“They also loved the fact that I didn’t care about reputations. The bigger they were, the harder they fell as far as I was concerned. When I was in the tunnel before a game, I was a warrior and the pitch became the Thunderdome. If somebody got in my way or thought they could intimidate a raw teenager, they were in for a surprise. I had so much aggression and adrenalin pumping around my system that before a game I’d go into the toilet and head butt a door.”

Andy Morrison on his early years at Plymouth Argyle in his autobiography “The Good, the Mad, and the Ugly”.
 
In Northwich Victoria assistant Andy Morrison’s book we learn, or have it confirmed, that the bloke is quite insane. On the pitch the Scot was the quintessential defensive captain: his leadership skills inspired a young Manchester City team from the third tier to the Premier League, despite being of average height he was colossal in the air, and his passion ensured he was a fan favourite at the four teams he played at most regularly (Plymouth Argyle, Blackpool, Huddersfield Town and Manchester City).

His upbringing makes interesting reading. There is one memory he recalls when his brother Ian partakes in an organised fight with a gypsie who has moved into the area; Andy is in the circle watching on, but so is his dad who discusses the outcome with friends pre-fight like a pundit. It was inevitable that an appetite for a scrap – he flips his lid more than Steve Bruce’s biscuit tin after Sunderland lose – and, most tellingly, an insatiable thirst for alcohol would play a huge part in Morrison’s life.

But it’s the aforementioned attributes that endeared him to many lower league football fans. He has now taken these attributes into coaching and I can say from experience that the fact that he’s involved in a small-town club in the seventh tier of English football hasn’t stifled his passion.

A sobering thought which struck me while reading the book though was that there is a disappointing lack of genuine headcases in the game at the moment. Since the knee-stomping and home fan-heckling Roy Keane we have only had one Premier League hard man: Joey Barton; and personally I don’t think a man who gets lairy with a taxi driver for not stopping off at McDonalds isn’t particularly hard – just a tit. John Terry doesn’t count either; he may be a good captain but he doesn’t send strikers into the air to rough them up.

What about a Stuart “Psycho” Pearce character? A Graeme Souness or a “Bite Yer Legs” Norman Hunter? These characters are dying out. But why?

The aforementioned hard men were all working class lads and had a long slog until they got a decent paycheque, if they did at all. They stood on the terraces with their dads, they skipped school to earn cash, and they had to fight to gain respect in their street. They channelled this aggression onto the pitch. With so much money in the game nowadays, the kids are paid vast sums as teenagers – a nineteen year-old Daniel Sturridge tried to demand £75k a week while at Manchester City – and this sees the death of the working class footballer. By contrast to many young players today, Andy Morrison was playing first team for Plymouth and still lived with his dad in a modest flat.

The influx of foreigners has also played a part. English football of the 1970s was hard graft: mud-bath pitches and flailing elbows. Nowadays foreign players have brought a more, if you like, sophisticated approach to football. Rather than a hard man like Stuart Pearce – who I was a huge fan of – we have seen Brazil’s legendary duo Roberto Carlos and Cafu reinvent the role of the full-back. Look at England’s best full-backs nowadays: Ashley Cole and Micah Richards; both full of pace, energy and constantly overlapping the winger. It’s unlikely, however, that we’ll see them trying to run off a broken leg like Stuart Pearce.

These points, along with the increasing fussiness of referees, have made it very unlikely that we’ll see a player of the ilk of Andy Morrison ever again. So let’s all raise a toast – not you Andy, you’ve had enough to drink – to the football hard men. And, despite his brainless misdemeanours and the ones that are still to come, let’s try to enjoy Joey Barton.

Movember update: I have been compared to many things, from a pornstar to a 1970s West Ham football hooligan. Please show your support to prostate cancer sufferers and donate to me on
http://ca.movember.com/mospace/2079574