Paul Heckingbottom
Barnsley, 2016-18
Leaving Barnsley was like a divorce.
One where you’ve known for a year that the marriage was done, so by the time you leave you’ve lost all emotional attachment. Suddenly it’s not so hard to walk away, because you know it’s the right thing to do.
I’d reached the point where, whoever it was, the next club that offered me a way out, I was taking it. I even thought about walking out and handing my notice in anyway. It felt pointless me being there.
Barnsley is my hometown club. I’d grown up watching them with my grandad every weekend.
It’s the club I played for, and the club that gave me my first dream job, coaching the under-18s.
But this is football – an industry where change is the one constant. It’s something I experienced as a player, going into new dressing rooms every season or two. Seeing managers come and go. It’s something you get used to.
Paul Cooper
I could never have imagined just how much my relationship with Barnsley would change, though. I don’t mean in terms of my feelings towards the club or the fans, but my working relationship. As my values became more and more compromised, this became impossible.
By the time I started working there, coaching the under-18s, I’d racked up thousands of hours on the grass – coaching part-time at Barnsley College and Barnsley Academy. I’d achieved all my FA coaching qualifications and been to university, leaving with a degree and Masters in Sports Coaching.
So, when I started to move up the age groups at Barnsley, it felt like a natural progression.
I went from the under-18s to taking the 21s and eventually working with the first team – sitting in the dugout on a couple of occasions as caretaker manager.
Working with the first team was when I first started to think about the running of a football club. How the most successful ones have everything aligned all the way through.
"I’d been working for those players for years. I knew every one"
I was there when Barnsley dropped out of the Championship into League One. Saw managers come and go. Spent two years ingrained in all the decisions that were made around that team.
Then, suddenly, the job was mine.
I’d heard that Lee Johnson – the manager I’d spent a year working with – was leaving. He hadn't said anything to me, but it’s football. You hear things.
It was after the semi final of the 2016 Johnstone’s Paint Trophy that he told everyone. In two months’ time, we’d be going to Wembley to play the final. Now we knew that Lee wouldn’t be taking us there.
Everything happened really quickly after that. I was the man making the decisions. Picking the team. Responsible for everything.
Clive Mason/Getty Images
I hadn’t realised how important it was at the time, but I’d been working with those players for years. I knew every one of them, and they knew I had their back. That made it easier for me to step into the role of caretaker manager, because there was already a connection. They knew what I expected – the way I worked – and they knew they could trust me.
A few days after Lee left, we had a game against Bury. It would be so important to win that and make sure we carried on the form that had got us six wins out of our last six in the league.
We did – 3-0. Even though I didn’t know how long I was going to be in the job, from then on, every decision I made was about doing what was right for the club – not for the next game, but long-term.
Because I think that’s your job.
A few months later, the club asked me to take the role on a permanent basis. I said I would think about it. At that point I still wasn’t sure if management was for me – and, more importantly, whether the club was capable of being successful.
Remember, I knew all about the club and how it was run. The good and the bad.
"That was the first time it really hit me. This is a big deal"
As soon as you step into the role of manager and pop your head above that parapet, your life changes. You’ve got to be responsible for everyone. You can be in and out of work in a matter of months. It can affect your family.
I had to be ready. To know that’s what I wanted to do, and that my family understood.
I knew one thing for sure, though. If we got promoted, there was no way I wasn’t doing it.
That hadn’t looked likely in December, when we were bottom of the table. But we’d become a tougher, stronger team since then. We’d always had good players, but instead of just wanting to look good we’d become really effective. We were a much better team out of possession, comfortable keeping it, strong at set-plays and a real threat on the counter. The players were becoming really comfortable in their roles.
By March, we were fighting for a playoff spot.
I remember the exact game where I started to believe. We beat Coventry – who had been up near the top all season – at home, to move into seventh. Then you’re thinking: 'Why can’t we?'
Paul Cooper
I could see it in the players, too. There was an edge to us. They were desperate to get into the Championship. We’d given them little reminders now and then to keep them on track – like showing them stadiums of Championship clubs as opposed to the ones we were playing in.
In the midst of battling for that playoff place, we had that trip to Wembley for the final of the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy.
When I picked up my phone that morning, everyone was going mad. I had so many messages from friends; family; people I’d gone to Oakwell with to watch Barnsley as a kid.
I’m reading them thinking: 'Wow, yeah. This is a big deal.'
I think that was the first time it really hit me. I was managing Barnsley.
"We talked about having the players on a leash, and about holding them all back. We didn’t want them to go too early"
It’s a unique thing – managing the club you grew up supporting. I remember speaking to Steve Cotterill about it once. He asked how I was finding it, because he had done it with Cheltenham and said it was unbelievable.
I knew what he meant. Especially when we got promoted later that season. It was a special moment. One I’ll never forget.
It wasn’t until I left that I realised how different the job is when it’s not your hometown club. Being a manager is 24/7. It’s all-consuming. Later, when I left work for the day, it felt like I was putting the job down and coming home.
I never felt I could get that at Barnsley, because everywhere I went I was on show. I was at work. Everyone knew I was a fan, and had played for and coached at the club. So everyone felt like they had a piece of me. At times, it can start to feel a bit claustrophobic.
When you’re manager of a different club, there’s a bit more distance. You still want to win. You do the job exactly the same. But I felt a lot more responsible for Barnsley because it’s not just the club – it’s the people as well.