Did my goal in Milan cost Leeds two relegations and administration?

[Promotion 2010]

Ærlige Matteo om målet i Milan, konsekvensene og stoltheten over å ha spilt for Leeds Ubnited:

Leeds United: My golden goal that proved so costly - Matteo


HIGH POINT: Dominic Matteo heads home the goal against AC Milan in the San Siro 10 years ago that took Leeds United into the second knock-out phase of the Champions League.

Published Date: 11 November 2010
My working life regularly brings me into the centre of Leeds. Not a day goes by without someone talking to me about my goal in the San Siro â€" it's the single topic of conversation I engage in most.
I never want to forget that night and I couldn't if I tried. To be honest, I count myself very lucky to be remembered for something sublime.

Many top footballers have been defined by moments of poor fortune, their careers tarred by one act. Even now, people tell me that the goal
I scored against AC Milan is the greatest sensation they've felt in their time as supporters. That's some compliment.

Bigger and better players have represented Leeds United, some of them legends of the club. Ten years on, thinking back to the San Siro makes my spine tingle.

On that evening, we needed a point in Italy to qualify for the second knockout stage of the Champions League.

That in itself was remarkable, one in the eye of the numerous pundits who thought that we were out of our depth.

The media called our group â€" containing Barcelona, AC Milan and Besiktas â€" the group of death and most journalists expected the first death to be ours.

They badly underestimated our bottle and our talent and by the time we got to the San Siro, I could feel a result in the air. I only wish I'd known that the crucial goal would be mine.

People tell me they used to regularly bet on me to score. On the basis that I finished my career with eight goals, you don't need a mathematical brain to know how well the bookies did out of that running battle.

God knows what price I was to score first in the Milan game; 5,000/1 would have been about right. But our 1-1 draw meant more to me than money.

For a lad with strong Italian roots, the occasion was particularly special. I'd done a few interviews with La Gazetta dello Sport about my background and I couldn't have chosen a better place to shine.

Perhaps it was fated. All I can say is that few games ever compared with that one.

At full-time, I remember standing on the pitch with a can of lager in my hand, given to me by Peter Ridsdale. It's hardly a classic pose for a professional footballer but nobody cared. The players took it in turns to lead the supporters in song as if we were conducting a massive orchestra. If it sounds surreal then it truly was.

I heard stories later of a guy breaking his arm in the celebration of my goal and lads returning to work three or four days late. That evening must seem mythical for some of the thousands who paid big money to be there. It's not often that you feel so in touch with the terraces as we did in Milan.

I left the San Siro with two shirts â€" my own and Paolo Maldini's. It's the done thing to give away your top at full-time but I knew straight away that there would never be a strip of mine which meant more to me or held more significance.

For a while now it's been on the wall in my snooker room. That might sound pretentious and I know you're supposed to frame shirts belonging to other players. But it's one of the most precious things I own. I'd be devastated to lose it.

And yet here's the rub â€" if you're asking me to be honest, I can't say that our night in the San Siro was worth it. How can one result or one Champions League campaign be worth the cost of two relegations,
administration, three years in League One and the slow destruction of a club like Leeds United?

I wouldn't trade the experience of Milan for much but nor would I pretend that, from the supporters' perspective, it made the subsequent pain worthwhile. Any club which sees isolated success as a reason to invite future problems is guilty of short-termism.

That, I'm sad to say, is what the Champions League years came to represent.

I couldn't have seen the collapse coming. All a footballer can do is have faith in the people who manage the accounts. If your chairman's building a squad which is good enough to reach and compete in the Champions League, you take it as read that the squad is affordable.

The truth was very different and the finances at Leeds were crazy. Ridsdale has carried the can for that but it's wrong for him to do so alone. Other people were making damaging decisions behind the scenes; I know that for a fact.

It's only possible to say this with hindsight but the sheer amount of money spent on players in that era was ridiculous. The club were asking for trouble.

Take Robbie Fowler, a fantastic player and a brilliant striker. Could we have coped without him? Absolutely. I was thrilled to see someone like him rolling up at the training ground but it all seems like lunacy now, a club prone to excess.

To give you an example, Mark Viduka and myself were basically owned by a financial firm. I didn't think about it too often but it was strange to realise that if you were sold, your fee would go to a bunch of bankers. Everything was crumbling in front of our eyes.

I knew the situation was out of control when I started to learn how much teenage kids at the academy were being paid. The figures were outrageous.

It was annoying enough to think that I earned £200 a week when I made my debut for Liverpool. Even worse was the fact that some of the kids were nowhere near good enough to play for Leeds. Even I could see that the financial strategy was totally flawed.

Beyond the money it's fair to say that when relegation began to loom, certain players gave in too easily. In contrast, one of the proudest things I can say about the Champions League run was that every one of us was worthy of the shirt.

In reality the test of a footballer's character isn't whether he's earning his wage; it's whether he can face the mirror and look himself in the eye.

That's what our night at the San Siro was all about.

[The Patriot]

Fantastisk lesning

[pedro]

Ein hedersmann Dominic Matteo, rett og slett. 

[Killa]

Matteo er en stor mann, no doubt!

[Tom S]

Dom Matteooo, scored a focking great goal, in the san siroooo!

[fjellhaugen]

sånne innlegg gir meg frysninger på ryggen. good goin dom

[SuperLeeds!]

Stooort!" Kan vi komme dit igjen da?

[testo]

Stooort!" Kan vi komme dit igjen da?

Hvem i allverden er han på det A5 bilde