The Day Gazza Walked Into My Life

I really hope Gazza does sort himself out & keeps right. He looked near death on the TV the other week.

I've read quite a bit about Gazza as him and Lineker were my fave players after Italia 90 when I was 6.

He's got a lot of demons to face but despite all the ridiculous things he's done your experiences show that a lot of todays players could learn a lot from the man.

I hope he gets himself happy and finds himself a place in the game.

When I first became aware of him (tongue out, grinning, always in the paper etc) my immediate thought was a simple 'nob-head'.

I continued to think this for many years, right throughout his career (Spurs, Lazio, Rangers etc etc)

Then he signed for us and my opinion didn't change one bit.

Then I saw a documentary about him.

Don't know if anyone remembers it, it was the one where he ended up going to China.

After I watched it I felt nothing but genuine pity.

His mates were pricks and used him.

Same goes for his agent.

Same goes for his father.

Possibly his wife, clubs too.

And it was easy for them as well as he was what used to be described as ESN (remedial)

One thing I particularly remember was a doctor who was introduced as 'The world"s leading expert on Tourettes'.

He explained that the condition went from so mild that you would never be aware of anything other than eye-blinks, to full blown barks, yelps and swearing.

He said he had never met or analysed Gazza, but was 99% sure he had the condition.

One of the saddest things was Jimmy five-bellies and his dad bevvying on the plane (on his money!) and him trying not to drink.

You then see him in China by himself, just wandering about in a trackie (can't remember who he was signed for but it was like a second division side and the town looked like a smog filled shit-hole).

Gazza trained with the team, was bladdered at training and sent packing.

The whole thing was pitiful.

(his dad and Jimmy 5-bellies had left him in Hong Kong to go on the piss).

I met him (like a lot of others) at Wembley in 2009.

"Paul can I take a picture"

"Aye man, course yer can"

I was just one of seemingly hundreds who got their pic taken with him that day

He looked great, he was stone sober, tanned, clear eyed, I was made up for him.

A week later there was a picture of him in the paper getting off a train, he was fucking caned and I could barely recognise him from a week earlier.

I hope he somehow gets out of what appears to be a horribly inevitable end.

These very down to earth characters that are just "ordinary " people are worth 1000 times more than the bling bling Ferdinands of the world.

Took my U9's kids team up there to play their academy and Gazza was stood watching the games.

A true gentleman and an absolute legend, I was made up to meet him and have a chat and a picture with him, then spent ages telling the team how good he was and that he had a short stint with my beloved EFC.

Gazza was striking beautiful free kicks into the net from about 25 yards, one after another. Cue chorus of "You fat bastard". He turned his back on us for a moment and stuck a football up his shirt so that he really was a fat whatsit. He then proceeded to waddle up to a loose ball and belted that one into the net too. Cue huge applause and laughter from the Street End.

A truly fantastic player around 1990 when he almost got us to the World Cup Final on his own and for a good few years after. Hope things work out for him, good story, Matt.

Gazza is doing some theatre chat stuff if its local to any of you and you fancy lsitening to him ? gazzashow.com

Guys I went to school with Matt and he told us that shit more times than you can imagine.

Excellent stuuf though

Warmed my heart on this cold winters morning in oz.

Gazza, George Best, Joey Barton. Ok, I made one of those up!

I do not care that he was washed up when he played for us it is still a huge highlight for me having watched Gazza in an Everton shirt at Goodison and I am from the generation who tells his kids about every player "he wouldn't have got in the '85 team"

By the way England have never replaced him either!

I was 8 when Italia 90 took place and despite already being a huge blue I loved these players from other teams, Gazza, Lineker and Platt, Shilton. Gazza was my favorite though, I'll always remember his tears at being suspended for the final should we have got there and Linekers "eyes on him" routine.

I was made up when he signed for us because I got to see one of my favorite players in a blue shirt, albeit past his best. I actually think he played well for us and wasn't the failure some people paint his signing as being. I hope he finally manages to conquer his demons!

Finally, if I ever have a crisis I hope he turns up with beers, chickena and a fishing rod!

One of my favourite Gazza stories took place in New Zealand. Not sure whether it's an urban myth though.

Whichever club he was with at the time, was on a pre-season friendly in New Zealand and he was staying in a hotel.

The hotel staff hadn't got any bacon at breakfast to which Gazza replied 'What, all the sheep in this country and there's no bloody bacon!'?

Hee hee.

I was 11 during Italia '90. He was my favorite that tournament, along with Waddle and Lineker. 22 years on and England have never produced another like him. Thanks for the great story, Matt. Makes me even more proud that he once played for us, even though he was past his best.

The guy was a true genius and sound bloke who got bogged down in leeches who are now nowhere to be seen.

The guy needs help with his demons today and not when its too late.....cue the army of sycophants lining up to tell us what a great guy he was and if only they could have helped him.

Give us a shout when you get back, we'll get Birmo and Rodders out too, will be like old times :D

Take care pal, hope to see you in September

I was 8 during Italia '90 and the players from that tournament have always been my favourite. Especially Gazza and Lineker.

I truly hope this mans life doesn't have the end we all suspect.

If only he had gone to Man Utd instead of Spurs. Things may have been so very different.

And I agree that he played quite well for us. Bearing in mind his age and injury problems.

I was crossing over the road in Moss Lane, Orrell Park when some crazed loon in a blue Mercedes came flying up the road at 70mph, took the skin off my arse as he didn't slow down and I jumped out the way!

I was not surprised to see a grinning Gazza at the wheel and thought, get yourself home lad. Maybe Byker Grove was about to start on telly?

Paul Gascoigne was and probably still is, just a working class lad who wanted to do just one thing with his life: play football. He was, quite simply put, a genius... but, as we know, with genius often comes baggage. Unfortunately for all of us, and sadly more for Paul himself, history will always focus on the baggage.

They will recount stories of bingeing with Five Bellies, Baker and Evans. It will recollect hilarious anecdotes of plastic breasts, hair extensions, burps on camera and numerous other ?high jinx?. The lazy media will churn out stories of injuries, poor life choices and wasted talent. But do you know what? They can stick all that up their arses!

Paul Gascoigne was and still is a football legend! His ability was akin to sorcery. He was a force of nature, able to harness an unstoppable combination of poise, pace, trickery, raw power and emotion. He was for a time the best footballer in the world and certainly, for one summer at least, my hero.

I was 16 in 1990, I had just finished my GCSEs and it was the summer where I first started drinking in pubs in Ormskirk (Sorry, mum and dad!) We watched every game in the back room of the Greyhound. (Except for the last-16 game against Belgium where, for some reason, we were banished to the tiny snug at the front of the pub, the regular occupants of which were subsequently scarred for all time by the mayhem that ensued when Platt scored the winner).... but I digress?

We watched those first group games for a time with fear and with some derision as to the style of our play; but, slowly but surely, the team started to tick and Gazza was integral to everything. The Cruyff turn that bamboozled Koeman; the free kick for Wright's headed goal v Egypt; the surging run and chipped free kick for Platt?s snug jolting winner! The slide-rule pass for Lineker?s pen against the Roger Miller inspired Cameroon and then ultimately the cruelest of yellow cards and the tears.

It was Roy of the Rovers stuff. The daft-as-a-brush kid who almost didn?t make the squad was suddenly Maximus Meridius incarnate, a Gladiator strutting around the Coliseum slaying all in his way. ?Are you not entertained?? Yes we bloody well were!

That summer, whenever anyone (myself included) played out on the park. (Or in our case the field next to one of the garages on County Road in Ormskirk, affectionately known simply as ?The Esso!) Everyone wanted to be Gazza.

Cryuff turns abound, Chests were puffed out, jinking runs were attempted and 30-yard free kicks were driven wide/over into the road/bushes. (To be fair, he probably ruined an entire generation of young English footballers who all tried to play like him and ended up just looking soft when trying to do too much! But I digress... again!)

This is what Paul John Gascoigne should be remembered for! The total adulation of a nation! The hero worship from everyone young and old! This is the stuff that we all can and should remember.

Not everyone got to see the man off the pitch or got to know him like our family did but that doesn?t matter. What does matter is that, for all the baggage that will unfortunately always precede an article about him, there will always be those almost perfect 31 days in 1990 when Paul Gascoigne, serenaded by Pavarotti?s Nessum Dorma, ruled as the best player in the world!

(Oh and I do still have the shirt that Matt gave me that Gazza wore when he signed for Everton. It's hanging in my closet in Memphis, TN ? soon to be put in a frame!)

It was around 1989 and a testimonial match was being played at Elland Road - I can't remember who for or why, but there were a lot of big name players at the time, including half of the current England team. Me, my dad and my brother had gone on the train, and decided to walk from the station to Elland Road, which is a fair trek. Just outside the city centre was a large hotel, the Dragonora (now a Hilton) and as we got close you could see there was a large coach and a few autograph hunters. My dad pretty quickly worked out it must be the team coach and they were just about to come out so we hung around.

My older brother told me I had to make sure I got Gazza's autograph as he was going to be a star - I hadn't really heard of him (I was only about 10) and was more interested in Chris Woods as I was a goalkeeper. Anyway, out came the first couple of players and my brother said there he is go ask him. So Gazza signs my autograph, asks me who I support and who my favourite player is and all sorts of stuff like that, all the while I am watching all the "bigger name" players walk past and get on the bus. Eventually Ray Wilkins goes past and I can't hold my tongue any longer, I turn to my brother and say "oh no, I've missed Wilkins". Gazza immediately stops and goes "hang on a minute mate", gets on the bus and shouts "Oi Butch, get off and sign this lads autograph for him, and the rest of yous as well" and he pretty much walked around the entire bus emptmaking every single player get off and signed my autograph book!

I told the story to my mates at school and they all said "Gazza who??". 6 months later he was the biggest star on the planet. Love the guy to bits, my all time hero, and all because of that!

I have a fare less entertaining tale from that same game which I'll bore you with.

I was working for the Daily Post and, at the redeveloping St James Park, the press bench was open air, crammed into a corner next to a couple of portacabins which were the players' dressing rooms.
The game had just kicked off when the drunkest, most unintelligible Geordie squeezed himself next to me, said something like 'Why aye, Pal' breathing all manner of ale fumes over me - then explained how he'd sneaked out of a wedding to go to the match and bunked in.

He was decent enough company, what little I could understand, apart from refusing to shut up all game - and when Adrian Heath was sent off he became totally legible.

He ran to the wall in front of us, screaming abuse at Inchy, who just looked at him and shrugged. The Geordie then returned to his seat next to me, said: "Fucking dirty Scouse bastard," saw my raised eyebrow then added: "Nothing personal like pal. No offence intended." then carried on watching the match.

He continued to rabbit on about Everton and Newcastle, shook hands at the end of the game, then left to rejoin the wedding he'd sneaked out of.

He was much better company than the notorious 'dad and lad' who used to sit in front of the Footy Echo seat when St James Park had been redeveloped and we used to dictate copy over the telephone during the match. They'd spend the whole game questioning every sentence, calling Everton shit and generally making a nuisance of themselves - and heaven help you if Everton scored (and Kevin Campbell always did).

I still liked Newcastle. Largely because of the press officers who were always welcoming, and Jackie Charlton who saw his side utterly demolished by the truly wondrous Class of 85 and, when asked whether he was upset at losing 4-0 said "Upset? No. I'm delighted."
When people smiled thinking he was cracking an ironic joke, he added: "No really. I'm delighted. That should have been 8-0 not four. Everton are the best balanced team in the first division."

Made me swell with pride.

Incidentally I interviewed Gazza once, one to one, at a training camp in Italy and I actually wanted to put my arm round him and comfort him he came across as such a vulnerable soul.

A flawed genius whose best days had sadly long gone when he came to Goodison.

But, as the story relates above, a truly generous soul.

Confirms everything I've heard about Gascoigne. His fundamental soft-heartedness combined with rapid fame and leeches. Hardly surprising it turned out like it did. Funny how none of the leeches take any responsibility for the way he is now.

Seems like a great bloke, just too many nob heads in his life. Shame.

I prayed and dreamt that one day he'd turn up at the 'field' were about 20 blues and reds kids would always be having a knockabout... unfortunately that never happened but there was always genuine hope ? it's the sort of thing gazza would of done.

Oh, and by the way, I was one of the five at Derby game ? best away day ever... yes, we were kids... but it was mayhem in that terrace, jammed in shouting 'SCAB! SCAB!! SCAB!!!' at the DLF.

Good Times...