🗣 “West Ham showed me little respect even though I was their best player. It was clear they wanted to get rid of me as quickly as possible, apart from one person…”
When I look back on my time at West Ham United, the emotions that surface are a mix of pride for what I achieved on the pitch and disappointment at how things unfolded off it. To put it plainly: “West Ham showed me little respect even though I was their best player. It was clear they wanted to get rid of me as quickly as possible, apart from one person…”
That person was the club’s long-serving kit manager, Derek. While every other member of the senior staff seemed to avoid making eye contact with me in the corridors, Derek would always stop to ask how I was holding up, to check if my boots were fitting right, or simply to share a quiet word of encouragement. In those final months, when training ground conversations felt loaded with unspoken tension and my name was being dragged through the media in ways that felt unfair and untrue, he was the only constant who treated me like a human being—not just a commodity to be moved on for financial gain.
On the field, I had given everything I had. In the season before the club’s attitude shifted, I finished as top scorer, led the team in assists, and was voted Player of the Year by both fans and my teammates. I’d turned down more lucrative offers from other clubs because I believed in the project we were building, and I genuinely felt connected to the supporters who’d sung my name week after week. But as soon as a significant transfer bid came in from a rival league, the atmosphere around the training ground changed completely.
I was no longer included in strategy meetings I’d previously been central to. My playing time started to be restricted without clear explanation, and when I tried to raise concerns with the manager and board members, I was met with vague responses or told that “the club’s interests had to come first.” There was no discussion about my future at the club, no attempt to renegotiate terms, and no recognition of the loyalty I’d shown. It felt as though all the hard work, all the goals that had kept us in contention for European spots, had been forgotten overnight.
The contrast with Derek’s kindness couldn’t have been starker. He’d been at the club for over twenty years and had seen countless players come and go. He knew the difference between building a team and simply trading talent for profit. On my last day at the training ground, he handed me a framed photo of the team from my best season, signed by all the players. “They know what you did for this place,” he said quietly. “Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
That moment stuck with me more than any official farewell could have. While the club’s leadership made their priorities clear, Derek reminded me that respect isn’t just about titles or transfer fees—it’s about how you treat people when they’re no longer serving your immediate purpose.
