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http://www.thesun.co.uk/article/0,,2...480848,00.html
I had to wash the balls by hand
By CHARLIE WYETT
October 21, 2006
THEO WALCOTT is a lucky lad. Not just because he plays for Arsenal or already has an England cap at the age of 17.
But because Theo, along with most other teenagers in the Premier League, lives in a different footballing world than the one where I started out.
I’m going to tell you a few stories that you’ll probably find hard to believe but they’re completely true.
They just prove how this game has changed both on and off the pitch.
For example, if Theo does well in the first-team, but is then rested by Arsene Wenger, you can be sure the boss will take him to one side and explain that it’s for his own good.
When I was in the first-team at Monaco, my first club, the manager Jean Tigana — who succeeded Arsene — would say nothing after dropping me.
He was old school. He felt he didn’t have to say anything.
Having just broken into the team, I scored twice in two successive matches. I was absolutely delighted — until I was dropped.
No reason. No explanation. I just looked at the teamsheet and I was back on the subs’ bench.
I thought Tigana did not like me. In fact, I thought he hated me.
You’d probably think the same having just scored four goals in a week.
Now, I know there was a reason for it even though I was unaware at the time — Tigana just had a different approach.
Youngsters like Theo no longer have to worry about sweeping the dressing rooms or cleaning a players’ boots. That’s now done by other employees at a club.
I wasn’t so lucky.
Even after the 1998 World Cup, even though I had a winners’ medal and I was 21, Tigana still made me do all those jobs along with my good friend David Trezeguet.
If there was a tough job to do, even though we were by now established first-teamers and internationals, we would still be made to do it. Just because we were the youngest.
In my first few days back in training after winning the World Cup, the boss still made me carry the goals out to our training pitch at Monaco.
The training facilities there were not great and behind one goal there is a massive slope where the balls would always go down.
No prizes for guessing who was always made to get them. Of course, Thierry Henry and David Trezeguet.
Our training ground got very muddy so the footballs were rarely nice and white. Me and David were given brushes to clean the balls but the bristles used to fall out quite quickly.
So, 24 hours ahead of a big French League match against someone like Marseille, Tigana would make both of us clean the balls with our bare hands.
At the airport ahead of all of our away matches, the older players would just dump their bags in front of check-in.
Me and David would have to get the bags, put the tags on, and put each one on the conveyor belt for the person on check-in. Tigana would insist it was always me and David who would have that task.
So, even though we had just won the World Cup and sometimes posed for pictures and signed autographs — like some of the other players — David and I were left alone to put 30 or so bags on to the conveyor belt with our team-mates having already headed off to the duty free.
I was saying to Tigana ‘Why do we have to do this?’
But he would just say we had to, without giving a reason.
Now, when we speak together, we laugh about it. Jean says he was protecting me and wanted to keep my feet on the ground. He said: “You’d just won the World Cup and I didn’t want you clicking your fingers and get everyone jumping.”
I can see that clearly now. At the time, though, I could have murdered him!
But I would never have criticised him because Tigana was a big star from the French sides of 1984 and 1986. It was a great team. He was a great player. I had to respect tha
http://www.thesun.co.uk/article/0,,2...480848,00.html
I had to wash the balls by hand
By CHARLIE WYETT
October 21, 2006
THEO WALCOTT is a lucky lad. Not just because he plays for Arsenal or already has an England cap at the age of 17.
But because Theo, along with most other teenagers in the Premier League, lives in a different footballing world than the one where I started out.
I’m going to tell you a few stories that you’ll probably find hard to believe but they’re completely true.
They just prove how this game has changed both on and off the pitch.
For example, if Theo does well in the first-team, but is then rested by Arsene Wenger, you can be sure the boss will take him to one side and explain that it’s for his own good.
When I was in the first-team at Monaco, my first club, the manager Jean Tigana — who succeeded Arsene — would say nothing after dropping me.
He was old school. He felt he didn’t have to say anything.
Having just broken into the team, I scored twice in two successive matches. I was absolutely delighted — until I was dropped.
No reason. No explanation. I just looked at the teamsheet and I was back on the subs’ bench.
I thought Tigana did not like me. In fact, I thought he hated me.
You’d probably think the same having just scored four goals in a week.
Now, I know there was a reason for it even though I was unaware at the time — Tigana just had a different approach.
Youngsters like Theo no longer have to worry about sweeping the dressing rooms or cleaning a players’ boots. That’s now done by other employees at a club.
I wasn’t so lucky.
Even after the 1998 World Cup, even though I had a winners’ medal and I was 21, Tigana still made me do all those jobs along with my good friend David Trezeguet.
If there was a tough job to do, even though we were by now established first-teamers and internationals, we would still be made to do it. Just because we were the youngest.
In my first few days back in training after winning the World Cup, the boss still made me carry the goals out to our training pitch at Monaco.
The training facilities there were not great and behind one goal there is a massive slope where the balls would always go down.
No prizes for guessing who was always made to get them. Of course, Thierry Henry and David Trezeguet.
Our training ground got very muddy so the footballs were rarely nice and white. Me and David were given brushes to clean the balls but the bristles used to fall out quite quickly.
So, 24 hours ahead of a big French League match against someone like Marseille, Tigana would make both of us clean the balls with our bare hands.
At the airport ahead of all of our away matches, the older players would just dump their bags in front of check-in.
Me and David would have to get the bags, put the tags on, and put each one on the conveyor belt for the person on check-in. Tigana would insist it was always me and David who would have that task.
So, even though we had just won the World Cup and sometimes posed for pictures and signed autographs — like some of the other players — David and I were left alone to put 30 or so bags on to the conveyor belt with our team-mates having already headed off to the duty free.
I was saying to Tigana ‘Why do we have to do this?’
But he would just say we had to, without giving a reason.
Now, when we speak together, we laugh about it. Jean says he was protecting me and wanted to keep my feet on the ground. He said: “You’d just won the World Cup and I didn’t want you clicking your fingers and get everyone jumping.”
I can see that clearly now. At the time, though, I could have murdered him!
But I would never have criticised him because Tigana was a big star from the French sides of 1984 and 1986. It was a great team. He was a great player. I had to respect tha