Fabrice Muamba: I'm Still Standing Page 9

  The ambulance doors clang shut and all of a sudden the noise and the panic of the outside world is replaced by the calm efficiency of these experts doing what they are paid for.

  The hassle is gone, the people peering over the doctors’ shoulders have disappeared. The real work begins now.

  My feet dangle close to the end of the stretcher, my brow still contains the traces of sweat that come with 41 minutes of playing midfield against one of England’s best teams.

  All of a sudden more plastic is shoved down my throat as Peter fits a size 5 laryngeal mask down my airway to get a better supply of oxygen.

  The earlier bag and a mask that’s been over my mouth are not the worst things in the world but Peter’s handiwork means the oxygen I’m now receiving is far, far better.

  As he sorts me out the ambulance side door opens up. Dr Mughal is stood there with Dr John Hogan, another cardiologist who was at the ground.

  Another cardiologist who also happens to work with Dr Deaner every Monday at the London Chest Hospital.

  Small world.

  The two friends share a smile, wondering at the way fate has led to this position.

  “If you work at the Chest,” Peter says to Dr Hogan. “Ring ’em, we’re coming in.”

  “Yes, no problem,” Dr Hogan says as the ambulance door is closed again.

  He gets on the phone and the London Chest Hospital prepare the red carpet.

  There’s no room on the ambulance for Dr Mughal – he has already done more than I will ever be able to thank him for. My life now rests on those inside this confined space. I hope it’s not my coffin.

  #8

  The Call

  AS well as trying to sort a career as a domestic player, trying to fight back against the huge odds against me, I also had one eye on representing England. From an early age I’d been involved at some stage, all the way from the Under-16s through to the Under-21s, who I represented at both the 2009 and 2011 UEFA European Under-21 Championships.

  Playing for England has given me some amazing memories and some great friends. Mark Davies, James Vaughan, Lee Cattermole, Mark Noble – all these guys have done well in their careers and it’s been easy to see why having spent a lot of time with them on international duty.

  As far as I’m concerned playing any international football is a massive honour and it is an interesting chance to get away and see other things, other players and other set-ups. I made my Under-16 debut against Wales at Barry Town’s home ground in November 2002 and I remember thinking to myself ‘I want more of this.’

  Not just the opportunity to play but to also get out there and see for myself what competitive football is about.

  I was only a 14-year-old at the time, nothing more than a kid, but playing in the England set-up so early on gave me the confidence and belief that I could make it; that I could take those new experiences and learning opportunities and bring them into my game.

  It was around the time I started representing England that I started to grow such strong feelings for the country. The two are definitely linked. My language skills were improving constantly and I was getting the chance to travel around the UK, seeing different parts of it, speaking to new people and expressing myself in different ways. It was the making of me.

  All the way through my career I was always determined to be available for England because I knew it was helping to develop me as a player and as a person. Here was a country that owed me nothing but had given me everything. It had saved my father’s life and given him security, a home and a job, it had educated me and it had helped save me from the fear and uncertainty of growing up in an African country that was becoming increasingly desperate.

  You go to America and see for yourself. Or France. Or anywhere else. No other country in the world gives you the same opportunities to make yourself a better person. Everything I could ever wish for and want has been provided for me by moving to England. You have to be appreciative in life and to stop and think and give praise when it is due. Nowhere deserves more praise than England so the least I could say is thank you and to try my best on the pitch.

  I was determined to give something back, to show that whatever life I would’ve led in Congo was nothing compared to the one on offer, as long as I worked hard, prayed and did me and my family justice. I wanted to pull on an England shirt to show my gratitude towards my new country.

  By the summer of 2007 I had become a real contender for the Under-21 side, the one team you really want to play for at youth level. I like to think my performances for Birmingham that year not only helped get us promoted but also guaranteed my involvement in the national team.

  As the 2007-08 season arrived on the horizon and as Birmingham prepared for their trip to Chelsea, Steve Bruce got us into a huddle at training. It was a Friday morning and he said “good luck to you guys off on an international week and, by the way, somebody’s off to the Under-21s.”

  He looked slowly around the group and all our eyes followed him. I was trying to guess who he could be about to give the nod to. I couldn’t wait to congratulate the lucky guy who was going to play for his country.

  “It’s you, Fabrice,” Steve then said.

  I just went “really?” and the whole huddle burst into laughter and started shaking my hand because of how shocked I was. I was totally buzzing and I couldn’t wait to tell dad. Here’s me about to play for the England Under-21s against Romania. It was another unbelievable achievement.

  “You’re a footballer now,” Olivier Kapo said, delivering his line with a big grin. “Congratulations. You can say you’re a footballer. Make the most of your chance.” I already thought I’d produced a lot in my short career and considered myself to be a footballer already. Little did I know that Olivier had a point – a point I would finally understand shortly afterwards.

  I was so excited by the whole experience. I grinned wildly when I received an email to officially confirm my place as well as a letter to congratulate me on being selected. It was Stuart Pearce’s first full-time game in charge.

  #####

  Peter and Dr Tobin carry on their basic life support as Dr Deaner starts to insert a catheter into my groin, accessing my femoral vein, one of the best parts of the body to inject drugs nice and quickly.

  He hovers over me and wipes my skin with an alcohol swab to try and remove its clammy, sweaty feel. I’d apologise if I could. He is then distracted briefly as he suddenly remembers he’s got no medical gloves on.

  He quickly searches the ambulance until he finds a pair and hits his spot, sinking a brown Venflon line into me which will allow him to start giving me some serious juice.

  I’m immediately given adrenaline in the hope that it will be enough to get my heart working again.

  Not today it’s not.

  Dr Deaner is then passed 300mg of Amiodarone by Paul, a wonder drug for those who have failed to respond to CPR and defibrillator shocks.

  It sets to work trying to stabilise the cells of my heart, trying to fix abnormal rhythms, trying to get me out of this mess. My electrical activity is all over the place and it needs to calm down. Amiodarone is the drug that is meant to make that happen.

  It does not make that happen. I’m still gone.

  The last time I checked, I was playing in an FA Cup tie and now a complete stranger is injecting drugs into my groin. How did this happen again?

  Twenty-one minutes after I go down and we’re ready to leave White Hart Lane. Usually someone is just about getting their initial treatment by now and that’s if they’re super-lucky. Don’t even ask me how fortunate I am – the numbers are off the chart.

  Peter places a ‘blue call’ into the London Ambulance control room to tell them that we’re about to head off. He’s talking about someone who sounds familiar.

  “23-year-old male in witnessed cardiac arrest,” he shouts down his radio. “He’s had four shocks but is still in VF, he’s intubated and undergoing full drugs protocol.”

  He turns to Barbara M
ackinnon, the ambulance driver, and gives her the thumbs up. “Nice and steady,” he says. “Let’s take it nice and steady.”

  #####

  The England game was at Bristol City’s Ashton Gate ground and they sent a car to Birmingham to pick me up. A nice BMW 7 Series arrived at my house and I remember thinking how great it all was. The call-up, the official letter, the car to take me there. It was all so far removed from my early life.

  We had such a good team then and England’s Under-21 strength was pretty clear when I turned up at the hotel. Stuart Pearce was there in reception and welcomed me to the squad. I went up to my room in my Birmingham tracksuit before then coming down to lunch where everybody was present.

  The scale of England’s talent was there for all to see. The likes of Joe Hart, Gabriel Agbonlahor, Mark Noble, Theo Walcott, Tom Huddlestone and James Milner were all in the dining room. That made you realise how serious this all was. All the other guys got on well and a lot seemed to know each other from earlier meet-ups or from playing against each other a lot. Everyone made me feel so welcome. We all got on well. We just chilled that first night and watched TV, nothing too exciting before starting training the next day.

  The whole environment was very welcoming from Stuart at the top, all the players and even the kitman, Pat Frost, who made me feel as if I belonged straight away. Anyone who says they don’t or can’t enjoy international football because of the pressure of trying to fit in and gel with the squad is talking rubbish. I got nothing but respect and a friendly welcome from everyone.

  When it came to the match I was nervous but also massively proud and excited. I started on the bench and watched Matt Derbyshire give us an early lead before Stuart decided to introduce me shortly after the start of the second half.

  I tried to go through my usual rituals – warm up properly, get my studs checked and so on – but all I could think about was my excitement and my desire to get out there and play football. It can be as simple as that at times. Just get out there and strive for the win.

  I replaced Michael Johnson with Stuart’s instructions ringing in my ears. “Go out there and enjoy yourself,” he said. “Do what you always do, do yourself justice, do what I’ve told you to do. This is the first of many caps.”

  I did all those things and although we couldn’t hang on for a victory it was still a brilliant experience. I was inching my way closer to considering myself a fully-fledged footballer – I finally understood what Olivier was on about.

  That first England shirt now belongs to a lady who looked after me, respected me and helped me a lot. I gave it to Karren after signing it. I think she was very touched but I thought it was the least I could do.

  In the end, I played 33 games for England Under-21s and felt like an experienced player and also a guy that I like to think the others respected. I had some amazing moments in an England shirt but nothing beats the 2009 UEFA European Under-21 Championship, especially making the final.

  Playing in the Under-21 side is different to a Premier League game, which is usually complete chaos. Different players from different sides bring their own qualities to the team and you have to try and gel and adjust to all these new styles.

  In 2009 our team was in cruise control. We were so good and it was a wicked experience. I had become a regular by the end of the qualifiers and the way we played suited my game.

  Everything about tournament football is great. Getting a letter to your house; going out to have a suit fitted; meeting up with the guys.

  It wasn’t an emotional moment but I had watched the 2007 tournament and this was something I wanted to get involved with, something to aim for.

  We met up in London after a week’s break at the end of the Premier League season and the guys gelled so quickly. The aim was to go one place better than the previous tournament. Just one place further. Stuart demanded so much from us and we repaid him even if our hearts were broken by the end. Stuart is a nice guy and he works for the country because he is a legend. It is not an easy job but he had everyone’s respect. When he speaks you listen. He will let you know if you step out of line.

  Maybe one legacy of Stuart’s own time with England is that we would practise penalties every single day.

  Every. Single. Day.

  I tell you, before we even got in the championship he knew we would need those skills one day so we practised every day. And everybody had to take one, nobody could hide.

  In the 2007 championships England had lost to Holland 13-12 on penalties and Stuart was determined that would not happen again. Not on his watch.

  During the tournament we played so, so well. We beat Finland in our first game thanks to goals from Lee Cattermole and Micah Richards before we then destroyed Spain in the second match. We were incredible that day. Everyone would think that Spain’s youngsters would be brilliant because of the way their full national team were playing and, although they were a good side, we just totally outplayed them. Goals from Fraizer Campbell and James Milner helped us to the win but it could easily have been 4-0 or maybe more. We dominated them physically and threw our weight around a bit.

  In that side we had players like Micah Richards, Nedum Onuoha, Lee Cattermole, Mark Noble, Gabriel Agbonlahor and Theo Walcott. Plus we had Joe Hart in goal who was in tremendous form at the time. That is the make-up of a good Premier League side; that team would beat a lot of sides in the top division now.

  By the time we got to the semi-final against Sweden we were on a total roll and convinced we could win the tournament. We could defend, we could counter-attack, we could do anything we wanted to. I used to just sit back and let Lee and Mark pour forward.

  Sweden were the hosts, it was a big stadium and they were also very confident. But we were convinced we would win it. The pre-match atmosphere was incredible as Gabriel ran the jukebox in the dressing room. Everyone was buzzing while Stuart circled around motivating the guys. “Remember who we are,” he stated. “Remember what we stand for. Nobody is leaving here empty-handed.” The changing room responded to him instantly and as we walked on to the pitch you could feel the atmosphere and the tension.

  I stood there singing the anthem as loud as I could and I just felt total pride. Pride in England, pride in myself for where I was in life and also where I’d come from.

  All you could hear early on in the game was Joe shouting at us. Do this, do that, do everything. He ran our defence so well and before you knew it we were 3-0 up. In a European Championship semi-final! We were in dreamland and maybe got a bit casual as they slowly started to peg us back. Before you knew it, we finished normal time at 3-3. We couldn’t believe we had thrown away such a lead but Stuart kept us focused and reminded us that we were fit enough to survive extra-time. In the end though Fraizer’s dismissal meant we were the side hanging on for penalties, not them, once the 30 minutes was up.

  With a few minutes to go, Stuart took me off. It was a bit of a relief to be honest. I won’t lie, I didn’t want to miss a penalty, I didn’t want to be the man responsible if that is how we went out. Stuart praised my performance before I slipped into a tracksuit and had to watch, the same as everybody else.

  A penalty shoot-out is a tough experience to go through. James Milner missed our first effort but then they missed theirs as well. All that spot-kick training finally kicked in and we nailed five in a row to win 5-4 in sudden death and book our place in the final. It was all so crazy and the most thrilling feeling ever. We all hugged and mobbed each other before going to a restaurant for a treat. No beer was allowed – which was right – but we gobbled pizza up and celebrated a great victory. We were almost there.

  Before the final against Germany – who had beaten Italy in the other last-four game – the dressing room was again buzzing and bubbling. An evening kick-off meant we relaxed all day.

  We walked around the pitch before returning to get ready to a special soundtrack of good luck messages which really helped. I remember hearing Trevor Brooking and David Beckham’s the most, telling
us we had done well to get that far and don’t fail now – bring the trophy back with us.

  I was sat next to Michael Mancienne ahead of the biggest game of my life and as I slowly got ready I was thinking we could do it. Stuart repeated his own wish to see us lift the trophy and we all thought it was our time. I was in my war mindset by now – let’s go and grab it.

  Unfortunately it wasn’t meant to be.

  Germany were just so well equipped. The game meant so much to us but it was so weird. We missed early chances and after that they bossed the game. We didn’t expect that because our side was full of Premier League players. But lads like Mesut Ozil, Sebastian Boenisch, Jerome Boateng and Manuel Neuer were all brilliant for them. They showed up when it mattered and that was the difference. In the end, we were hammered 4-0 as Gonzalo Castro, Ozil and Sandro Wagner (twice) showed us who was boss. Looking back, perhaps we thought we had it won before the game started. In my head I was thinking ‘this is a piece of cake’ and maybe we took Germany too lightly. It still hurts today. With that team we should have won it and we had nothing to show for our efforts.

  I was substituted with about 10 minutes to go. After the final whistle I just sat on the grass thinking about what could’ve been. We had pride in getting to the final but if you don’t win then what’s the point? Football is about winning, it’s as simple as that, and it didn’t happen for us.

  The dressing room afterwards was so downbeat. We were all so upset and although Stuart tried to lift us, it wasn’t going to happen in a million years. We just all sat there shocked and stunned and in silence. Stuart shook our hands but nothing helped. Even ringing dad and praying with him did nothing for me. It was an amazing experience that should have ended in a fairytale but ended in disaster. I just wanted to get home so quickly, hide from everybody and let all the disappointment die down.

  I also represented England at the 2011 tournament but that didn’t live up to the same hype or have the same feeling or aura around it. It was different because I was hoping to be more involved on the pitch but I didn’t play as much and that affects your judgement on how a tournament feels.