Hammered - I Played Football for West Ham, Man City and Everton… Then the Police Came Calling and My Life Fell Apart. Mark Ward
up on his dream, he worked hard to improve his game, kept plugging away and got his reward via a non-league spell with Northwich Victoria that took him back into pro football at Oldham Athletic and then West Ham United. For this achievement I always use him as the perfect example of a youngster who showed the hunger and determination required to bounce back from a big setback early on in his career.
For me, Mark’s best qualities were his consistency and the 100 per cent commitment he guaranteed with every game he played. Some players don’t attain that level of consistency but he always did. Add that attitude to the lad’s other abilities – his strength and willingness to get up and down the wing and a good crosser of the ball – and here was a player you wanted on your team-sheet every week.
It was those fighting qualities that made me sign him when I returned to England after managing Athletic Bilbao to take over at Man City towards the end of 1989. The team was struggling in a relegation battle and not only did I need to bring in players of quality, but ones who would fight to dig us out of that hole to ensure survival in the top flight.
One of the first games I saw on my return from Spain was Blackburn Rovers against West Ham – and I knew then that Wardy was ideally suited to help us get out of the situation we were in. I swapped him for two players, Ian Bishop and Trevor Morley – plus money – to form a central midfield partnership alongside another reliable Scouser called Peter Reid, and City eventually pulled clear of trouble.
I found myself in a similar predicament when I went back to Everton to manage there for the second time, in the summer of 1991 – and I again turned to Mark because I knew he would do the job we needed from him. This time, he was asked to play on the left of midfield, but it didn’t matter where I put him in midfield because I knew I’d always get the same consistent level of performance and wholehearted endeavour.
I never really liked to play with out-and-out wingers anyway. I preferred wide players who would attack and then also get back to defend when needed – and Wardy could perform both roles very well.
After he had recovered from a badly broken leg during my second spell as Everton manager, I didn’t hesitate to put him straight back in the side as soon as he was fit enough to play again. He had a winning mentality, on and off the field.
I saw more evidence of this soon after he’d joined City, when I took the lads on a mid-season break to Tenerife. I challenged Wardy to a game of tennis after we’d all spent the previous night enjoying drinks in the hotel bar. There was a £100 side-stake on the match and I managed to beat him two sets to one.
He could never stand to be beaten, though, so he insisted on a double-or-quits re-match the next day. This time he got his revenge – he must have caught me at a weak moment!
I got him back a few years later, though, on Everton’s summer trip to Mauritius. Wardy had got up to something – I can’t remember what – so I punished him by making him stand up on stage at our hotel and sing Summertime to the whole squad. It probably proved to be more a punishment for the other lads who had to listen to him perform!
These bonding tours did much to boost morale among the players. There were no cliques and they always had a positive effect. We’d invariably win our next game after a mini-break, although the players had to pay for their own fun. If any of them stepped out of line during the season I’d fine them for it and put the money into a kitty that went towards our next trip.
I’d keep a log of all the miscreants and what they had paid into the fund. Before going away I’d read out the list of contributors and the sums they had raised. The lads would all clap and cheer as I went down the list but, inevitably, Wardy’s name would be at or somewhere near the top and I’d be informing him that it was his turn to get the champagne in again!
Not that he has had any champagne to enjoy in the past four years. I visited Mark in prison, along with Duncan Ferguson and my pal Tommy Griffiths, and I didn’t know what to expect when we arrived there. But I was very pleased to see that he looked well and as fit as he did during his playing career.
It wasn’t for me to probe him about what had happened or ask how or why he got himself into such a mess. The main thing is that he has paid the price for his mistakes and done his time like a man.
I understand that Mark would now like to rebuild his life and career by getting back into football in a coaching or management capacity. My advice to him would be to apply himself fully and gain the necessary coaching qualifications, so that any prospective chairman can see that he means business and has a clear intent to progress in coaching and management. If he can show desire and commitment, the same qualities that made him an integral part of my teams at both Manchester City and Everton, then people will sit up and take notice of him.
I wish Mark good luck in the future and look forward to seeing him back at Goodison Park again soon, where he will always be made welcome by me.
Howard Kendall
Formby, Merseyside
November 2010
THE radio in the van taking me from court to prison was tuned to the local station and it blasted out the bad news I never wanted to hear: ‘Former Everton player Mark Ward has been remanded in custody on a drugs-related charge.’
I’d obviously heard my name mentioned countless times before on radio and TV during my years in top flight football, but this was a surreal moment.
I could just manage to see out of the prison van window and recognised what was a familiar route. We had to pass Everton’s famous ground on the way to the jail and I reminisced to myself about the many carefree days when I’d driven to Goodison, eagerly looking forward to the really big games playing for my hometown team. I remembered the day I was acclaimed a hero by nearly 40,000 fellow Bluenoses for scoring twice on my debut against the mighty Arsenal. And also my goal against our big city rivals Liverpool.
Now I was on my way past Everton’s famous football ground in Walton, to HMP Liverpool Walton. To me, they were a world apart.
The dreadful enormity of what I’d got myself into hit me hard and fast. Being refused bail in the magistrates’ court that morning came as a shock and bitter disappointment. It was looking bad for me.
I was worried for my family. I’d let them down terribly. How would they cope with all this bad publicity? I knew my daughter Melissa would be devastated. I’d looked across at her and the rest of the family in court that morning and the sight of Melissa’s tears rolling down her face will haunt me forever.
Her dad, her hero, was going to prison.
As I stepped down from the dock, I heard her say, ‘I love you, Dad.’ I couldn’t look back, I was too emotional, trying as hard as I could to fight back tears. I didn’t want her to see me losing it.
So much was going on in my head. I was living out my very own nightmare.
That short journey to Walton in the confined space of the meat wagon was very uncomfortable. How on earth larger prisoners could travel any great distance in such cramped conditions was beyond me.
There were four other prisoners on my journey and the awful stench of p**s was overwhelming. There are no toilets on board where prisoners can relieve themselves, so they just p**s on the floor of their own tiny individual cubicle.
When the van came to a halt, a screw came aboard and handcuffed himself to me before escorting me in to Liverpool’s notorious prison. I was led to the main reception desk, where I was confronted by three screws. I could already sense some resentment towards me. The youngest of the screws said, ‘We’ve been waiting for you. You’re gonna be here for a long time.’
I didn’t react – I was still in a state of shock at being refused bail, although I knew I had to try and retain my dignity as best I could and not take any bait from prison staff trying to further humiliate me.