Tim Cahill - Legacy - The Autobiography of Tim Cahill

We got a pretty quick return on our investment if you look at his first-season performance and his debut goal. That header past David James for an away win at Manchester City, just seconds before Tim was sent off, will live as long in the memory as the day we decided to buy him.

Whether he was scoring or not, what was an absolute constant throughout his years for us was that Tim was a real man in training. He trained as hard as he played, and my advice to younger players is to copy that. Train as you mean to play: compete, work, give everything and match day will not only see you perform better but win more. That’s what Tim always gave: 100 per cent, every day.

Physically he’d compete with you, mentally he’d look for ways to outsmart other players or find their weak points. Both in training and in matches, he’d leave a bit on you in the challenge if that’s what he felt was important in order to win. He never, ever hid.

Saying all that, what I guess most people will talk about is his remarkable leap. We often tried to figure out what were the elements behind it. He’s not got particularly massive thighs or calf muscles, and what we concluded was that it was a mix of innate timing, hunger to win the ball in all situations and the fact that he was very, very lean. With his extremely low body fat, he was light—as well toned as he was muscularly. Mix all that and getting above bigger men to head the ball becomes both feasible and a great art.

But I want to add to that perception: it’s one thing to get to the ball, quite another what you do with it. Tim was an absolutely phenomenal header of the ball. Once he got up, he was in a class of his own, whether heading it away from danger or putting it where a keeper couldn’t reach it.

Thanks for all those headers, Tim. One other little thing that people often forget is that it takes bravery. You had that in buckets.

However, I’ll dare to lift the lid on another side of you. When we completed the medical to sign this promising midfielder from Millwall, it was a massive, massive relief to Tim because of a nasty cruciate ligament injury he’d had about a year previously. Footballers sweat over medicals and deals can break down. So when he got the news that he’d passed with flying colours there were some tears of relief and happiness. I liked that. I saw it as determination and ambition and a need to push upwards to bigger challenges. Raw desire to win exhibits itself in different ways.

Tim leaving Everton was a terrible wrench for me. He’d been so much a fundamental part of what we’d constructed at Goodison. But we knew there would be a moment when he needed a change and going to the New York Red Bulls was a great move for him. I wasn’t in the least surprised that he proved himself important there too. I suspect he became really popular in New York, just as he was with Everton fans. In China he’s been scoring frequently since he moved to Shanghai and I think his career will, once again, find another level there.

Tim’s international career with Australia was always something of a difficulty for us when he was at Everton. Usually it meant travel to the other side of the world and international games midweek—not ideal for a Premier League star who’s a vital component in a hard-working team. Yet he’d always get himself back in time, by hook or by crook, no matter what the distance, no matter how inconvenient the travel, no matter how severe the jet lag or lack of sleep. He fought like a tiger to make sure he could star for his country and help Everton win.

He’s been just immense for Australia, I think. His goal in the 2014 World Cup against the Netherlands was the best in the tournament. Some achievement that!

As a football nation Australia has continued to grow in importance and a big part of that has come from Tim and what he’s done for the country. Talent and personality. He and Harry Kewell, in particular, have been the standard bearers. Top European players. His legacy for Everton and for Australia will be that of quality, hunger, achievement and popularity. Of goals, thrills, fun, competitiveness and ambition. That will live on in the memory for a long, long time.

Tim joined me on the pitch when I said my own goodbyes at Everton and I was surrounded by some really special players – it was good of him to make that journey for me. I thought it was very fitting. In fact I was grateful and delighted.

Vital to me from the beginning, there with me at the end.

Thanks for everything, Tim. It’s been emotional.

David Moyes September 2015

I CAN’T REMEMBER A TIME when I wasn’t dreaming of football.

I grew up in Sydney, in a football-loving home. My dad, a Londoner by birth, was fanatical about all things related to the game. From the time I was three or four years old, I didn’t need to play with toys. I was perfectly happy with something round that could be kicked.

Funnily enough, during my first competitive football match, I found myself scared out of my wits. We played Under-5s for a team called the Balmain Police Tigers. My brother Sean was five years old. I was four. I remember the match so clearly. I wore an orange kit with black shorts and orange socks. And when I ran out onto the pitch, I immediately started crying. The pitch was muddy, the other kids looked big and intimidating, and I didn’t want to get my kit dirty. But every time I tried to run off, my parents pushed me back from the touchline.

The kids on the team laughed at me. All the adults on the touchline did too, thinking it was cute, I suppose. But I wasn’t laughing. Tears kept streaming down my cheeks.

Maybe I wasn’t quite ready to play with the older boys, but it was like how a lot of kids learn to swim. You’re thrown in the water, you splash around, then dog-paddle over to the side of the pool—no adult is really going to let you sink—and that’s how you learn the lesson.

After that miserable first half, I realized I wasn’t going to be trampled. I touched the ball a few times and got into the flow of the game. I didn’t go after the ball so much as the ball was kicked against me by the other boys.

I was too frightened to be making any actual passes, let alone take a shot. But even that cold, muddy ball hitting my thighs and shins taught me something. The fear of what you imagine is often the worst part. With every ball that came to me, I learned I could withstand the impact, the surprising sting of the ball.

Touch by touch, I started to get better. As frightening as that first match was, my nervousness faded away—my passion for football began to grow.