Gerrard: My Autobiography Read Online Free PDF

six Ds and two Es.
    But above all this I had only one ambition, one dream, one target – football.

2
Growing Up and Toughening Up
    I NEVER BUNKED off school. Never. Dad wouldn’t have any of that. The consequences of bunking off, sneaking a ciggy, or fare-dodging, were unimaginable. Dad gave me a few clips round the ear and bollockings, but nothing too damaging. He never hit me. Dad showed his disappointment in a different way. He had a stare that could break my heart. What stopped me messing about was I feared losing the great relationship we had. Dad didn’t need to use violence or to raise his voice to teach Paul and me right and wrong. Dad would not have his kids disrespecting anyone or doing wrong. He wouldn’t tolerate having police coming round to Ironside. Loads of people banged on the door to complain about Paul and me throwing stones at their windows, but we never had the police round. Never.
    I screwed up once. Just once. I went robbing and got caught. Me and a mate were mucking about in the centre of Liverpool, as eleven-year-olds do, just being stupid in Woolies. We had five quid between us to get home andgrab a Maccies or Wimpy at Lime Street on the way. The problem was I needed some stationery for homework, just graph paper and pens – usual school nonsense. The plan was sorted with Woolies the target. We snuck in and went up and down the aisles putting pens in our pockets and paper up my coat. Confidently, we walked towards the exit. The plan seemed to be working. Brilliant. I could feel the money in my pocket for a burger and a Coke at Lime Street. Easy, easy. Step through the door, onto the pavement, turn left, ready to leg it . . .
    A shout stopped us in our tracks. ‘Oi!’ came a voice that froze our blood. ‘Stop!’ Shit. The Woolies security man was standing there. I couldn’t move, I was so scared. He grabbed us both by the collars. Fuck it. It was the worst day of my life. ‘That’s it,’ I thought, my heart and mind racing. ‘I have blown everything. Liverpool is finished. The club will go crazy. Dad’s going to disown me. Shit.’
    This security guard marched us back into Woolies, into an office, and took the stationery off us. He then gave us a right bollocking. ‘What school are you at?’ he screamed. ‘Where do you live? Give us your phone number now.’
    My head was spinning. ‘We’ve not got a phone,’ I lied.
    The security guy went red in the face. ‘Give me your address then.’
    I couldn’t mention Ironside. Dad would go mental if the bizzies went round. Think. The guard asked again, so I gave the address of my auntie’s house. He wrote that down, gave us another rollicking, and kicked us out of Woolies.
    My head in a mess, I ran to Lime Street. Woolies wouldphone school, then get hold of Dad, and that would be it, me grounded, no football for ages. Fuck. When I jumped off the train at Huyton, I couldn’t face Ironside. ‘Dad will definitely kill me for robbing,’ I thought. Home was out of the question, so I sprinted round to my auntie Lynn’s. She let me in, sat me down, and listened me out. ‘Will you go and see Dad?’ I pleaded with her. ‘Please? Make sure he’s all right.’
    Auntie Lynn went round to Ironside and explained to Dad how terrible I felt. Too late. Dad already knew about my shoplifting. Bad news travelled fast. Woolies had been on to St Mick’s, who phoned Dad, and he was on the warpath. Dad came round, dragged me back home and slaughtered me, big-time. He looked me in the eye and just massacred me. ‘Why did you do that?’ he shouted. ‘Why go robbing? Why didn’t you pay for it? Why didn’t you ask me or your mum for money? Why? Why? We can’t tolerate stealing in this family. You’ll get another bollocking at school. They’ll want to know why you were nicking things.’
    On the train back from Lime Street, in a rare clear moment, I had thought this bit through. ‘Dad,’ I replied, ‘if the school have a go I will say I needed