Alan Smith: I never hit top gear for England... but at least I got a Ford Escort XR3i!

Alan Smith in 1988, when a prolific run for Arsenal led to his first senior England cap
Getty Images
Alan Smith23 March 2020

Thought I’d go back this week to happier times when England recognition first came my way. Bobby Robson was manager in 1988 when the blue envelope embossed with Three Lions landed on my doormat.

That’s how your call-up got confirmed then, following the initial announcement on page 302 of Ceefax, the old Teletext information service on TV.

A friendly in Saudi Arabia offered a chance for my debut — very exciting for this ambitious 25-year-old, who had started the season for Arsenal in great goalscoring form.

An added bonus at the time was the FA’s tie-up with Budget Rent-a-Car, who were offering a free Ford Escort XR3i for newly capped players.

Not quite a Lamborghini or Bentley, standard choices today, but, believe it or not, the prospect of clinching this prize lent an extra thrill to the Middle East trip.

At that time, newly-capped players received a free Ford Escort XR3i

We flew over on Concorde, a great adventure in itself. Sat next to Gary Lineker, my old Leicester strike partner, I watched the numbers quickly multiply on the digital display up front as we approached twice the speed of sound.

The supersonic bird rattled ever louder in recognition of this mind-blowing feat.

Come matchday in Riyadh, the squad gathered in a meeting room of the gold-plated King Fahd Stadium to listen to our manager’s pre-match instructions.

For sheer enthusiasm, Robson came second to no one in his love for the game and he launched into a team talk that went on and on.

After about half an hour, he turned to Don Howe, his trusty assistant who had been growing increasingly fidgety.

Sir Bobby Robson was England manager between 1982-90
Getty Images

“Anything to add, Don?” “Don’t think so, Bobby,” he quickly replied. “We kick off in twenty minutes!”

In the event, I was named on the bench and eventually got a run-out in the second half of a 1-1 draw.

For the team in general, it had been a very poor performance.

Only a Tony Adams header had averted humiliation on a scale not seen since the USA triumphed over England in the 1950 World Cup.

For Robson, the result turned up the heat, coming as it did only months after England’s dismal showing in the European Championship.

Inevitably, the tabloids piled in, with the Daily Mirror coming up with a particularly blunt message. “Go! In the name of Allah go!”

Smith did not end up joining former Leicester strike partner Gary Lineker at Italia 90
AFP via Getty Images

On the plus side, I’d won a new motor, as had Michael Thomas and Brian Marwood, fellow Gunners also making their debuts on that balmy night.

It was a proper boy racer, that XR3i, and I felt very proud on taking delivery that this Escort signified the start of my international career.

For England’s next get-together, I drove it down to Burnham Beeches Hotel in Berkshire, our usual HQ close to where we trained at Bisham Abbey.

The next morning, I walked out of the hotel to get on the coach and noticed my car, which was brilliant white like the one below, wasn’t where I had parked it.

With no time to investigate, I jumped on the bus, thinking I must have been mistaken and parked somewhere else.

But we’d only gone half a mile down the country lane when I saw my treasured wheels sitting on the verge, with the driver’s door open.

“Stop the bus!” I shouted. “That’s my car!” It had obviously been nicked for a joy ride and then abandoned when the thieves had had enough.

Checking inside, nothing much was damaged. Even my cassettes in the glove box remained untouched. The perpetrators obviously didn’t care much for Gloria Estefan.

To be honest, I’m not sure Robson cared much for me, either, in terms of believing I was the right man to regularly partner Lineker in attack. In fairness, I never really did enough to change his mind, snatching at chances I’d have gobbled up for Arsenal.

His uncertainty culminated with my exclusion from the 1990 World Cup squad. Having been called back from an end-of-season jolly to Singapore with Arsenal, I was one of four to be eventually culled from England’s training camp.

Gutted didn’t cover it, especially when those finals in Italy turned out so magical. Not even my free car could offer any comfort.

Budget took it back early when the agreement fell through.

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