He was shot in the head by Alan Shearer for a laugh and discovered Paul Gascoigne hiding in a giant tumble-dryer cylinder.
When the credits rolled, Derek Wright had served 32 managers in 38 years at Newcastle, including three England coaches – Kevin Keegan, Sir Bobby Robson and Sam Allardyce. He even attended a staff fancy-dress party dressed in a pink tutu and Doc Martens boots, although trying to flag down a taxi by waving his magic wand afterwards proved more difficult than mending broken bones or impaired ligaments.
At every football club, the physiotherapist is an invincible gatekeeper between treatment table and pitch, an unsung hero whose surgery is open all hours. And Wright, who retired in the summer after restoring hundreds of injured Newcastle players to full fitness, is one of the best.
Don't worry about Shearer's larks with a loaded gun – at least it was only high jinks at the end of a team-bonding paintballing excursion. “When were taking our gear off afterwards, Alan was pointing this thing at me and I'm thinking, 'He's not going to fire that at me, is he?' But sure enough, he shot me in the head from a few feet away,” said Wright. “He seemed to find it hilarious, and fortunately I've got a thick skull, so I just looked like I'd been hit by a volley of raspberries. We are still great friends, and with Shearer you always knew you were in the presence of of someone special.
“He had this aura – when you looked at him as a physical specimen, you might think maybe he needs a bit of work to toughen him up, but he was the most single-minded person I've come across. Hard as nails, he was. You wouldn't catch him in the gym lifting weights, he was naturally tough. One or two of the injuries Alan suffered were major problems, but he was so durable. He was like a boomerang, he always came back. And he was a strong character who controlled the lads and ran the dressing room. If anyone was late, they were fined. He would control that because he just had that presence. It was Alan who dared me to dress up in that pink fairy tutu at the staff fancy dress party, and for some reason – which I can't work out to this day – I went along with it.” But for clowning around, Gascoigne – who was still a youth team apprentice when Wright took up his post with the Magpies in 1984 – had no equal.
“ Jack Charlton, the manager who gave me the job, always called me 'Dennis' from day one,” said Wright. “He wasn't great with names – he often referred to players as 'big lad' or 'little fella' – but he was a terrific man-manager. He had an arrangement with the local cafe round the corner to keep tabs on what Gazza was eating and let us know if he was ordering the wrong fuel. But even at a young age, he was one of the best players I've ever seen, an unbelievable talent. Like other apprentices, he was assigned jobs like sweeping the floors, but he didn't like those menial tasks. One day we couldn't find Gazza anywhere until we discovered him hiding inside one of those industrial kit tumble-dryers with his face pressed against the window. And in the run-up to Christmas, once he had no money after training and it was a long old walk back to his home in Dunston – so he went carol singing and used the money from the tips to pay for his bus fare home.”
HAVE YOUR SAY! What are your favourite memories of Gascoigne and Shearer? Let us know in the comments section
Among the A-list cast of managers who worked with Wright at St James' Park spanning five decades, he admired Robson's propriety. “For me, he was football royalty,” said the Geordie Del Boy. “You always sensed you were in the presence of a great man. He insisted on the highest standards, saying the clubs's medical department was our hospital and it needed to be kept spotlessly clean. Not long before he died, he came with a friend to the clinic in Jesmond where I treated general sports injuries one night a week and he wanted to pay me the going rate for sorting out a minor problem. I said, 'No way, I'm not taking any money from you' – so he produced a bottle of spirit from his coat and said, 'OK, well have this instead, then.' It's easy to forget he took Newcastle into the Champions League twice and reached a European semi-final. It was so sad when he left.”
Keegan's fantasy football was revered by Toon foot soldiers and neutrals alike, and for his backroom staff the joyride was just as exhilarating. Wright revealed Keegan and his assistant Terry McDermott would always bear witness to fitness tests – even if they didn't always accept the results. “Before one game, Rob Lee was struggling with a ligament problem in his right ankle,” he said. “I said, 'Gaffer, he can't cross the ball properly with that right foot – he's not going to make it.' Keegan looked up and replied, 'OK – we'll play him on the left, then.' I looked at Rob, he looked at me – and he played that afternoon on the left wing.
“As a physio, you can give the manager as much information – but they are the ones who put the names on the teamsheet. It's their decision. Those five years with Kevin were unbelievable. Arthur Cox, his assistant, told me, 'You need to treasure these days and cherish them – because they will never happen again.' When I retired, Kevin was one of the first to ring me and tell me to be proud of what I had done for the club. That was a phone call I'll never forget.” After 38 years on the front line, Wright now goes to watch Newcastle as a fan with his sons. They wanted to teach him the words to all the songs and chants. “Don't worry – I already know them all,” he told them. What a fine innings.
