By Robert Philip

The Daily Telegraph
April 13 1998

Depending upon what you read and to whom you listen, Alan Shearer is either Mary Poppins or Mike Tyson; when not trilling A Spoonful Of Sugar to a swarm of adoring children gathered outside St James’ Park with autograph books in hand, he is knocking the lights out of a team-mate in a nightclub brawl.

Do not believe everything you read in the papers. Shearer is neither a saccharin-sweet goody two-shoes nor a closet bully, but simply an ordinary bloke. Had destiny not decreed he should play for Newcastle United in last Sunday’s FA Cup semi-final at Old Trafford - and score the goal which took the club to the final for the first time since 1974 - he would have been at the match with his mates. Just another Geordie fanatic among many thousands. “I don’t know what I’d have become if I hadn’t been a footballer; I wrote down ‘dustbin man’ on a careers questionnaire at school till my dad made me change it to ‘joiner’. But I’d certainly have been at the Sheffield United game and I’d probably have been wearing a No 9 replica shirt.” Aye, albeit with someone else’s name on the back.

Shearer’s ordinariness is extraordinary; as a Tyneside hero, he is worshipped as only Hughie Gallacher, Jackie Milburn, Malcolm Macdonald or Kevin Keegan were before him. As captain of England, he is a role model comparable with Billy Wright, Bobby Moore or Gary Lineker. And as a centre-forward, Juventus or Real Madrid would happily exchange £20 million in cash for the rewards his goalscoring prowess would bring. Yet his father, Alan, still leaves home every morning at 6.30am to start his shift as a sheet-metal worker, and mother, Anne, continues to do her rounds as a home help. “They know they don’t have to do it,” says their son, who earns a reported £3.5 million a year, with tangible pride, “but they love it. Dad likes the company of his mates and still goes down the pub at weekends.”

To the sensation-seeking media, Shearer is something of a disappointment, for he studiously steers clear of scandal and will never knowingly betray a trust. Heavily influenced by Jack Walker during his time at Blackburn Rovers - “a man of great honesty and integrity” - he sought his former employer’s permission before making the disclosure in print that he had rejected the role of player-manager at Ewood Park before joining Newcastle for £15 million in July 1996.

Nevertheless, one magazine writer was moved to describe him as having “all the personality of a suet pudding”, which may explain why he prefers to avoid the scything late tackles of the journalistic pen. Reporters, like centre-halves, are body-swerved whenever possible, and so our meeting over a pot of tea in a Newcastle city-centre hotel could provide but a tantalising glimpse of the young man behind the towering legend.

‘There is another side to me which people don’t often see, but it’s very hard for me to show that. When I do interviews, I’m talking to people I don’t know and when you speak to a stranger you don’t open up, do you? In my position, people are always looking for something to say about me. And anything I do say, given half-a- chance they’ll turn it round into something spectacular so I’ve got to be very careful. That’s why it’s only my friends and family who know the real me. Now my wife, Lainya, she could tell you a few stories.”

(Stories such as Dublin, however, where Shearer allegedly enjoyed a full and frank exchange of views with Northern Ireland winger Keith Gillespie outside a bar - plus his version of the Freddie Shepherd/Douglas Hall affair - are not to be shared with the rest of us until after the World Cup when a freshly updated paperback version of his newly-published biography is due to be released.)

“So Lainya doesn’t regard you - as Shepherd and Hall are reported to do - as Mary Poppins?”

“Naw (accompanied by a naughty laugh). The Mary Poppins thing doesn’t bother me. People are entitled to their opinion about me whether it’s on the pitch or off the pitch. Just saying it doesn’t make them right. If everyone had the same opinion then life would be pretty boring.”

Shearer, you quickly gather, is to controversy what Bill Clinton is to celibacy. But does the fact that as a kid growing up on a council estate in Gosforth he was known as ‘Smoky’ conceal some murky secret?

“Is that because of a passion for untipped Capstan - or something even more exotic?”

“No, it’s because I loved smoky bacon crisps.” Even the revelation that he became a school truant during his final year in uniform - “I only did it on a few mornings because I knew by then I was going to be offered the chance by Southampton to become an apprentice footballer” - fails to arouse our suspicions. You just know the teenage Shearer spent his illicit hours away from the classroom helping old ladies across the street when not practising his shooting.

Armed with one CSE in English Oral, he quit school at 15 to seek a career in football in the company of three friends from Gosforth - Tommy Widdrington, Stephen Bailey and Barry Wilson. “What happened to them? Tommy is now at Grimsby having just had a serious operation on his back which will keep him out for quite a long time. I know Stephen’s working in Newcastle but I’m not sure what he’s doing. And Barry had a major back injury while we were at Southampton and had to have a disc repaired. That stopped him playing football professionally and he’s now playing for a local amateur side.”

Blessed with talent, health, a beautiful wife, two daughters (Chloe, 5, and Hollie, 3), financial security for life and a brace of Jaguars provided by one of many grateful sponsors, Shearer grins boyishly when he says: “I’m lucky and I appreciate that. I love every minute of every day.” From any other global superstar, it might have sounded like the classic platitude; coming from Alan Shearer, you are inclined to take the sentiment at full face value. “I’ve got a roof over my head and I get very well paid for doing something I love doing, and there’s not many who can say that.”

In terms of laughter-making, Eddie Izzard he ain’t, yet there is a gentle sincerity about Shearer, who could keep the company with princes if he so chose but who prefers a quiet pint with the same pals from his boyhood. “I suppose I could be on a different chat show every night, but I think people would get fed up with me. I like to have a private life as well; I like to go out for a beer with the lads or a game of golf. No, they’re not envious of me. I know where they’re coming from - they’ve gone down their roads and I’ve gone down mine. I believe everyone’s given something and it’s up to you how much you make of it. Hopefully, I’ve made the most of what I’ve been given.”

Occasionally, just occasionally, Shearer lets slip more than he intends and has to resort to damage limitation. With myriad rumours linking him to a summer departure from his beloved Newcastle bound for Spain or Italy or, whisper it, Old Trafford, he admits: “In football, you can’t plan your career. Anything can happen. I could be on the move tomorrow.” Registering the screaming headlines reflected in my eyes, he nearly chokes on his tea in his rush to add:”"Although I very much doubt it. But that’s how football is, you never know what’s around the corner.”

Though he will come under intense pressure to move abroad should he have a successful France 98 -”"It’s great that people remember what Pele achieved in 1958 and 1970; it would be nice to think they’ll be talking about Alan Shearer in 30 years’ time” - not Barcelona or Rome or Lisbon or any other fabulous city in the world could ever replace Newcastle in his heart.

“Why does football mean so much to you and every other Geordie?”

“It’s all we’ve known and it’s all we do know. Here in Newcastle they work all week, pick their wages up on a Thursday or a Friday and they want to spend it. They like to live life to the full and they’ll blow the lot following United before starting all over again on the Monday. You very rarely hear anyone say a bad word about us when they come up here. It’s a great place to play football because they’re so fanatical. I’m on the same level as them and I think they appreciate that.”

The nation’s youngsters, irrespective of whether they support United of the Newcastle, Manchester or Hartlepool variety, dream of emulating Shearer in an all-white shirt bearing three lions on the left breast.

“Is being the next Alan Shearer a dream worth pursuing?”

“Without a doubt. To be in the position I’m in is just fantastic. I realise there are millions of people who’d like to be me.”

“And do your daughters realise their father is a sporting superstar?”

“Naw, I reckon they think every dad’s on television. But I don’t think of myself as anything special. I was brought up to be level-headed and it would be wrong for me to change.”

One-time Blackburn team-mate Tim Flowers dubbed Shearer ‘Mr Mogadon’, but as I took my leave the hero of Newcastle and captain of England was in ferociously animated conversation with Steve Yarnell, the photographer. “Where did you say you were headed tonight? Blackburn for the Man United game? I’d go the A69 then the M6 if I were you. You should do it in about three hours, though if the traffic’s heavy you might want to come off at Junction 15 I think it is, then…”