with her getting a good feeling, like I do, when she remembers us
being together.
Life in Manchester away from soccer was just part of what was totally
new to me. There was this group of local lads for a start. Gary and
Philip Neville, Nicky Butt and Paul Scholes were all from around
Manchester, so they’d been training at United since they’d signed
schoolboy forms, although they hadn’t been at the vacation-time
sessions I’d attended over the previous couple of years. I wasn’t aware
of it at the time but I think, to start with, they weren’t sure about me at
all: Gary says they had me down as a flashy little cockney. I can
understand
why. It wasn’t because I was loud or anything but, when we were
handed our uniforms, I’d always end up with the nicest tracksuit and the
best-fitting boots. I happened to get on really well with the equipment
manager, Norman Davies, and he just looked after me. I’d known
Norman for a long time already from going to the games as a kid and,
maybe, this was my reward for helping him tidy up dressing rooms for
the first team at places like Upton Park all those years ago.
I was from London and the other boys were from the Manchester
area but it was surprising how much we had in common. Apart from
loving soccer and having the ambition to play for United, there were
things in our backgrounds that brought us together as well. Gary and
Phil’s mum and dad, for example, were so much like my parents. They’d
be at every game too. I think the Nevilles and the Beckhams had the
same sort of values and saw life in much the same way. I know the four
of them took to each other straight away and I’m sure the similarity
in our upbringings had a lot to do with why Gary and I became such
close friends.
Gary, Nicky Butt and Paul Scholes had all played together for the
same Sunday League team. Boundary Park must have been a northern
version of Ridgeway Rovers. Not only was the team successful, it had
the same spirit and sense of loyalty that we’d had at Ridgeway. Those
boys had been learning to approach soccer in the right way, picking
up good habits, at the same time as we were. It was natural that a
sense of togetherness grew pretty quickly at United. Quite soon after
we started, we went off to Coleraine in Northern Ireland for a
tournament
called the Milk Cup. Teams came from all over the world
to compete, and that was the first time we represented the club as
a group.
We had a brilliant time. We were all about sixteen, on a tour together
and getting to know each other, as players and as people. The Milk
Cup competition is still going. As well as the games, there’s quite a lot
of ceremony: I remember us being paraded through the streets of the
local town, trying to look sharp in our Manchester United tracksuits.
Nobby Stiles was in charge of the trip, along with a trainer named Jimmy
Curran. Nobby knew me and trusted me, and he made me captain for
the tournament. It was some team: as well as the players who are still
at Old Trafford, there were plenty of others who went on to have good
careers elsewhere. Ben Thornley was our best player on that trip and
got the award for Player of the Tournament. He’s done well since leaving
United, despite some shocking injury trouble over the years. With Gary,
Phil, Paul Scholes and Nicky Butt playing alongside the likes of Ben,
Keith Gillespie, Robbie Savage and Colin Murdock, it’s no wonder we
won the cup. We stayed at a hotel owned by Harry Gregg, who was a
United great himself. He survived the Munich Air Crash and he loved
having the United youngsters around the place. The Milk Cup was the
first silverware any of us ever won as United players.
Every single day was an exciting one back then. Before I’d left home
to start as a trainee in Manchester, Dad had drummed one thing into
my head.
‘You may have signed for Man United, but you haven’t done anything
yet. When you’ve played for the first team, then we can talk about
you having achieved something. Until then, don’t start thinking you’ve
made it.’
Did he need to tell me that? Well, it did no harm to know Dad would
be around to keep my feet on the ground. But I hadn’t been running
around boasting, telling everybody that I had signed for United. I’d just
been looking forward to going and couldn’t wait to start work. Once I
did, of course, I realized what Dad had meant. I’d been to United’s old
training ground, the Cliff, as a boy to watch the first team train. Now I
had to be there for training each morning myself, along with the senior
players. It dawned on me straight away that the most important thing
wasn’t being at United. It was working hard enough to make sure they’d
let me stay there.
Come to think of it, there was never any chance of us not working
hard; not with coach Eric Harrison in charge. If I think about the people
who’ve really shaped my career, that has to mean my dad and Alex
Ferguson – of course – but it’ll also mean Eric. Even now, a dozen
years on from first meeting him, I look to him for guidance and advice.
He’ll tell me what he thinks, not what he thinks I want to hear. And, like
every other boy he worked with at United, I know he’s always cared
about me. Back then I was sure he had my best interests at heart. I still
feel exactly the same.
Eric could be scary, though. We knew about his reputation and I was
a bit anxious beforehand because of that. But I soon found out what a
brilliant coach he was. Everything he did with us was spot on: the
sessions he ran, how hard he made us work, how he understood how
we were feeling and how much he made us believe in ourselves. Eric
might have had a talented group of lads to work with, but the credit
goes to him for turning us into soccer players and, during the next three
years, turning us into a team.
That fierce reputation, though, it’s all true. When Eric was angry with
you, he could berate you worse than anybody I’ve ever known. We
were younger then, obviously, but I’d say the tirades you got from Eric
were even more terrifying than the manager in full flow. I remember
when we had matches at the Cliff, Eric had an office with a big window
that looked out over the field we used. If you made a mistake or did
something you knew you shouldn’t have done, you’d hear this furious
banging on the glass. You didn’t dare look up in that direction because
you knew it would be Eric, not at all pleased. But you’d have to steal a
quick glance. And if you couldn’t actually see him shouting from behind
the window, that’s when you knew there was real trouble and it was
time to disappear over to the other side of the field. It meant Eric was
on his way down.
When Eric was pleased with you, he made you feel great. If I heard
him say: ‘Great ball, David’ once in the morning, that would set me up
for the rest of the day. Likewise, if he criticized something, you thought
a long time before doing it again. I remember one session when, every
time I got the ball, I was trying to pick someone out with a sixty-yard
pass. Even when I was young, I was able to see what was going on
ahead of me and could strike the ball a very long way. That particular
day, though, nothing was coming off and Eric wasn’t impressed.
‘David. What are you playing at? Hitting those flippin’ Hollywood
passes all day?’
Hollywood passes? I’d never heard that before. I knew exactly what
he meant, though. And I thought twice before I hit the next one. Truth
is, I still love playing those long balls; they’re a part of my game. But,
even now, whenever one doesn’t make it, I imagine Eric, shaking his
head and grumbling: ‘flippin’ Hollywood passes’.
It’s not always been true with Alex Ferguson or other coaches I’ve
worked with, but with Eric you always knew exactly where you stood.
If he lost his temper with you, he made sure you understood why and,
somehow, he had the knack of shaking you up without ever abusing
you or putting you down. We always knew, however hairy it got, Eric
only ever wanted what we wanted too: to get the best out of ourselves
and to achieve everything we could as individuals and as a team. No
wonder he commanded the respect of every single one of us young
players. Some young players nowadays who sign for a large club
suddenly think they’ve hit the big time. There was none of that with
our generation. And if there had been, Eric would soon have sorted
us out.
Everything at United was right: the facilities, the uniform, the training
and the other players in our group. Who wouldn’t want to have Eric
Harrison as a youth team coach? I couldn’t get enough of it all. While
we were trainees, Gary and I would go back to the Cliff in the evenings
twice a week, when Eric was working with the schoolboys on the big
indoor ground, and join in the sessions just to get extra training under
our belts. Phil Neville was in that age group – two years younger than
me and Gary – and so was Dave Gardner. I don’t know how you find
your very best friends. Maybe they just find you. Dave and I just hit it
off and we’ve been close ever since: I was best man at his wedding
in the summer of 2003. He stayed on as an apprentice until he was
eighteen, by which time I was playing regularly in the first team. Dave
turned professional with Manchester City and he still plays non-League
with Altrincham. Nowadays, for him, soccer’s about staying fit and
keeping his eye in: he’s a full-time director of a sports management
company.
During those first years at United, Eric used to make sure we went
to every first-team game at Old Trafford. Not just to watch the game,
but to watch individual players. I’d think back to Dad taking me to Cup
Finals when I was a boy.
‘Never mind the game, David. Just watch Bryan Robson. Watch what
he does.’
Now Eric was telling us the same thing: ‘Watch the man playing in
your position. One day, you’re going to take his place.’
To hear something like that gave us so much confidence; not that
we realized at the time how soon the manager was going to make us
all part of his first-team plans.
Going to those games at Old Trafford was a chance, as well, for Eric
to insist on the importance of having standards. He always made sure
that we turned up in a blazer, with a collar and tie. It reminded me of
Stuart Underwood wanting the Ridgeway players to be well turned out
when we arrived for big games. I still think those things make a
difference.
Some teams might be seen arriving at a ground or walking through
an airport in their tracksuits. The fact that a Manchester United team
will always be wearing club blazers is part of having a professional
attitude. That smartness said something about our respect for ourselves
and for the club.
Our training sessions weren’t all about technique and tactics and
