This was a very special opportunity for us, as brothers, to work together on something we are both so passionate about. Football has always been a big part of our lives. We hope this book will inspire others to start/continue playing football and chasing their dreams.
Writing a book like this was one of our dreams, and we are extremely thankful to John Blake Publishing and Anna Marx, in particular, for making this project possible. Annas guidance and patience were huge factors in our writing process.
We are also grateful to all the friends and family that encouraged us along the way. Your interest and sense of humour helped to keep us on track. Will, Doug, Mills, John, James Pang-Oldfield and the rest of our King Edward VI friends, our aunts, uncles, cousins, the Nottingham and Montreal families and so many others thank you all.
Melissa, we could not have done this without your understanding and support. Thank you for being as excited about this collaboration as we were.
Noah, were already doing our best to make football your favourite sport! We look forward to reading this book with you in the years ahead.
Mum and Dad, the biggest thank you is reserved for you. You introduced us to football and then devoted hours and hours to taking us to games. You bought the tickets, the kits, the boots. We love football because you encouraged us to. Thank you for all the love, all the laughs and for always believing in us. This book is for you.
2 September, 2013
El nuevo jugador de Real Madrid, Gareth Bale.
Real Madrids new player, Gareth Bale. When they called out his name, the stadium went wild. Thousands of fans clapped and cheered their new record signing. Bale! Bale! Bale! They chanted his name, the name that many of them already had on their shirts. Gareth couldnt believe it this wasnt even his debut. He wasnt out there flying down the wing; he was wearing a suit. He could only guess how amazing the atmosphere would be for a game. As he got to his feet and walked up to the stage, he took a long, deep breath and told himself to stay calm. He was no longer the shy boy he once was, but he wasnt yet used to this kind of attention.
But even the butterflies in his stomach couldnt stop the big smile on Gareths face. This was it; the biggest club in the world and the home of the Galcticos, the biggest superstars in the world. Luis Figo, Ronaldo, Raul, David Beckham, Cristiano Ronaldo and now Gareth Bale. As a child, hed sat with his father in the stands at his local ground Ninian Park watching his Uncle Chris play, pretending that it was the Bernabu Stadium and that the Cardiff City team was the mighty Real Madrid. Now he was living out that fantasy and this time it was Gareth, not his uncle, who was the star.
As he approached the microphone, Gareth waved to the fans and then to his loved ones. It meant the world to him that they were all here for his big day: his mother Debbie and his father Frank, his grandad Dennis, his older sister Vicky, his best friend Ellis and, of course, his girlfriend Emma and their beautiful young daughter Alba. Without their endless support, he knew he would never have made it here.
When things settled down a bit, Gareth began: Es un sueo para mi jugar para Real Madrid. Gracias por esta gran acogida. Hala Madrid! These were the first Spanish words hed learnt and, of course, the most important. Hed practised them for days so that even in the excitement, he wouldnt forget them: Its my dream to play for Real Madrid. Thank you for this big welcome. Come on, Madrid! The noise was incredible, so loud that hed had to pause halfway through.
And then came the moment everyone had been waiting for, especially Gareth. Hed imagined it so many times but this time it was real. The President of Real Madrid held up the famous white shirt and there was his name in big black letters across the back: BALE. The cameras flashed and the crowd roared once more. He was a Galctico now the most expensive of them all and so his old number 3 shirt was no longer good enough. As he had in his last season at Tottenham, now he wore number 11, the number of his childhood hero, the Manchester United wing wizard Ryan Giggs.
Michael Owen had worn number 11 at Real Madrid in 2004, as had Arjen Robben in 2007. Gareth was proud to follow in their footsteps but he was determined to make that shirt his own. Watching the scenes around him, Gareth couldnt wait for the biggest challenge of his life. He was the most expensive player in the world and there would be a lot of pressure on him to join his teammate Cristiano Ronaldo as one of the very best players of all time.
As he did keepie-uppies on the Bernabu pitch, Gareth thought back to his childhood days at Caedelyn Park. As a lightning-fast teenager in Wales, his family and coaches had predicted big things for him but no one had predicted this. At both Southampton and Tottenham, there had been difficult times when injuries looked like they might end Gareths childhood dream. But the Welsh dragon had battled on and made it to the top.
Gareth had hardly slept but he wasnt tired. Hed never been so excited. Today, on this autumn day in 1992, and for the first time in his life, he was off to watch his Uncle Chris Chris Pike play for Cardiff City. Hed seen him score a goal on the television once but never live at Ninian Park with thousands of other fans. Now that he was three, his dad, Frank, had decided that he was finally old enough to go to a game.
Gareth couldnt wait. The morning went so slowly as he watched the clock, and he begged it to fastforward to 3 pm. To help the time pass, he made his sister stand in goal in the hallway and he took shots like his uncle. Vicky wasnt a very good keeper and the soft football kept whizzing past her. GOAL! GOAL! GOAL! The crowd goes wild! Finally at 1.45, Gareth stood ready at the front door, wearing the blue Cardiff City shirt and blue-and-white scarf that his uncle had given him for Christmas.
Gareth, on the way to the ground you mustnt let go of your dads hand, his mum, Debbie, told him as she zipped up his coat and put gloves in the pockets. Therell be a lot of people there and you could easily get lost and miss the match. Now you dont want that, do you? So promise me, you wont let go of your dads hand.
I promise, Mum! But Gareth wasnt really listening to his worried mother. He was thinking about the football match and how many goals Uncle Chris would score. He was Cardiffs superstar striker, their top goalscorer for three years in a row, Gareths dad had told him. If he was lucky, maybe Uncle Chris would score a hat-trick for him.
To get to Ninian Park, they had to take the train, which was an adventure in itself for a young child. They arrived at the local station in plenty of time to see the single carriage pull slowly up to the platform. Soon they were off, past the gate across the tracks that they used to get to Caedelyn Park. Then from the quiet, green spaces of Whitchurch they made their way towards the noisy, crowded city centre. Gareth stared out of the window as the view shifted from nice gardens to big, ugly buildings.
Dad, how many times have you been to see Cardiff play? Five? Ten? A hundred? he asked when he got bored of the view.
Frank laughed at the jump in numbers. Im not sure, son, but it must be close to a hundred by now. I was going to watch the Bluebirds long before your uncle started playing for them long before you were even born!
At each stop on the route, the train got busier and busier, and louder and louder. By Cardiff Central station, fans were practising their chants and talking about the teams best tactics. There were many players that they didnt like but they all seemed to love Uncle Chris. From Ninian Park Station, it was a short walk to the ground but it took a long time because the streets were so busy.