Matt Tissier - Taking le Tiss

When Terry was replaced by Glenn Hoddle, my schoolboy idol and another manager who had tried to buy me (when he was at Chelsea), I reckoned things were looking up. We were similar players and I hoped he’d give me a fair chance, especially when the media got going, but this time with a succession of scare stories that I might play for another country. Because I came from the Channel Islands I was eligible to play for any of the Home Countries. And because all my previous caps had been in friendlies, I could still opt to play for Ireland, Scotland or Wales. Well, in theory. But it was never on. My dream had always been to play for England, though that didn’t stop the Wales manager Bobby Gould saying he’d love to pick me. There was even a story linking me with France, which was bonkers. In fact, when I was in my early twenties my dad did get phone calls from the French FA asking about my availability. Michel Platini was the manager and his assistant, Gerard Houllier, kept ringing dad badgering him to talk to me. But it was never going to happen. The only good thing was that it increased the pressure on Glenn to play me in a competitive match so that I couldn’t play for another country, and that’s exactly what he did in his first match in charge, bringing me off the bench for NINE whole minutes in a World Cup qualifier away to Moldova when England were already 3-0 up and the game was stone dead. And then he had a go at my brother Carl.

Glenn picked me for the vital World Cup qualifier against Italy at Wembley in February 1997 but it was overshadowed by a massive row because the team was leaked to the press. Glenn was furious and actually blamed my brother when another player had leaked the news because he had been dropped and he got the hump. Big time. Glenn hauled me in front of him that lunchtime and had a right go at me. That was the only one-to-one I ever had with him as England manager, and come to think of it I only had one when he was the manager at Southampton when he ordered me to see a dietician. And a fat lot of good that did, if you’ll pardon the pun.

It wasn’t a great night against Italy. We lost 1-0 although I did go close to scoring with a header, but the press were out for me. What they didn’t know was that I was struggling with injuries. I needed a hernia operation and I’d also torn the tendon from my heel to my toe. It was horrible, and I was having to run on the outside of my foot but I had to keep playing because Saints were near the bottom of the table. I told Glenn I was OK to play for Southampton but I didn’t think I could do myself justice playing for England. He asked if I would mind going to see his faith healer Eileen Drewery because she might be able to help. I wasn’t rude but just said I’d prefer not to because that wasn’t my sort of thing. And that was the last full England squad I was in. Any connection? Ask Glenn.

Glenn did pick me for an England B game against Russia at Loftus Road in April 1998, which was like a final trial match for the fringe players before the World Cup Finals in France 98. I was on a hot streak, pretty close to my best, and had scored seven goals in the last nine games of the season for Saints. A lot of people were pushing my claims, so Glenn put me in the B game. It was Last Chance Saloon. Peter Taylor took charge of the team and I was very impressed by his training and ideas. I knew I must be in with a shout of making the preliminary 30-man squad because Glenn was getting blood tests done for all the candidates, and I was one of only three (with Les Ferdinand and Darren Anderton) in the B team to be tested.

The game couldn’t have gone any better. I know I’ve got a reputation for playing in fits and starts but this was one of my best ever 90 minutes. Everything went right. I scored a hat trick, hit the woodwork twice and ended up with the captain’s armband for the last 10 minutes of a 4-1 win. I was besieged by the media afterwards. They were taking it for granted that I’d get selected. I tried to play it down, at least in public; I didn’t want to appear arrogant or over-confident but inside I was BUBBLING. I walked away from the ground with my parents and Angela (now my wife) on a real high and I was pestering my mum to let me get a bag of chips but she told me I had to eat properly if I was going to the World Cup. And did Glenn pick me? No way. I only heard when my brother saw the news on Teletext and told me. It was like being punched in the stomach; I felt sick, bewildered and absolutely devastated. It was the most disappointing moment of my career.

There was a widely held theory that Glenn had been hoping I’d fail in the Russia match, which would let him off the hook with the fans and the media. Then he tried making out that Russia weren’t very good—in which case why did he organize a match against them ?—and while that’s true I did get a hat trick. You can only beat what’s in front of you. And if Russia were so weak, how come Darren Anderton and Les Ferdinand got in the squad? To make matters worse, Glenn rang a few people on the fringes of the squad to let them know they weren’t in it, but he must have lost my number. I still have no idea why he made that decision. I shouldn’t think he regrets it though—people that arrogant are never wrong. To make matters worse, he didn’t take Paul Gascoigne either. I could just about have accepted it if he had thought that Gazza was better than me but he didn’t take a playmaker at all , which I found very strange.

Or maybe we got on so badly because I didn’t sign for him at Chelsea. In fact, I didn’t even agree to speak to him. He must have rated me, though I think it was actually the director, the late Matthew Harding (who died in a helicopter crash), who wanted me. If I’d kicked up a stink and said I wanted to go then I think Saints would have sold me, but I said I was happy. I didn’t want to leave. I loved the club and the city and felt at home there, and that was always very important. A lot of people told me I was mad because Chelsea was a bigger club and it would have been a chance to play for Hoddle.

My agent rang me and said Glenn still wanted to talk to me, even though I insisted I was staying put, but again I said ‘No’. I knew that if I did speak to him—and he was my idol—he might change my mind. All that happened three years before he said ‘No’ to me, dropping me from the 30-man squad. When I was growing up my uncle always said you should never meet your heroes because they always let you down. Bloody hell, he was right!

After that I hastily booked a holiday to get away and watched the World Cup Finals on TV. I was never churlish enough to want England to fail just because I had been left out and I was gutted when England went out to Argentina. I was furious at the injustice when Sol Campbell had a perfectly good goal disallowed and was bitterly disappointed when we went out on penalties. I’d have given anything to be out there taking one.

MY UNCLEALWAYS SAIDYOU SHOULDNEVER MEETYOUR HEROESBECAUSE THEYALWAYS LET YOUDOWN. BLOODYHELL, HE WASRIGHT!

Looking back, being snubbed was a crushing blow and I wonder if it had a bigger impact on my career than I then realized, because I never reached the same heights again. It was as though the ultimate goal had been snatched away from me and my greatest incentive had gone. It had always been my ambition to play for England and now knew that was it.

Glenn and I have since made up, although we will never be close friends. We were both staying in the same hotel on a golfing trip in Dubai in 2006 and I decided to clear the air. I walked in to breakfast one day and there he was, sitting on his own, so I went and sat with him. He looked surprised—and a bit wary. I think he wondered what was coming but I just said that life is too short for any bad feelings, and I wanted to sort things out. I admitted that I’d made mistakes while playing under him and I apologized, even though I actually felt he was far more in the wrong than me. I felt it was right to apologize and get the ball rolling. It was actually quite a hard thing to do and I got quite emotional because I really had idolized him. I told him that he’d been my hero. He was a fantastic footballer and someone I’ll admire for his skills. Always.