Ashley Young, 16 years old and in Year 11 at John Henry Newman, a Roman Catholic secondary school in Stevenage, Hertfordshire, is sitting in the office of a careers adviser.
She asks him what he wants to do. He says he wants to be a footballer.
She looks sceptical. His face does not crack. Utter conviction. She shuffles a few papers, scans his GCSE results and repeats the question, adding that it might not work out for him in his chosen profession. What is the alternative? The teenager remains adamant. He has a dream and intends to live it.
The careers expert is in no mood for childish indulgences. What if his plan is not realised? Throwing a bone, Young replies that he might look to do something with sports science. Ah, this is better. Realism at last. What exactly with sports science?
'I said I didn’t know because I hadn’t thought about it and I hadn’t thought about it because it didn’t matter because I was going to become a footballer,’ Young, 10 years older and a somewhat justified shining light for Manchester United and England, explains.
‘So she started again, a fourth time, with the question about it not working out. She wasn’t happy. Even less so when I got up and walked out of the room.’
You left?
‘Yeah. Got up, walked out, went back to my classroom and sat there for a while. We were going around in circles. She wouldn’t accept what I was saying and I wouldn’t accept anything other than positive thoughts about my career, so that was the end of our meeting. I got five GCSEs, but I knew what I wanted to do. I had the drive. It was all I thought about. What was the point of looking at it any other way?’
Young’s determination at the time was made all the more remarkable by another meeting that had taken place previously. It was with four coaches attached to Watford’s youth and academy system: Dave Hockaday, David Dodds, John McDermott and Chris Cummins. They sat with Young in a private room after a youth team match and it was there he discovered he was not to be offered a professional youth training scheme contract. It felt like the end of his world.
‘I hadn’t had the best season leading up to that,’ recalls Young, ‘but Watford had been my club since I was 10. I knew every inch of the place. The news hit me like nothing before. I went home and just sat frozen in the same chair for the rest of the day, staring. I don’t think it sank in until the next morning.
‘That was the biggest struggle for me. There were other clubs I could have gone to, I think, but Watford had said I would never be good enough to get in the first team and I was determined to prove them wrong.
‘Most of the problem was my size. I wasn’t very tall and at the time there was a lot of emphasis on big, strong, physical players. It was all anyone talked about. Times have changed. But back then, a lot of decisions were made with that as priority.
‘I could have left the game, or looked elsewhere, but I asked to stay on part-time. I did a sports tech course three days a week and played for the youth team, unpaid, to try to make my point. It was then that I realised how hard I needed to work to succeed. Kids ask me about what they should do to make it and I tell them, “Just get your head down and work, work, work”. I came back part-time and they put me in with the Under 18s. They told me I had to show my ability against those boys.
‘Suddenly, everyone around me was huge and it was up to me to make my mark. That was the next test. Maybe it was something I needed, to be given that challenge, because it led to me becoming more intelligent with the ball. I had the brain for football, but I didn’t have the height. So I started using my brain to overcome those weaknesses and discovered football isn’t just about size or power, it’s about what’s up there. That was the making of me.
‘I worked after training every day, I worked on everything I could to improve my game and I never looked back. I started in the Under 18s, within a month I was in the reserves and a year later I was offered a professional contract.’
Young, now 26, sits at Manchester United’s Trafford Training Centre in Carrington and shows off the tattoo that dominates the lower half of his right arm. Its central motif is a quotation: ‘In life, if it’s not worth fighting for, it’s not worth having.’
Who is being quoted? He doesn’t know. I’m flummoxed, too. It sounds like one of those corny chapter headings from a self-help book authored by a Hollywood life coach. Later, a brief online search places it nearest to — God forbid — a line from Cheryl Cole’s solo single Fight For This Love. It doesn’t really matter either way. Cheryl, Shakespeare or some celebrity quack, the point is it means something to its bearer. ‘I’ve always had to fight,’ says Young.
‘Throughout my life, it’s been a fight to get to where I am now.’
Young’s father was a computer technician whose own football career was ended by a knee injury before he was due a trial with Queens Park Rangers. He would take his sons to the park and watch them play, while he went in goal.
Young says his father, Luther, turns out once a year in a veterans game for Old Actonians on FA Cup final day. ‘He stands around in the centre circle and tries to nutmeg someone, then comes off after 10 minutes,’ he says. ‘I hear all these stories about how good he was, but I’ve never seen the evidence.’
Even if he wasn’t a player, Young Snr must have been a fine influence, though, because two of his sons are professionals, with a third on the cusp. Lewis Young, 22, is at Northampton Town, while Kyle Young, 15, is coming through the academy at Arsenal.
‘He may well be the best of all of us,’ says his older sibling. ‘I wouldn’t tell him that, though, because he spends enough time saying it himself.’ Young says his father was hardest on him, although always constructive. Maybe that helped create the determined little soul who battled his way into the Watford first team within two years of being told it was beyond his capability. Hearing Young’s story, however, reminds of the service performed by Barcelona and Spain for football in the 21st century.
A whole generation of budding players were close to being lost to the game for the crime of not being the size of cruiserweight boxers. This was the era in which the European Championship in 2004 was won by a robust, organised Greece team, Arsene Wenger supersized Arsenal and Jose Mourinho’s Chelsea mixed power and guile in not always equal measure.
It took the emergence of Pep Guardiola’s tiki-taka Barcelona midfield and Spain’s European Championship victory in 2008 to call a halt to football’s march of the giants. Players like Young, nimble and of average build, if not actually slight, became fashionable and valued again.
Fast forward and this season finds him a mainstay of Manchester United’s first team following a summer move from Aston Villa, and now as established as any player can reasonably be in Fabio Capello’s England team, where his willingness to exchange central and wide forward positions makes him crucial to a new pattern of play.
His first season with United has been no less impressive, his debut at West Bromwich Albion announcing, instantly, that the new arrival was a fit for the shirt. Some players put on the red and it smothers them, they find its history and standards suffocating. Young looked as if he belonged, as he did at former club Villa despite a £9.75million fee, as he did in Watford’s hallowed first team, supposedly the preserve of much bigger boys.
We are back in the careers office with the teenager bright enough to nail GCSE German but cocky enough to consider it insignificant compared to what he could do with a football. ‘I settle in at places straight away now,’ he says. ‘As I’ve got older, the nerves aren’t there any more; they just left one day, when I was at Watford.
I only feel excitement now, whatever the game. I never think of the fee, or how big the club is, or the occasion. Not even at Villa, when there was a lot more focus on the money because it was a record for the club and I had only come from Watford. That was all unimportant to me because I had confidence in my ability.
‘It was the same at United. As soon as I signed I wanted to get out there and show everybody what I could do. I wasn’t daunted: it was a no-brainer that I should want to play for them. Sir Alex Ferguson told me it was a big challenge to represent Manchester United, and straight away I was like, “Right, I’m up for that”.
What is special about this club is that everybody is expected to think like a leader, even if there is only one captain. There are players here like Ryan Giggs and when they talk, we listen. But in this dressing room, the older ones listen, too.
‘You always feel you can have your say and I think that is what will get us through any difficult times. It was very quiet after the Manchester City game when we lost 6-1, people were upset and our dressing room is not usually like that.
‘Next up was Everton away, which is always hard, but we prepared the right way, worked right all week and got the result we needed. Now we look back and think, “Manchester City? We lost. Massively disappointed. We pick ourselves up and move on”. End of story.’
A similarly philosophical approach is applied to England’s European Championship qualifying campaign, which has had its share of difficulties.
The friendly with world champions Spain was envisaged by many as a day of reckoning for Capello and his players, yet Young saw it differently.
‘I don’t think we are far short of Spain,’ he insists. ‘We’ll see in the summer at the European Championship. They’re a fantastic team with great players, but they’re catchable, of course. On our day we can beat anybody and we’ve proved that.
‘We’ve changed formation recently and we need to keep working on it, to get it right for the tournament. Pre-season, Manchester United beat Barcelona. It’s not like the Champions League final, we know, but some of what we did really worked against them that day, so it’s a case of starting to catch up and building from there. Who knows where we will be in six or eight months?’
Young thinks he knows, of course. And it wouldn’t be the first time.