BLACKBURN Rovers pulled off a major coup in the summer of 1979 when they persuaded Howard Kendall to become the club's new manager following relegation to Division Three.

Kendall, who joined us from Stoke, was one of the great names in football and it felt like a breath of fresh air having him at the club.

It was good to have a boss who still had a foot in the players' camp.

He liked a drink and he was always with the boys. If we were socialising, he was socialising with us.

And he loved to take us on trips. We'd always had them, but Howard would get us away two or three times a season.

There was one trip to Jersey where, strangely enough, we played a friendly against Stoke and all his drinking buddies were there.

One night in my room me, John Butcher, Noel Brotherston and Mick Rathbone were supping the tax-free vino and getting smashed into the small hours when there was an almighty crash in the corridor; it sounded like someone had fallen down the stairs.

It was Kendall. Or so I'm told.

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But although my social life drastically improved under Howard, he didn't do much for my career.

Initially, we got on like a house on fire and I respected him as both a player and manager.

If he was lenient and good natured away from the game, he was inspirational on the pitch.

He demanded effort and concentration and gradually made us into a team that just wouldn't concede goals.

We were like Arsenal and the 1-0 scoreline became our speciality.

It didn't begin brightly though, and we were way down at the bottom of the table for a few weeks before we stabilised, and then in January we went on this incredible run where we got 29 points out of thirty when it was two points for a win - we even had time to knock Coventry of the First Division out of the FA Cup.

At the heart of it all was a superb defence which Howard had developed and we ended up proving way too hot for the Third Division, finally gaining promotion in a game at Bury when Andy Crawford scored twice.

To be honest, I think we could have had any set of players that season and Howard would have taken us up.

He'd injected a new life into Blackburn Rovers and he even got me enjoying training!

For a start there was no more running round in circles.

"Right. That's it. I'm knackered."

Howard had run about 400 yards and was breathless. It was the longest training run we did all season. Instead of having us yomp up and down hills, he put the ball at our feet and drilled into us the defensive approach to winning football matches.

During his second season, he tried to impose himself more on the team. And it worked.

In the first nine games, we won seven and drew two which would have been an achievement for any club, but we had only just won promotion.

I wasn't a regular at the time, but I was knocking on the door. Or so I thought. It soon transpired the club were trying to sell me to Halifax!

"You'll never play for this club again."

Howard had a way with words. He wanted to sign somebody from Chesterfield, a big centre-forward.

They wanted something like £40,000 for him but Howard didn't have that kind of money available so he needed to raise some funds quickly and Halifax provided a possible solution with a £30,000 bid for me - if he could get me out.

He told me about the offer over the phone.

"No thanks, boss."

I simply didn't want to leave Blackburn. I was settled with a home, a wife and a new baby. More to the point, Halifax was the sort of team that was always near the bottom of the league with the threat of being booted out hanging over them.

I went over for a look, though, because Howard hadn't given me much option - according to him, I was never going to play for Rovers again.

The pitch was magnificent, one of the best I've ever seen, but the stadium was teetering on collapse.

George Kirby was the manager. I went into his so-called office, which was about the size of a kitchen table, and squeezed into a chair to hear his pitch.

"I want you to sign, Simon, I want you in the side for Saturday."

"I'll think about it."

"Well think quickly. I need you to sign by two o'clock then you can go straight into the team."

It was noon.

"No. I need to speak to my wife about this."

"Well call her then."

"She's out shopping."

She wasn't, but it seemed gentler than telling him the truth - that I thought Halifax were terrible and there was as much chance of me signing for them as there was of me joining Burnley.

I went back to Blackburn and straight to the manager's room.

"How did you go on?"

"I'm not happy about it. I'm not going."

Howard was desperate; he really wanted this giant from Chesterfield.

"How much do you want from the transfer fee?"

"Halifax have offered me a good deal, boss."

They had. It was a £10,000 signing-on fee which was an enormous sum.

"You'll have to give me another £10,000 as well. Then I'll think about it."

"I don't know, Simon. Get out."

I was at home when the phone went. Howard was offering me £5,000 to go.

Add that to the £10,000 from Halifax and the company car and the free apartment, and it was adding up to an attractive offer, but Howard was missing the point.

The money really wasn't the issue and I'd only given him the £10,000 figure because I knew there was no way he could have managed it.

Short term, of course, it was a very good deal. Long term, I'd be a non-league player driving a Reliant Robin within a couple of seasons.

"I mean it, Simon. You'll never play for Blackburn Rovers again."

And you're not going to be here forever, either, I thought! So I stuck it out.

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