SATURDAY SPOTLIGHT: Lee Clark on his Sunderland days and why he had to leave Newcastle

Explosive, controversial and hilarious, Black or White – no Grey Areas, reveals how a young boy from the east end of Newcastle, evolves from an emotional, talented, yet cheeky footballer with a volatile temper, into one of the game’s most respected young managers.

Join him on his rollercoaster of a life story, sharing tales and inside information on the famous household names he rubbed shoulders with. Divisive characters such as: Paul Gascoigne, Kevin Keegan, Delia Smith, Mohamed Al-Fayed, Michael Jackson and Ginger Spice, among many, are all featured.

CROSSROADS

I was at a bit of a crossroads in my career at the end of the 1996 season after being pushed out of the first team picture. I’d had chances to go to other clubs before but never contemplated it. I didn’t want to give up the dream of playing for my home club without fighting for a place. As much as I was frustrated at the end of the campaign I wanted to prove my worth. I knew I was good enough. Kevin Keegan knew I was never going to let him down, whether coming off the bench or being recalled to the side in place of someone else.

It only hit home that I’d have to leave when Keegan left. I remember coming on as a sub when we beat Tottenham 7-1 and playing a big part in it. We blew them away when they were one of the best teams in the country. We did the same against Leeds United a few days later. I wasn’t aware he’d tried to resign after the Boxing Day game at Blackburn, where we lost 1-0. But when we went to Charlton Athletic and drew 1-1 in the FA Cup I remember the manager getting on the bus and keeping his woolly hat on. We were thinking ‘what’s going on there?’

The day after the draw at Charlton, Terry Mac called a meeting at Maiden Castle. It was quite emotional. He told us Keegan had left and that he and Arthur Cox were taking charge in the short term. We were absolutely devastated. If Keegan hadn’t brought us to the club, he had nurtured and developed the young lads that were already there when he joined. We all ran through the proverbial brick wall for him.

I was back in the side, doing well and enjoying my football. I was playing as a narrow right midfielder, because let’s be fair, I didn’t have any pace. I provided the assist for Robert Lee to score at The Valley. We went to Villa, in the game after Keegan had left, and we went 2-0 up. I scored before it finished 2-2.

Kenny Dalglish came in and we’d gone from one former iconic player to another, who was also a fantastic manager.

While we were all devastated Keegan had gone, the Scot coming in kind of softened the blow if you like. He was very different to KK. You could read Keegan any day of the week whereas Dalglish would keep things tight and inside. He was very protective of the players even when the performances were poor. In private he was a funny man full of humour and liked a laugh. We were all in awe of him as players for his achievements.

Dalglish’s first game was the FA Cup third round replay against Charlton. Shearer and I both scored in a 2-1 victory. I was on a roll. Not only was I starting games but scoring as well. My confidence was sky-high. We then went to The Dell and I scored again, before our nemesis Matt le Tissier scored yet another wonder goal to draw 2-2. He must have loved playing against us.

Then we faced Forest at home in the next round of the FA Cup and the new boss pulled me into the office.

He said: “Look wee man, I’m leaving you out today.” I asked for a reason. He replied: “There isn’t a reason. It’s just because Peter Beardsley is fit and he’s the club captain.”

That was the definitive moment. In my heart of hearts, I knew, it didn’t matter what I did on the pitch I was always going to be down the pecking order with Beardsley, Rob Lee and Batts before me. This was hard for me. But I made it hard for the manager to leave me out giving it my all.

I went to see Dalglish and he was brilliant. The new gaffer said he wanted me to stay, that I would be a valuable member of the squad but he couldn’t guarantee I would start every week. He wanted me to sign a new contract but also said he would understand if I wanted to leave. In hindsight, I wish I’d stayed. I probably would’ve played 25 to 30 games anyway. And the Scot only lasted a season after I left.

I have no axe to grind with Dalglish over his part in the club’s history. I know he wasn’t very popular with supporters in his time at St James’ Park. But, as much as it hurt to see the team struggle, I’d gone and had my time. The club hadn’t forced me out. It was my decision. I didn’t feel as if I got a fair crack of the whip at times.

I was an easy option to leave out for the so-called big name signings. I was the local lad who wouldn’t moan or sulk because I was just happy to be playing for my home-town club.

When I had to make the decision to leave it was a wrench. I was giving up the dream of playing for my team. But I was a footballer who wasn’t playing football.

It goes without saying I left with a heavy heart.

PLAY OFF HEARTACHE

The 1998 play-off final is very much fêted by the neutrals in the same way the Premier League classic between Newcastle and Liverpool is celebrated in 1996. It had everything: drama, excitement, a hero, a villain and, astonishingly, both were Mackems.

Clive Mendonca was a Sunderland fan playing for the Addicks.

It couldn’t have been scripted any better for him. Mendonca netted a hat-trick and also netted a penalty in the shoot-out.

It finished 3-3. We then went 4-3 up against the Addicks in injury-time of extra-time. Our goal machine Kevin Phillips was already off the field. Peter Reid took me off as well because I thought I had cramp. Turns out I’d pulled a calf muscle. We thought we’d done it by that stage. But then Richard Rufus equalises to take it to penalties. Phillips was our number one penalty taker and I was number two.

All ten penalties were scored and then we were into sudden death. No Sunderland supporters need reminding of what happened next as Micky Gray missed.

It was as if someone had died when we got back to the dressing room. Heads were down, there were a few tears and it was an emotional place.

Reidy declared we had nothing to be ashamed of, we’d had a “right good go at it” and “we’ll have another go next season.” He then told us the chairman had organised a party for the players and wives in Peterborough.

The devastation was so bad after we lost the contest that Bobby Saxton got back on the team bus in his tracksuit and boots. He hadn’t changed into his club suit. He was on a different planet and his emotions were running high. Saxton’s wife had got Reidy’s permission for the players’ wives and girlfriends to join their husbands and boyfriends to go to the party on the Sunderland coach. When she got on the bus he exploded.

“Where do you think you’re going? This is for the players and staff. Get off the bus!”

“But Peter said we could come back with you.”

“Your mother never went down the pit with your father, did she?”

Saxton’s wife was distraught: the wives got off the bus.

Reidy’s number two then turned on Darren Williams and Jody Craddock and gave it to them big style: “You two have just cost us a place in the Premier League! I told you all week about looking after Mendonca!”

Williams and Craddock didn’t need telling. They were just as devastated as the rest of us. The bus journey was horrendous for the first hour. The tension was excruciating. Saxton was sitting in the middle of the bus taking pot shots at players as they went past. It was horrific. Reidy eventually persuaded him to go and sit at the front of the bus in the end so we wouldn’t be on the end of his cutting remarks. He eventually apologised for his outbursts, but everyone understood.

We went to the party, which was flat, and went through the motions. There was nothing to celebrate, so we had a few drinks to try and get it out of our system.

TIME TO LEAVE

We’d only lost twice in the league by the time Leicester knocked us out of the League Cup semi-finals on aggregate. Promotion and the Premier League was almost a certainty and I was delighted to be playing a part in Sunderland’s success. Nonetheless, it slowly began to dawn on me that Newcastle would be waiting for me in the top-flight and this was a big dilemma.

After the second-leg of the League Cup semi-final I went to see the gaffer in his office. He was there with Andy Gray, although the Sky Sports reporter was there in a social rather than a professional capacity. They played together at Everton in the 1980s.

The boss asked what I wanted. At first I was reluctant to say it front of Andy, but Reidy just told me to spit it out, so I told him I wanted to move on.

I’d had two great years at the club but I can’t play for Sunderland in the Premier League against Newcastle. Reidy just turned around and screamed “Get out of my office! You’re going nowhere!”

Reidy thought it was the disappointment of getting knocked out of the League Cup after going so close. After all, I was a player who wore a heart on his sleeve. I couldn’t hide emotions and disappointment. We had a proper sit down and talk about it later on. We’d just about sealed our return to the top flight around that time despite having about two months of the season left. I gave my reasons to him again but he still wasn’t having it.

Reidy said: “We’re going to the Premier League next season and I’m not letting my best player leave. You’re coming with me.” We never spoke about it again after that.

Even though my time at the Stadium of Light ended on a sour note, I’d like to think Sunderland supporters appreciated I was an influential player in a very good team for two years.

In hindsight, because of my background, it was probably a mistake signing for Sunderland.

That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy my two seasons on Wearside, I had two of the best years of my life. But everyone knows I'm Newcastle through and through and I couldn't give 100 per cent for Sunderland against the club I love.

And if I couldn't do that I'd have been cheating on Reid, Saxton, fans and my team-mates. It was best that I went and Reidy knew how I felt before what happened at Wembley with T-shirtgate.

In the past, when I said I couldn’t play for the Black Cats against the Magpies I was accused of being unprofessional. I don’t think it was. I was just being honest. It was how I felt at the time and I still feel the same now.

Ask any diehard Newcastle fan or Sunderland supporter and they will understand. I know for a fact they will empathise with me. Playing for Fulham against Newcastle? That was never a problem, a very different situation.

To understand you have to know about the feeling between the two North-East clubs. People talk about the Old Firm game; the Merseyside and Manchester derbies; the north London contests and others.

I’m sure they are passionate, feisty affairs with no quarter drawn. But the Tyne and Wear derby is something else: pure hatred, poison and venom. I wish that wasn’t the case but it is.