‘Goodison Gazza’ Billy Kenny says only peace came in prison after Everton wasted his talent
‘I’m angry with Everton for not looking after me’
“I was just a kid and no one was there for me,” Billy Kenny says as he wipes away the tears of hurt and regret on a September afternoon in Liverpool. “I’m angry with Everton for not looking after me.”
Kenny used to be one of the most promising young footballers in England, pursued by Alex Ferguson at Manchester United, Kenny Dalglish at Liverpool and Howard Kendall at Everton. He chose his beloved Everton and for a few fleeting months his extraordinary talent shimmered — most memorably during a man-of-the-match performance against Liverpool at Goodison Park in December 1992.
His teammate Peter Beardsley called him “the Goodison Gazza” in an eerily prophetic comparison. Kenny played once for England’s under-21s in March 1993, but his ravaging fall echoes the addictions and troubles of Paul Gascoigne.
Kenny discovered cocaine in the early hours of the morning after his greatest game, when he had just turned 19. A cocaine habit spiralled out of control very quickly and he retired from professional football two years later. He had played 23 games for Everton, four for Oldham and two for Barrow.
Addiction, prison and a mother’s death
Kenny struggled as an addict for years and ended up in prison. “I’m clean now,” he says. “I’ve been off the drink and drugs, since my ma died 15 years ago.”
Kenny looks up. “It’s my ma’s birthday today. I came off the drugs the day of her funeral and she’s given me the strength to stay sober. I just couldn’t do it while she was alive and that’s what kills me.”
He breaks down twice during the interview, but tells his story with raw force. He was besotted with Everton, but now the club haunts him. “I ended up being a product of Howard Kendall’s environment,” he says. “For years and years I carried all the blame, but there was no help at all.”
He thinks of Michael Branch, another former Everton player who also wound up in jail. “I spoke to Michael last year and he said at Finch Farm [Everton’s training ground] there are 17 people you can speak to about mental health — whether it’s problems with drink, drugs, your family, your girlfriend. There was no one for me.”
“I wouldn’t be talking about misery. I would be talking about glory days and winning for Everton. I feel as though it’s been stolen from me and the fans have been robbed of me as well.”
‘You’d better have a shandy, son, because [Kendall] will sell you if you don’t drink’
Kenny, at first, hated drinking: “I couldn’t stand it. My dad never touched drugs his whole life, but he would have a couple of pints on a Saturday night. I’d be in bed and my dad would come tell me how good I played for Everton reserves. I had to chase him out because I didn’t like the smell of the ale.”
“I then played with my idols in the Everton first team. Kendall always wanted us to go to the Sefton [a pub near the training ground] for a bevvy. As a first-team player I had to go. It was the same for Neville Southall, who never drank. Pat Nevin and Andy Hinchcliffe, too. They’d drop off all the pissed lads at the end. Kendall should have said: ‘Billy, you’re 18, go home.’”
“The second time, with the senior pros, I stood with Nevin and the other non-drinkers. But I’ve gone over to the lads with my pint of blackcurrant and lemonade and they’re all laughing at me. A very senior player said: ‘You’d better have a shandy, son, because [Kendall] will sell you if you don’t drink.’”
In his book, Kenny says “it seemed as though most of the first-team set-up lived for the booze”. For away games, “the first thing on the coach would be the crates of lager and chablis [for Kendall]. On one of my early away games, down to London, I wasn’t really drinking. [On the journey back to Liverpool after the game] I sat in the front with [the assistant manager] Colin Harvey, who I loved. Colin had my best interests at heart and we talked football while they were drinking in the back.”
“We came off the M57 and I’m thinking: ‘Where are we going?’ It’s half 11 [at night] and the coach pulls into the Paradox nightclub. That was Kendall, taking us to the biggest nightclub in Liverpool.”
In January 1993, Kenny did well against Vinnie Jones and the hard men of Wimbledon as Everton won away. He injured his ankle, but Kendall told him he’d played a blinder and said it would be a shame to miss out on the Chinese and a few drinks. “You’ll feel much better after a couple of drinks, lad.”
Five months later, struggling with injury, Kenny lost himself in cocaine and ecstasy: “I started to adore the drugs, the birds and the music more than I needed Everton.” His compulsive personality led to “three-day benders”, skipping training and disappearing from football.
Abandonment and prison
When Everton terminated his contract in 1994 Kenny felt abandoned. “I needed help. I needed support. Empathy. Guidance. I received none of it.”
“Everton sent me to the Priory in Cheshire. But I’m 19 and in group therapy with 60-year-old alcoholics who’ve been hiding bottles of scotch in the garden. I couldn’t relate to none of it. They put me in there for two months. Colin Harvey and Paul Power came to see me every day, to get me fit, but Everton were only doing that to sell me.”
Manchester City tried to sign Kenny, but Everton wanted a prohibitive £1m transfer fee. “They’d already done a deal with Oldham behind my back so I got no signing-on fee,” Kenny says. “That’s Everton for you. It’s a badly run club and that still carries on today.”
At Oldham, managed by Joe Royle, another former Everton favourite, Kenny felt motivated to try again. But everything fell apart when Royle left — to manage Everton. At 21, Kenny’s football life was over.
He was sentenced to nine months in prison — six for drink-driving and three for missing the original trial. “I did five months and got myself in the gym, played five-a-side. No drugs, no drink. In a crazy way the only time I’ve had peace in my life was when I was locked up.”
Kenny was fortunate to escape a 14-month sentence a few years later because someone was growing cannabis in his house when he was away. “I had to take the rap for that, but I was lucky. The judge was an Evertonian and I got a suspended sentence. I didn’t want to go to jail then because my ma was dying.”
At his mother’s wake, Kenny left his pint on the counter and walked out of the pub. He swore he would stop.
Kenny’s moving new book, written by the Guardian’s Jamie Fahey, is a penetrating depiction of a period in English football when drink addled so many young men. The complex figure of Kendall lies at the broken heart of this story.
“It’s bittersweet when I’m talking about Howard, because I grew up loving the fella,” he says of Kendall, who formed an unforgettable midfield with Colin Harvey and Alan Ball before becoming one of the most successful managers in Everton’s history. “Even today, I’ve got no hatred. He had his own troubles, didn’t he? Where does his alcoholism come from?”
What would Kenny say to Kendall if his manager were alive today? “I’d say: ‘Howard, you should have looked after me. I shouldn’t have been made to feel I had to drink to play for your team.’”