Neil Warnock the goose.
EXCLUSIVE
I was betrayed by Benitez
By MARK IRWIN
AUGUST 02, 2007
NEIL WARNOCK has made more than his fair share of enemies during his controversial career in the dugout.
In part three of our exclusive serialisation of his explosive new book, he reveals the full extent of his fall-out with Champions League finalists Liverpool.
I HAD not really been worrying too much about West Ham in the final few weeks, because I always assumed they were going to get out of it anyway.
With Watford and Charlton down, I thought either Wigan or Fulham would be the third team relegated.
They were both on terrible runs and I couldn’t see Fulham getting another point.
Then, as we arrived at Villa Park on the penultimate weekend of the season, I saw the team Rafa Benitez had picked for Liverpool’s visit to Craven Cottage that afternoon.
Liverpool had beaten Chelsea in the Champions League semi-final the previous Tuesday and I was curious how they would approach the Fulham game.
But I never thought Benitez would stoop as low as he did. He left out nine of his first-team players. Nine.
The Champions League final was still more than two weeks away. I couldn’t understand it.
I hadn’t even heard of two of the players Benitez picked. Seriously. That showed total contempt for us.
I know he has to look after the interests of his own club. But why rest practically his entire team when the final was still so far away?
He brought them all back a week later for their last game of the season against Charlton, which was a match with nothing riding on it.
I hated Benitez when I saw that Liverpool team. I know that sounds horrible but I did hate him.
It was still in our hands. We needed a point at Villa to be absolutely sure of safety.
A 1-0 defeat would have been almost as good, because there was no way Wigan were going to beat us by three clear goals at Bramall Lane the following Sunday.
When my lads ran out to face Villa, we could almost touch safety.
Maybe I should have played a more conservative formation that evening. But we were so pleased about Wigan losing at home to Middlesbrough earlier that day, no one thought about our goal difference.
In hindsight, we should have done. If we’d played five at the back, perhaps we would only have lost 1-0. In the end we lost 3-0. We were still three points ahead of Wigan but our goal difference was now only one better.
That meant that if Wigan beat us at Bramall Lane on the final day, they would stay up and we would go down.
The margin of our defeat changed the whole dynamic at the bottom of the table going into the final weekend. That and Fulham’s 1-0 win against Liverpool. I felt sick inside when I heard that result. I felt cheated.
I hoped that AC Milan would win the Champions League final, so Benitez has got some pain and hurt to go with mine.
A couple of weeks later I went to the FA Cup final with my son, William, and was glad to find myself sitting among the Chelsea fans.
Then I saw Sir Alex Ferguson walking on to the pitch.
“I’m sorry mate,” I said to myself. “I’m not bothered how well you play today, because I know you’re going to lose. Just like Liverpool are going to lose against AC Milan.”
Then I did something I very rarely do. I phoned a bookmaker and put a few hundred quid on a double: Chelsea and AC Milan to win. It wasn’t my first run-in with Liverpool. We’d played them in the semi-finals of the Worthington Cup in 2003, when Gerard Houllier was still their manager.
They played us off the park in the first half of the first leg at Bramall Lane.
They were passing the ball around for fun. Not taking the p*** but not far away.
I phoned my assistant, Kevin Blackwell, from the stand and said: “I’m coming down to stir things up before we get battered.”
As I came out of the tunnel, Salif Diao had just got away with an horrific tackle.
Houllier was on the edge of his technical area, so I made sure I brushed him as I stormed past.
He turned to look at me. “That’s a f****** disgrace,” I yelled at him. “How much are you paying the ref not to book Diao?”
“No, no. The referee was correct. He does nothing wrong,” Houllier said.
He was a lovely man, Gerard. But I had to stir it up a bit more.
“Just f*** off, Gerard. That’s a joke. He should be in the book. Just f*** off.”
Then Phil Thompson, Houllier’s No 2, came storming out of the dugout. He acted like he was Gerard’s minder and started mouthing off.
“You can f*** off Pinocchio,” I said. “Get back in your f****** cupboard.”
That was like a red rag to a bull. He started waving his arms and gesticulating. The fourth official got involved and suddenly it was mayhem.
Liverpool were no longer bothered about the game any more. I told my lads at half-time: “All they’ll be talking about is what a p***k I am and what they want to do to me.”
They were so rattled that we ended up beating them 2-1. At the end of the game Phil Thompson wouldn’t shake my hand. He was still going mental.
“Wait ’til we get you back to our place,” he said. “We’ll sort you out then.”
The second leg finished 1-0 to them — level on aggregate — and then Michael Owen scored their winner in extra-time.
After the game, I went on to the pitch to applaud the fans and their dopey Swiss centre-half, Stephane Henchoz, spat at me. It only just missed.
I told the Press I expected better than foreigners spitting at me at Anfield and was called a bigot for saying that.
But I was disgusted with Henchoz and called him a few names, too.
Fortunately, he was that slow I knew he’d never catch me if he tried to run after me.
EXTRACTS adapted by Mark Irwin from Made in Sheffield: Neil Warnock — My Story © Neil Warnock 2007.
Published by Hodder & Stoughton on August 9th at £18.99.
This guy is a complete ****tard. yesterday they published a story about how he blamed Man U. Seems to like to blame everyone but himself and his team for not winning when it mattered at the start and middle of the season.