Mr Unbelievable. Chris Kamara
cardboard cutout of the fans behind us. For some reason we kept getting our angles all wrong. I remember during the 1999–2000 season we did one practice show, but it took well over a month for us to get the look right.
Our first attempt took place at Cambridge, and thankfully it was not live. As I stood on the touchline, I was a nervous wreck. My shakes weren’t helped by the fact that I had managed only three hours’ sleep the night before because I’d been covering a match between Lazio and Chelsea in the Stadio Olympico for Radio 5 Live with Alan Green and Mike Ingham. I arrived back in London late and had to get up very early to make it to Cambridge. I soon discovered that this was an occupational hazard for a ground-hopping touchline reporter.
By the time I got to the post-match interviews, I was all over the place. My chat with Cambridge manager Roy McFarland was a complete disaster. He kept taking the mickey out of me because I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. ‘You don’t know what’s going on, do you, Kammy?’ he kept laughing as I faffed around with my microphone. I really wanted it to work as the recording was going to be shown the following weekend on Soccer Saturday and I knew people would all have opinions on how it went. So I ignored the wisecracks and ploughed on.
The following Saturday I sat in front of the TV to watch Jeff and the boys. I was devastated when it got to three o’clock and the piece had not got an airing. I thought, ‘That’s the end of that, then.’ I had told everyone I knew, and a few thousand that I didn’t know, that I was going to be on with this new format. I thought my TV career as a roving reporter was over. After a sleepless weekend I rang Condo, and he explained that Jeff and the boys had overrun with all their yakking and my piece would be shown the following week. Even better, it would become a regular fixture in the show.
After our second game I really did think that my Sky career was over for good. Oxford versus Walsall was my first live game. Before kick-off, because I was new to the job and unhappy with the camera angle we were giving back to Sky, I was driving rigger/cameraman Colin McDonald crazy! ‘This looks like we are in a garden shed,’ I grumbled. I can’t tell you what he mumbled back under his breath, but I think he wanted me to go forth and multiply. The crowd just looked a hazy mess behind me. With contact made back to the studio through my new headphones (an essential piece of equipment I am never without!), Condo told me, ‘You are going live in 30 seconds.’ That was the cue for a rival cameraman to make himself busy. He had arrived late and hurriedly began setting up his own gear, regardless of me, the keen new reporter getting ready for my big moment. He reckoned I had taken his regular spot. ‘I’ve been coming here for 20 years,’ he ranted. ‘I am here every week.’ He was not a happy man and was not going to bow down to anyone that day. But it didn’t matter to me – he was late, we were ready to roll and I was staying put. Still, I wasn’t expecting him to make an attempt at settling our differences on air! As I went live, he walked across in front of me and the camera, momentarily blacking out the screen for the viewers at home and in the studio. Then, just to make his point, he tried to walk back again, but this time I was ready for him. I put out my left arm to keep him at bay as I spoke to the cameras, but there was clearly a struggle going on. God knows what the viewers at home must have thought. In the studio, Jeff looked pretty surprised, but I put his mind at rest.
‘Don’t worry, Jeff,’ I said through gritted teeth, ‘he won’t be doing it again’, and still holding my adversary at bay I continued with my pre-match report.
When the camera had stopped rolling, the pair of us went toe to toe. We were both braying at each other until Colin pulled us apart. I was furious with him, but moments later I was furious with myself for losing my rag live on air. I was convinced the boys at Sky would be thinking, ‘Thanks, Kammy, but no thanks.’
Thankfully, with the help of Tim Lovejoy and Helen Chamberlain on Soccer AM, the producers saw the funny side. Tim and Helen showed the clip on their Saturday morning programme and absolutely loved it, laughing their heads off. By the second viewing, even I was laughing. By that time, I knew that my job was safe and I was so surprised, it may have been the first time I used the term ‘Unbelievable!’
In those early days, in order to get things right for Kamaracam, myself and Colin the cameraman would often go to the stadiums a day early. We’d scope out the best places to stand and get the background shot just right. At first, I think that a lot of the people who watched the programme back then really believed it was all just a gimmick and we were producing the show in a studio with a blue screen behind us on which we then played crowd images. To shut them up we included more crowd scenes. Occasionally we’d even encourage the fans to jump up and down, just to prove we were really there.
It was important for me to work on my delivery too. My mate Rob McCaffrey – who would later go on to be my co-presenter on Goals on Sunday – spotted the Oxford United incident and called me shortly afterwards. He had found the whole thing hilarious, but said, ‘That wasn’t the Kammy I know, you are coming across like a TV news reporter on location. It was as if you were trying to be like Kate Adie, on the front line in the Falklands.’
He went on to explain that I should be myself in front of the cameras. He knew I could be a very excitable character and he reckoned I should make the most of it, no matter how much of a wally I looked. It was the best advice anyone had given me. These days, I act as naturally as I can. It seems to be popular with quite a few people.
Sometimes it can be tough work, because for every four-all thriller, there can be a crap, goalless draw. Generally, though, there’s always something to get excited about, whether it’s a goal-line clearance, a controversial penalty decision or even a sending-off. I’ll try to inject as much enthusiasm as I can into each incident, because I think that’s what Soccer Saturday fans expect of me. They don’t want me to be negative – they can get that from the guys on the other channel! It also comes naturally because I’m genuinely buzzing to be watching football for a living. I act like a fan when I’m reporting on any game of football: I’m so excited, and I just can’t hide it. Hang on, perhaps I should have been a songwriter thinking up words like that!
Sometimes, it’s very easy to get lost in the moment. I remember Heurelho Gomes dropped a clanger when Spurs lost to Fulham at Craven Cottage in 2009. The ball bounced in front of him and he flapped with his arms as the ball dropped into the net. It was the easiest catch to make, but Gomes blundered big-time. I patched through to the studio that a major incident had taken place and Jeff lined me up.
JEFF: ‘Heurelho Gomes, the Tottenham goalkeeper, has his head in his hands at Craven Cottage. Let’s find out why: Chris Kamara…’
KAMMY: ‘Ha, ha! And so he should have, Jeff! He is absolutely shocking. There’s a shot from Simon Davies … well, he could have thrown his cap on it. And it’s bounced in front of him and, somehow, it’s bounced off his chest and gone into the back of the net. It’s laughable. Unless you’re a Spurs fan…’
I felt bad afterwards because I had got carried away. I was laughing my head off at him. It’s not intentional, you just lose it when you’re commentating. Thankfully, I’m able to say now what a fantastic player he is. A season later he played out of his skin for Spurs at Craven Cottage and kept a clean sheet. I was able to say, ‘Look, this is a different fella. He’s a class goalkeeper.’
Over the years, the mistakes made on the programme have given TV critics – the likes of Ally Ross in the Sun and Ian Hyland in the News of the World – plenty of material. I’m as likely as anyone to make a faux pas. I’m not precious. I love people taking the mickey out of it because what we do isn’t rehearsed. It can’t be. Most of it comes straight out, instinctively, and I’ve always been pretty good at saying it as I see it and retelling the action as accurately as I can.
The official term is Kamaracam. Everyone who goes out on the road now – whether it’s Ian Dowie, Scott Minto or John Solako – works under that title. It’s even on the production sheet, and it used to confuse people at first. I’d have friends from Everton or Newcastle ringing me before games. They’d say, ‘I see you’re at our ground today – fancy a beer after?’