An interview with Steve Perryman, by Callum McFadden for WFi.
You enjoyed a distinguished and lengthy career at Tottenham Hotspur, achieving remarkable success both domestically and in European competition. Given your deep-rooted connection with the club, how would you describe the impact it has had on your career and personal journey in football?
“I’m from North London—well, actually, I’m from West London. Growing up, I followed my two older brothers, and we’d go to QPR one week and Brentford the next, back when they were in the old Third Division.
“Of course, I knew about the fantastic Tottenham Hotspur—the exploits of Bill Nicholson, the Double, the two FA Cup wins, and the first English team to win a European trophy. But that world felt too far detached; I never thought I’d be part of it. I didn’t even think I’d ever get to watch them play regularly.
“But from the moment I walked in—after deciding to join them at 15 straight from school—it just overtook me. It felt like home. I had found the place where I was going to thrive. That doesn’t mean to say that you will thrive, because a lot can get in your way, including bad luck and injuries.
“The main reason I joined was Bill Nicholson. He was so upfront, honest, and direct. His first words to me on my first day were: ‘Steve, if you play quick, easy, and accurate, you’ll have a career.’ He already seemed to know my game, even though I doubt he had seen me play more than once or twice. I had only decided late in my under-15 year that I was going to join Tottenham. Maybe he saw me play at Wembley against Scotland, but there weren’t many videos back then, if any.
“But he knew my game, my character, and we had a connection. He was no-nonsense—straight-talking, from a tough school of thought, even if he never actually said that. Bill and his staff had a ‘get on with it’ attitude. They were from an era where that was the mindset. These were men who had grown up in the aftermath of the First and Second World Wars, so they had a very straightforward view of life and football.
Football, to them, was a simple game:
1. Try your best.
2. Give everything you’ve got.
3. We’ll help you shape your game.
“Everything about the club was driven by Bill Nicholson. In that era, managers ran the whole club. There’s a famous story that if the laundry lady got a raise, it was because the manager gave it to her. That’s how it worked. This man controlled your career.
“He was very fair-minded. I get frustrated when I hear players say, ‘I didn’t get picked because the manager didn’t like me.’ That’s rubbish. Managers don’t need to like you. They need to trust you. They like your game, your energy, your enthusiasm, and whether you fit the club’s style. That’s what mattered to Bill.
“When he told me, ‘Play quick, easy, and accurate,’ that was his way of football. Of course, he wouldn’t say that to someone like Jimmy Greaves—Jimmy had different talents. But Bill’s job was to mould all of us into a team, a shape, a structure for the good of the club.
“I trusted him completely with my career. He wasn’t easy with money, he wasn’t free-flowing with praise, and playing for him was tough—but I liked that. I responded to it.
“So, what does Tottenham Hotspur mean to me? It meant I had found my football home. And, as sentimental as it sounds, I found my football father. Everything I did was to impress him—to make myself selectable, to make him proud, to have a career.
“I left school at 15, much to the anger of my grammar school. My mother had signed something saying I’d stay on into the sixth form. But when you get an offer from a top club with a top manager, all that goes out the window. Of course, my school was right to question it—what if I got injured? What if my career ended early? What qualifications would I have?
“But at 15, in love with football, you don’t think about those things. I wasn’t being arrogant—I wasn’t thinking, ‘Oh, I’ll be in the first team quickly, I’ll be a star, I’ll win trophies fast.’ No, never. But I knew I was in the right place to develop.
“As a teenager, I was an inside forward—what an old-fashioned term that is! More of an attacking midfielder than a defensive one. But by the time I broke into the first team at 17, I was the defensive one in a midfield three, alongside Martin Peters and John Pratt (and later Alan Mullery). I was happy to do that. I was young, playing in an experienced team, and I wanted to be selectable. If that meant using my young legs for defensive duties, so be it.
“I even played a season at centre-back, and I spent my last four or five seasons as a right-back. Most of what I did was defensive-minded. I was never a star player.
“When I signed for Spurs at 15, about 35 clubs wanted me. The newspaper headline read: ‘Spurs Sign Star Schoolboy.’ That wasn’t really accurate. Sure, I was a good player, but I had gone undercover in a grammar school that didn’t even play competitive football. It was only by chance that my sports teacher put me forward for district trials, and I was spotted by Tottenham’s chief scout.
“In the end, signing for Spurs was an easy decision, though a critical one.”
You’ve spoken about Bill Nicholson as your footballing father, and under his leadership, you experienced some of Tottenham’s greatest triumphs, including two League Cups and, most notably, the club’s historic UEFA Cup victory in 1972. You played a pivotal role throughout that European campaign, particularly in the semi-final against AC Milan. Looking back, what are your standout memories from that success, both in terms of the matches themselves and the significance of winning Tottenham’s first European trophy?
“Well, we had a very tall team—Mike England, Alan Gilzean, Martin Peters, Martin Chivers, Phil Beal, and even Pat Jennings. Bill used to say, ‘Lads, a good big ’un is better than a good little ’un.’ He meant that having height gave you an advantage in set pieces—both defending and attacking.
“We were unbelievable at corners and long throw-ins. Martin Chivers’ long throw was a real weapon. European teams didn’t know how to deal with it. Our record in Europe was incredible.
“That AC Milan semi-final, where I scored twice, was part of a brutal run—we played four games in six days because of the Easter schedule. But can you imagine a player saying to Bill Nicholson, ‘Bill, I’m tired’? Not a chance.
“Bill had a very loyal staff—old-school men like Eddie Baily, Johnny Wallis, and Cecil Poynton. One of them once told us, ‘The manager isn’t always right, but he’s always the manager.’ That stuck with me.
“Tactically, we played up, back, and through—the ball went up to Gilzean, laid off to midfield, and then through to someone like Jimmy Greaves. If Jimmy wasn’t making the right runs, Bill would tell him at half-time: ‘Jimmy, you’re not quite on it. How do we play? When Gilly lays it back, you should be moving.’
“It was about having a framework—enough structure to win, but also room for players like Greaves to do the unexpected.
“Bill Nicholson taught us ethics and integrity. He never told us to waste time, never told us to kick an opponent out of the game, and never told Pat Jennings to slow down a goal kick.
“That’s the right mentality. Play with tempo, energy, and enthusiasm. That’s the Tottenham way.”
You achieved great success under Bill Nicholson, but you also thrived under Keith Burkinshaw, leading Tottenham through another remarkable era. As captain, you lifted back-to-back FA Cups—an achievement that places you in a select group of Spurs legends. Winning the FA Cup is special for any player, but to do it twice in succession while wearing the armband must have been an extraordinary feeling. What do those triumphs mean to you, both personally and in the context of Tottenham’s rich history?
“Well, for instance, when Pat Jennings left us, that was a big shock to everyone. Pat ended up playing in, I think, three cup finals on the spin—late ’70s, early 80s—and I remember thinking, ‘Bloody hell, is it ever going to be our turn?’
“Eventually, our team developed. We recovered from relegation, got back to the top league, and signed the two Argentinians, plus Archibald and Crooks. But just as important as those signings were Galvin and Roberts from non-league. Suddenly, the team had grown. We were no longer pushovers. We weren’t a soft touch away from home. Okay, we weren’t the absolute business, but we managed to threaten the league without really threatening—well, we did one year. But we had cup success.
“I always say that when you win your first trophy—and although it wasn’t my first, it was for that era, because the early League Cup and UEFA Cup wins were a long time ago—when you win that first trophy, you’re already halfway to winning the second one. That confidence, the morale boost, the belief from the crowd, the trust from the manager, the faith you develop in each other—it all pushes you forward.
“It was like five London buses coming at once. We had a five-year spell of being a proper team. We were never consistent enough, unfortunately, to win the league. We flirted with it at times—went top with ten games to go after winning at Anfield, which hadn’t happened in 70-odd years. But we couldn’t sustain it.
“Still, the crowd was happy because we were winning things. They were being rewarded for their support, and they had hope. And they loved watching the team play. You can imagine—with Ardiles, Villa, Hoddle, Archibald, Crooks, Galvin—and we also had a lot of homegrown talent coming through. That was credit to Keith.
“Keith and his wife would travel on a minibus on Sundays with two youth teams, taking them to play Southampton. They’d be on the minibus with the parents, and Keith would know all the kids’ names. That didn’t mean every young player would make it, but the parents could see a good man was in charge of their son’s career. And that investment paid off in the 1984 UEFA Cup final.
“Glenn Hoddle was injured. Ray Clemence was injured. I was suspended. Garth Crooks was injured. Archibald played, but essentially, it was a homegrown team that got that victory—homegrown with some non-league players like Galvin and Roberts, and a sprinkle of stardust with Archibald. Tony Parks was in goal instead of Ray Clemence.
“When that happens, it’s pure belief in your own club. A manager picking young players—Mickey Hazard became a star that year. Injuries to Glenn and others gave him a chance, and he stepped up. Roberts stepped up in my absence as captain, scoring the goal that put us into extra time, then stepping up to take the first penalty and smashing it into the top corner.
“Success isn’t bred the day before—it’s bred years before. And that’s the type of club we were. Everyone going in the same direction, with different talents, but all understanding what was needed. As captain, I helped drive that. We knew what we needed to do, and we knew what we’d failed to do when we lost games. There was intelligence and togetherness in that team.
“Those two FA Cup victories underpinned everything—they gave us belief and strength to perform. Playing for Tottenham was a tough gig. Playing under a building site at White Hart Lane was a tough gig. Playing in front of the home crowd was a tough gig. But when they believed in you, they lifted you. By Christ, did they lift you.
“I always talk about the Danny Thomas incident when he missed the penalty against Anderlecht. The crowd chanted his name all the way back to the halfway line. Now, how does Danny feel? How does the next penalty taker feel, seeing that support? That night, whoever led that singing was as important as anyone else in our victory.
“That’s what you get when you have a proper club. It’s easy for crowds to turn on you when things go wrong, but even when we got relegated, the fans were on the pitch at the end with banners saying, ‘We will be back.’ That was their belief. It’s their club. It’s my club. It’s our club. As far as the fans are concerned, it’s the only club.
“It’s an easy club to fall in love with—and a very difficult club to fall out of love with. Though sometimes, that loyalty gets tested too often. But everything goes in cycles.”
Looking at your career and the success you achieved with Tottenham—winning major trophies, captaining the club, and being a true leader—it’s remarkable that you didn’t receive more England caps. Given your consistency, intelligence, and influence on the pitch, it feels like you should have been a mainstay in the national team. How frustrating was that for you at the time? And when you compare it to some of the players who have earned regular England call-ups in the modern era, do you ever reflect on how different it might have been in a different time?
“This might sound a bit unambitious, but I see it quite simply.
“My strength was consistency, leadership, and being selectable. I was rarely injured, and I could play in different positions. In the hour of need, I could adapt. If you watched me play two or three times a year, you might think, ‘Well, yeah, he never has a bad game.’
“But I know how football works. I think I was seen as a jack of all trades, master of none. That doesn’t get you picked for England. And to be honest, I understand that.
“But I think people underestimated how I made other players better. I was a brilliant talker on the pitch. I knew how to lead Glenn Hoddle—where to give him the ball, how to angle it, what he needed to thrive. When you do that right, it’s almost unnoticeable.
“I think my best moments came when Tottenham were struggling—because that’s when I came to the front. When the team was flying, I could step back and let the others shine. I loved seeing Glenn Hoddle being lauded as the King of White Hart Lane. For me, there were only two kings—Gilzean and Hoddle. Others have been called that since, but not for long enough.
“When we were playing well, I was happy to step back and let the star players dominate. But when we were a goal down and heads dropped—that’s when I went into overdrive.
“So, I wasn’t walking around with a sore head about England. I quite enjoyed the international breaks. All the star men were away with England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland, and I could focus on the younger players at the club. Again, that’s not something that gets you picked for England—caring for others.
“I still believe that if someone had truly believed in Glenn Hoddle at international level, he’d have played far more games. They should have built the team around him.
“But I was happy in my own skin. I knew exactly what I was and what I wasn’t. Maybe I was half a yard too slow. Maybe I was a bit too small for Bill Nick. But if I wasn’t good enough for England, fine. No problem. Let’s focus on what I was good at. Let’s focus on the people who did appreciate me.
“For me, that was Tottenham Hotspur.”