An interview with Mick Rathbone, by Callum McFadden for WFi.
Before we talk about your career as a physio and your trilogy of books, you also had a strong playing career in the game. You played for clubs such as Birmingham City and Blackburn Rovers and worked under managers such as Sir Alf Ramsey. How do you reflect on your playing career?
“Very traumatic, to be honest. I hated my time at Birmingham. It was horrific because there was a lot of bullying in those days, and I was probably a bit too sensitive to cope with that kind of environment.
“My first manager was Willie Bell, who was a really good Scottish guy from the west coast, a lovely fella. Then Sir Alf Ramsey came in. Obviously, he was super successful and adored by many for being England’s World Cup-winning manager and all that, but he was quite aloof. I think most people who worked with him would say that.
“After that came Jim Smith, the ‘Bald Eagle’. By that point, though, I was going through a really difficult spell. I was playing badly, struggling with confidence and a lot of personal stuff.
“It got to the point where I told Jim Smith I didn’t want to play anymore. I was only 20. I just said, ‘I never want to play football again.’ It sounds crazy now, but I’d completely lost all joy in it.
“Looking back, I think it was a combination of things from playing for my hometown club, the weight of expectation, and fear. I’d been going to St Andrew’s as a kid from the age of 11, and I remember the noise, the booing and the stick players got for a bad pass. It traumatised me, honestly.
“So, when I finally made it there as a player, even though I was doing well by playing in the England youth team and getting close to the Birmingham first team, I still had that awful fear in me. It was like a skeleton in the closet.
“However, after a few seasons, I moved to Blackburn, and that was the turning point in my career. Just getting 120 miles away from the ‘killing fields’ of St Andrew’s made all the difference. I dropped down a division, too so instead of 25,000 fans booing you, there were 15,000 (laughs). The pressure lifted.
“When you play for your hometown club, you have your uncle, your best mate, your chemistry teacher, your next-door neighbour and more all telling you that they’re all watching and judging. That’s tough.
“But at Blackburn, that physical and emotional distance was what I needed. Everything came right again. I played all the games, loved it, and rediscovered why I wanted to play football in the first place.”
In terms of the transition to life after football, did you always want to work in the medical side of the game, or did you ever consider going into coaching or management instead?
“No, I always leaned towards the medical side. When I was at grammar school in Birmingham, I actually wanted to be a doctor. In those days, only about 3% of people from a grammar school went to university.
“I was a good student – in the top stream, good at science, and a really strong athlete too. I was a top-level 800-metre and cross-country runner, played for Birmingham Schools, Warwickshire Schools, and West Midlands.
“There were no academies back then, so it wasn’t like now, where you’re on a conveyor belt and can get pushed off at 8, 11, 14, or 17. Scouts came to watch when you were 15 or 16. Birmingham was my team, I lived within walking distance of the training ground, and they asked my dad if I could sign.
“My dad wanted me to stay on at school and go to university to become a doctor, but I wanted to have a go at football. Thankfully, I made the grade. I was lucky. Lots don’t. I played 450 professional games, which I’m proud of.
“Then, like every player, one day you wake up at 32 or 33 and realise it’s over. You’ve got no money in the bank, a big mortgage at 11%, a wife, two young girls, and no qualifications beyond O levels.
“All the people who used to say, ‘When you finish playing, we’ll find you something,’ they don’t call anymore. The phone goes quiet. You’re not ‘Baz the full-back’ anymore – you’re just Mick Rathbone, unemployed, and unemployable.
“Luckily, the PFA had this brilliant idea. They decided that if they could get ex-pros who were also chartered physios, that would be the best of both worlds. They launched the first-ever course for that at Salford University in 1992, and I got on it. There were only eight of us.
“It was a massive commitment. I was working full-time as an unqualified physio at Halifax Town, basically doing everything, then on Mondays and Thursdays I’d drive to Salford, do classes till 8pm, and then as soon as the season finished, instead of going on holiday like the lads, I’d be back in a hospital working full-time placements all summer.
“Four years of that. It was brutal. But I knew that if I stuck with it, I’d be one of the few ex-players with the qualifications. Nobody was going to outwork me.
“And once I got those letters after my name, things took off. I knew I’d never be out of work again — and I never have been.”
You worked for many clubs, but your long spell at Everton in the Premier League really stands out. What’s it like being a physio at that level, with the scrutiny that comes from fans, press, and management?
“The internal pressure is always the same. Whether you’re at Harrogate or Everton, I give absolutely everything to the job. Every injured player is treated the same way that I would treat my son or Wayne Rooney; that’s how I approach it.
“But externally, yes, the scrutiny’s totally different. At Harrogate or Accrington, there’s hardly any. At Everton, it’s massive with national press coverage, social media, 40,000 fans and a constant spotlight.
“I was at Everton for eight seasons. We had seven brilliant years with hardly any injuries, so I got loads of credit, but honestly, a lot of it is luck. Then one bad year, with a pile-up of injuries, and suddenly everyone is pointing fingers.
“I remember we were playing AEK Athens away in the Europa League. It was a Thursday night game, and the doc and I had a walk up to the Acropolis. A group of Everton fans spotted us and shouted, ‘Oi, you lot shouldn’t be sightseeing! Get back and fix the injured players!’
“That’s football. It made me laugh, but it also shows the pressure.
“Even now, with social media, that’s magnified a thousand times. You can have three great years, but one injury crisis and suddenly you’re useless. A tiny minority can make a huge noise online.
“I always compare it to TripAdvisor, where you can have 300 five-star reviews, but one one-star review jumps out. My first book had an average of 4.8 stars, but there was one one-star review. That’s life now, and the loudest voices aren’t always the fairest ones.”
You worked under David Moyes for a long time at both Preston and Everton. What was he like to work with, especially as a young manager coming through the ranks?
“I had 15 years with Dave. Honestly, I saw more of him than my wife and I’m not even joking!
“When I first joined Preston in 1995, they were in the bottom division. But with Baxi buying the club, the only way was up. Dave was still a player at first, then became assistant manager. We were close, really close. Beers, laughs, friends.
“As the club grew and moved up the leagues, things naturally changed. The stakes were higher, scrutiny greater, and more staff involved.
“So, at Everton, our relationship was still very close, but more professional in front of others.
“Privately, though, we’d still sit down and reminisce. I remember our first pre-season in the Isle of Man. It was roasting hot and me and Dave were lugging skips up four flights of stairs, sweating buckets. Proper graft.
“Even after he sacked me, we stayed close. It’s like a couple who divorce but stay best friends.
“He’s a great guy. His bark’s worse than his bite, and that’s a compliment. He’ll mix it up if he needs to. He is nobody’s fool, but deep down, he really cares about his players and his staff.
“Nobody worked harder. Nobody. His work ethic was phenomenal. The players knew that, and they gave him everything back. Everton was a special place to be in those years.”
You also spent time at Manchester United later on in your career, albeit in a different kind of role. In your second book, you mention you didn’t enjoy it as much as you’d hoped. Why was that?
“For me, it comes down to feeling wanted and valued.
“At Everton, I was ‘Head of Medical.’ The day couldn’t start without me, as every meeting began with, ‘Right, Baz, who’s fit?’ Everyone saw me running on the pitch, so it was a visible, important role.
“At Manchester United, I had a different title, which was something like ‘Mentor to the U21s.’ It was a modern role, quite vague. The cynical side of me thought, ‘This is a non-job.’
“Don’t get me wrong, United were brilliant. Fantastic club, amazing people. The young players I worked with said I helped them a lot. But for me personally, it lacked that sense of importance.
“It’s probably a weakness in my personality, but I like to feel indispensable.
“I would walk into Carrington each morning and think, ‘If I wasn’t here today, would it really matter?’ At Everton, if I’d been off ill (which I never was), it would’ve been a crisis. At United, I don’t think it would’ve changed much.
“That kind of mentoring role exists at every club now. Maybe if I did it today, I’d see it differently because it’s much more accepted as part of a wider structure. But back then, it just didn’t suit who I was.”
Let’s talk about your books, especially your latest one, The Smell of Football 3, about your time at Accrington. Was that always planned, or something that came about
“Completely unplanned. The first book covered 35 years, and its strength was its scope. The second book covered 10 or 11 clubs in 10 years, which was a decade of madness, really.
“But if the third book had followed that format, it wouldn’t have worked, as it was only two years’ worth of stories.
”So when I joined Accrington, I thought, ‘I’ll just jot a few diary notes down as it might be interesting.’ I scribbled little bits every day. Then things ended there quite abruptly – it became untenable – and I realised I’d been there exactly 100 days.
“That felt like fate. I thought, ‘That’s it – a 100-day diary.’
“I went deep into the minutiae of the day-to-day grind, the banter, the heartbreak of losing in the last minute every Saturday for eight weeks! It fascinates people on the outside because it’s so real.
“It ended up being the perfect way to finish the trilogy, all under the same umbrella, but each book completely different.”
Finally, Mick, some people who’ve maybe only read the first book, what would you say makes the trilogy special as a whole?
“That’s really nice of you to say — and thank you. I’m really proud of them.
“I wrote every word myself. No ghostwriter. Every sentence is me. I was determined that the second book wouldn’t be a ‘watered-down’ version of the first, and the third wouldn’t be a ‘scruffy add-on.’
“Each book had to stand proudly on its own — and I think they do.
“Interestingly, my kids each prefer a different one. My son says the first is best, my eldest daughter says the second, and my youngest loves the third. That probably sums it up, as each one hits people differently.
“I’ve worked for 21 teams now, and I can honestly say, I’ve never worked a day in my life. I love football, I love helping players, I love being part of it.
“Even now, at 67, I’ve just finished six weeks at Harrogate and it was brilliant. I was back in the dressing room, laughing, joking, running around with the lads. Magic.
“Every year on my birthday, I run around the pitch in the seconds of my age. I started when I was 50 at Goodison. Still doing it. The day I can’t do it is the day I’ll probably stop.
“Until then, I’ll keep going. One day I’ll be running those laps, and if I drop dead, people will say, ‘It’s how he’d have wanted it.’”
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