Kieron Dyer's Southend sit second in National League as former winger reflects on chess, 'hooligan' past and liver transplant
From 'hooligan' to thoughtful tactician
At 47, Kieron Dyer is plotting Southend United's return to the Football League from behind a desk at the club's training ground — and, between meetings, quietly beating most people at chess.
The former England winger, who won 32 of his 33 caps, has begun his first managerial tenure in style: one defeat in nine league games has Southend second in the National League, two years after Justin Rees's consortium completed a takeover that restored the club's financial stability. The aim is a return to the Football League.
But Dyer is not your typical manager. Sitting down with the Guardian, he begins by recounting a tale from the 2002 World Cup in Japan, where his love of chess — an unexpected passion — led him to challenge a teammate.
'Sol, I'm not sitting here for five hours playing chess with you'
A self-described chess fan, Dyer went looking for an opponent in the England squad. “Sol Campbell was a deep thinker, and I asked if he played,” Dyer recalls. “He said yes, and I told him I'd pummel him. I'm not joking, we played for an hour and he'd moved two pieces. If that was how much he was thinking so early … I was like: 'Sol, I'm not sitting here for five hours playing chess with you, mate!'” Dyer admits he lost to Campbell by default.
He speaks proudly of his youth playing chess at school, at Boys' Brigade and for Suffolk, and issues a public challenge: “The only person I couldn't beat was Mr Sharples — if you're reading, I want a rematch.” His rating on Chess.com — the app “everyone who plays is on” — is an impressive 1380, and he is trying to track down Arsenal's Eberechi Eze on it.
For Dyer, chess is more than a pastime. The aptitude for thinking in patterns, tactical tweaks and in-game judgment calls is, he suggests, a good indication of why management appealed. “Twenty-year-old Kieron Dyer was a hooligan. Let's not get it wrong,” he says in a brutally honest self-appraisal, referencing a reputation for partying, Ayia Napa holidays and high-stakes gambling on England trips. “If the people who know you know that you've got a kind heart and spirit, that's all it needs.”
A culture built on borrowed ideas
Dyer began coaching soon after retiring in 2013, first with Ipswich's academy and under-23 teams, then on Paul Cook's first-team staff at Chesterfield. The top job had not been on his radar, but last season he found himself clashing — “in a loving way” — with Cook, who encouraged him to test the water.
His management is meticulous. Players must complete an online wellness check on waking and report to the office by 9am to sign in. Tardiness is not tolerated. “If you're late for a meeting, you don't come into the meeting,” Dyer says. “And if you're late for training you go home. A £10 or £20 fine doesn't mean anything — it has to hurt.”
It is a tactic borrowed from his former teammate Craig Bellamy, who himself took it from Vincent Kompany. “I always say coaches are thieves,” Dyer says. “You steal things from other people that fit how you want to build your culture.”
At 8.15am, the small office Dyer shares with assistant Adem Atay is packed with seven staff. Rewatching clips from a 6-1 win at Gateshead makes happy viewing — “I'm watching Real Madrid here,” he jokes — until he lunges at the screen demanding more. “Complete the run. Don't stop. You're stretching them,” he bellows, knowing the run was not completed but relishing the chance to improve.
The Gateshead trip returned Dyer to Newcastle, the club he joined for £6m in 1999 before leaving for West Ham eight years later. It was there he fought with teammate Lee Bowyer on the St James' Park pitch, nearly retired through a misdiagnosed hamstring injury, and was criticised by supporters for allegedly refusing to play on the right for Sir Bobby Robson at Middlesbrough in 2004.
'It was like father and son' with Robson
Dyer insists the portrayed fall-out with Robson was more nuanced. “A lot of people don't realise our relationship was more than a manager and player,” he says. “Honestly, it was like father and son. We used to bicker at each other, hug each other, kiss each other.” Robson was sacked shortly after the Middlesbrough episode. Dyer, who had seen others push back on playing out of position and get their way, explains: “Because of what happened to me as a kid I was thinking: 'I won't be taken advantage of.'”
He is referring to being sexually abused by his now-deceased great-uncle Kenny during his pre-teens — something he wrote candidly about in his autobiography, Old Too Soon, Smart Too Late. Dyer describes himself as “very guarded”, a man whose routine is football club and home. “I don't go out; I don't really have a life outside of football. I'm happy with it.” Yet once a session begins, the introvert becomes an extrovert — explaining complex drills, encouraging, admonishing, even joining in, his touch and deftness of pass intact despite the metal in his legs.
'Being on your deathbed certainly humbles you'
Dyer can draw on experiences far beyond football. In 2015 he was diagnosed with primary sclerosing cholangitis; by 2023 he required a liver transplant. During an overnight stay in a Chesterfield hotel he woke in agony and travelled by taxi to Addenbrooke's Hospital in Cambridge, 130 miles away. Three months later he was still waiting. “That was mentally challenging,” he says. “They sent me home for my own sanity.” Within two days he was recalled for surgery.
“Being on your deathbed certainly humbles you,” Dyer reflects. “Not many people get second chances.”
His day remains peppered with meetings, phone calls and planning. He still speaks to Cook and turns for advice to Peter Taylor, Bellamy and Tony Mowbray. Post-training, the losing team spins a wheel of misfortune — burpees, equipment collection, or a week without pool and darts. “That one devastates them,” Dyer says. “I particularly enjoy it when they have to make the staff hot chocolate.”
For now, the focus is on the next game and a promotion push. “No negatives from the game,” he told his squad after Gateshead. The second chances, it seems, are being taken.