Jamie Carragher: The Untold Story of Liverpool Legend That Pushed Himself Too Far
Guests: Jamie Carragher
Full transcript · Read the full conversation in order, with its original context.
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Jamie, when I start this podcast, I usually start with people's childhoods. But as I was reading through your story, I think this is the first time I'm going to start before the person was even born. Because I read that there was a possibility that you weren't even going to be born because of a misdiagnosis that your mother was given about you. Can you take me back to that story?
Yeah, that would be about 1977 obviously, '78 I was born. My mom had two miscarriages before me, and then when she fell pregnant with me, the doctors and nurses didn't know what was wrong, but they knew something wasn't right. Initially, they were saying, "We think your child has got spina bifida." I'm certain in those days—I don't know if it's the same now—there was a chance you could terminate the pregnancy if the baby was whatever.
My mom was very holy. At that stage in her early twenties, she would be going to church every day; she still goes every Sunday now. So for her, the thing was, "No, if our Lord wants me to have a baby who's got spina bifida or maybe something else, that's what's been decided for me. That's fine, it's my child, I'll love that child."
What I find fascinating when you think of today is that the closer it got to me being born, it wasn't spina bifida, but they still knew something wasn't right. It wasn't until I was born that I had my insides on the outside. I have gastroschisis, it's called. I've got a big scar right across my stomach. If someone has that condition today, it's a really small scar.
But the thing that I think is fascinating—it just makes me think "Wow" on my mom's side—is the fact that as soon as I was born, I was rushed away straight away to Alder Hey Children's Hospital, which is still going strong today in Liverpool. Because of what I've gone on to achieve, I've got a real link with the hospital. Through our charity, we actually funded the ward that looks after babies who had what I had.
But I get rushed away to the children's hospital, and my mom doesn't know anything. There are no phones, no nothing. She's still in Fazakerley Hospital. I've got a problem, straight up to Alder Hey. My dad goes straight there, but again, the technology isn't like that. I just think how long must it have been before my mom knew I was all right, what I had, and how quickly it had to go? You can't quite fathom that when you think about today and how quickly we can get in touch with different people. I just think about what was going through my mom's mind for that next hour or two until she probably found out everything was okay.
Your knowledge of that story and that experience, has that left a lasting impact or impression on you in terms of the decision your mom made, or being whisked away, or the operation, or having the scar? Has that left any sort of impression on you at all?
Yes, all about my mom, I would say. To have had two miscarriages, to have that going through your third pregnancy, to think you could lose the baby... no one can quite give you a definitive answer about what's going on with this child in your stomach. And then to not know straight away... I only know of now and when people have kids, and I've had my own kids, and everything is so documented. Whether it's the first picture, Instagram, you're there with the baby when the baby's born.
I wasn't, actually. Maybe we can get to that later. I wasn't there for my firstborn, and that's something I do regret. But I just think about how my mom must have felt and me looking at my mom because I've been very lucky—the life I now lead, the experiences I've had. It's not there if my mom doesn't make certain decisions, along with my dad of course. But yeah, for my mom to sort of make that decision and I'm still here today.
What about your dad? Talk to me about him and his character and what impact that had on you before the age of ten?
He's a real big character. He'll be in the pub, he'll have a debate, he'll get up and sing, he'll have an argument with someone. He's like a real larger-than-life sort of character.
Who did you care about impressing the most? Just not even in the context of your parents, but just who were you trying to impress when you were young? For me, it might have been my older brothers, it could have been my dad, it could have been a teacher. Who were you trying to impress?
I mean, the obvious one is to say my dad because he was the one who was always there in terms of football or in life. My mom never watched me play football. My mom must have watched me play five times in my life. And that's nothing to do with not being proud of me or not being there, but I know it's not the done thing now, but it was almost a case of my dad took us to the football and my mom stayed at home and did what you associate with "women things."
Now, obviously, that type of comment or those thoughts would be classed as sexist now, and rightly so, but that was just the way it was. It wasn't that my mom was badgering my dad to go to the football; she always just felt, "Well okay, that's your thing to take them to the football," whether it be going to watch Everton as young kids or playing my games for amateur teams, Bootle Boys, and when I started on that journey.
And when he took you to football, did he have high standards and expectations for you when you were playing?
Yes, but I think that came not because he was so desperate for me to be a footballer. I think that became because I think he knew pretty early on I had something. My dad had played football, my dad had watched football, my dad was a massive football fan. So he had done everything you could do in football in terms of playing amateur football, managed amateur teams, went to watch Everton home and away. He was just obsessed with football.
So from a young age, I think he was quite tough on me a couple of times that stand out, only because he knew the standards I could get to. And one of those times is like a story I put in my book. I think sometimes when my dad listens back, I think he doesn't like me to say the story because I think he looks back at it and thinks, "Oh, I wish I hadn't done that." But I've got no problem with it. I think it's part of my life, part of my story.
Basically, I was seven years of age and I didn't want to play in a game. It was that cold, it was freezing, it was hailstone. I got tackled and I pretended I was hurt, crying, and came off. But my dad and I are the same; we couldn't suffer bluffers or phonies, we'd say. He knew I was putting it on, and let's just say it was the last time I did.
Well, I read that part in your memoir. In your memoir, it says there were some raining football boots when you got home.
Yeah, maybe there's a little bit of artistic license there with the guy who wrote it. But no, I think it was that. And I think throughout my football career, the big thing for me and the big thing for me that I want to pass on to my son is having character. That, for me, will take you to places that you don't think are possible if you've got that personality, mental strength, character. I think that overrides a lot of things.
That's really why I'm asking these questions, because I could see throughout your career that much of your success has been a result of a winning mentality and character in some of the toughest moments. And that's not the case with all the footballers that I've spoken to. That's just the case with some of them. Even when I sat with Peter Crouch, he referenced you as being so set on winning and so obsessed with winning that he didn't think you were ever enjoying it. And you smile when I say that because you know it's true. I've heard you say that subsequently. But where does that come from? Where does that character and that obsession with victory at all costs—to the point that you cause suffering in yourself—where does that come from?
I think my dad. And whether you're born with something like that... maybe you speak to a lot more people who could give you that answer than I do and maybe have a better insight into me in some ways. I'm not quite sure. But I knew from the first time I played football, for me, winning was all that mattered.
And if you say to me, "What do I miss most about being a professional footballer?" It's winning. It's not the taking part, it's not the training. A lot of people always say this—I hear footballers say this all the time—"I miss the dressing room." I don't miss the dressing room. I miss the dressing room after a game when we win. That like "Ugh, you've done something together."
I listened to Crouch's podcast because I'd seen it pop up somewhere—I think it was Mail Online—it said "Peter Crouch said Steven Gerrard and Jamie Carragher wrote off players after 15..." I thought "I better listen to this one!" But what Peter Crouch said is right. He's probably looking at me a little bit dumbfounded; I can understand that. But I can't understand him.
For me, Bill Shankly said football is a matter of life and death, and I don't think he meant that—I think that was obviously tongue-in-cheek at the time. No football club knows that statement is not true more than Liverpool Football Club. But it's very close to being true. That's the way I see it. Football for me is a way of life, and winning is all that matters. For me, when I played, I'd rather cheat and win than not win. I don't think I'll ever be any different. And that's why I think football has taken me to places in my life that almost bring a tear to my eye. But it's always taken me to places where I'm like "I don't feel like I'm ever going to get over it," like a result or something that hasn't gone well.
You mentioned that post-match feeling is the best and potentially the feeling you miss, but I've also heard you describe it as relief. And that's an interesting thing because people would think the post-match victory feeling would be euphoria and elation. But for you to describe it as relief is a curious word.
Because I knew how bad I'd feel if we didn't win or it hadn't gone well. It was almost relief that I'm not going to feel like that for the next two or three days. Because I would, I think, punish myself a little bit when I didn't perform well or we didn't win. And I regret that, but I don't know if I could have done anything different. It was me.
At one stage, I had to—I wasn't asked to, I had to—get hold of a sports psychologist whom I knew because what I was doing to myself was I was just driving myself mad, really, with the standards I was expecting of myself. And this, I must say, was not when I was not playing well and short of confidence; this was when I was at my absolute peak and best. That's when I needed more help.
Because I got to a stage where I felt I couldn't make a mistake. If I didn't play well, I thought we were going to lose. I wasn't daft—I was playing at my best, I was a huge part of the team. There was sort of me at the back and Stevie Gerrard at the front, if you like. There were lots of other great players around us, of course, but I knew I was a huge influence in the Rafa Benitez era. And I felt I'd go into big games thinking if I don't play well today, we're not going to win.
And if I made a mistake... I always remember the mistake I made. It was away at Atletico Madrid, Champions League group game. We're winning 1-0, we're under pressure constantly, and I'm playing really well. I'm in control. That was me in my element, away from home in Europe for Liverpool, trying to get that clean sheet, organizing and talking to everyone. And a long ball, and I just misjudged it, and they scored. In the airport on the way home, I was just like, "This can't go on. This has got to stop." You know, what I'm actually doing to myself. I've played great, I've made a little mistake, they've capitalized on it, but you can't put yourself through that.
What was the symptom that you were confronting in that moment? Why could you not carry on? So you'd made that mistake, you're in the airport, you're on the plane, whatever. What is happening?
I couldn't get it out of my mind. I'd go two nights without sleeping. I mean, when I say not sleeping, I might get a couple of hours. It would be constantly on my mind. I'd wake up, it would be the first thing I'd think about. And I was just like, "What am I doing to myself? How do you stop it?"
But the fascinating thing was, when I spoke to the sports psychologist, a guy called Bill Beswick, I knew him from the England squad. After speaking to him... and then it got to the stage where I spoke to him probably two or three times a season, almost like a "reflect on what's gone on." I couldn't change. We actually got to the bottom of, "Actually, this is what makes you who you are." This is the drive. If you did probably dismiss mistakes or were not too bothered—"Oh, I'll be fine next week"—that wouldn't make you who you are.
I could still never shake it off. I couldn't. But I almost, by speaking to him, it made me understand and accept that's what I was. So I still went through turmoil if I didn't play well, if I made a mistake. I always wonder if that was like a byproduct of being a local player. I always thought, what would I have been like if I had played for Aston Villa or Tottenham? I didn't know that many people. It felt like you were playing for the club or the supporters or your family and friends, really.
Did you ever feel anxiety in those moments? The feeling of anxiety, so when something is plaguing you so much that you almost feel that kind of sense of nervous energy that keeps you up at night and you feel it in your stomach?
No, it was never anxiety. I would say anger, and I want to put this right. It's like, I didn't even want to sleep. I want to get to training the next day.
Did that come out in your home life? Because it's hard not to take that home with you.
Yeah, I think it will have done. 100%. I remember something came up a year or two ago on Twitter about a group of players or a certain player or maybe been a manager went out and had a meal or a few drinks after they lost. And there was this big debate on Twitter, "Well why shouldn't they go?" You know what fans are like, they shouldn't go out. And there was this big debate.
I think Gary Lineker mentioned something that "I've never not changed my plans. I've never changed my plans on the back of a result." Okay, that sounds nice. I thought that was unbelievable. I would change plans every single week if that game didn't go well. So that's where it would have affected my home life. So in terms of organizing a night out, going for a meal with friends, whatever it may be, I couldn't have shown my face if we'd lost and I played poorly. Not a chance.
Because the feeling in your stomach is that bad you don't even want to be there. You don't want to be with people, you don't want to speak. That's how much it got me. I go back to that—would it have been different at another club? I would never have wanted to play for another club. But that is the one thing I do think about, would results and performances have affected me differently?
You come home after losing a game or something, you've got your family there, your kids are running up, "Hey!"
I mean, to be fair, my kids were quite young when I was still playing. But there was one game that stands out when I couldn't get out of something. I was opening a restaurant. I opened a restaurant about 10 or 15 years ago called Café Sports England in Liverpool. And the two times we opened, those two games I didn't play well. And in my head before the game, I'm thinking, "I've got to play well in this game because people will think if I don't play well, I've got my mind somewhere else." And I was probably too focused on the game in some ways. And then I had to go and almost open the restaurant and there were people there. And I remember the second one, it was like "No." I went, I was there 20 minutes, I was like "I've got to go."
If I spoke to Nicola, which I might have done, but I won't tell you before I ask the question, and I said, "When Jamie loses a game, is he different and what's he like?" What would she have said to me?
100% yes. 100%.
What would she have said, do you reckon?
"He's not there when I'm talking to him." I think she'd probably say that. Maybe now at different times, but I would be in a trance. I'd just be sort of daydreaming. People would be speaking to me and it's probably best just to leave me alone and not try and get my mind off it because I couldn't. Even if I did get my mind off it, I know I'd go back to it.
And you're talking about going home. I always remember one time where I said I was in a trance where I was with the players. So I always remember we were playing a game against Everton, which for me is the biggest game. I had a nightmare in the game. And we were going for a meal afterwards with the team, like an official—not a few drinks, it was to refuel, basically. This game was an early morning kickoff. We had a Champions League game on the Tuesday night in Eindhoven.
We got beat 3-0 at Goodison. And we've gone to the center of Liverpool for a meal just to make sure we're eating the right food. And I remember just staring. Just couldn't stop. I was just—wasn't even eating, just staring. Next thing a text message, Stevie Gerrard. He's just like, he's there, he's gone "Don't worry about it. It's gone, finished. You've got to try and forget..." but I was just like... he could just see everyone was devastated.
But for me, I just—I'm not trying to make out that I cared more than anybody else, because everyone's got their own ways of dealing with things. But it's a huge part of my life, football. It always has been, always will be. I think I'll always be affected by football results, whether that was when I was playing, as an Everton fan, as a Liverpool fan right now. Football results will affect me.
It sounds painful, sounds like suffering. Doesn't sound like fun.
Well, when you win, I can assure you I make sure I enjoy them. I know afterwards I said before that it was relief, but you had that moment of sort of joy. The reason it was difficult to enjoy and why I'm probably different to a Peter Crouch or certain players who came in is that I think they'd come from clubs where they played once a week and if they played well, it was like, "I don't need to worry about that game. I'm going to be off for two or three days." Whereas we'd have a game Tuesday, Champions League or a cup game, and then it would be right, "Enjoy that, right, bang, we're back on it now." It was almost like you're on this train and nothing's getting in the way, nothing's stopping it. But I can assure you, it wasn't all doom and gloom. I loved it. So many nights and times and experiences, but I do wish I was a little bit kinder to myself on the back of a poor performance or a defeat.
I mean, there's one that stands out. We won the FA Cup final in 2006. Personally, I had a great season. We'd kept 33 clean sheets, which was one away from a record, which was obviously a lot. We played the Cup final, I scored an own goal, I didn't play well. Stevie Gerrard wins us the final. And we go on the open bus tour around Liverpool.
So I've had a great season but not had a great last game. And my son's on the bus with me. And I go on the top of the bus to start with. But you're on the bus for maybe three or four hours. Within an hour, I was downstairs. I was just sat there thinking, "Ugh, it didn't go well for me, I didn't do..." And I was thinking, now when I look, I'm embarrassed. I'm like, "What are you doing? It was one game, you've had an unbelievable season, the team have, we won the FA Cup, we finished the season with a trophy." But I couldn't—it was almost like I was up there acting because I didn't feel like celebrating. But we'd won the Cup. And just because I'd made a mistake, hadn't played particularly well, I know most players would be able to go, "I've had a great season, it was only one game, we won." I found it tough.
People that have that winner's mindset, they often struggle to understand those that don't, to relate to them, and they often have a lot of friction with the people that don't have the winner's mindset. Because when you see the world in that way—I saw it a lot in Michael Jordan's documentary, The Last Dance. It was brilliant, wasn't it? He had that mindset where you could see he would pick on certain people who wouldn't meet him at his level. Did you ever find yourself and Stevie doing that, where if someone came into the dressing room and they weren't at that level, you would either force them out or you'd... I mean, that's kind of what Peter Crouch was alluding to, right? He was kind of saying that you two would be protecting the bar.
Yeah, I think what happens is, I think what Peter is trying to mention, which I think was a little bit unfair the way he described it, was that when a new player came in, I think me and Stevie were fans. We weren't just players, we were fans. It was like, "Oh god, I hope he's good." You know, like a fan would, "I hope this new fellow's good." And when you come in after the first training session, it'd be more in a joke, "Oh god, this doesn't look good, does it?" or "Oh god, I hope this goes well."
But I was—Stevie was different to me, and I was very vocal, very emotional. Stevie's maybe body language on the pitch at times would be questioned if he wasn't happy with someone; he might turn away. Whereas I'd be remonstrating, screaming, shouting. And not in terms of someone hadn't played poorly, but mine would be more in terms of organization, someone doing the job for the team, where are you, where you need to be.
I always felt like I was the coach of the team in some ways because I played at center back and I could see the whole team in front of me. Yeah, but we would be on top of people. But I wouldn't like that to come across in like a bullying way or we were trying to keep people down here. We loved Torres, Alonso coming—we loved being around great players because you wanted to, because you wanted to win. That was all that mattered. It wasn't about securing your place or making sure I was protected in any way.
It was that thing of like, "It's Liverpool." The big clubs, it's not enough to play for them. And I know some people think, "I played for this club and it's on your CV and it's a great achievement to get to a Liverpool, a United, Chelsea, City." But it's not enough to play for them, you've got to win. The whole existence of those clubs is about winning. If they're not winning, there's no point. So that was my thing, my drive at Liverpool was to win every single day.
When Gerard Houllier came in as a manager—Gerard Houllier, we'll just call him Gerard Houllier—when he arrived at Liverpool in 1998, the players took to him at first, I read, because one of the key decisions he made was around Paul Ince.
You said the players took to him? No, I think he found it difficult to start with. I think there was a big split in the camp in that the players who'd come before that with Roy Evans, and Gerard Houllier came in, he was new to it. And yeah, I think it was tough for him in that first season.
Did that turn at some point? Did he win the trust of the players?
Yeah, I mean, Paul Ince—great fellow, I get on great with Paul Ince, great player as well. Didn't have the career at Liverpool he's had at other clubs. And I think Gerard Houllier just wanted to make a fresh start and he wanted to—I think a lot of managers do it—they take on the big guy, if you like. And he was certainly that. He was, I think, maybe England's captain or vice captain at the time. But he wanted to completely revolutionize Liverpool and completely change it.
And yeah, he had words with Paul Ince. And the thing was not about him having words as such, but also the fact that he didn't sort of back down; he really held his own, he had a strong argument in the team meeting. And you think, "Wow, he's just stood up to probably one of the best midfield players of his generation."
What was that strong argument in the team meeting?
It was over Paul Ince questioning what we were doing in training. As senior pros do at times, they're trying to get it right, "Why are we doing this? Why are we doing that?" And I think Gerard Houllier saw it as his opportunity to sort of stamp his authority. It was almost like I would imagine he was glad Paul Ince had said it. And I don't think the message was for Paul Ince because I think he was always going to get rid of Incey. I think the message was to the rest of us: "Don't try and take me on. This is what we're going to do."
What did he publicly in front of the team meeting tell Paul?
Basically, "You wouldn't be at this club anymore." But he questioned his desire in a game. And to be fair, Paul Ince was probably one of the bravest footballers you'd see. But in a particular game against Manchester United, we'd lost it 2-1 and we'd lost two goals in the last minute. And I think it was a very sore defeat for everyone. So I think everyone was a little bit emotional about it. And because Incey jumped up and said something, he just went straight back and said he wasn't happy that he'd come off, he shouldn't have come off, "My captain should come off on a stretcher from Old Trafford."
And it was interesting with Gerard Houllier in that we had him, the first foreign manager. And all of a sudden, people would associate him with this flair football and being maybe a bit nice, but that was what the Liverpool team was before Gerard Houllier came. He completely went the other way and wanted big, strong, powerful players, aggression. And that's why me and him had such a great relationship because I was such a competitor. Maybe didn't have the quality that some of the players had in the Roy Evans team, but he just wanted people who would die for that shirt.
I read that part of the reason why his reign as manager sort of came to an end was because he made some bad signings and he was—he didn't really inquire enough about the players that he was signing's character and their personality. And I was just so compelled by that idea that that's one of the most important things when you're building teams is finding people that have the same mentality and character versus just great technical players. I think about the same in business—I'm always considering how someone will support our culture, make our culture better, raise the bar in terms of that mentality versus just being able to do a thousand kick-ups and loads of skills.
Yeah, I think you do need a certain mentality to play for Liverpool and the other big clubs. To be able to withstand pressure, criticism that comes your way. So often I saw a lot of Liverpool players who would start really well. And it wouldn't make me think we've got a great player here. I'd always think, let's see a couple of months down the line because I knew what was coming. Because every player goes through a few bad games, he gets criticized, whatever it may be. And I saw too many players never recover from that. And that tells me that for me, the top level of football is mentality. Do you have that personality, character to get you through those tough moments and come back and fight back and not give in?
Can you teach that?
I don't know. You tell me. What do you think?
I tend to believe that it comes from experience. I think resilience and that sort of character trait comes from being knocked down loads of times. So when the tenth failure or knockdown comes or the tenth moment of hardship comes, you're more equipped to deal with it. So players that haven't been through the tougher challenges in their life, maybe in their personal life, maybe where they come from, don't have that.
Well, it's interesting, we're doing this this afternoon and this morning my son went in for a knee operation. He's a professional footballer. And plainly, I haven't been able to probably sleep about it, thinking about it... you just want to do as much as you can to help them. But the thing I keep drumming home to him, and I keep saying it almost every day: "We're not using this as an excuse. This is not going to get in the way. This has happened, is it? Okay, boom, we're going again."
It's like, this I know for a lot of people or players or young players or whatever it may be would be a hurdle to come across, and understandably so, but it's not in years to come going to be, "Oh, I didn't quite do what I wanted because of that knee op." Yeah, and this never happened and that... it's like, no. There's going to be lots of things in his career, as in my career, obstacles in the way. You've just got to get over them, get them out of the way, or you've got to deal with it and then keep going. Nothing's... and that was always my mindset.
You said earlier on that you might not have cared as much as you did, you might not have had that same level of excruciating obsession and care about the results and the outcome and winning if you'd been at another club. And you were at another club, which is England. And you didn't seem to care as much. You said that in your memoir; I was quite shocked to read that. I remember the text message that said "f*** it, it's only England" and generally, you didn't seem to be as excruciatingly hard on yourself after losing for England as you did with losing for Liverpool.
I think that was down to the fact that I didn't carry the same responsibility because I never really played. I was like a squad player, really. I wouldn't class myself as patriotic, not at all. I'm... I don't know what the word is... can you be patriotic of your own city? Is that a word or is there something...? I'm massively passionate about my own city. Maybe that comes from the way we're brought up in Liverpool. The thing of you feel as if like a lot of the country is against you, and maybe that's—some of it's true, some people outside Liverpool think, "Oh that's a chip on your shoulder." But there is that sort of we buy into that.
And that doesn't mean like I'm against England as such. But watching England now in the World Cup would never take me to a place emotionally the way it would if I saw Liverpool playing. It just wouldn't take me there. It's not like a conscious thing of "Ugh, I'm not going to be happy about this." It's just inside me. And that wasn't just when I was playing for England, that was when I was a child. I'd be thinking, "Why aren't England picking the Everton players?" almost felt like England was a team from down south or a London team. That's just the feeling I had. But I think if I would have become a mainstay of the England team, I think I would have felt that. And that's my one disappointment in my football career; it's the only team in my life from when I started at five years of age I didn't dominate—being a mainstay of the team, be one of the voices of the team, be one of the leaders. Because I wasn't good enough. That's a simple fact.
There's lots of players that you've encountered in your career that didn't reach their potential. When you think about why those players didn't reach their potential, if you had to point out characteristics or behaviors that led them to miss their potential, what would those behaviors be? The traits of "losers"?
I think blaming other people at different times for their own poor games, mistakes, or always looking for excuses, I would say. I think I'm pretty honest and I was as a player. I always remember when I was a young lad, I had a bad game—I keep talking about my bad games, don't I? You remember them more! But a very famous coach who was a huge inspiration to me was Ronnie Moran.
And I'd played a game and played poorly, and I did an interview after the game saying it was my fault, those goals were my fault. And even though this was a coach who was a real sort of man's man, a legend of Liverpool Football Club—he wasn't the coach then, he still just used to come in and walk around the training ground—and he said, "Don't ever do that again." He said, "You don't need to open yourself up like that." He said, "Be honest within the dressing room and to your manager," but he said, "Sometimes you've got to be clever and look after yourself a little bit."
You think you're doing the right thing. And I think he—I knew exactly where he was coming from. And I think at times you need to be honest, but I think probably other times like that, you maybe need to protect yourself a little bit. But you never hide behind the fact that it was someone else's fault. And again, I keep going back to my son because I'm not a coach or a manager, but I just want to give it back to my son. And things like that—don't question the manager, don't make excuses, don't blame the manager or if you come in and say, "Oh the coach or the training..." well, get something out of it. Don't be in the dressing room saying, "Oh this isn't good or that isn't good." [Commercial break: Veggie ER for pets - 00:37:55 to 00:38:24]
On the point of questioning the manager, one of the things I read was that Gerard Houllier—one of the reasons why he ultimately ended up leaving the club was because he had started to lose his authority in the dressing room. Now, Peter Crouch said to me that great managers, even when they don't know the right answers, pretend they do. Because they know that if they ever get to a point where the players know that they're not in control, then the authority's gone. And there was a story I read about Gerard Houllier picking a team and then going and asking Gerrard if it was the correct team. And then Gerrard said it's not the correct team and changed it. This happened in spring in 2004 in the run-up to a Premier League match away to Manchester United.
I don't—it rings a bell. I don't know the specific game, if that was the right game, but I think towards the end of his time, I think the results aren't going well. And managers, no matter who they are, they will lose confidence. And Stevie at that time was obviously a megastar and you're trying to maybe keep people on side, if you like. Not that I think the players were ever offside with Gerard Houllier, but that confidence and belief in the manager starts to ebb away when results don't go well.
I wouldn't say Gerard Houllier ever lost the dressing room in terms of how we felt about him as a man, but it was a time for it to come to an end. There's no doubt about that. And it's an interesting one that—does a manager lose the dressing room? Yes, he's always lost part of a dressing room because of the players whom he's not picking. But I think it's when that belief goes really. But for me, again, I think I was different to other players because I never played for the manager, ever. I always played for the club. And again because it was the club, I always felt like I played for the club and the supporters.
No manager bought me. You know, I didn't know a manager or anything as such. I mean, Roy Evans gave me my debut I suppose and other managers played me, but I never had that sort of feeling that "We need to win this for the manager."
Rafa Benitez comes in next. What's the difference between Gerard Houllier and Rafa Benitez in terms of style? Because I find it so compelling that managers can be great for various different reasons. And we think of management as like a formula, but as I sit here with football players that have had seven, eight, nine managers, they all say that managers are completely different in their style and approach.
Yeah, Rafa was completely different. Gerard Houllier was a manager. I think Gerard Houllier was the type of guy who could manage an organization; it didn't just have to be football. I think he could have been a bank manager, he could have been a CEO if you like, organized people, get everyone focused on "What do we want to achieve?" But the actual day-to-day stuff of coaching, I don't think was as his forte. I don't think he had a huge knowledge of the game—enough, but it wasn't someone who was going to say something to you in a coaching session or a tactical point that made you think, "Oh, never heard that before" or "That's a bit different." It wasn't like that. His thing was bringing people together for a common goal.
People say Clive Woodward, the England rugby coach, World Cup winning coach, was probably similar in that and then he'd have other coaches, but he'd always be coming up with ideas to create sort of a siege mentality, a togetherness. Whereas Rafa was a coach. He was on that training pitch every day and he was a lot colder than Gerard Houllier, who was a lot more interested in the kids, the wife, yourself. Rafa didn't want to get involved in anything like that; for him, it was just football. I mean, if I think I was obsessed with football, Rafa was just like—he was probably above me. But it was different.
I'll be honest with you, when we describe managers... like the one who came a couple after, Roy Hodgson, and it didn't go particularly well. When a new manager comes in, I want to get whatever I can from them. So he may not work for Liverpool, I may not like X but I might like Y and Z. So you've always got to be a sponge and taking things in and learning things. And I think when Gerard Houllier came in, I was a bit-part player and then became a fully-fledged member of Liverpool's first eleven for the next five years. And then Rafa came in and I then again stepped up a level to become the vice captain and one of the leaders in the team, one of the best players in the team. So I always think I got the most from these other managers coming in. I think it's important when people come into your life, figures of authority, you've got to basically squeeze everything out of them to your advantage. And I think I did that with both managers.
Let's do the biggest pro and con then of these individuals as managers. So Gerard Houllier, you said he's a great sort of man manager, CEO type. That's probably one of his greatest strengths. His downside is maybe a lack of football knowledge?
I wouldn't say it was a downside because he had coaches around him who did the training sessions. It just—it got to its natural end in that... you know, he nearly lost his life managing Liverpool. And he's then making decisions... is he in a fully football-focused state of mind when he's actually recovering from almost losing his life? And we made a few signings that didn't work. And to be honest, that's always how it ends for Liverpool managers—when it comes to the end, they have a summer where they buy a few players, they don't quite work out, and then the next manager has to come in because the energy and the excitement not just from the squad but also the supporters just peters out.
So Rafa's great tactically, obsessed with football, obsessed with the game. But his sort of downside was probably the man management stuff?
Yeah, but I don't think that stops us winning as such. Nobody is everything. Alex Ferguson is not a coach; he's probably more like a Gerard Houllier type figure and has coaches there. Rafa Benitez, people will question his man management. But I don't question it as such, and I don't question Gerard Houllier or other managers. You've just got to do what's your strength. That's your strength. So if Rafa Benitez's strength is not the man management—I'm putting this act on—it's all about being obsessed with football and coaching every single day. Do what you're good at. And he's good at that.
That's what I find interesting, is there's so many ways to win. Because when I sat here with all the United players—Rio, Patrice, Gary—they all say about Sir Alex Ferguson, they go "man manager, but only came in the training room twice in 26 years" or whatever. And then you hear about these other people like Rafa who were also tremendously successful, won the biggest trophies you could possibly win, but wasn't that way inclined.
History is written by the winner. It doesn't matter what you do. So if Sir Alex Ferguson doesn't do well at Man United, those same players will be saying to you, "He's never at the training ground. He's never there. We don't do tactical work, he doesn't do any coaching." It's all about winning.
And to be honest, what you're saying there is interesting because one time, I remember Rafa Benitez—he knew someone at United and he said Ferguson doesn't even coach because in Rafa's mind, to be a top manager you're a coach. You know, I think when him and Mourinho came along, they were like coaches and probably couldn't get their head around the way Alex Ferguson was. And it was almost a little bit dismissive, and it wasn't like I was trying to defend the Manchester United manager, it was just that training, "Even Ferguson doesn't even do the coaching." I said, "So what?" It doesn't matter, he wins! There's different ways of winning.
And that's my thing on TV now: there's no right or wrong way to play football. It's being the best you can be at what you do. And if that for Rafa Benitez is being on that training ground coaching, not getting involved in stuff away from the pitch, well that's someone else's job. No one is perfect at everything. Alex Ferguson wasn't a great coach, so he brought in great coaches. I think that's really important, not just in football management—I actually think in life. In that for me, I'm a little bit wary of getting involved in things where I think "That's not my area of expertise." I think that'd be a little bit arrogant of myself to think I could just parachute myself in there and start running the show. So I think we all gotta know what our strengths are and all gotta know where we need help. Because we all need help.
That's what Richard Branson taught me. You know, reading through his story but also getting to speak to him on this podcast—this is a guy who didn't know what the difference between net profit and gross profit was until I think he was 50, which is one of the key principles of running a business. Dyslexic, can't look at presentations; if you try and show him words on a slide deck, he won't look at it, he'll only look at pictures. He's got so many deficiencies in areas that you think are critical to business, but the one thing that everyone says he says and everyone around him says was because of all of his deficiencies, he made up for it by being the best delegator in the world. So he found people that could plug all of these gaps and gave them huge responsibility.
And you think, by the age of... at the same time when he doesn't know the difference between net profit and gross profit, he's running 50 different companies; Virgin is now 400 different companies. And you go, "How is someone who is, in his own words, not good at business doing that?" Well, just a supreme delegator. And Sir Alex Ferguson the same—bad coach, but had Carlos Queiroz, Steve McClaren, lots of different ones.
I think what you said is really good because the career I've had has afforded me so many opportunities and I'm so fortunate that I'm speaking to you, you know, you're speaking to other people who are experts in their field. But when you speak to them—and that story about Richard Branson is perfect in that if you don't know them and, say my family and friends, sometimes they're fascinated by some of the people I meet and I said I'm lucky to be in certain situations—and they look at these people like they're extraordinary. And when you've got a sort of relationship with someone, whether it's someone I work on TV with, they're just normal people and they've got the same sort of insecurities that you've got.
But they've got something about them where they've got sort of—maybe it's an opportunity that's arisen, they've grabbed it with both hands, an enthusiasm, something about them has put them in that position. But they're not extraordinary people, they've got an extraordinary talent for that, you know, which finds themselves, I feel, in that field. So that thing where some people are so impressed with someone or think they're going to give them these words that they've never heard before... I think the older I get now I realize that a lot of people in great positions is not because they're some genius. Sometimes it's as I said, it's opportunity, they've seen a niche in the market, whatever it may be. They've just gone out there and grabbed it.
You know, there's a real trap I've noticed based on exactly what you said: where someone's successful, so what we do is we assume that they get everything right. So with Richard Branson, because he's a super successful entrepreneur, we assume that he's the best at marketing, branding, finance, all of these things. And I noticed this a lot when I was in San Francisco and we were building a chat app. What you'd see the team doing was whenever we were trying to make a decision, the team would go, "Well, what does Snapchat do?" Because Snapchat was successful, we assumed that their marketing strategy, every feature they had, everything they did was right.
And I came to sort of see that bias in myself, and it's exactly what you've described. If we see someone who is at the top of the game, we assume that they are god-like in everything. That's what you do with Richard Branson—assume he's the best speaker in the world, the best salesman... No, in reality from what I've learned from doing this and honestly looking at my own life—because I'm not actually good at business. Like, I'm not good at the business stuff. I'm not good at like finance, operations, processes, but I'm good at this one thing. And that's what I learned from Richard: Richard's good at this one thing. He's like good, I'd say good at the branding piece, but he's just an unbelievable delegator.
One of the obviously defining moments, I think in football generally, not just as a Liverpool player or Liverpool fan, was that final away at Istanbul. You go in at halftime, I think it's 2005 final, you go in 3-0 down. When you go down that tunnel at 3-0 down, honestly, do you think you can turn that game around?
No, no, not at all, no.
What are you thinking when you walk through the tunnel then?
"This is going to be 6-0." Is that what you're thinking? Hmm. Or "How can we stop it being 6-0?" I think if you lose a game 3-0, it happens. If you lose five or six nil, it's remembered. And that was my fear. That was fear.
What happened in the dressing room? What did Rafa say?
Not a lot. He wasn't a motivator; he was a tactician. And he made changes in there system-wise, strategically, to change it. But if I'm being honest, I think the changes he made were not to win the game. I think the changes he made were to stop it becoming five or six nil. Because we actually brought on a defensive midfield player, Didi Hamann. We went to—you can call it three at the back but it can be five at the back if you like, rather than playing four. The changes helped us go on and get the goals, but I think initially it was, "We need to stop what AC Milan are doing otherwise this is going to be a massacre."
Why did the game turn around?
I think the changes Rafa made, a little bit of luck, and Steven Gerrard. He scores the header, 54 minutes or something, and then within a couple more minutes, you're 3-3. That's the little bit of luck you need—you score so quickly right after that. That happens in some games. And we did get a little bit of luck; I think the linesman actually flagged for an offside, the referee didn't see it, and they carried on playing for 30 seconds so the linesman put his flag down. And that's in the run-up to us getting our second goal. So we scored the second goal and then... the only way I can describe it is you just know when you're on a football pitch. You smell it. 3-2. We knew it was going to be 3-3.
What is that?
I don't know. The reason I know is because when we score 3-2, no one celebrates the goal scorer, everyone just runs back.
He started celebrating.
He started celebrating but everyone's back. It's like everyone's in a zone. And you don't need to speak to other people. Sometimes there's moments in games where you just can smell it, you can feel something's happening.
Is that a culture thing as well? Because there's certain clubs who have that. When they go 2-0 down, 3-0 down, everyone goes, "Oh, they're going to do it, they're going to come back." And there's that mentality where you go, "Yeah, we're not safe here, they're coming for us."
I think Liverpool and Man United have got it. City seem to have it now in the last couple of years under Pep Guardiola. I've always felt Chelsea have had that in the last 10 years or so, even when they weren't at their best, they'd still find a way to win. And yeah, I know our club's got that. And we'll always have that, you just—it just, you feel like something's going to happen.
Why is Liverpool done so well in the Champions League?
I think a lot of that is emotion, belief, winning those finals as well, the history that's gone before, the Anfield crowd believing it, the opposition coming to Anfield believing that something's going to happen special—this is a mythical football ground.
Do you believe they're the best fans in the Premier League?
I wouldn't say that, and the reason I wouldn't say that is because everybody thinks they're the best fans. And I think if I do say that, I won't be turning on my Twitter notifications in the few days after this podcast comes out! But no, I would say yes. But every set of supporters, what they do to follow their team home and away... I think Anfield's special. I don't think anyone could deny that.