Matt Tissier - Taking le Tiss

We all mucked in as cleaners and scrapers and that really made us appreciate the good times when we actually made it. We were basically part-time paid slaves. Each apprentice had to look after a pro, which basically meant cleaning his boots and making sure his training kit was ready on time. I looked after Joe Jordan and David Armstrong. At Christmas they were supposed to give a tip as a thank you. Trust me to get a Scotsman. I got the lowest tips, but that might be because Joe got the dirtiest boots. I was more interested in playing head tennis.

ALAN SHEARERWAS ASKEDWHAT HEWANTED IN HISOMELETTE ANDHE REPLIED,‘EGG.’

I vowed that when I got to be a pro I’d look after my apprentice well. The one who did best out of me was Matthew Oakley. I gave him a bonus of £5 for every goal I scored from 1993-95, some of my best years, which cost me a fortune. I remember Alan Shearer had his boots cleaned by a young lad called Kevin Phillips. For some reason we played him at right-back but decided he wasn’t good enough, which was hardly surprising because he was a striker. Saints didn’t offer him professional terms and he drifted into non-league football with Baldock Town before being snapped up by Watford and then Sunderland, where he became one of the most prolific goalscorers in Premier League history. Every club has players who slip through the net and go on to prove them wrong, but that was a pretty big mistake and, in fairness, a rare one for Southampton. But it’s a good lesson for any youngster with self-belief and talent. You can still make it.

As apprentices we also had to work in various departments of the club to understand what everyone did, and how hard the staff worked. We also did one day a week at college, and the club placed great importance on that. With such a high percentage of youngsters failing to make the grade as players, they wanted to ensure that we all had qualifications to fall back on if necessary. I did a BTech in ‘Sports and Leisure Something Or Other’. I’ve no idea what it was because I didn’t finish the course. I signed as a pro in my second year as soon as I reached my eighteenth birthday.

My first professional contract was worth £100 a week, rising to £120 in the second year. My negotiations with the manager Chris Nicholl consisted of him telling me what I would get and me saying, ‘Thanks very much.’ He was quite scary, as Mark Dennis found out. There were a lot of big names in the first-team squad including the likes of Peter Shilton, Jimmy Case and Mark Wright, and it was tough for Chris to impose his authority in his first major job in management. He hit the roof when he learned that Mark Dennis’s preparation for the home leg of the League Cup semi-final against Liverpool consisted of him playing snooker until 2am, so he decided to have it out with him in front of the rest of the lads.

We were all listening outside the dressing room when it kicked off. Chris was absolutely boiling and hit out and cut Mark’s eye with a right-hander. He thought Mark was going to hit him, so he got his retaliation in first. Mark had pushed him to the limit and Chris snapped. He was a big man and I don’t think many people would have fancied their chances in a fist fight with this big, bruising ex-centre-half. Mark Wright took Mark Dennis to hospital for stitches, and typically Denno just wanted to come straight back and finish it off once he’d been patched up. He stormed back into the changing room to find Chris having a shower, naked in all his glory. Thankfully Mark Wright stepped in and calmed it down, which was unusual for him. As soon as he was dressed, Chris went up to see a senior club official and told him he had just punched Mark Dennis. ‘It’s about time somebody did,’ came the reply.

IT WAS LIKE ONE OF THOSE KIDS’ CARTOONS WHERE

A FEARSOME BULL IS SNORTING STEAM AND PAWING

THE GROUND BEFORE CHARGING.

I got my proper first-team start—and I don’t mean as a sub—when I was 17, playing in a Division One (now the Premier League) game against Spurs. That was a big one. The team I’d supported as a boy. The team with Glenn Hoddle, my idol. He was everything I wanted to be. I was fascinated by what he could do with a ball and by his range of passing with both feet. He was a great vollier and scored some fantastic goals from outside the box. Everything he did I tried to emulate. I can’t put into words just how important he was to me.

Things had been building up nicely because I’d already made my debut at St James’ Park—no, not Newcastle, Exeter—after I’d been included in the pre-season tour. I was still in my second year as an apprentice, and came on for the last 20 minutes of a 1-1 draw and was chuffed to read the write-up in the Southampton Echo which said I’d had a confident baptism and stole the show with some dazzling ball work. That gave me a real confidence boost because in those days I thought the press knew what they were talking about. I’d always read the papers if I had done OK but not if I’d had a stinker. I didn’t need some reporter rubbing it in, and if someone is slagging you off that’s not good for the confidence. I’d pick and choose when to read the papers, and I’d tell any young players to do the same.

My first senior appearance at The Dell came a few weeks later as a sub in a 4-1 win against Benfica in a testimonial match for Nick Holmes, although I didn’t play very well. Then I was called in to the senior squad for a league game at Norwich on August 30, 1986. These days, with five or even seven subs, it’s easier for a youngster to get on the bench, but back then there was only one sub allowed so it was a big ask to give the number 12 shirt to a kid. We were 3-2 down when I was sent on for the last 15 minutes with instructions to change the game, and I did. We lost 4-3.

First thing on the Monday morning I was summoned to Chris Nicholl’s office and I remember thinking I had only been on for 15 minutes so I couldn’t have had time to do that badly, but he wanted to let me know I’d be starting the following night. Giving me 24 hours’ notice was a brilliant decision. Normally he didn’t announce the team until the day of the match, but he knew it wouldn’t be easy for my family to get over from Guernsey. And he knew how important they were to me, so he gave me the nod which was a lovely touch. In the end 24 friends and family came over, although I have no idea how I managed to get them all tickets.

It was fantastic just to be told I was starting, but even more special because it was against Spurs. The fact I had 24 hours’ notice meant I had plenty of time to get nervous, but I spent most of the build-up wondering whether my parents were going to get there. There was only one seat left on the plane so Mum told Dad to take it and promised she would get there somehow. She ended up getting a boat and a lift so it really was a case of trains, planes and automobiles. The butterflies grew as the match drew nearer and I was a bit worried about the physical side as I was just a skinny lad and didn’t know how to look after myself at that time—but that’s what Jimmy Case was there for! I got a lot of support from all of the lads who were really helpful.

Bizarrely, I don’t remember too much about the game, which zipped by in a blur. I know I started on the right wing and that we won 2-0 with goals by Colin Clarke and Danny Wallace, and I played the full 90 minutes, which was a bit of a surprise. My big moment was when Mark Blake hit a ball out from the back. It was going over my shoulder but I produced a bit of great control, brought the ball down and cut inside Mitchell Thomas and slipped a reverse pass to Danny Wallace, putting him one-on-one. He rounded the keeper but slotted it into the side-netting just as I was ready to celebrate my first assist. I also remember Chris Waddle—CHRIS WADDLE of all people—got booked for a foul on me. Five minutes from time I got cramp in both hamstrings but no one noticed and I didn’t care because I was on such a high.