Читать книгу Michael Owen: Off the Record - Michael Owen - Страница 5

On Friday 13 August, a private plane touched down at the small airport of Hawarden, a ten-minute drive from my home in North Wales. From there I was flown into a military airport in Spain where a car was waiting to take me to a new life – a new world – as a player with Real Madrid. At 24, I waved goodbye to the area I had grown up in, and to the only football club I had known.

We set off towards Madrid in convoy, pursued by radio and television camera crews, and made our way towards the hospital where I underwent, with some trepidation, a four-hour medical examination. It turned out to be a formality, though a long one. That night we retired to our hotel with some of the club’s directors, members of my family and my agent, Tony Stephens, to enjoy my first meal as an Englishman abroad.

The following day, my fiancée Louise and my mum and dad joined me in a chauffeur-driven Audi for the short drive to the Bernabeu, where I walked through Gate 54 of the stadium in which so many legends of the game have performed, to formally sign for Real Madrid. I suppose it was a scary moment, but the real significance of that day was that I was stepping out of the comfort zone: challenging myself and moving onto the next phase of my life. And it felt good. It was up to me to show that I belonged.

On that first visit I didn’t stay long. I hadn’t been there twenty-four hours before I returned home for England’s friendly against Ukraine, in which I scored my twenty-seventh international goal. After twenty-four years of living in the same area of North Wales – and thirteen with Liverpool Football Club, where I had grown from a child into a man – I had the overwhelming sense of moving into another stage of my footballing career as well as my life with Louise and our daughter Gemma. The truth is that I felt proud of myself for taking that step.

There were people who were saying, ‘Yeah, but will Michael Owen get in the team?’ I regarded that as a direct challenge to me as a professional and as a man. I was heading off to play with many of the world’s best players, disappointed, I have to say, by some of the negative things that were said about me leaving Liverpool. I had given many years of loyal service at Anfield, and told the Spanish media at my unveiling that Liverpool ‘would always be in my heart.’

I was trying to better myself. In our game, too many people stay in their own little cocoon and don’t want to mix with other players or in new environments. I had broken out of that – and I was going to have to push myself to learn a new language, understand a different culture, make new friends, and adapt to a new style of football. I was ready for all of that.

But first came the introductions. In front of more than fifty journalists, I said I was relishing the thought of joining Ronaldo, Morientes and Raul – the club’s other main strikers – and announced: ‘My dad has been telling me about the great Real Madrid players of the 1950s and 1960s: Di Stefano and Puskas, two strikers who were just unbelievable, and Gento, who was the quickest No 11 he had ever seen. Today I am so proud to be wearing his No 11 shirt.’ That fine white jersey was handed to me by Alfredo Di Stefano himself, which was such a thrill.

The intention was to find a house as soon as possible. As a family we had no wish to live in hotels – even luxury ones – any longer than we had to. That wouldn’t be fair on Gemma, our one-year-old daughter. My sister Karen had recently given birth to her second child, so my mum felt a responsibility to stay at home and help her with the demands of motherhood. But I knew both our families would be coming over to see us regularly. I knew I would have plenty of support.

So how did I go from being a Liverpool player of thirteen years’ standing to a team-mate of David Beckham and Jonathan Woodgate in a foreign city in such a short and dramatic period? Until a few days before I left Liverpool, I had every reason to think I’d extend my contract with the club beyond May of 2005. Talks were going well, and a new Premiership season was approaching fast. I’d heard previously, through the grapevine, that I was on a list of five strikers Real Madrid were interested in but always assumed they would go for either Thierry Henry or Ruud Van Nistelrooy ahead of me. So I didn’t take too much notice of those rumours.

Fast forward to Liverpool’s pre-season tour of America, where we were due to have another round of discussions with my existing employers. The key stage came in New York, where we played AS Roma on 3 August. It was then that Tony Stephens told me he believed there was firm interest from Real. He said there was a genuine possibility that an offer could be forthcoming, but added, ‘We can’t find out more without getting permission from Liverpool.’ I was still under contract – it had ten months left to run – and we wanted to follow the rules.

Tony met Rick Parry, the Liverpool chief executive, and things moved quickly from there. We had been close to agreeing a deal with Rick, but this really set the cat among the pigeons. It certainly turned my head. This is Real Madrid! I was thinking. After Tony and Rick talked, we were given permission to talk to the appropriate people in Spain to find out how serious they really were. From that point on it took about ten days for the move to be signed and sealed.

Obviously it wasn’t a foregone conclusion. I met with the new Liverpool manager, Rafael Benitez, plenty of times. I talked to Rick, too. Mr Benitez was tremendous with me. All the while he was saying: ‘I’d like to keep you, but I do understand what Real Madrid means to a player. We need to do what’s best for all parties.’ He never stood in my way. It was all very amicable.

I told him: ‘A large percentage of me wants to stay, and if I want to be in the comfort zone it would be easy for me to put pen to paper and remain here for another few years.’

The problem is, I’ve never been in the business of picking up money for nothing. I’ve always wanted to test myself at the highest level, and in club football there is no higher level than Real Madrid. I told Mr Benitez that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and that I couldn’t afford to turn it down.

Rick understood my position, but was anxious that Liverpool should receive a fee to compensate them in the event of me leaving Merseyside to go abroad. The last thing the club wanted was for me to leave on a ‘Bosman’ free transfer. I’d always assured Liverpool that I wouldn’t go that way, and I did so again.

When Rick gave us permission to talk to Real, we also knew of interest from other big Italian clubs, who were hoping to sign me on a Bosman, without a fee. But I was always adamant that I didn’t want to leave Liverpool with nothing from my move – even though I hadn’t actually cost them anything in the transfer market. I was a home-grown lad; Liverpool had always been really good to me, and we’d enjoyed a strong relationship.

When I look at it now, if I’d had two or three years left on my contract, I don’t suppose Real Madrid would have come in for me with £25 million to put on the table. The benefit, for them, of me having only a year left on my contract, was that my price was bound to be reduced and would therefore be more appealing.

The fact that Liverpool had a Champions League qualifier against AK Graz while the drama unfolded did complicate things. That game on 10 August came at an awkward time. It may have left a sour taste with some Liverpool fans to see me sitting on the bench for such an important match – yet the reality is that we had come to an amicable arrangement, which protected all sides.

Had I stepped foot on the field that night in Austria, I would have been ineligible to play for Real Madrid in Europe. Obviously, they wouldn’t have wanted a striker who was cup-tied, so the deal might have fallen apart. Equally, Liverpool needed to protect the transfer fee of 12 million euros (£8 million). So there was no choice but to watch my team-mates from the bench. I really didn’t enjoy not being able to help my mates.

Strange though it sounds, I didn’t talk to my family much when the initial interest became apparent. I kept them informed as best I could, but they didn’t know the full extent of it until the deal was quite close to being sealed. I think it hit my mum and dad quite hard. Louise was less affected. She’s more easy-going. My parents, though, were a bit anxious, to say the least. I think my dad wanted me to stay at Liverpool for at least another couple of years.

Maybe that would have been a good solution. But if I’d signed an extension for, say, two seasons there might have been a chance that Real would not be interested in me in 2006. Life moves on so quickly. There was one opportunity staring me in the face, and it was the right time and the right place. It took my mum and dad a good couple of weeks to get their heads round it. It was an adventure for us all. A new beginning.