Here comes the son

He is 28, still far from a footballer’s sunset. Yet his career has already entered its third age. He started out at Celtic in 1995, then moved to Liverpool in 1996. After a loan spell at Bury, he joined Newcastle in 1997 and eventually made his first-team debut. Three grand clubs, three teams that his father had played for or managed. At one time, he was partnering Alan Shearer in attack and playing for Scotland’s under-21 side, but those fortunes were fleeting. Ruud Gullit dropped him and he eventually moved to Norwich City in 1999. That Livingston are the 11th club he has joined, either permanently or on loan, tells you much about the transience of Dalglish’s career. The second age was full of darkness.

After a two-month spell at Linfield in Northern Ireland in 2003, he left football behind. In his disillusionment, there seemed nothing left to hold onto. He had started a multi-media company and began appearing regularly on Sky Sports’ Soccer AM show. He even earned a role in the football film, Goal, that will be premiered next week. Two years on, though, he has come back. The beginning of the third age has brought him to West Lothian.

“I let myself down in football, I was going through the motions in the last few years of my career,” he admits in a markedly Scouse accent, its tones cajoling and reassuring. “After I left Newcastle I let myself go a little bit, my attitude wasn’t good enough and the standard of my football deteriorated. I was down in Norwich living in a big house on my own and all my friends and family were five hours away. I just wanted to get away. When you go into training and you’re not happy, you don’t try as hard. I used to go home and sit in the house all day, get up for training the next morning, then go and sit in the house all day, eating takeaways. I was blaming everyone but myself. Even if someone had tried to help me, I wouldn’t have admitted there was something wrong. You can only help someone if they want to help themselves.”

The recollections bring an emptiness to his eyes. One is blue, the other is brown, but they both reflect a sadness as he looks back. These are days that are gone, but he can still correct them. Realisation has granted him time to construct a different career. During five-a-side games with friends and matches that he played for The Badgers, the Soccer AM charity team, friends would say: “What a waste you were,” and ask: “Where did it go wrong?” Soon, his own thoughts were turning the same queries round and round.

So during the summer, Dalglish resolved to return, to give it one last try. He went to see his friend Ricky Hatton, the IBF world light-welterweight champion, and began working with the boxer’s nutritionist, Kerry Kayes. Then he spoke to acquaintances in football, asking for a way back in, until Mike Newall offered training facilities at Luton Town. In this game, doors seldom close permanently.

“It was people saying what a waste I was, and my own pride,” he says of his change of outlook. “When you’re out of football, you realise it’s the best job in the world. I passed it up after a few years. But now I’ll do everything that I should have done at the start. I don’t want to waste these years that I’ve got left. I’m just glad that I’ve grown up as a person. I’ve got nothing to prove to anyone apart from myself.”

His fitness is so sharp that his face seems gaunt, but still your mind flickers with images of his dad when you look at him. It was not enough that he shared the surname, nature also had to make them look so alike. When he was younger, people even claimed to see something of his father in the way Dalglish played. That was wishful thinking, a hope that there might be another echo of greatness. Fame is a contrary mistress, her moods often difficult to predict, but what does she leave behind? How does the son make his own way if he chooses the same path as his father? For all that he tried to stand outside his dad’s shadow, others kept pushing him into it. Even now, a defensiveness enters Dalglish’s tone when the subject comes up.

“I don’t think my dad’s playing on Sunday (against Hearts),” he says, tetchily. “I’m just here to do the best as me. I was playing every week in the Premiership and you won’t get picked there just because of who your dad is. I’ve never had a problem with it, it’s other people who seemed to have a problem. People assume that because he’s earned some money ... everything I’ve ever got in life, I’ ve got myself. I was determined to do that.”

Paul Lambert, the Livingston manager, recognised the hunger when he spoke to Dalglish about coming to Almondvale, and the striker scored on his debut against Raith Rovers in the CIS Cup. He has signed a contract until January, then both parties will assess the situation. We do not know how good he can be, but then he has returned to answer that question for himself.

He knew that by coming back to Scotland, his background would bring him greater exposure, but he won’t be ruffled by the attention. “I’m just going to give my best every day,” he adds firmly. “Whatever I achieve, wherever I get to, it’s a success as long as I do my best. I want to look back at 35, 36 and know I’d given it my best shot. I couldn’t have done that before.”

Another sip from the bottle. Things are falling into place.

Taken from timesonline.co.uk