We’d played a lot of games that season and I remember being very
tired, but losing that final wasn’t such a bad thing. For most of us, it
was the first big disappointment of our soccer-playing lives and perhaps
it made us stronger, having to experience it together. You want to make
sure you don’t feel that down again in the future. And you certainly
don’t ever want Eric Harrison getting mad at you again like he did in
the dressing room after we’d lost at Elland Road.
By then, the 1992/93 season, the players in our age group were
starting to get involved, and to get games, with the first team. As early
as September, I got called into training with the senior players and, a
couple of days later, the manager told me that I would be traveling to
Brighton for a League Cup tie. Gary, Nicky Butt and Paul Scholes were
coming as well. We flew down on this little seventeen-seater plane. It
was a horrible flight: the noise, the bumping, the cramped seats, and
it seemed to go on forever. Maybe that was why I got such a great
night’s sleep once we’d finally arrived. I woke up to the news that I was
going to be one of the substitutes.
About twenty minutes from the end, the manager told me I was going
on in place of Andrei Kanchelskis. I was so excited I jumped off the
bench and cracked my head on the roof of the dugout: a great start to
a first-team career. The boss wanted to have a look at me and I think
I did all right. Mum and Dad were at the ground and they were as
surprised as I was that I actually got a game. Seventeen minutes as a
United player, but I still felt really young. What was I? Just seventeen?
More like the boy who’d been on the bench at West Ham as a mascot
than a man ready to be in United’s first team. The manager had a little
go at me in the dressing room afterwards. I don’t remember having
done anything wrong. He was probably just trying to make sure I didn’t
get full of myself: a sign of one or two difficult times, maybe, that lay
ahead for us further down the line.
It was a long time before I got another chance. The Youth Cup side
had all moved up to reserve team soccer: we’d won the ‘A’ League
and then the Central League, the first time the club had done that in
over twenty years. I played in some League Cup games again early on
in the 1994/95 season, when the manager rested his first-choice players.
Back in the early nineties, United struggled a bit in Europe because of
the Overseas Players Rule, which meant you could only play three
foreigners in the European Cup. It wasn’t that we didn’t have a strong
squad, but the changes the boss had to make would disrupt the rhythm
of the side. That particular season, we were already as good as out of
the competition but had a home game against Galatasaray still to play.
It was early December.
The first I knew about the possibility of me being involved was an
article in the Manchester Evening News saying the manager was thinking
about giving some youngsters a chance to try European soccer. On
the day, he told a few of us we’d actually start the game that night. I
don’t know about the others, but I went into it not having a clue what
to expect. About half an hour in, I scored my first senior goal for United.
The ball rolled out to me, in front of the Stretford End, and I remember
thinking: if I catch this right, something could happen. Even though I
didn’t really connect properly, the ball bobbled in somehow and I turned
and ran away to celebrate. Eric Cantona was the first player to get to
me. I was buzzing that much, he was having to fight me off in the end.
I just wouldn’t let go of him. I’ve scored a goal and I’m celebrating with
Eric Cantona.
I really enjoyed myself. I think Galatasaray had left out some senior
players, too, and the game wasn’t as difficult as it might have been. We
played well, and the fact that there were so many of the younger boys
in the team made it even better. Starting the game had made a
difference,
too. I felt a lot more at home at Old Trafford that night than I had
during my seventeen minutes down at Brighton, two years before. For
us boys, it felt like the European Cup Final, never mind that United
were eliminated whatever the result. As it was, we won 4–0, which
is a decent score in a European game whatever the circumstances. The
manager didn’t say anything afterwards. He was disappointed to be out
of Europe, but seemed happy enough with how the young lads had
played.
That first start in a big European fixture was an exception for me. I
still had work – and filling out – to do. The thing that has kept United
and the players at the club driving on is the knowledge that if your
standards slip, there’s someone waiting to take your place. As a
teenager, the doubts about whether you’d still be there in a week, a
month, or even a year’s time, were even more intense. It was back to
the reserves after my start in the Galatasaray game. Back to wondering
whether I was good enough to take the next big step: establishing myself
in the first team by getting games in the Premier League. Sometimes in
a career, even if you think you know what you need next, you have to
be ready to make the best of what comes along.
It wasn’t every day I got called in after training to see the manager
in his office:
‘Preston North End have asked if they could take you on loan for a
month. I think it’s a good idea.’
Straight away, I put two and two together and made five. I was
nineteen. Nicky Butt and Gary Neville were already getting games on
a fairly regular basis. I’d been involved with the first team, but I wasn’t
progressing as quickly as them. Had United decided I wasn’t going to
be strong enough to make it? Was this a way of easing me out? I
couldn’t get the thought out of my head. They don’t rate me. They want
to get rid of me.
It might have been an overreaction, but that’s how I felt. Of course,
the first person I spoke to was Eric Harrison and, because of the
conversation
I had with him, the boss had me back in to explain.
‘This isn’t about anything else but you getting first-team experience,
in a different team, in a different league.’
I’m glad I had that chance to talk to him because it meant I went to
Preston in the right frame of mind. When I turned up at their training
ground for the first time, I was pretty nervous. I went into the dressing
room and all the Preston players were sitting there, as if they’d been
waiting for me. I don’t know if they were thinking it, or I just imagined
they were. Here’s this big-time Charlie from United, and he’s a cockney
as well. Either way, it was a really awkward morning. Preston were in
Division Three. It was a world away from the life I’d got used to at a
club where everything was taken care of for you, where only the best
facilities were good enough. At the end of the first training session, I
threw my uniform down in the dressing room before taking a shower.
‘Not on the floor. You take it home and wash it yourself for tomorrow.’
It didn’t bother me. I just wasn’t prepared for how things were done
at Preston. The manager, Gary Peters, didn’t waste any time by way of
introductions. On that first day, he got all the players and me together
in a circle:
‘This is David Beckham. He’s joining us for a month from Manchester
United. He can play. And he’ll take all the free-kicks and all the corners,
which means you’re off them and you’re off them.’
He pointed to the lads who were usually on dead balls and didn’t
even wait for an answer. What a start. It must have annoyed some
of the other players. It would have annoyed me. Things were a bit
embarrassing to start with, but once we were working together and got
to know each other, I had a great time with all the lads at Preston.
Amongst the players, David Moyes, who’s now the Everton manager,
was the top man. He was a center-half, the kind of player who’d throw
himself into any tackle possible. Even into some that weren’t possible.
He’d be shouting, revving people up, and was passionate about winning
games. He was club captain and he talked to me, got me involved, right
from the start. It’s not just hindsight: you could tell then that David was
going to make a manager. He knew straight away what I was about,
that I’d be quiet, keep to myself and just talk when I needed to. He put
himself out to bring me into the group, to look after me, and I really
appreciated that.
Gary Peters, the manager, was brilliant as well. It probably helped
that he was a Londoner too. He made it clear what he needed me to
do and gave me the confidence to do it. He seemed to really believe
in me. He must have watched me playing for the reserves at United
and I found out later that he’d asked about taking me on loan almost
as a joke, not thinking the club would agree. He couldn’t believe it
when the boss said yes. I understand Preston even put a bid in for me
after the loan spell, but Gary knew that really would have been pushing
their luck.
It all happened very quickly. I trained with them on the Monday then
Gary put me into the reserves on the Wednesday, which felt quite
strange. Preston played in the Central League, like United’s reserves,
and beforehand it almost seemed like I’d fallen on hard times. But once
you’re out there playing you forget all that. I did all right, set up a goal
and scored one myself. So, come the Saturday, I was on the bench for
the first team against Doncaster at home.
It was a bit of a surprise when Ryan Kirby, who I’d played alongside
for so many years with Ridgeway, lined up for Doncaster. My dad was
up for the game, of course. And so was Ryan’s dad, Steve, who’d also
done some of the coaching when we were kids. For me and Ryan, it
was a quick hello and then we had to get on with it.
One thing I wasn’t really looking forward to was the tackling. I’m sure
that’s part of the reason the boss sent me to Preston in the first place,
to harden me up a bit. I was a lot more fragile then than I am now.
That first game, I sat on the bench for the first half and, every time a
tackle flew in, I was cringing. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to getting
on. When I did, though, almost straight away we got a corner. It was a
really blowy afternoon, with the wind behind us, and I remember
thinking
I’d just whip the ball in to see what happened. A goal. Not a bad way
to start. We ended up coming from behind to draw 2–2.
The next game was against Fulham, who had Terry Hurlock playing
for them. Now, I knew Terry by reputation and I’d watched him play:
here was a bloke who liked a tackle and I was worried about getting
whacked by him. As it turned out, I didn’t and got a few challenges in
myself. You soon realize that, if you’re playing for Preston in Division
Three and they need the points, you can’t afford to be ducking out of
the physical side.
