deal of time together.’
But then the relationship turned into the type that was forever ending. This is definitely it, and then the next day it started all over again, like a novel forever nearly ready but the deadline is constantly changing and moving further ahead. It also seemed to be discussed more openly by others and that did not rest easy. ‘Even before I was told I was picked for the 2006 World Cup, Kelly told me she’d allegedly heard from Nancy Dell’Olio that I was going to be in the squad. It all became very strange. It may have just been gossip, but I felt very uncomfortable with it even being discussed.’
Kelly visited Sol’s family house in Stratford to see if she could help on the interior decoration. She went alone. ‘Nothing happened in the end. Probably the meeting didn’t go too well because I heard nothing more from either side! I also knew that by not going, it was a sign that it [the relationship] didn’t really have a future. If it had, I would’ve gone with her.’
It was only a matter of time to see who got out first. When Sol got a bill listing all the money Kelly was owed (she was helping with the interior decorating of his house), under the miscellaneous column, ‘flowers’ were listed. When he checked what flowers she was talking about, he discovered they were the flowers she’d bought Sol for his birthday. The entry was immediately removed and the revised bill was paid in full. ‘It was probably just a mistake,’ Sol says. But afterwards they did not talk again.
• • •
Fiona Barratt’s presence had given Sol his balance back. They had originally met in the Caribbean on the beach and then again, of all places, through Kelly Hoppen’s office, where Fiona was working as head designer; she had worked on Sol’s house. He liked her being around, enjoyed her company; he noticed that. He also noticed when he went to Kelly’s office he hoped to see Fiona. His day naturally brightened. But nothing happened when she was still working for Kelly. No clandestine dates, no hidden kiss; simply a mutual attraction masked by hesitancy on both sides.
Six months later (‘there was certainly no overlap,’ insists Sol), they met again at a party. Fiona told him she was planning to leave her job and start a new business. They spoke to each other all evening. She is lovely, thought Sol. The chance meeting unsettled him. He called Fiona the following day; he still had her number from when she had worked on his house. He asked her out but at first she refused. ‘She was wary of many things,’ Sol says, ‘past relationships, going out with a footballer, everything I brought to the table. It was frustrating because it seemed that she was using my public stature as an excuse not to get involved.’
They eventually met for dinner in Hampstead (a Greek restaurant) and they started to date seriously until one afternoon, Sol suddenly disappeared. Not literally, because he was in the papers every day, but if he hadn’t been, Fiona would not have known where he had gone. He simply didn’t call, nor did he return calls. It was without explanation. ‘I simply had to run away. It was getting serious and I didn’t have the understanding to deal with someone who loved me in such a way. So I broke it up and then the mind starts to play games, like, did she really love me? What did she see in me?’
It was the week of his birthday, the anniversary of his father’s death. It was a time since his death that had disrupted his life. ‘The mind just started to explode leading up to the date of his death and beyond,’ he says. It triggered a deluge of emotions, entailing a desire to escape those themes that unsettle, or dominate. He needed to be alone. But his solitude was well hidden from others at his club. He may have been sitting at the same table as his team-mates, but the conversation was distant and his mind was elsewhere. If he hadn’t had the anchor and responsibility of football, he would have gone abroad into deep hiding.
The silence continued for three months; harder for Fiona, dealing with someone in the public eye. The constant reminder when you least expect it: the mention of his name on the radio, the open pages of a newspaper in a coffee shop. Her heart was breaking and it got to the point where she would call him one final time and, if he was not prepared to take her call and discuss his fears and troubles, she would continue her life without him.
Sol was in Dubai. It was a training and team-bonding trip. He was preparing to go out for dinner when the phone rang. He would miss going out with some of his team-mates; instead he would stay in his room. It was a phone call he would refer to later in his speech at his wedding to Fiona. It changed the course of his life. ‘It just connected with me on a different level for some reason. It made me stop and think there was more to it. Does this girl really want to know me properly? Does she really love me, for me? If everything got stripped away, would she look at me in a different way?’
They met on his return and they knew they should be together. They loved each other and understood that fear should no longer be a part of it. ‘I was always looking for that type of love. I didn’t really understand it when I was growing up. It was tough love in the household. And then, growing up in football when I saw how things were extracted from players through bad relationships or bad marriages, it made me even more reluctant to trust and open my heart. None of my family has been married except for my parents and my sister in Jamaica, so in a way it was more normal not to be in a committed relationship.’
But it was different now. Sol had a friend and partner who would support him. Decisions would be easier. He could focus on his football while the other side of his life could have a peace that had never existed. He spoke to Fiona about the Portsmouth offer and before the week was out, he was back on the phone to Peter Storrie to finalise the deal. Yes, he was his own manager now and only had his lawyer check through the final wording. ‘It wasn’t straightforward. Storrie returned the contract five times, changing this and that before it was finally agreed.’
His working relationship with Sky Andrew had gradually petered out. They wanted different things. ‘It was inevitable that we’d eventually take different roads,’ says Sky. ‘Our outlook on how to move things forward had changed. I knew he had to see things for himself. I was a hundred per cent sure he would come back as I’d always done right by him. If you do that, they always come back.’ But Sol wanted to do things more his own way; to make his own decisions and not depend on Sky’s advice. ‘I felt comfortable enough to deal with my own affairs. I didn’t need anyone. I was experienced and wasn’t scared to negotiate. I like the business. I think I could’ve been a trader in a different life!’ laughs Sol.
‘It was almost like a younger brother going against his older brother’s advice,’ says Sky. ‘If I advised on something, he would disagree. We had reached that stage of our friendship, our working relationship, and there is little you can do except wait until it passes.’ Today they remain good friends and are involved together in Kids Go Live, an initiative that encourages inner-city primary school children to watch live sport. ‘We will always be brothers,’ says Sky.
• • •
On 8 August 2006, Sol completed his move to Portsmouth, signing a three-year contract. He was going to be well paid. He knew how much he was worth and expected his demands to be met. There was always a bottom line. He lived like many footballers of similar worth, in that, although he was highly paid, it wasn’t going to last forever and before you knew it the career was over. Your pay packet would never be the same again. He had seen it with other well-paid footballers, who are now left with little. ‘We don’t talk about money in the dressing room or generally outside. It’s a sort of no-go subject,’ says Sol. ‘With the older players in the Arsenal dressing room, I saw little change in their attitude, even though they were being very well paid. It’s the youngsters who I sometimes see are affected. All of sudden, they can buy the best of things at a very young age. It’s not good. Some prefer to be driving out of training in their new car, rather than putting in the extra hour to improve their skill.’
Everyone is different but it is fair to say that some find an excess of success, money, fame, etc, as difficult to handle as, if not more difficult to handle than, failure, poverty, or being a non-entity. But perhaps the theory is merely put about by the successful, rich, famous etc in order to keep the majority of the country in their place.
The way to handle money was instilled in Sol at a young age. Not by anything or anyone. It just seemed natural. One sight he couldn’t stand was money falling into the hands of those who did not know how to use it. ‘God sends chocolate to people who have no teeth,’ is a proverb you can see played out at many a football game, where it is the people in the most expensive seats who seem to care least for the entertainment, strolling into the corporate boxes ten minutes late and wondering why the rest of us have had the audacity to start without them.
• • •
Harry Redknapp said about Sol: ‘I think he’ll give the place a real lift just coming in. He’s a top, top player, a big character and I think he’s a great signing for us. He’s very strong. I think he’s fine and looking forward to the challenge.’
Arsene Wenger said that he was surprised by his move to Portsmouth. He believed he’d left Arsenal to go abroad. He had, but the deal simply didn’t go through. But there would be no explanation to Arsenal. These things happen and they would have to understand.
Tony Adams was restless. He was standing, pacing, sitting, squatting, and most other things. Sol was due to arrive that morning, and his former Arsenal skipper, now assistant manager to Harry Redknapp (‘When we first met I’m sure Harry wanted me out of retirement to start playing again,’ recalls Adams), knew how important the signing was going to be. ‘Sometimes one signing can make all the difference,’ says Adams. ‘In Sol’s case, he could organise the defence on the field and the players would look up to him. Wealth of experience is so valuable; once it’s on the pitch, it can change virtually everything.’
Adams also knew that by having Sol at Portsmouth, his mere presence would encourage other players to join, with the ‘If it’s good enough for him, it’s good enough for me’ type of attitude. Yes, Adams knew this was a big signing.
Harry was now far calmer. The deal had been done. He knew there had been a bit of to-ing and fro-ing but now everything was agreed.
But Sol was late. Half an hour late. ‘He isn’t coming, Harry,’ Adams said, looking at his watch.
‘I’m telling you, he’s on his way,’ Harry replied.
Harry calls Peter Storrie just to make sure. ‘Peter? Yeah…yeah…right.’
He turns to Adams. ‘It’s done. Stop worrying, he’ll be here!’
Sol meanwhile was taking his time in his Range Rover, unaware of the slight panic going on. He was looking forward to a new start. He felt as good as he had for a long time. Portsmouth might not have been his first choice, might not even have been his second, but he liked Harry and thought they had the makings of a good team. He switched radio stations and listened to classical music and opened his window to let in the fresh air. By heading towards the coast, it gave him a sense of peace. He had a giggle about how life turns. He would never have believed he would be taking this drive only a few weeks before. I will make an impact here. Maybe greater things lay ahead. How lucky he was to be a professional footballer, a paid sportsman.
As he turned down the short driveway, the potholes brought him back to his senses. In front of him stood a portakabin. Sol let out a deep sigh. ‘It was a throwback in time,’ he says. Adams and Redknapp were outside waiting. ‘I told you he’d be here,’ whispers Redknapp, followed by wide smiles and firm handshakes. As he was being taken on a tour, more like a tour of inspection, Sol felt a hollow pit in the stomach. He felt the cell door slamming. The inside of the stadium, Fratton Park, looked like a relic from better days on the south coast. The bathrooms had the smell of cigarettes. This is a shock. I may have made a big mistake.
‘People were saying, why is Sol moaning and groaning but I wasn’t used to this; we were in the twenty-first century and I thought, what is happening here? This team was in the Premier League but the facilities gave the impression it was a non-League side.’ What he didn’t understand was if the club was ready to pay millions for players, why the hell weren’t they ready to put in a new set of showers? Water from the showers and washbasins trickled down the porcelain. ‘Why wasn’t buying a new training ground top of their agenda? Something not just for now but for tomorrow; something that would appeal to any potential buyer. Why didn’t they invest and create a comfortable and stable environment to learn and improve the skill of the players? Believe me, I know it helps to have that in a club’s makeup. And remember we were talking about a Premier League side at the time. Around that time, they had an opportunity to buy a ground right opposite Southampton airport. But they did nothing.’
By the end of the tour, he had, though, already noticed the warmth around the place. It had a sense of community, which was fed from the top. He felt a sense of relief, like if your train is going in the right direction, when you’re convinced yourself you’ve got on the wrong one. ‘There was a good atmosphere and Harry kept up the banter. He was good at that.’
• • •
‘Portsmouth was like a church club. A number of the players believed in God and were vocal to the fact,’ Sol says, ‘That’s maybe why we were winning!’
Linvoy Primus became a Christian in 2001. A pendulum in his consciousness had swung and finally rested in faith and the power of prayer. Linvoy prayed on match day. He was now in control of his life. He would habitually call the assistant club chaplain Mick Mellows an hour and half before the game. His team-mates were suspicious as he sneaked off the pitch to make calls. Some thought Linvoy was talking to his bookie. ‘All I was doing was talking to God.’
Portsmouth at the time had eight players who were Christians. Soon a group had arranged to meet once a week for bible study. It was a quiet and private time at one of the player’s or at Mick Mellows’ home. There they would pray and talk openly about their lives.
Six months before Sol arrived at Portsmouth, Linvoy went to Harry Redknapp to ask whether the group could pray before a game. Harry saw no problem as long as it didn’t interfere with his team talk. They would meet in the laundry room, a small space that struggled to hold eight men. There was little difficulty finding a congregation. ‘One time we had twenty-two crowded in there!’ Linvoy says proudly. ‘It was not just for players. We had a couple of stewards, the club doctor, members of staff. We also at times had members of the opposing team: players from Bristol City, Leicester City, Charlton, to name a few. Everyone was welcome.’
Sol did not go to church as a boy nor as a teenager. He seldom talked about religion. Not even at Christmas did the family attend the local church. ‘It was as if my parents were so busy going to work night and day, maintaining the house, that they didn’t have time to include it in their life,’ Sol says. He remembers hearing his mum singing at the top of her voice hymns from television’s Songs of Praise on a Sunday evening. He was also taught by his mother how to recite ‘The Lord’s Prayer’ – and to always end it with a loud amen! He would pray kneeling by the side of the bed each night, before he closed his eyes and went to sleep. And saying his prayers remained important. Not out loud but to himself at breakfast or on a match day, and as he walked out onto the pitch. He felt God close; he felt his presence. And he thought to himself: Prayers work. Believe it or not. So why don’t I pray more often? Is it because I’m human? Or because I usually pray for the wrong things?
After he had said a prayer, he quite miraculously did feel a bit better. He recalled the times when he returned from training with Tottenham youth on a Friday and would ride his bike from home to the local Chinese to pick up a takeaway. He did it once a week. It was his treat. The Chinese was next to a church and soon he found himself heading not only to pick up his Peking Duck, but while he was waiting for it to be cooked, he would head next door to stand at the gates of the church so that he could meditate and pray to God. It was comforting.
Linvoy told Sol about the prayer group at Portsmouth. The two had met before. They were both from Newham and had mutual friends. ‘It was a unique time and we created our own community within the club; the likes of Sean Davis, Kanu, Benjani, LuaLua and others. It was a joy to have Sol join us. He was a massive figure in the club but in our group there was no hierarchy,’ Linvoy says.
Sol took his prayers from the laundry room on to the pitch. He found comfort in the words he had heard. They resonated in his ears. He returned to his imagination of how armies prayed and took their prayers onto the battlefield. He liked that. He visualised it. He veered in and out of the fantasy, crossing the line from the past to the present. It was a place he had continually returned to throughout his career, seeking to recapture the spirit of battle. Ready for the start, for the whistle to be blown and finding relief that he was as prepared as he had ever been.
• • •
Towards Christmas 2006 Portsmouth were near the top of the league. Sol and Linvoy had formed a successful partnership in the centre of defence and helped them keep five consecutive clean sheets. Sol scored his first goal for the club in a 3-1 win over Sheffield United in late December and enjoyed playing at Fratton Park. ‘The noise was extraordinary. It held twenty thousand but sounded like forty thousand,’ Sol said. ‘The singing did not stop. I’d never experienced anything like it.’
Andy Cole had joined Portsmouth at the beginning of that season. The former Manchester United and England striker found it difficult to nail down a regular starting spot, but was full of praise for Sol. ‘He was one of the best centre-halves there’s been in the English game. I think Sol was underrated. He was quick, strong and read the game as well as anyone I ever played with or against. We always got on. We are similar, in that he is a very quiet person like me.’ Cole’s England career spanned seven years, but during that time he won just 15 caps and missed out on selection for the 1998 and 2002 World Cup finals. ‘For the quality he possessed in front of goal, he should have got far more recognition in this country,’ says Sol.
Sol knew his body was changing. He was beginning to feel his age. The older you get, the more you feel it until there’s a point where you feel so much that the body tells you to give up, to retire. The choice is made for you. He was not at this point yet, but he knew his training routine had to change and Portsmouth supported and encouraged him to pace himself. Tony Adams knew how the process of an ageing footballer went; he had been there. ‘People forget in my last season at Arsenal, I played thirteen times,’ says Adams. ‘I knew how it worked and I encouraged Sol to pace himself. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday rub downs. Full training on chosen days.’ Adams knew Sol had to be very fit. ‘We knew his fitness was paramount, as we had Glen Johnson darting forward and we needed Sol to act as cover. It was always an issue for us, but more often than not he was fit and strong enough to deal with it.’
By the end of the season, Portsmouth had finished in the top half of the league but failed by just one point to qualify for Europe. ‘It went right to the wire. We were very disappointed not to get there but we knew we had a good team that could only get better,’ Sol says.
He was now living in a rented Georgian house near Winchester, after spending the first months of his move at The Four Seasons in Hook. He was feeling settled, that lilt of calm which allowed him to drift into a sense of security. He slept soundly, always. The now familiar creak of the countryside brought him closer to a feeling of peace and freedom. And when he woke up, he stayed under the shower for at least fifteen minutes without difficulty. He liked the freedom to choose how long he bathed. The constant disruption in his bathroom when he was a boy still rankled. There had never been a moment of privacy. But living in the countryside was the opposite of those days. Nature made him happy. It reminded him of his time at Lilleshall. They were good days.
Fiona came to watch him play every week, and they were spending more and more time in each other’s company. Not the night before a match, though. They once spent a Friday night together, and the next day Portsmouth lost heavily. This was not going to happen again. She bemoans the memory; he sees it differently. ‘I saw it as a sign of how important football was in my life. I took it very seriously. I never lost my commitment on the field to any club I played for. This was my living and I never lost respect for it.’
• • •
There was nothing oblique about Harry Redknapp; he got straight to the point.
‘I’d like you to be club captain, Sol,’ he said to him one day.
‘Sure Harry,’ Sol replied, without a moment’s hesitation. His time for caution on taking up the role had vanished years before, when he became Tottenham captain. Then he was young, still unsure of himself, but things were now different. He would lead from experience, not solely by his presence. At Arsenal, Sol had enough stress to cope with, without taking on the role. ‘I probably thought he didn’t need the added pressure of being captain after Patrick Vieira left,’ recalls Arsene Wenger.
His second season with Pompey justified his move in football terms alone; they finished eighth, their best-ever position in the Premier League, and they won the FA Cup. ‘To win the cup with a team like Portsmouth, when you see other teams up and down the country with better and deeper squads, was an extraordinary achievement. We weren’t fashionable, we were no-one’s favourites, and yet we proved to everyone and ourselves that a smaller club can achieve history,’ Sol says.
Portsmouth started off their FA Cup campaign away against Ipswich, followed by a home tie with Plymouth and in the fifth round away to Preston. ‘We needed a bit of luck against a number of lower league teams in the early rounds but we got through.’ They were then drawn away to Manchester United in the quarter-finals. In football, motivation can be found in all forms. Manchester United hadn’t even bothered to apply for their ticket allocation for the replay at Fratton Park. Why should they? They were going to win at home. It would be all done in time for a late lunch (it was an early kick-off). Sol used this experience to stir the troops. Hold your head high. We are better than that. Let’s show Manchester United.
Before the game he walked as usual on the pitch; Old Trafford, one of his favourite grounds, the place of one his greatest memories and triumphs, when Arsenal won the League title in his first season. Now he leant down and touched the turf with his right hand. He could feel the freshly-cut grass; it was shorter than usual. He heard the Pompey chimes from behind the goal. There was no need to search for inspiration. It was here, right in front of him. He was back on the big stage. They could not lose. No-one believed they could win, but he did. Harry did. The team did. Come on!
It wasn’t long, eighteen minutes to be precise, before Sol would pull off one of the most important and greatest tackles of his career. He talks about it as if he had scored one of his most memorable goals: ‘There was a counter-attack and Rooney was heading in on goal. I said to myself, “Right, I’ve got to go!” We were overloaded and I ran to catch up, for I was the only one who saw the danger. I could see where he was heading, and what he was about to do.’ Time stood still. It was as if a branch of his memory was reliving every little detail of the moment: the same tone and same smell of the ground, flicking up from his studs pounding against the turf. He ran from United’s box straight down the middle of the pitch. He was passing everybody with a speed and force he thought he had lost some time before. ‘For some reason, I just knew what was going to happen. I just ran and ran, straight ahead, with all my strength.’
Rooney had got to the point where he was one on one with goalkeeper David James. ‘I knew instinctively what he was going to do,’ Sol says. ‘I was using that part of my brain that was able to calculate exactly what was going to happen. The formulation of everything I had learned or had taught myself; from the earliest days in the park, to all the coaches and managers who had trained and taught me. It all seemed to come together at that moment.’
It was like one of those silent movies projecting each frame inside one’s brain in quick succession. ‘I ran straight for the goal and when I saw David slide and try to parry the ball, I gambled and jumped over him, to cut round and be ahead of Rooney’s charge on goal. I just knew that tackle was going to land perfectly. It was unbelievable! The ball fell to Tevez whose shot was headed off the line by Glen Johnson. Beautiful defending. It was a sensational feeling that’s never left me. Everyone needs those moments in any sphere of life; when all the hard work pays off. You need your centre-forward to do something magical; and you need your defenders to be special too. That’s how you win games of football.’
The atmosphere in the dressing room at half-time was tense. There was a chance here. It was still 0-0. Aspirations were alive, so alive you could virtually taste them. Sol had been through moments like this before. This was where he would help counsel the less experienced players. This is what Tony Adams talked about when Portsmouth signed him. All Portsmouth needed was one chance. That’s all. Just the one.
That chance came in the 78th minute after United goalkeeper Kuszczak fouled Baros in the penalty area and was sent off. Baros had come on as a substitute for Kanu, a clever piece of management from Redknapp. ‘We would never have been able to do that without money. Have someone like Milan Baros on the bench,’ says Adams. Rio Ferdinand went in goal, but failed to stop the penalty from Muntari. Portsmouth went on to win the tie by that goal.
When Sol returned to the dressing room after the game, he took a deep breath and, as he exhaled, he started to cry. Real tears. Everything seemed to go into slow-motion. He watched his team-mates congratulate each other. He was asked whether he would mind being interviewed on television. Not right now. He was not the hero of today. His team was. Talk to them, each and every one. ‘We had a good team. I was so proud,’ he would say. ‘No-one thought we had a chance in hell of winning. Manchester United and Portsmouth. Can you hear it? We went there earlier in the season and were beaten easily. Although we kept the score down to 2-0, we were played off the field. But that’s the beauty of the Cup. You just never know!’
The semi-final was played at Wembley stadium and Portsmouth beat West Bromwich 1–0, thanks to a tap-in from Kanu. And so to Wembley again, but this time for the FA Cup final. Sol was never superstitious before a game. He wasn’t going to start now. He thought for a moment, if he had done anything different in the quarters and semis, but laughed to himself that he might have put on his shorts first.
‘The only thing I believe in first is God, not superstition. I’ve never been one to avoid walking under a ladder,’ and he visualises it, not going out on Friday the 13th because it is considered by some to be unlucky. ‘I’m determined never to shackle myself with the chains of superstition.’ He looks over to Kanu and gives him a nod. He puts on his socks, shorts and then his blue shirt before putting on his boots, tightening his laces loop by loop, and muttering: ‘We can’t lose this game.’ He repeats these words to himself, if only as a reminder that his strength is he can win anywhere and for anybody. Here he is on Cup final day, the most traditional of all football days, and he will be leading out Portsmouth. I’m meant to be here today; this is what is written. As he led his team onto the field he felt calm, as always before a big match. This would be no different. He would play his usual game. He would help guide his players. He would lead them with the fight of a general going into battle. He would lift the FA Cup.
• • •
Cardiff 0 Portsmouth 1, FA Cup final, Wembley, 17 May 2008
Cardiff: Enckelman, McNaughton, Johnson, Loovens, Capaldi, Ledley, Rae (Sinclair 86), McPhail, Whittingham (Ramsey 61), Parry, Hasselbaink (Thompson 70). Subs Not Used: Oakes, Purse.
Portsmouth: James, Johnson, Campbell, Distin, Hreidarsson, Utaka (Nugent 69), Pedro Mendes (Diop 78), Diarra, Muntari, Kranjcar, Kanu (Baros 87). Subs Not Used: Ashdown, Pamarot. Goals: Kanu (37).
Att: 89,874. Ref: Mike Dean.
In one of the most unpredictable of FA Cup tournaments in living memory, Portsmouth edge out Cardiff in the Wembley final to claim the trophy for the first time in 69 years. Kanu’s first-half goal, scrambling the ball home after goalkeeper Enckelman fumbled a cross, gives Pompey’s noisy fans plenty to celebrate, as well as presenting Harry Redknapp with his first major trophy in a management career stretching back 25 years. Winning the FA Cup means Portsmouth qualify for the following season’s UEFA Cup.
It was an attractive game. Portsmouth started nervously and Cardiff were more comfortable on the ball. But once Portsmouth scored, from Kanu, just as he did in the semi-final, they took more of a foothold in the match. Attacking play full of chances for both sides characterised the second half, especially from Cardiff, but in the end Portsmouth deserved to win the trophy.
When the final whistle blew, Sol felt dissimilar to other moments when he had experienced that acute sense of victory. It just seemed different. He lifted his arms into the air and quietly thanked God. He hugged his team-mates and felt a happiness that, on reflection, was not only because of winning the Cup but because, as an old saying goes, ‘most creatures are as happy as they make up their minds to just be.’
Sol was aware of everything, the smallest of details, as he began his long climb up the stairway to lift the FA Cup. He climbed the steps one by one. He was not going to be rushed and no FA official would come rushing out saying, ‘Sol, do hurry up.’ His mind was now filled with gratitude for where he was, and from where he came. Although there were thousands screaming and the world was watching, he felt an overwhelming sense of solitude. His journey was his own and nobody, however close, could possibly understand what it took to get here. Not just on the outside, but inside too. This wasn’t a selfish emotion; it was an acceptance of how his life had mapped itself out.
As he walked towards the trophy, and now he was just metres away, he knew what an extraordinary moment he was experiencing. He didn’t need the silver to focus his mind but as he took those last few steps, he started to stage-whisper a prayer to himself: ‘I thank God for being part of my life and for leading me here.’ He remembered how awkward the trophy was to lift up. He had done it before with Arsenal, but this time it was different.
He is the captain, the first to lift the cup for the team. Be mindful of its top. He’s sure he has seen it fall with other captains. He looks down at his hands. The long fingers steady, the palms of his hands remarkably dry. He is calm and then has a moment’s hesitation; will they fit? Will my hands fit round so I can lift it easily? He took the last few paces in longer strides. If he were still climbing stairs, he would be taking them in twos and a three. He takes a deep breath and shakes the hand of Sir Bobby Robson, followed by Lord Triesman, chairman of the FA. Together they present the cup to Sol, Bobby also gently patting Sol on his shoulder. He gracefully takes the trophy, kisses it and, with a Portsmouth scarf tied around his neck, turns to face the fans, who are singing the Pompey chimes… Then Sol lifts the FA Cup. He holds it aloft for just a second longer than is usual for a captain: ‘Yeeessssssss!!!’ he cries out, spellbound by an act that every kid in England dreams of; to be captain of a winning side in an FA Cup final.
Lord Triesman recalls the moment he handed the trophy to Sol. ‘When a player approaches, I can see in his eyes a mania as if he is still on the field. For a man who is usually so cool, Sol seemed quite different as I shook his hand. “Congratulations,” I said. “It’s happened to a really nice guy.” And he grinned back.’
When the team did their lap of honour, Sol thought he deserved this. Signing for Portsmouth, although at first there were doubts, had not been so stupid after all. ‘When you’re at the big clubs, you’re expected to win the big trophies. I was no longer at Arsenal, I wasn’t at Manchester United, nor Chelsea, but I made it work here at Portsmouth,’ he says. ‘I can win anywhere, I thought, and I liked myself for that.’ And there’s a hint of pride in his voice for being so honest with his emotions.
• • •
At Cheyne Walk Brasserie in Chelsea, Sol and the representative from Puma are having lunch. The restaurant is less busy at lunchtime than in the evening. There is enough room not to be overheard. The two have met before and are talking about a potential boot deal. Puma is one of the finest sports brands in the world. It has a history of representing the world’s greatest footballers, such as Pele, Maradona and Cruyff.
Sol is keen. He likes the idea of working with them but negotiation is never easy when connecting a brand with a football star, indeed any star.
They order and the food arrives quickly. They talk about the latest results, nothing in particular, when the Puma representative asks a question.
‘Are you gay?’
There is a pause for a split second. Sol is briefly surprised; maybe even a little shocked by the question.
‘No,’ Sol replies, cool, unflustered, honest.
The representative tucks into his food. ‘Ah, that’s a pity. We were hoping you were.’
‘What?’
‘Yup. We were keen to represent the first gay international footballer. We could sell many more boots. It would be a worldwide story.’
Sol shakes his head. He can’t win.
When he first heard the homophobic chants from the terraces, he ignored them. He was used to the ignorance and the obscenities. It was part of the game. The ugly side. But the chants and then rumours spread like a virus. The whispering grew louder and louder, the murmur of people saying, ‘You know he’s gay.’ ‘He’s gay, he must be.’ His lifestyle enhanced the gossip. He wasn’t seen that often in the company of women and his solitude made people suspicious that there must be something more going on.
‘Because they didn’t see me falling out of clubs or shagging in the alleys with different girls every week, they thought something must be wrong with me. I’m a footballer after all,’ Sol says.
The Puma representative lets out a sudden sigh. He is clearly disappointed.
‘I’m not gay. I’m not bothered by homosexuality,’ Sol says. ‘I’m not sure where the rumours began. Probably from my team-mates at Spurs, who knows? I was brought up in a different way; I was very shy even with my mum and dad. And I was shy when it came to relationships, because I saw what happened when my brothers brought girls home. The way my parents treated them; it was a nightmare. The girls weren’t allowed in the house when they turned up. They were told to go away or told to wait outside until my brother was ready. It was embarrassing. So I just kept my relationships quiet. Out of sight.’
Sol starts to wonder if the Puma representative is disappointed by the news that he is straight. Do other brands think the same? Is the gossip so convincing that everyone thinks it is the truth and there’s nothing more to talk about? ‘If there’s one thing I can’t tolerate,’ says Sol, ‘it’s intolerance.’
They shake hands at the end of their lunch and the Puma man leaves the restaurant. The deal never happened. He never heard from him again. For whatever reason, it was not made clear. Their conversation stayed with Sol. But the rumours have now faded away, like a distant memory. ‘The football world conveniently forgot that I was a human being who could do his own thing, rather than getting married in my twenties, settling down, and conforming to the stereotype,’ says Sol. ‘I like to think I ran my life according to the real world; I didn’t find the need to boast to my football mates about going out with this person or that person. I was comfortable in my own skin.’
• • •
In the off-season, Villarreal had come in and made Portsmouth another offer for Sol. They had made their first a year before, but Portsmouth were keen to hold Sol to his contract. This time Sol was less tempted to leave. ‘We had a team. We were becoming a very good side and if Portsmouth hadn’t run out of money, they would have undoubtedly been challenging for the top four. It’s a shame.’ What he didn’t know during the off-season was how little money was left. He might well have jumped at the offer had he known. Harry Redknapp sensed things weren’t quite right. He kept saying to Tony Adams, ‘I don’t like this.’
In October 2008, Redknapp suddenly resigned and joined Tottenham. Sol heard the news with everyone else on the radio when driving back to his rented house. One day Harry was there, the next he was gone. But he wasn’t surprised Harry had left. Only a few days before when Portsmouth were playing away at Villa, he said to Sol and Sylvain Distin after the game, ‘If I was on my way, I’d definitely take you two with me.’ The two laughed, thinking it was a bit of a joke, but Sol thinks Harry had already made up his mind that he was off. What Sol hadn’t known was that he’d been feeling unsettled for quite some time. ‘He obviously knew the state of the club’s finances. He was just waiting for the right offer,’ Sol says. Newcastle came in and Harry allegedly signed up but in the end couldn’t uproot his family to go up north. Tottenham was impossible for Redknapp to refuse.
By coincidence, Tony Adams had handed in his own resignation twenty-four hours before. He’d had enough of being an assistant and wanted to be manager. Storrie hadn’t had time to deal with it but instead asked Adams to be caretaker for the first match after Harry had left. ‘Okay, but just for the one game,’ Adams had said. Storrie agreed but after the game he brought Adams up to the boardroom to meet the owner, Alexandre Gaydamak. Gaydamak was talking to Sol at the time about the plans for the future. Adams thought Sol didn’t know the full story; nor did he, but he knew more than most. The financial position was not good. Gaydamak asked Adams why he wanted to resign. Adams told him he wanted to manage a Premier League club. ‘Stay here and manage us.’ Adams thought about it. He knew the club had no money but he weighed up it was better to manage and possibly fail than be an assistant all your life. The opportunity might not come again. He accepted the job.
Adams had a torrid time and Sol is saddened by the memory. ‘I think management chooses you. You can’t force it. Some people have been great players but can’t manage. Others have had no playing career and make some of the best managers of their time.’
He hesitates in talking about Adams; his shoulders up to his ears, eyebrows raised. He was his captain, coach and manager, and yet, Sol’s words fall from his mouth like a series of unexpected snowstorms. ‘Communication for Tony was very hard, which was strange because as a player on the pitch he communicated as well as anyone I played with.’
Adams never had a real fighting chance. A month after accepting the job he was called into the owner’s office in Berkeley Square. He was told there was no cash left. Nothing. Gaydamak told Adams, ‘I have sunk £180 million into this club and there is nothing left.’ Adams shook his head.
‘It’s worse than that,’ Gaydamak continued. ‘If we don’t get £6 million by the end of the transfer window in January, we will go into administration.’
I’ll have a whip-round,’ Adams replied. He paused. ‘I’m joking.’
• • •
West Ham had given Portsmouth the worst Christmas present of all: a 4-1 defeat at home.
Sol knew the New Year was going to bring in one, long struggle. Rules would have to change; we were talking about survival, which would become even more acute as the weeks went by. Adams had just completed his post-match interviews, where he told the press he had a good bunch of players who would work hard to get things right. He also said he hoped to hold onto his players during the transfer window. But what he said publicly was different to what had to be done.
The dressing room door flew open and Adams stormed in, tired and angry. Sol watched on as ‘Tony lost it.’ He put his face up close to anyone who got in the way and called his team a ‘fucking disgrace’. It was a tirade of abuse. Before he made his final exit, Adams yelled: ‘If anyone is up to it or wants to get out of here, come and see me Monday and I’ll accept your transfer request!’ Jermain Defoe was transferred the following week. Adams’ plan had worked. He had walked into that dressing room hoping to save the club by forcing the hand of some of his players. It backfired a little bit when Defoe scored for his new club Spurs against Portsmouth, two weeks later in a 1-1 draw. In that game, Adams’ respect for Sol grew even more when he saw, in his role as manager, the defender take on not just a good team but also an abusive crowd. Tottenham seemed to bring the best out of Sol and Adams says: ‘It was extraordinary. He may have been directly involved in the action for say six minutes but everything he did was immaculate. I would say without hesitation that Sol Campbell was the most focused player I have ever played with. I wish I had played longer with him at Arsenal.’
Adams was sacked in February 2009; four months after his appointment and just sixteen games in charge in which his team picked up just ten points. They had also been knocked out of both the UEFA Cup and the FA Cup. ‘In the end, it was a relief,’ Adams says. The club, on the other hand, made a respectful statement. ‘This has been a very difficult decision and Tony has worked tirelessly to arrest the slump in form. He is rightfully highly-respected within the football world, and played a major role in our FA Cup triumph last season.’ Paul Hart was appointed caretaker manager until the end of the season and brought in Brian Kidd as his assistant. Kidd impressed Sol: ‘I really think if it wasn’t for Brian Kidd, we would’ve been in even worse trouble. He helped save us from relegation. He got us organised and installed discipline. He was enthusiastic and got everyone going. He is a very good coach.’
Sol did not for a moment think Portsmouth were going to be relegated. ‘I wasn’t going to let it happen. Mentally I kept everything going and being captain, I was going to push everyone on with the same attitude. I certainly didn’t want relegation on my CV.’ So basically, his style of play changed. ‘I would do anything to clear my lines. Everything was basically about survival. I wanted to keep my job, roll up the sleeves to keep the club up.’
As well as Defoe, Portsmouth had been forced to sell Lassana Diarra in January. ‘Jermain leaving killed us. When the man who scores the goals leaves, you’re in deep trouble,’ says Sol. ‘We seemed to be losing a piece of our jigsaw every day. There was a suggestion in January for me to go, but nothing happened. I knew we were in big trouble and I’m glad I stayed. I needed to finish the season in the Premier League, with the team I won the FA Cup with. Portsmouth gave me one of my greatest memories.’
• • •
Sometimes a whole season can be determined by a bad decision, a glorious piece of play, a mistake, even the wrong words from the manager. When Portsmouth played Newcastle away at the end of April, they were still not mathematically safe from relegation. Heading that way, but not there yet. The 0-0 draw at St James’ Park secured their place. They had read in the morning paper that Portsmouth was a game Newcastle expected to win. Three points added to three points from another game would mean safety for the Geordies. Sol knew Newcastle would get a surprise. ‘I always like playing at St James’ Park, although as a defender it’s more difficult as there is a slope.’ Some believe it is legend to motivate the Newcastle players with ‘you are playing downhill in the second half.’ But Sol insists it isn’t his imagination. ‘Newcastle prefer to play downhill towards the Gallowgate End in the second half so it’s almost as if the ball gets sucked into the opposition goal – while their opponents have to huff and puff uphill! As a defender, playing against the slope, you almost have to play in zones, as your regular clearances and headers won’t go as far. And if you’re not careful, you can find yourself dropping deeper and deeper until the opposition are almost on top of you outside the penalty box.’
When the season ended, Portsmouth did not offer Sol another contract. They couldn’t even if they wanted to. There was little money left. It was time to leave the club and so, not for the first time in his career, Sol was back on the market as a free agent. ‘I enjoyed my spell at Portsmouth; it was like going back to a different time. Everyone up against it, mucking in,’ he muses. ‘I was sad to leave. When I first joined, although it looked from the outside to be in a bad shape, the club seemed to be full of promise. We had a rich young owner, Alexandre Gaydamak, who was full of ambition.’
In Sol’s debut season for Portsmouth, the first team attended a press conference where they were shown plans for a big new stadium which was going to be built by the water’s edge. Promises were copious. This could be very exciting, thought Sol. But soon he sensed they were false promises and empty dreams. ‘I felt quite early on that something was wrong. I never realised how shallow the promises were, or even the perilous state the club was in, but I knew something wasn’t quite right.’
After losing away to Wigan on the last day of the season, Sol packed his bags and left Portsmouth. He hadn’t played his best that day. His mistake had led to the goal. He was disappointed he hadn’t given a better performance, but he had captained the side to do its job and stay in the Premier League. In the end, Portsmouth finished 14th. He felt good about that. Now the summer lay ahead and he was going to take a break. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically. He was going to get away from the pressure and see what turned up.
