Gerrard: My Autobiography Read Online Free PDF Page B

the stationery for my homework. I was doing it for school. It wasn’t sweets I took. It was graph paper.’
    Dad looked at me and went, ‘I’m not having that.’
    As excuses go, it was pretty feeble. Nothing could save me from the doghouse.
    Dad then hit me with another killer thought: ‘If Liverpool find out, you are in even more trouble, Steven,’ he said. ‘What the hell is Steve Heighway going to thinkof you? You might have screwed up everything at Liverpool. They could kick you out.’
    Those words smashed into me like a wrecking ball. I felt so small. I love Dad. I hated letting him down. I love Liverpool. The idea of them giving me the elbow horrified me. Football was all I dreamed about. Why had I gone robbing? Jesus, what a mess. Robbing was stupid. I had money, and if I hadn’t, I could have just done without. Our parents always told Paul and me: ‘You don’t have to steal. If you want anything, by hook or crook we will try to get it for you.’ Idiot that I was, I went robbing and now faced the consequences.
    As Dad slated me, Mum stood in the doorway, watching and listening. Mum wanted Dad to stress how serious the situation was, but she was also behind him making sure there were no belts. Me and Paul were mummy’s boys, and she protected us. I could always blag Mum. ‘Oh, Mum! Shut up!’ I’d say, if she were on at me. A smile would flicker across her face as she gave in. Her love for us meant me and Paul got away with murder. Mum was more laid-back than Dad. He was enraged by the Woolies incident, but Mum made sure he didn’t hit me. A lot of kids who got caught smoking or robbing got leathered by their dads. My accomplice in Woolies certainly suffered an almighty hiding when he got home. Dad just sent me to my room and grounded me for three nights. It felt like six months.
    I got no sympathy off Paul. Just the opposite. My brother laughed his head off at me being incarcerated in my room. There’d be a knock on my door and I’d hear Paul whispering, ‘Stevie, I’m going into town. It’s going tobe brilliant. Come on.’ Thanks. He wound me up something rotten. ‘The computer’s on downstairs,’ Paul said through the door, ‘do you fancy a game?’ Paul knew I couldn’t come out. It was only banter but it cut me to pieces. I heard Paul running outside and organizing a game of football. He called out to all the other Ironside boys in a really loud voice, ‘Who wants a game? Let’s go.’ It was torture. I heard the game going on, listened almost in tears to the screams of delight, the jokes, the noisy celebrations. I couldn’t escape. My room was in the front. My mates shouted up to my window, ‘Stevie, Stevie, this is a brilliant game, it’s such a pity you can’t join in. You’d love it.’ Cruel laughter followed their words up to my window. My mates! My bloody brother! They knew I could hear. They knew it would kill me. When they stopped calling up, I sneaked a look out the window to watch them enviously. It was my fault. I deserved my spell in solitary confinement.
    Normally, I behaved myself, certainly by the standards of some boys I knocked about with. Mates of mine robbed shops and garages, nicking sweets and drinks, when I was with them. I never got involved, but I was there. I watched friends pull ciggies out of pockets at play-time at school. They’d light up and blow smoke in people’s faces. They didn’t care. A few were on the road to nowhere, but I enjoyed hanging out with them. I could have gone off the rails. Temptations abounded, dangerous ones. Fortunately, Dad kept me straight. Without his guidance, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
    Dad was always the boss of No. 10 Ironside. Dad’s word was law, but he was never a dictator. Me and Paulhave never been scared of our parents. Sometimes we were spoiled brats wanting more – too much more, given our modest circumstances. But Paul and I had unbelievable respect for our parents. We are a very close family – as