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kind of nutcase. My legend went before me, and it had nothing to do with football. I was even banned from the final graduation ceremony, or the 'caps day' as it was called, after a scuffle with a classmate on my last day of school. My dad ordered me to turn up anyway, daring them not to let me join in. No one said a word and I received my cap, presented by Jimmy Hill, with the rest of the players.

My international bow came when Blunt picked me upfront against Italy in Sardinia, and left a shy striker called Emile Heskey on the bench. I scored in a 2–0 win, the Italian keeper Gianluigi Buffon having no answer to my lethal finishing. Sadly, the return game with the Italians ended with tragic news. A coach from The Chaucer travelled to Walsall packed with my supporters, then returned to discover one of the locals, Stevie Porter, had been killed in Spain the same afternoon. Stevie would have been on the coach but for his holiday; his son Michael was one of those who'd come to see me play. His mum was waiting for him to deliver the news when the bus got back.

Other outings for the Marsh Lane boys were less traumatic. My next game was away in Holland, a 1–1 draw, with David Thompson on the mark for us. This fixture was my dad and his friends' first European expedition to support me. Included in the party was the landlord of The Chaucer, Jimmy Roberts, who'd had his eyes gouged out during an horrific incident some years earlier. Naturally enough, thoughts turned towards a slice of the action in Amsterdam's red light zone.

'I'm not getting involved in any of that, Philly,' Jimmy told my dad.

'Don't worry, Jimmy,' my dad replied. 'We've brought you here as our eyewitness in case any of our birds accuse us of getting up to no good. You can tell them you didn't see us do anything.'

My second year at Lilleshall saw me briefly flirt with going back to Everton. Lilleshall's match with Liverpool ended in a 2–0 win for the representative team, for which I was playing upfront alongside Andrew Ducros. He began his career as a trainee at Coventry but has spent most of his days playing for non-league clubs such as Nuneaton and Burton Albion. He must think back to those days in 1993–94 when Graeme Souness tried to sign him for Liverpool. Ducros was taken by Souness and Sammy Lee into the office at Melwood after the game and told the club had liked his performance so much they'd like him to join. He got on the team bus heading back to Lilleshall understandably chuffed, while I – a Liverpool player – sat there still waiting for my first hello from the Anfield manager.

I was so livid that quitting the club on the spot seemed a valid option. After five years, this was how they treated me? By trying to sign my striking partner? Making me feel like an idiot in front of all the Lilleshall players? I wasn't going to lie down and accept this. I got ready to fight back. Ray Hall had also watched the match, saw how angry I was, and told my dad he'd happily sign me again. 'Let's see how Liverpool feel if I go somewhere else,' I thought.

Unfortunately for Ducros, Souness didn't remain in the job long enough to take him to Anfield, and my revived thoughts about heading back to Goodison lasted no longer than the coach journey home. I made up my mind to put my Everton sympathies to one side and prove to Liverpool they didn't need to be considering any alternative to me.

One of my final games at Lilleshall was against Portugal during the Under-16 European Championship in 1994, on the same day the old Kop closed before it became seated. We won 1–0 against the hosts, and at a celebratory team meeting after the game Blunt said it was appropriate for me to lead a rendition of 'You'll Never Walk Alone'.

As a Liverpool player, it was easy.

As an Evertonian? I was opening a can of worms in my head.

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Everton
On 26 May 1989, Michael Thomas ran through the heart of Liverpool's defence and scored the most notorious last-minute goal in Anfield