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Search: 'Gus Poyet'

Stories

King

328 KingLedley King: My autobiography
by Ledley King 
and Mat Snow
Quercus, £18.99
Reviewed by Alan Fisher
From WSC 328 June 2014

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The title of the opening chapter of Ledley King’s autobiography sums it up in two little words: “What If?” He was the perfect contemporary centre-half, with pace, strength, total application and his trademark timing in the tackle as he eased the ball away from onrushing forwards. It was a talent that should have brought him worldwide fame. Instead he spent half his career on the treatment table.

His fortitude in pain and loyalty to the only club he has ever played for has earned him the enduring respect of Spurs fans. An unending saga of breakdown and comeback meant his hopes were rebuilt then crushed as often as his knee, yet King does not show a trace of self-pity; despite agony, disappointment and upheaval at his club, he was grateful for the chance to play.

For virtually half his career King did not train. When his knee was rebuilt, he remodelled his running style. One report suggested that toward the end, his knee was so bad he couldn’t have a garden kickabout with his young son yet come matchday he was often a match for the very best.

Co-author, journalist and Spurs fan Mat Snow utilises a conversational style which gives the book a sense of authenticity, especially in the early passages about King’s upbringing on an east London council estate by a single mother and surrounded by a supportive network of family friends. King has some interesting reflections on the fine margins between success and failure at this level, concluding that attitude and family stability are more significant than ability.

It seems to be out of character to be critical of those around him so expect few revelations. Nonetheless, King sheds some light on the footballing culture differences between Fabio Capello and his squad and confirms years of managerial turmoil at Tottenham, with Glenn Hoddle distant and unable to communicate while first-team coaches Martin Jol and Gus Poyet actively undermined their managers, Jacques Santini and Juande Ramos respectively.

While there’s plenty of interest to Spurs supporters, King played during a largely undistinguished period in the history of club and country so other potential readers may be deterred by a book where the highlight is a League Cup final win and a world tour of physiotherapists. Gradually the dreary routine of daily treatment catches up on body and mind. He plays down the two nightclub altercations that thrust him uncharacteristically into the headlines but there’s no doubt they were linked to the loss of what had mattered most to him since he was a boy – the realisation that he can’t play on and the end of his camaraderie with team-mates. If King has regrets, he hides them well. It’s left to the reader to speculate about those “what ifs?” on his behalf.

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Brighton & Hove Albion 0 Hull City 0

It might not have excited Manish Bhasin, but for David Stubbs this scoreless draw at Brighton’s corporate new ground proved to be an historic occasion

The first professional football match I ever attended was just over 40 years ago in September 1971. A treat for my ninth birthday, en route back from a late summer holiday at the Golden Sands Chalet Park in Withernsea. It was at Hull City, as it happens, at the old Boothferry Park. In later years, with Kwik Save and Iceland stores embedded into its queasy, dirty yellow structure, it cut a grim spectacle indeed (it was home to Hull until 2002) but back then, to my young eyes, it was a veritable Humberside Xanadu, wreathed in the alluring odour of fried onions, a mass plumage of hats and scarves, the floodlights towering with Wellesian awe like gigantic alien overlords at all four corners of the stadium.

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League ladders – League One 2005-06

Dan Turner reports that although it can be exciting from an outsider looking in, League One hits fans where it hurts most – in the pocket

The Lord of the Rings features a giant spider paralysing Frodo with its venom, trussing him up in a blanket of goo and leaving him slumped on the floor a broken, pallid, blankly staring shell of his former self. That was what watching League One football felt like last season. Shelling out £15 to £20 a game to be bored catatonic stretched even the famous elasticity of patience, pride and pocket of fans at this level. 

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Letters, WSC 191

Dear WSC
Being a lifelong Leicester City fan (and having the facial lines to prove it), I too read the letter in the Observer (referred to in WSC 190) from the person who claims to not to have had the courage to visit either Filbert Street or Filbert Way for ten years. While no doubt true, does this represent an accurate picture? I sit yards away from dozens of non-white fans who don’t seem to face any problems. To suggest that no progress has been made in ten years is simply nonsense and an insult to those fans who have worked tirelessly around this issue for many years. I don’t know what progress has been made at other clubs (any more than this writer can have at Leicester) but nobody need feel unwelcome at our new stadium. Racism is not primarily a football issue. He or she will risk facing it whenever leaving home and it cannot be defeated without the potential victims having the courage to stand with the rest of us and declare it unacceptable. There is only one colour that matters at Leicester City and that is blue. Wear it and you might find that there was nothing to fear all along.
Chris Lymn, Oadby

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November 2001

Thursday 1 Chelsea go out of the UEFA Cup after a 1-1 draw with Hapoel Tel-Aviv. Claudio Ranieri keeps his sunny side up: “The result went against us but it was a brilliant performance.” Leeds survive a scare in Troyes, where they lose 3-2 but go through 6-5 on aggregate. Ipswich save their best till last again, winning 3-1 in Helsingborg. Stung by rejection, Crystal Palace chairman Simon Jordan refuses to accept Steve Bruce’s attempt to resign as manager: “At no time will Steve be allowed to talk to Birmingham.” Bruce will not, however, be taking charge of Palace’s team at the weekend.

Friday 2 The Bishop of Oxford blesses the pitch at Oxford United’s supposedly unlucky new ground. “There was talk among some players of a sense of evil – they interpreted it as a curse,” says a church spokesman.

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