Simp-Lee the Best Read online

  I was always kicking a ball about. A lot of the time just on my own, for hours and hours. I didn’t have a computer, and I didn’t want one. I had everything I needed. Playing in our back garden in Wishaw was my favourite place. I’d dribble with the ball around clothes pegs and score a goal. Dad would watch me from the kitchen window. He’d be doing the dishes and I’d be scoring an imaginary goal for Rangers. He used to commentate to add a bit of drama and excitement. I loved it. The only problem was that I sometimes kicked the ball over the fence and into the neighbour’s garden. It happened more times than I care to remember. On one occasion the neighbour kept my ball, refused to return it. He’d had enough. He said my ball was in his property and I wasn’t getting it back.

  I was upset. Dad came to investigate the problem. There was an exchange of words and it resulted in Dad hauling the neighbour into our garden. The neighbour still had my ball under his arm. ‘Now,’ Dad said. ‘You’re on my property and so is Lee’s ball.’ The ball was duly returned and everything was fine again. Dad told me the moral of the story was that I was never to allow anyone from stopping me playing football. That was one of his favourite sayings. His other one was when we used to argue he would say, ‘Don’t tell your da’ how to make weans.’

  Being the youngest child, it was almost as if I became the last chance for us to have a professional footballer in the family. But there was a danger I was going to ruin it all through a lack of discipline at school. I got suspended a few times and would often come home with a punishment exercise. When I told my mum she’d just give me a right hook to the jaw. Honestly, she had quicker hands than Muhammad Ali! My dad preferred to make me run round the block as a punishment and time me. I’d sometimes have to do it three or four times. I’d then get back in the house and would have to do a wee circuit of exercises such as press-ups, star-jumps, squats and sits-ups. My dad would be sitting in his big armchair with the remote control for the telly watching Countdown or whatever was on, but he’d be there counting me to make sure I competed my full set of press-ups. He’d count out loud. Maybe he just liked to try and keep up with Carol Vorderman!

  But he cared and wanted me to succeed. He would wash and polish my boots for me when I was kid. He’d wash them twice and give them coats of polish and two buffs. They were the cleanest and shiniest boots in the whole of Lanarkshire. I had Patrick Milano and they were my pride and joy. I loved wearing them for Wishaw Boys Club. My managers there were Keith Miller and Duncan Millar. Both were committed to the game and were excellent influences on us all. Keith was funny, class and knowledgeable.

  When I went full-time at Motherwell James McFadden was my boot boy and he used to love it because I’d never ask him to shine my boots, just put a layer of polish on them and hang them back up on my peg. He said I was the easiest player at the club to look after.

  The path I took to Motherwell was a long one and I had many clubs. My first game was for Bellshill Hearts when I was six years old. It was an under-10s team and Wullie played for them. They were a man short one afternoon and I made up the numbers. I didn’t realise you had to change ends at half-time and thought we were shooting the same way. Thankfully, my knowledge on the rules of the game has improved. A little! I went on to play for Jerviston Boys Club at ten, eleven and twelve. We won the League there and happened to beat Mill United – with Barry Ferguson in the line-up – on the way. I then moved to Wishaw BC. I was playing in the centre of midfield and senior clubs, including Manchester City and St Johnstone, were taking notice of my performances. I was chuffed and it gave me an incentive to carry on and take it to the next level. Motherwell were also lurking around and there was an obvious attraction to going with my hometown team. I eventually signed a schoolboy form with the club when I was fifteen. I was delighted and I must thank Keith Miller and Wishaw BC for their guidance and encouragement during that stage of my early career.

  The one setback I had came at Jerviston BC in a Scottish Cup semi-final tie that went to a penalty shoot-out against Petersburn of Airdrie. I missed my spot-kick and we lost the game. I was distraught. That moment has never left me and I still have a phobia to this day about taking penalties because of it. But kids are resilient, and I recovered from the trauma to continue my development as a teenager and into professional football.

  To sign for Motherwell was a huge thing for me. I attended Knowetop Primary School, in the shadows of Fir Park, when I was in Primary 7 after we moved to the area. Tommy McLean was the manager at that time and my friends and I would try to sneak out of school to see the players arriving for training and get an autograph. The squad at that time had plenty of quality and had a fine crop of young first-team players such as Chris McCart, Tom Boyd, Fraser Wishart, Andy Walker and Ally Maxwell. John Gahagan – now Scotland’s finest after-dinner speaker – was also there. But it was clear Motherwell gave youth its chance and it was a club I had a soft spot for.

  The highlight of being at Knowetop was going through the entire season undefeated and winning the prestigious Hunter Cup at Fir Park. We won 5–0 in the final. I still have a video of the game.

  There were some great times during those early years but some tough times too, especially Dad’s fitness regimes. But I certainly learned a lot. Thanks, Dad. Love you.

  2

  GROWING UP WITH THE BROTHERS GRIN

  MY MUM, of course, played a role in helping me to get where I am today. First and foremost, she went through a testing labour to bring me into the world on 14 May 1978 at Bellshill Maternity. I was a big boy and tipped the scales at a healthy 12lb 12oz. My parents were told I was the biggest boy in the hospital for three years. I must have put my mum off having any more babies! I was the last of her three sons.

  My birth wasn’t straightforward and there were complications. I was born with a heart murmur and my parents were extremely concerned. I was put into a special unit for babies and Mum was in intensive care. Mum’s sister came to visit and after she had seen me she went to see my mum and came away with a great line. She said, ‘Iris, Lee’s a big boy – I should have bought him a school uniform instead of a baby-grow.’

  My brothers Wullie and Gregor were a few years older than me and needless to say they were big influences on my early life. I have several happy, funny and sad memories. From as far back as I can remember I didn’t like it when they left the house in the morning to go to school. I wanted them to stay and keep me amused. As far as I was concerned, their education could wait. Or, at the very least, they could have folded me up into their schoolbag and taken me with them! Mum would probably have been delighted to see the back of me for a few hours as I’m told I was quite a handful – hyperactive and more than occasionally disruptive. Like most toddlers, I was up to all sorts and couldn’t be left alone for a second. Mum often tells me how much hard work I was. Being the youngest I would always get called ‘the baby’ so I would try and take things to the limit as I had a better chance of getting away with them. I’d hammer nails into my mum’s sofa. You know, wee things like that, harmless stuff!

  When Mum tried to enrol me into Pather Community Nursery, one of the teachers came to us for a house visit, basically to go through a few formalities and rubber-stamp my place. Valerie Watson was her name, and she was a neighbour so she knew I had a bit of a wild streak in me. She came to the door and told Mum there was a space for me and I could start the next morning. She was standing in the porch and all of a sudden I came flying out of the bedroom window – on the second floor – screaming, ‘Suuuupermaaaan!’ I had the full Superman outfit on. Clark Kent didn’t have a look in! Thankfully I landed safely, but my daft stunt caused a bit of damage in other ways. Valerie called it off. She said the playgroup wasn’t insured. Mum pleaded with her, her best line being that the playgroup was on ground level so I wouldn’t have far to jump!

  I was always busy, constantly on the go. Mum tried to get me into lots of different clubs to keep me amused. I was hyper and had to use up my energy, otherwise I would have driven my parents
and brothers crazy. The janitor at Wishaw Academy had a wee after-school club and that was on every night. I think we paid 10p a night. We would play football and badminton. It was great fun and gave me an extra grounding.

  When I got home, most nights I would be out playing with pals, using up whatever energy we had left before bedtime. Our favourite game was ‘Grand National’. That involved starting in a garden at one end of the street and jumping through every hedge in every garden until we reached the end of the line. We were fearless. We’d be screaming at the top of our voices as we rampaged through the hedges. We wanted the neighbours to come out and chase us. If we got caught we got a clip round the ear, but it all was great fun. Still another childhood memory that makes me cringe!

  We would do quite a lot of things as a family. Dad was always keen we attended church in Wishaw together every Sunday. He was a deacon in the Reformed Presbyterian Church. It is now defunct and that saddened my old man. The building is still there but is now used for different things in the community. However, Dad was extremely proud that his church had direct roots to the Covenanters and their many heroes. For attending church, my brothers and I would get a quarter-pound of Bonbons to sing songs and shake everyone’s hand at the end of the service. So, in my eyes, it was a good deal. We went for years and Dad loved it. Dad is very religious. His grandfather was an Ulster Unionist follower and a strict Brethren. We’d also attend Sunday school and had some friends there. My cousin Victoria Mitchell also went. We were really close back then. She now works as a journalist.

  My dad was employed in the Ravenscraig steelworks as a security guard working twelve-hour shifts and eventually got made redundant. It meant my mum had to work more and she held down two jobs. During the day she was a manager at JH McKenna bookies and at night she worked a shift in a pub, the Auld House in Wishaw. Mum was the breadwinner at this stage and my dad was the house husband. We didn’t have much spare cash but any money my parents got they spoilt us in any way they could. They would never have liked to have lived a flashy life and never spent their earnings on stuff they needed. It all went on us, whether it was for new training shoes, football boots, school trips or golf equipment.

  On one occasion we went abroad on holiday to Portugal and we had a great time in the sunshine. But even when we were on holiday, Dad wouldn’t let up on my training. He’d still make sure I was getting plenty of exercise, whether it was doing lengths in the swimming pool or running along the beach most mornings.

  Dad put all his effort into getting the three of us into sport. At home in Wishaw, we stayed across the road from the old bus station and there was a park next to it where he would take us to play football. We loved a good kick-about. We also enjoyed the Super Bowl nights and we’d make an American football pitch in the house. We all had our own favourite team. I liked the Chicago Bears.

  We were a close family and I shared a room with my brother Wullie. Gregor always had his own room. We would play pretend fighting, wrestling and tell jokes before we went to sleep. Gregor was always the cool one in my eyes as he was oldest and I looked up to him. Wullie would always look out for me and occasionally give me a slap if I annoyed him. Gregor played football too but then went into golf where my dad encouraged him and is currently playing off 6. Whatever path we chose our parents supported us and that’s the type of parent I want to be to my kids. I don’t want them to feel pressurised into doing anything. Just as long as they work hard and give their all, they can choose any career path they like.

  I was fortunate in a way, in that I always wanted to play football. That was all there was to it. I flirted with other things like cars and badminton, but football was always top of my list. Although, when it came to leaving school, I had to look at a few options in case I didn’t get taken on at a club anywhere. I did, however, go through a wee spell of wanting to work in the local sweetie shop in Motherwell. They had boxes and boxes of great sweets, like Bonbons, Cola Cubes, that kind of thing. I thought it would be great to work in there. I asked Mum to get me an application form, although she was reluctant as she felt I would go through my wages in the shop buying sweets. Thankfully, the football came good – but I’ve never managed to get rid of my sweet tooth!

  As far back as I can remember I watched football on the television, especially back in the 1980s and ’90s before live games on the box became the norm. It was a treat to see a full ninety minutes and that’s why I loved the Scottish Cup finals. The whole day was such a buzz. I couldn’t sleep the night before it, especially if Rangers were playing. My parents would give me money for sweets and I used to think about what I’d buy and the juice I’d drink. The Graeme Souness era was special and then the nine-in-a-row period under Walter Smith. I loved Ally McCoist, Richard Gough, Mark Walters, Davie Cooper, Brian Laudrup and Ian Durrant. But Paul Gascoigne was my absolute favourite, my hero. Sad as it may sound, I think I actually loved Gazza as a player!

  My love for Rangers was probably because my dad was a diehard. He used to sing all the songs in the house at the top of his voice while making dinner or in the toilet, and if Rangers were on the telly and they scored, he went crazy. I remember a Cup final against Aberdeen that Rangers won on penalties. Dad ended up taking his celebrations too far and bared his backside to the telly. Yes, a full moonie! Mum was disgusted, hit him with her slipper and told him to grow up.

  Mum also loves Rangers and was brought up in Motherwell. She lived close to the Orange Halls and would often go there for a night out and a bit of socialising. That area was known as ‘The Globe’. Mum loved Rangers then and still does now. Same with dad, and their passion for the club was drilled into me and my two brothers. We thrived on it. It was a big part of our lives. Still is, of course.

  Apart from supporting Rangers, there was no greater buzz than playing the game. Football gave me a focus and, to an extent, kept me out of trouble. I wasn’t the greatest of pupils and I would give my teachers a hard time. They know who they are and I offer my sincere apologies for the bother I caused and any undue stress I may have brought on them. But my heart was in the right place it’s just that my brain wasn’t always! I was immature and too easily led astray. Football was always my thing and Mum often tells me that my report cards usually said that Lee just wants to be a footballer and isn’t interested in school.

  My first school was Wishaw Academy. I attended that school until Primary 5. I did get suspended from school and had a good few punishment exercises and that meant more trouble for me from Mum and Dad when I got home. Mum could tell by the look on my face when I came in from school whether I had been in trouble or not. On one occasion I had my mum’s blessing not to do a punishment exercise and the school weren’t happy about it. It was something out of nothing and it all blew up out of proportion. It ended up with me being taken out of school before I got expelled.

  My pals at Wishaw Academy were wee James Campbell and Stuart Cadzow. The three of us loved a giggle and carry-on. We weren’t nasty; we were just mischievous. I missed them when I left.

  We moved house from 247 Stewarton Street, Wishaw, to Motherwell because my bedroom ceiling fell in on me and my brother during the night. It was caused by dampness. Half the stuff in the loft fell on top of us. My mum and dad couldn’t believe I slept through it. Never even flinched, apparently. Wullie ran through to tell Mum and Dad the ceiling had caved in and their immediate concern was for my welfare. Why could they not hear me crying or screaming? They ran through, Mum and Wullie picked me up from under the rubble still sleeping, or knocked out, one of the two. Everything landed on top of me. They had to scoop me out. I was seven. We were on the list for a new council house and got one in Motherwell. My parents are still in the same house.

  And from then on, I had to travel every day by myself to Wishaw Academy. It was a bus from the end of our street. I was Primary 6 and at the time enjoyed the bus. I then moved to Knowetop Primary for Primary 7 and had to meet new friends.

  Believe it or not, I was a very shy lad. Was always very q
uiet around new people and would hide behind Mum. I’m still very shy. I have to be in my comfort zone to come out of my shell. I’m never going to change. Because I play football now people may well mistake my persona for arrogance or ignorance but I am genuinely just really shy.

  Give me a ball, though, and I’m in my element. As a school kid, I would go out in the streets myself with my football and run around the roads or kick the ball off the garages pretending they were goals. I also used to have a kick-about at George Street Park. Usually between fifteen and twenty boys would get together and enjoy a game, and I still have friends from that period in my life. A lot of the boys were older than me and they were great. I looked up to them and they would look after the young ones as they were also from the same scheme. It made us feel safe and we always had a laugh with them.

  For a few weeks during the summer – during Wimbledon – football would take a back seat and was replaced by tennis. We played on the roads, chalked out a court, and used a row of supermarket trolleys as the net. I loved being John McEnroe. He is one of my sporting heroes. I loved his temper but, more than anything, I admired his ability and work ethic. He hated to lose. You could feel his anger and pain bursting through the television screen when things weren’t going his way. He is now the best tennis pundit on television. Thankfully, he doesn’t do clichés. He tells it like it is and is also extremely informative. A perfect mix.