Interview: Steve Lomas, St Johnstone manager and former Northern Ireland international

When Steve Lomas clashes with old mate Neil Lennon, expect a stage show to put Manchester’s finest to shame, predicts Tom English

It’s a story from the vaults, a tale of drink and fighting and rock ‘n’ roll. Maine Road, Manchester. Sometime in 1996. Cool Britannia, baby. Don’t ask the month because the memory is hazy, not because of all the years that have passed but because of all the drink that had been lowered. Steve Lomas and Neil Lennon backstage with Oasis. Pished, the pair of them.

There’s Noel Gallagher, there’s Liam, right over there is Patsy and her celebrity pals and away to the side sway Lennon and Lomas. The former is an ex-Manchester City player, the latter is the current Manchester City captain. In the eyes of the Gallaghers, that makes them special citizens. Top boys. VIPs. “Come round after the show fellas”.

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And they do, if only for a little while. Some words are exchanged between them, some insults about which they’ve no recollection. One gives the other a shove and the other shoves back.

“What are you playing at, Lenny?”

“What am I playing at? What are you playing at?”

An inebriated punch is attempted and misses the target. A boozy counter is tried but that also fails to land. The two hit the deck and roll about like wrestlers. Neither of them knows what they’re arguing about but they are and that’s the end of it. The bouncers step in and Lennon is thrown out. A few years later he is backstage again when Oasis are in Glasgow. Noel Gallagher spots him. “Right, you, no fighting tonight!”

At McDiarmid Park today, a rematch of sorts. St Johnstone versus Celtic, Lomas versus Lennon. The former just five games – and one touchline ban – into his time in Scotland, the latter on a roll after a string of wins in the SPL and an excellent performance in Udine on Thursday evening. The last time they went to head-to-head was probably on the golf course. Who won? Lomas can’t recall. “But Lenny can play. Aye, he hits a good ball. He gets his wee fat arse into it. Not bad, Lenny. Not bad at all.”

At 37, Lomas is the youngest manager in the SPL, his reign at St Johnstone beginning with a draw at Ibrox – and instant acclamation from his old pal – and wins over Hibs and Hearts, followed in turn by a heavy loss to Motherwell and another defeat to Aberdeen in the monsoon of Tuesday night. “You don’t want the defeats, but sometimes you learn more from them than you do the victories,” he says. “What I know is that they’re an honest bunch and that’ll do for starters.”

He’ll match Lennon for intensity, have no fear. Stare for stare, scowl for scowl, there’ll be nothing to separate them. Then he’ll welcome him in for a drink and a chat in the aftermath. And what things these two could chat about. They are mates from way back. Grew up together as footballers, more or less. Spent time with each other not just on the training ground at City but on the playing fields with Northern Ireland and in any number of hotel rooms around Europe and in digs as young men in Manchester.

“He snores, you know,” says Lomas. “Oh Christ, he snores like a groundhog. We usually roomed together with Northern Ireland and I’d always have to get to bed before him. I’d try and be asleep before the snoring started or else there was no chance. If I didn’t, next stop would be the bath. Oh aye, I slept in there a couple of times to get away from the racket. You’d give him a nudge and he’d stop for a while and just as you were about to nod off he’d start off again. I used to think he did it on purpose.”

When did Lomas notice him first? That’s easy. Lomas was born the son of a services man, came into the world in Hanover, Germany, then moved to Hong Kong for a spell before being brought to Northern Ireland at the age of two, Coleraine to be exact. Four years younger than Lennon, he was only nine when he first set eyes on “this midget, this little ginger barrel” playing in something called the Milk Cup final in his hometown. The Milk Cup is a high-profile youth tournament in Northern Ireland, open to foreign teams as well as local ones. Only the best of the best get to play in it. A crowd of 10,000 turned out for the denouement which pitched Lennon’s Craigavon United – Lurgan Celtic by another name – against, above all teams, Glasgow Rangers. The Scots won on penalties. “I was about nine years old, so he must have been about 13 and he played magnificently. He stood out. I remember him crying afterwards. That real competitive streak, you could see it even then.”

Why do the two get on so well? Maybe because they are so alike. “Maybe, aye. We might have similar traits, that’s fair. We’re passionate, we wear our heart on our sleeve, we’re hard workers, we don’t suffer fools. We’re approachable, but don’t take us for mugs or else the ginger fire will come out.”

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They’ve both been leaders since their early years in the game, born captains the pair of them. When Harry Redknapp was manager of West Ham he had all sorts of brilliance and all manner of characters in his team, the young lions like Frank Lampard and Rio Ferdinand, Michael Carrick and Joe Cole and the older heads like Paolo Di Canio and Neil Ruddock, John Hartson and Stuart Pearce, Ian Wright, Nigel Winterburn and Slaven Bilic. The bloke he picked to captain this lot was Lomas.

Mental strength? He had it in abundance as a player. Maybe he always had it and maybe he developed it further in his days at City in the weeks and months and years he spent watching a team-mate, Paul Lake, fighting a hopeless fight with injury. Lakey. He talks about him like he was a mythical creature, a God of footballing bravery, cut down in his prime. “Lakey would have been England captain, I’ve no doubt about that. The boy had everything. Size, skill, courage. He was an immense talent. He had 20 operations on his knee and kept trying to come back. You’d see him in the gym every day, grafting like nobody else ever grafted. Christ almighty, football can be a cruel game. It was cruel on Lakey. Whenever I had injuries I used to think of him. I still think of him now.”

The West Ham years were the best of his career, ’Arry the most extraordinary manager. The team finished seventh, fifth and ninth in consecutive seasons, the best run of consistency in their history. You remind him of a game against Bradford in February 2000 and immediately he smiles. “Oh aye, the Stevie Bywater game,” he says of the hapless Hammer in goal for his side that day. Yes, the Stevie Bywater game and the Di Canio game, too.

“Shaka got injured after two minutes and Stevie came on and then he threw one into his own net and then he got chipped from 25 yards. There was a big screen and Stevie was busy watching the replay of our goal that got us back to 2-1 and the geezer – I think it was the lad Jamie Lawrence, remember, the guy who used to dye his hair all the time? – seen him off his line and tried to chip him from the kick-off. And it just went by the post. If that had gone in there was a chance that Les Sealey, our goalkeeping coach, God rest his soul, might have got stripped. We go 4-2 down and Paolo wants to be substituted. He’s throwing a major strop. He goes and sits on the touchline and folds his arms and legs. Harry just ignored him. Paolo came back on and was unbelievably brilliant. I always wonder how close Harry was to subbing Stevie that day and putting an outfield player in goal. I remember him putting Les [Sealey] on instead of Don Hutchinson at Arsenal once. Harry would do it, don’t worry about that.”

Would Lomas have done it? Does he have the Redknapp ruthlessness? It’s too early to say where he is heading in the management game, but he has the energy and the hunger and the force of personality to make a mark. When Lomas was appointed, Lennon was asked about him and he smiled a knowing smile. “A great lad,” he said. “Things are going to get interesting.” Interesting, indeed.