Jelleyman’s Thrown a Wobbly: Saturday Afternoons in Front of the Telly

TIME: 1:47

THE OUTSIDE BROADCAST

It's at this time that we put our already flimsy reputations into the hands of the goggle-box gods and set up a live interview with one of the many managers making their final preparations around the country. Now, in TV we always say, ‘Light, action, sound!’ but on Soccer Saturday we can get light, action, too much (or too little) sound! I remember we once managed to convince Sir Alex Ferguson to do a live post-match interview with us, which was absolutely unheard of. He never does interviews and we knew we had to be absolutely ready to go when Fergie gave us the green light to talk. Typically, the sound went down as Fergie stepped up to the microphone.

When a manager is talking to us in the studio, they can't actually see anything. They're just standing there, usually helpless, looking into a camera and listening to our questions and comments which are being piped in through their headphones. It's a nightmare for them. Thus Alex couldn't hear anything either, which added to his confusion. I could see he was getting a bit frustrated, and he began flashing us the sort of look usually reserved for card-happy referees. After a while, the technical creases were ironed out and we were away. With our questions in place, I could begin the interview.

‘So, we're happy to have Sir Alex Ferguson with us today …’ I said as an ear-shredding PA system at Old Trafford boomed across the stadium for a fire drill. Once again, Sir Alex couldn't hear a thing, which really didn't help his mood. For some reason, this was the moment I chose to ask a question about Wayne Rooney's temperament.

Sir Alex's face started to darken. ‘Ach,’ he grimaced. ‘You usually ask sensible questions, not rubbish like that. Who's telling you to ask these questions?’

I panicked like a frightened schoolboy. ‘Er, Charlie Nicholas actually, Sir Alex,’ I stammered. It was a blatant lie, and I think Charlie saw the funny side, but Sir Alex certainly didn't.

Then, of course, the pitchside sprinklers tend to get turned on when we go live, soaking cameramen, crew and the already disgruntled Premier League manager. I'm not sure if the ground staff are watching and waiting for their moment, but it happens with a suspicious regularity. I remember Sam Allardyce was spectacularly soaked once (which would serve him right for referring to me as ‘Stirling’ for a joke, on air). Later, when Gordon Strachan was at Southampton, he was splashed as well. Can you imagine the look on his face? Actually, it's probably best if you don't - you probably won't sleep for a week.

Gordon is difficult to get onto the show at the best of times because I don't think he enjoys doing live interviews. This time, we'd convinced him to talk to us. But as he came onto the camera, the first thing he said was, ‘I don't know why I agreed to do this.’ Moments later, I could see his point - the sprinkler systems splashed into life and he had to make a dash for the sidelines.

Our old mate Harry Redknapp was actually struck by a football while doing a recorded piece with Soccer Saturday. He was at the Southampton training ground. As he spoke to the camera, a ball came out of nowhere and struck him on the back. He was furious. Harry turned around to see who it was and in a heartbeat shouted out, ‘No wonder you're in the fucking reserves.’ Priceless.

TIME: 2:30

THE PRE-MATCH BUILD-UP

The calm before the storm. This is generally when the team lineups will come into the studio. At times we'll read these out on air, on other occasions we'll cut to our roving match reporters for a rundown on formations, teamsheets and injury updates. It gives the panel a chance to air their opinions on how various teams will shape up for the afternoon and what they'll be hoping to achieve tactically. It also gives us a chance to speculate on why various players have been included or dropped to the bench.

It's at this point that we'll jump to our superstar roving reporter, Kammy, for the latest news on his designated game. Usually this is where any well-constructed plans are laid to rest, because Kammy is prone to fits of laughter and comical clumsiness. I remember on one occasion he was dispatched to Fulham, where a laughing fit even threatened to reduce the show to tatters. We'd sent him to Craven Cottage with the idea of presenting a pitchside report at around two thirty, hoping he could grab a quick word with either a manager or a player as they came off the field following the warm-up. I remember the big news at the time was that Fulham – who were involved in a relegation scrap – had just signed Sylvain Legwinski, a transfer that had taken place at around the same time as the Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky scandal.

‘Would you believe it, Jeff,’ giggled Kammy. ‘His new teammates are already referring to him as Monica.’

I couldn't help myself. ‘That may be so, Kammy, but are Fulham going down as well?’

I knew what was coming. Kammy started to giggle. And he giggled and giggled. The panel began laughing and, within seconds, tears were streaming down his face. I could see in the background that the teams were running off the pitch and he hadn't even spoken to anyone. The piece was ruined, but in the nicest possible way.

TIME: 3:01

THE FIRST HALF

A goal at Selhurst Park.

Another red card for Robbie Savage.

News of a goal at Gillingham.

A flurry of bookings in the game between City and Spurs.

Is that a penalty at Celtic?

Panic over, no goal at Gillingham.

But there is one at Fratton Park. Can we cut to Chris Kamara for a report?

A shout from Paul Merson in the studio.

Matt Le Tissier texting his friend from behind the desk.

Goal at Anfield!

‘And we're going to Portsmouth, where there's been an early goal: Chris Kamara …’

‘Unbelievable, Jeff!’

Welcome to approximately seven live seconds in the world of Soccer Saturday. From the moment the first whistles ring out around the country, the show takes on an element of adrenalized chaos: at times, goals and cards can trickle in at a snail's pace. At others, the action can come in thick and fast. There really is no way of telling.

It's at this stage that the studio takes on an unusual atmosphere. We have three cameramen in front of us and an office where our producer, Ian Condron, and his assistants keep an eye on the scores. It's their job to decide where the show should go in terms of match reports and updates. It's my job at this stage to watch the scores as they come in and update the viewer, while linking the show to match reports, both in and out of the studio.

From here, you never really know how the show is going to pan out. The only guarantee is that it will be bloody exciting. Sometimes, there are moments of intense action when I'll think, ‘For god's sake, please don't let anyone score for a few minutes,’ just so I can catch up with the scores, scorers and events that are going on in approximately 75 games across the country. Then there are other times when I'll be sitting there wondering if the videprinter is actually working because absolutely nothing has happened for the best part of five minutes. These moments of prolonged calm are the ones I dread the most. You can chat with panellists to pass the time and kill any dead air between goal reports, but it's really a case of keeping the show ticking over in order to maintain the viewer's interest.

Suddenly, there will be a flurry of action: goals, penalty appeals, bookings … In the back of the mind you know that at any second you could have to deal with 20 goals in two frantic minutes, not to mention a blur of yellow cards and sendings-off (especially if Rob Styles is reffing any of the games that afternoon). This is also the moment when the panel begins its afternoon chorus of yells, squeals and general shouting, which creates a real sense of drama as they watch their games. There's nothing like watching Paul Merson grunting and groaning his way through a Portsmouth match.

Believe it or not, in the early days of the show, panellists were told that they shouldn't be shouting out at all, and even now they're not encouraged to make all that noise, but it just happens naturally, mainly because they become so engrossed in their games. I think it really adds to the atmosphere and sense of occasion for the viewer. There you are, viewer, on your sofa, sandwich or scotch egg in hand, and you'll hear a shout off camera. If it's from one of the panellists commentating on your team, then it can make for a heart-racing moment, especially if the goal has gone your way.

I think Rodney Marsh first brought that sense of excitement and drama to the show, simply by shouting. But then Rodney would shout about just about everything – even if somebody had won a throw-in. At first it was all part of his act, and there was a feeling that he would do it for effect sometimes, but over the course of the last 10 years, it's become one of the show's trademarks.

Meanwhile, my eyes at this stage of the programme are focused almost completely on the videprinter which displays the latest scores and scorers as they happen. This is the most important tool I have at my disposal, because it's my link to the outside world. I've also got a little box on my desk which plays eight different live channels, or games, so I can flick to different matches - if I see or hear that something is happening four seats away in Charlie's chair, then I can flick to TV number four and check on what he's watching. From there, I can instantly see which team is celebrating, who has scored the goal, who has made the mistake that has led to a penalty, and why the ref is incorrectly booking somebody, and so on. It puts me in a position where I can also add comments to the situation if needed. I might get to see a replay of something, but generally I haven't got time to do that and I'll try to get to the relevant commentator as quickly as I can. Everything flies by in a blur.

TIME: 3:21

THE AD BREAK

At last, a breather. Tea and biscuits all round. One of the show's biggest masterstrokes was convincing advertisers to allow us to continually run the latest scores across the screen during the ad break. This was an idea of Vic Wakeling's, the MD of Sky Sports. By maintaining the levels of action and a constant news-feed while the viewers are bombarded with images of tea-drinking chimps (no, not us!) and plutonium-strength deodorants, we've ensured the action rarely lets up in pace. As a result, these are probably the most-watched adverts on the telly. We weren't sure whether the advertisers would go for it when we first suggested the idea, but the one thing we all knew was that ad breaks were the only time that people generally get up and make a cup of tea or turn over. By keeping the scores on-screen, people were guaranteed to watch the adverts as well. It was a little stroke of genius.

TIME: 3:49

HALF-TIME

This is the point where everybody on the show goes out and gets a sandwich and a cup of tea. Sadly, I have to sit there and read out the scores, which can be infuriating, as Matt Le Tissier scoffs more than his fair share of crisps and chocolate – there's never anything for me to eat once he's finished. It's also a worrying time for me, as the half-time break presents the perfect opportunity for Charlie Nicholas to ‘redecorate’ my car.

This prank started a few seasons ago. While I was dealing with the half-time scores, Charlie decided to wander into the car park to find my beautiful motor (please pretend along with me) before decorating the exterior with leaves, branches and litter bins. There were also one or two road signs and ‘Men At Work’ notices positioned on the bonnet. This soon became a ritual. Out of consideration for my paintwork, I started to move my car from its regular spot, but Charlie would seek it out and wreak his usual havoc no matter where I parked it. I even went as far as parking it a quarter of a mile up the road, but Charlie would still, somehow, get to his target. Shame he wasn't so proficient when he was playing up front for the Gunners.

Anyway, things got so bad that I had to park in the Tesco's car park, which was located over the road from the Sky Sports studios. On that occasion, Charlie came back after half-time with a face like thunder.

‘Where the fuck is it?’ he bellowed.

I had a quiet laugh to myself. ‘You'll never know, mate, you'll never know.’

He's stopped doing it now, but for a while it became a weekly ritual, much to my despair. It's a terrible feeling knowing that somewhere out in the streets of Middlesex, your newly polished car is being covered in crap, especially when you're reading the scores from Scotland's Second Division.

These pranks might seem somewhat immature to our more sensible viewers, but I guess it's an indication of what life must have been like in the dressing room for a lot of footballers. If his current sense of humour is anything to go by, though, Charlie must have been a right bugger when he was a player. Thank god he didn't play for Wimbledon - I would probably have had my eyebrows shaved by now.