Totally Frank: The Autobiography of Frank Lampard. Frank Lampard

been talking football with Harry and working his way towards the subject of me and why I wasn’t in the team. Eventually, he ran out of patience and asked outright.

      ‘So Harry, why’s young Frank not getting a game at the moment?’ Pop asked.

      ‘Because I say so, that’s why. He’s not Maradona, your grandson,’ Harry replied.

      I quite liked Harry’s comeback. Hearing those stories helps me better understand the emotion involved for every one of my family when it comes to football. I don’t hold any grudges. Far from it. It makes me proud that I come from stock which is so passionate about football and is not afraid to express it. With Pop I can see where Mum got her sharp wit and she can be equally blunt as Pop when she chooses to be.

      We were sitting at a table in the Royal Lancaster Hotel the night I was named Football Writers’ Player of the Year in 2005 and a journalist who had been particularly nasty in print about me during my first year at Chelsea was sitting talking to her. He was saying how well I had done and so on. She listened politely, nodding her head in appreciation until he had finished and then just cut him down with one sentence: ‘You didn’t always say that about him though did you?’

      It’s not in my nature to be confrontational. It’s not in her’s either but when it comes to protecting her children she will do whatever she judges to be right. I have only ever had one row with Mum. We were in a shopping centre and I was being a little brat, wanting to do something that she didn’t. We had words and fell out for about twenty minutes until I went crying to her saying that I didn’t want to row with her anymore. And we haven’t since, not even in the worst moments when I have done something stupid or am being stubborn. When the News of the World published the story of me and a few other players cavorting on video with some girls while on holiday in Ayia Napa my Mum didn’t shout at me. Dad did. He came down on me like a ton of bricks though I couldn’t tell you what he said. But I do remember very clearly what happened with Mum.

      I was sitting in the bathroom of my flat feeling sick as a dog and sorry for myself. Mum phoned and said that footballers who get involved in stuff like this end up in the gutter with their career down the drain. She was very emotional, not crying but I could tell how upset she was from the tone of her voice. I can honestly say that her reaction had more effect on me than anything else about the whole business.

      I am very proud of what I have inherited from my parents. My Mum’s perception, humanity and sensitivity have helped me become the person I am whereas I would never have become a footballer had it not been for my Dad’s ambition, hard work and vision. You need to find the middle ground.

      I was always worried that I might not make it and it gives me extra pleasure now knowing what I have achieved. I knew I would never lose the tag of ‘somebody’s son, somebody’s nephew’ while I was at Upton Park. It’s hard enough to emerge from the shadow of other people when it’s just your team-mates and peers.

      I was always measured against my own flesh and blood but I feel differently now. I know how proud my family are of me. And, just as important, how proud I am of them.

       CHAPTER 2 THE ACADEMY OF FOOTBALL

      ENTERING the ‘Academy of Football’ wasn’t quite what I expected. West Ham United had prided themselves on producing some of England’s finest and most successful footballers. They revelled in the rich history which had seen the graduation of players such as John Bond, Martin Peters, Geoff Hurst and of course, Bobby Moore. They still do.

      Three of those players were at the very heart of England’s World Cup winning team in 1966 and their achievements helped make the claret and blue shirt a symbol of all that was great about football. Dad and Uncle Harry played under Ron Greenwood in the same West Ham side as Moore and I was brought up on stories of the glory days.

      My nan lived a mile away from Upton Park and used to go to games to watch my Dad before I was born. She is well known around the club and is looked on very fondly by people she once gave sweets out to as kids who still go there now. I was one of those children as were my sisters and cousins. When I was older, I would sometimes play a match and then take her some pie and mash. On other occasions I would pop round and she would make me a sandwich with big lumps of cheese and pickle. We’d talk about the football and catch up on family news. She was neighbours with West Ham and grew up with the club. So did Mum and her sister and when they chose their husbands they joined more than the institution of marriage – they got West Ham United as well.

      None of this was strange. When you grow up in a community which reveres the local club the way West Ham is treated by a section of London’s East End, family and football go together like man and wife. Me and my sisters inherited our allegiance and were staunch in our support.

      Around our house were little bits of memorabilia which made the film footage of the old days more immediate to a boy born between the two famous FA Cup victories of 1975 and 1980. I have seen the photographs a thousand times and asked Dad to tell me again and again what it was like to play for our team. By day, I would work hard on my football and by night I dreamt of the moment I would follow in my father’s footsteps and pull on a West Ham shirt. The dream was perfect but the reality was less than ideal.

      Jamie had been put on schoolboy forms with the club before I joined. Uncle Harry had wanted him to go there because that was where he had learned his trade and with our family tradition, it seemed the natural thing to do. Blood, after all, is thicker than water.

      Jamie, though, was not impressed with what he found at West Ham. Eddie Bailey was head of youth development at the club which was ironic given that you would have been hard pressed to find someone who was more old school. The coaching was below par and not aimed at developing and nurturing talent. The people who ran the team were older and it seemed they were still using the same methods which had brought through the likes of Dad, Trevor Brooking and Paul Allen. That was fine except football had moved on significantly in terms of physical fitness, muscle development and technical coaching. It was 1994.

      Those aspects were very important and they might have gotten away with an inferior coaching regime had the feeling at the club reflected the community which turned out in their thousands to support them every week. People looked at West Ham as a family club. The East End ethos has always been that you looked after your own. However, that didn’t happen with the apprentice professionals.

      Jamie was perceptive and decided pretty quickly that he was not going to learn what he needed there. He was a very gifted footballer and wasn’t afraid to work hard on his game but he left and joined the Tottenham academy before signing a Youth Training Scheme (YTS) form there. I was surprised by his decision at the time. I’m not sure Uncle Harry was shocked but he respected Jamie’s wishes. I asked Jamie about his reasons and we talked a little. He picked up on a certain attitude within West Ham which I had an inkling about when the club first started talking to me about an apprenticeship. Whenever I asked questions about why I should commit to them instead of another club the answer always seemed to be a variation on the same theme. We have a long history of bringing through our own players. We give young players a chance more quickly. West Ham is the Academy of Football.

      I wasn’t convinced and clearly, Jamie had gone in the opposite direction. I had played youth football with West Ham for a few years and had trained there extensively. I had also gone to Tottenham and Arsenal where the training was much more skills based and I felt I was improving my technique. There were other reasons too which were important. Most 16-year-olds suffer bouts of insecurity about whether or not they are going to make it. You need to be told and encouraged, nurtured. At Arsenal, I got a lot of attention from people like Steve Rowley who is a very experienced guy and is still the chief scout. He would come and pick me up and take me over for games at Arsenal’s training centre at London Colney and I remember feeling that I wanted to sign for Arsenal simply because of the treatment I got there. They were extremely professional but more than that, it was the personal touch that made the difference, that made me feel wanted.

      They were little things. Steve would take me for