Phil Rostron - Big Fry - Barry Fry - The Autobiography

Copyright

Harper Non-Fiction

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in 2000 by CollinsWillow

First published in paperback 2001

© Barry Fry Promotions Ltd 2001

Barry Fry and Phil Rostron asserts the moral right to be identified as the authors of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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Source ISBN: 9780002189491

Ebook Edition © AUGUST 2016 ISBN: 9780007483297

Version: 2016-09-09

Dedication

To my wife Kirstine,

and my children Jane, Mark, Adam,

Amber, Frank and Anna-Marie.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Foreword by Sir Alex Ferguson

ONE Who’d be a football manager?

TWO ‘Practice son, practice’

THREE New boy at Old Trafford

FOUR Bankruptcy and on the scrapheap

FIVE Cheeseman and the frilly knickers

SIX Backs to the wall at Barnet

SEVEN Stan the Main Man

EIGHT ‘You won’t be alive to pick the team’

NINE Fry in, Collymore out

TEN Brady blues

ELEVEN ‘How many caps does that woman wear here?’

TWELVE Over to you, Trevor

THIRTEEN Posh but pricey

FOURTEEN A small matter of £3.1 million

FIFTEEN Saved by the Pizzaman

SIXTEEN Play-offs, promotion and ponces

SEVENTEEN Competing with the Big Boys

EIGHTEEN Small Fry

Index

About the Author

About the Publisher

Acknowledgements

This book would not have been possible but for the support of my family. To my late mum Dora and dad Frank, thanks for all the sacrifices you made for me and your encouragement and understanding in trying to help me fulfil my dream. My wife Kirstine has been a rock, my best ever signing, while her mum Gisela and dad Andy have always been there for me.

I was fortunate enough to be at the birth of each of my six children Jane, Mark, Adam, Amber, Frank and Anna-Marie, and I can honestly say that the experience is better than scoring at Wembley! Since the days they were born they have all, in different ways, brought so much pleasure and enjoyment into my life. As have my three grand-children Keeley-Anne, Yasmin and Louis and the best son-in-law anybody could wish for in Steve. I count my lucky stars that I have been surrounded by such a wonderful group of family and friends through my rollercoaster career in football.

Finally, thanks to my publishers HarperCollins and the man who helped me put my thoughts down in writing, Phil Rostron. It’s been a privilege working with such professionals.

FOREWORD

Sir Alex Ferguson

I am privileged to have been asked to write the foreword to the autobiography of a man whom I cannot bring to mind without the thought prompting a smile. This is not because Barry Fry is a figure of fun, but because of his larger-than-life character, happy-go-lucky nature and reliance upon humour to soften the blows which a life in football can inflict with uncomfortable regularity.

Barry is a man for whom football is a blinding passion, displayed in his every thought, word and deed. He is one of the rare birds in the game in that he is highly respected by almost all of his fellow professionals for his vast knowledge, unquenchable enthusiasm and unflinching adherence to the ideals in which he believes.

He is a very popular manager among managers. Barry may not have been at the helm of a Premiership club but that, in itself, is surprising in many ways because he has achieved success in one way or another at each of the many he has managed both in non-league football and in the lower divisions of the Football League.

A staunch member of the League Managers’ Association, he shows as much enthusiasm for its affairs as he does in his day-to-day club involvement. We operate in an industry which all too often does not meet its obligations when there is a parting of the ways between clubs and managers, and there is a real need for voices as powerful as Barry’s to be heard if an equilibrium is to be achieved. Some managers are fortunate enough to walk straight into another job once they have been shown the door, but there are many others who do not enjoy the same fortune for one reason or another. They need protection, with due and full severance pay a priority, and Barry, who knows a thing or two about such matters, works tirelessly towards these goals.

Thoughts for the welfare of others are typical of the man and his self-deprecation is very endearing. Having walked into Old Trafford as a young boy to become one of the original Busby Babes, he says that the only reason Barry Fry did not make it as a player was Barry Fry. He is perhaps being a little hard on himself with this observation. The fact is that the crop of youngsters with whom he was competing for places at the time was exceptional, as has regularly been the case at Manchester United, and it is no disgrace that he failed to break through into the big time.

There is no disputing that he was a smashing little player – you don’t get schoolboy international caps and headhunted by Manchester United if you are no good – but Barry didn’t get the breaks. Simple as that.

An incongruity in football is the number of great players who do not aspire to be, nor become, top managers and a corresponding number of distinctly average players who achieve tremendous managerial success. In my own case I was never anything more than a run-of-the-mill player and the same could be said of the likes of Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley, but playing is one thing and managing entirely another. Barry is in the category of people who have done better as the man in charge than he did as the one taking the orders and his feats in winning championships and cup competitions are not to be underestimated. In any walk of life you have to be special to achieve success and there is no doubt that Barry Fry is a very special man.

He takes us here on a roller-coaster ride which reflects his colourful life. Hold on to your hats and enjoy the journey. Then, when you think about Barry Fry in the future, I defy you to do so without a smile on your face.

CHAPTER ONE

Who’d be a football manager?

Raindrops trickled down the window of the prefabricated building that was my office on the winter’s day that a familiar red Lamborghini drew to a halt in the parking bay outside. The magnificent machine was just one of the success symbols flaunted by the highly charismatic Keith Cheeseman, who had recently assumed control of the Southern League club Dunstable Town. This was my first managerial position in football and I felt privileged to be the individual charged with the task of transforming the fortunes of a club which, for eight successive seasons, had finished stone cold bottom of the league. I was in a fairly strong position in that things could hardly have got worse. Or so it seemed.