Andrea Silenzi

Mark Crossley was Nottingham Forest's fifth-choice goalkeeper when Brian Clough handed him his debut, and Clough knew before the lad did. Steve Sutton had a virus, Hans Segers was away on loan, and Paul Crichton and Darren Hayes were both crocked. Crossley was 18, and the game was Liverpool at Anfield. Clough didn't want him stewing all day over John Barnes, Peter Beardsley and Ian Rush, so he phoned Crossley's dad instead. “Get yourself down to the game tonight, Mark’s going to play.” And one more thing. “Whatever you do, don’t tell him.” “Because he’ll absolutely s*** himself.” Crossley wasn't told until 7pm. “Son, get your boots on and your gloves.” “Because you’re going to play against Liverpool.” Forest won at Anfield. They beat Newcastle the following week, then Coventry in the FA Cup. Three games, three wins, and Crossley was starting to think he'd made it. Clough spotted it. After Coventry he asked: “Where you going this weekend son?” Home to Barnsley, said Crossley. Not quite. “My house tomorrow morning, 9 o’clock, bring your boots and it would help if you bring f****** your gloves.” Crossley didn't even know where Clough lived, so Chas the groundsman had to drive him. Barbara Clough let him in and sat him down with a cuppa and a slice of toast while Brian was still upstairs, leaving Crossley wondering what on earth he was doing at the manager's house at nine on a Sunday morning. Then Clough appeared. “Son…” “Yes boss?” “Thank you.” “I won’t call you what I usually call you because Barbara’s here.” “But I’d like to say thank you for agreeing to play for Simon’s team this morning.” “They haven’t got a goalkeeper and I thought you’d do, son.” From Anfield to Division Five of the Derbyshire Sunday League, in goal for AC Hunters, managed by Clough's son Simon. They won 4-0. AC Hunters were then fined £50 for playing a ringer. Clough docked the £50 from Crossley's Forest wages. He was on £27.50 a week. Nobody managed an ego quite like Brian Clough.