Red cards, a near-death experience and endless scrapes on and off the field ... what a player and character cult hero Guy Branston was for Rotherham United

ROTHERHAM United legend John Breckin has just released his autobiography chronicling a love affair with the club that stretches back more than 50 years. From apprentice, first-team stalwart and youth-team coach to assistant manager with Ronnie Moore, present boss Paul Warne’s trusted confidant and honorary life-president, Breck has seen and done it all with the Millers.Here, in the first part of a two-week serialisation exclusive to the Advertiser, he looks back on the time when he and Ronnie decided to take a gamble on an unknown centre-half who would go on to become known as ‘Psycho’ ...

IT wasn’t long into the make-or-break season of 1999/2000 that Ronnie Moore decided we needed a big, physical central defender. It was difficult to disagree.

We had one on our radar we’d seen during a loan spell at Colchester United. He fitted the bill perfectly — and was left-sided too. Our target was only 20 years old but had crucial advantages over the player we wanted him to replace in that he was bigger, stronger and had more physical presence.

So, we made our move for Guy Peter Bromley Branston, to give him his full name — eventually shortened to ‘Psycho’ by the fans who came to love him and made him a cult hero.

We got him on loan from Leicester City, with a view to a permanent move, and we won our first four games with him in the side without conceding a goal. Then we went to Hull City and certainly learned a bit more about him in one of the most remarkable incidents in my time as assistant manager. Well, when a steward shouts “One of your players is dying”, it’s not an everyday occurrence and one you’re not likely to forget.

A minute from half-time, Guy got his first red card for the Millers. He pleaded innocence — the first time he did so, but certainly not his last — but to no avail and off he stalked. Not 30 seconds later our plans at reorganising were halted by a frantic steward running down the tunnel and shouting: “Get a doctor, get your physio ... the lad who’s just been sent off, he’s dying. You’ll have to do something ... he’s bleeding to death.”

Right at that moment, the half-time whistle went. We hurried off and as we looked towards the referee’s room there was blood everywhere. My reaction was like everyone else’s... “What’s gone off here?” In the dressing room, our physio, Denis Circuit, was tending to Guy. His arm was ripped to shreds and the blood was pouring out.

It turned out Guy had marched down the tunnel and decided to take his anger out on the referee’s door. He punched it once but then had another go for good measure —  but this time his arm went through the wood panel and also the wire-reinforced glass behind. As he pulled his arm back out, that’s when the damage was done.

It had ripped the muscles in his arm and he was actually a very, very lucky boy. Had it been an artery or a vein then it really would have been a life-or-death issue. This was bad enough anyway. I’ve never seen so much blood.

He went to hospital and it summed up Guy’s attitude when, a couple of days later, Millers reporter Les Payne asked him how the arm was. “Just a scratch, Mate, just a scratch,” he replied. Some ‘scratch’ with loads of stitches, both internal and external, holding his forearm together.

Guy feared we might not want him now. But we’d seen enough, despite the rush of blood, and signed him at the end of the month’s loan for £50,000. He was everything we were looking for, and what a character.

There was never a dull moment with Guy around, be it on the pitch or off it. Take the day shortly after he’d signed permanently. He knocked on the door as me and Ronnie enjoyed a cup of tea after training one Thursday.

“Gaffer,” he said. “I won’t be in training tomorrow ... I’m in court.”

“Why, what are you up for?” Ronnie asked.

“Grievous bodily harm.”

Ronnie almost choked on his cuppa. “GBH? You can go down for that. You could end up in prison. What yer done?”

Guy brushed it off almost nonchalantly. “I’ll be okay,” he said. “I’ll get off. It was self-defence. This bloke tapped me on the shoulder and I only hit him once.”

It was some hit. It broke the bloke’s jaw! When Guy left the office, we looked at each other. “What have we signed here?” we said. But we never regretted it one bit. And as it turned out, he did get off!

Guy didn’t always have to be on the pitch to get a red card, either. A great game at home to Norwich City in January 2004, as they ran away with the Championship title, saw us concede the softest of penalties when Darren Huckerby went down theatrically. The referee was conned all right. It was never a penalty.

Norwich scored to go 3-2 up, tempers flared and Ronnie was fuming as we went down the tunnel at half-time. He pulled Huckerby back by the shoulder and unloaded some unflattering comments which included the word ‘cheated’. The Norwich man reacted, the pair squared up and Guy jumped in to help his manager. This led to other players getting involved in the tunnel dust-up.

Anyway, as Ronnie is giving his team talk, there’s a knock on the dressing room door. I opened it and a linesman was there. “Your number 28, Branston, is sent off for his actions coming off the pitch,” he said. I was shocked but had to let Ronnie know, whispering in his ear. He hit the roof.

“Guy, what you done now? You’ve been sent off.” The reply was one we’d heard before ... “I’ve not done owt, Gaffer.”

Sticking up for his manager in the tunnel ended with Guy reacting to something else and striking (‘just a slap’ was Guy’s description) Leon McKenzie — from the McKenzie boxing family and who later turned to professional boxing when his football career ended. As a warm-up, the pair had had a face-to-face confrontation out on the pitch after the penalty award.

Nothing might have happened but for the fourth official who spotted it in the tunnel and reported it to the referee.

The fourth official that day happened to be a big Millers fan — Steve Pickavance from Wickersley, a local referee. In my picture collection is one of me with Steve, aged about nine or ten, and a little trophy is being presented, although it doesn’t say if he’s giving it me or me to him! Okay, Steve was only doing his job and had clearly seen Guy hit McKenzie but I would have preferred it had he turned a blind red and white eye to it!

So, down to ten men, trailing 3-2 to the leaders and with Ronnie sent to the stands as well for his involvement, it looked a forlorn task. Except we were magnificent in the second half, went 4-3 up and conceded an equaliser only in the last minute.

We had a great relationship with Guy. The lads loved him and the fans loved him too. Yes, he had a streak of indiscipline which saw the red cards in his career climb into double figures and he did have a few issues at times.

Breck with his book

In fact, whenever Guy said “I’m coming to see you later, Gaffer”, we’d think: “What’s he been up to now?” But we actually loved him to bits. He fitted the bill perfectly and was great for us, a big, big part of our two promotions.

Despite his tendency to get into hot water, he had a heart of gold. He’d help anyone. Once, in trying to do so, it landed him in a police cell.

The club were invited every year by South Yorkshire Police to a little function at Rotherham Police headquarters. Me and Ronnie would go along and we’d chat and mingle. One police officer — a Millers fan — started to tell us about a “bit of a do” they’d had one night with Guy. As we knew absolutely nothing about it, we were eager to learn!

The officer said the incident had nothing to do with Guy initially but he’d stepped in to try and help a young lad who was being arrested. Guy reckoned the lad hadn’t done anything and should be let go. He was told it had nothing to do with him and when Guy persisted with his belief about the lad’s innocence, he was warned that unless he desisted he would be arrested. Even that bit of persuasion didn’t settle it.

So, as their patience ran out, the officers decided to arrest him. They needed a big effort and a lot of manpower. The officer said it took SEVEN officers to finally overcome him and get him in the van.

“I was there,” he said. “And I’ve never known anyone as strong and to resist like he did.” Again Guy got off, but did spend the night in the cooler.

He also figured prominently in one of the bonding exercises we used to do with the squad. At some point when things were going well, we’d book a day out doing something different. It might be a day at the races, always popular, or we’d go ten-pin bowling or to Laser Quest at Kimberworth, or go-karting or paintballing near Bawtry. That’s where Guy turned into Rambo!

We had two teams, with Ronnie and myself on the same side. On this occasion, we were tipped off by a steward that a member of the other team hunting us down — it was Guy — had bought up extra ammunition, including grenades and bombs.

“In fact, he’s cleaned us out of ammo, and says there’s no way the Gaffer and Breck are going to win,” the steward warned us.

Well, Guy and his team soon captured our village but they couldn’t find Dave Artell — we’d craftily hidden him under a pile of tree branches and leaves. Time ran out, up jumped Dave from his well-concealed hiding place and ‘Rambo’ Branston had been beaten.

These days out relaxed the lads and we found them great for team spirit and bonding. Afterwards, depending on where we’d been, we’d often take them for an Italian at Enzo’s in Parkgate — Enzo was a big Millers fan.

Just like those policemen, Division Three attackers found Guy Branston a tough opponent. To our delight, he did what it said on the tin. He chipped in with a few goals as well as we showed the consistency needed for a promotion push.

One game that stands out came on Boxing Day. We played at Peterborough and Ronnie was at home, ill in bed with flu. A few players were suffering too and unable to play and we tried to get the game called off. It meant Yours Truly would be in charge.

Despite the problem of missing players, a couple playing under the weather and Darren Garner spending the entire game laid down on the team coach, we romped to a 5-0 win — and Peterborough made the play-offs that season! It made Ronnie feel a lot better and I could rib him about my 100 per cent record in charge! It certainly gave the lads some ammunition for a bit of banter when he did return a couple of days later.

The 1999/2000 season highlight, however, was clinching promotion in the penultimate game with a 2-1 win at Hartlepool.

Appropriately, Guy and another key signing, Leo Fortune-West, got the goals, with Guy reprising his famous ‘Branno Stomp’ — a distinctive celebration march, on this occasion while carrying about four teammates on his back at the same time!

It was a pity we couldn’t round it all off by taking the title on the last day. In front of Millmoor’s biggest league crowd for 16 years, almost 11,000, we had to win but Swansea needed only a point and a 1-1 draw meant the Division Three crown went down to Wales.

Our equaliser was a stoppage-time penalty from Lee Glover, his last kick for the club.

After being out over a year with a serious injury, he had made only a handful of substitute appearances towards the end of that season. He wouldn’t be the only one making way for new signings as we looked forward eagerly to the bigger challenges ahead.

‘Breck, My Life in Football’ can be purchased at wwwverticaleditions.com, from Amazon, from the Millers’ Club Shop, from all good bookshops and from John Breckin himself.

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MILLERS BOSS PAUL WARNE ON BRECK

JOHN Breckin has a book out? What? Why didn’t anybody tell me?

I’m delighted his autobiography has finally been published because he has talked of little else for months.

I love Breck. He has been a huge figure in my life since I became manager just over four years ago and he has no idea just how much his presence has helped me.

It was an absolute honour to write the foreword for his book. Buy a copy. It’s a great read, I get a mention and all the proceeds are going to Rotherham Hospice.

Bringing him on board for advice and support was one of my first decisions as a boss and, as it turns out, one of my best.

He is just a pillar of reliability. He will give me bad news — he will tell me when the lads have played poorly — but he manages to tell me in a way that somehow makes it easier to accept.

He’ll always start  off with: ‘Unlucky there, Mate.’ I’ll say: ‘It wasn’t unlucky, it was this, this and this’. He will then go ‘Yeah, you’re right. And this didn’t help and this didn’t either.’ He’s like a football agony aunt for me really.

We haven’t been able to have him at the training ground for a while because of Covid but he does come into my office before games at New York Stadium.

He tells me the same story about his old Millers manager, Jim McGuigan, every week. I know it word by word by now yet it always makes me smile nonetheless.

One of his tricks is to say: ‘Look, Mate, I don’t want to disturb you on a matchday, but ...’ As soon as the magic ‘but’ is mentioned, the questions come in about doing a video for somebody or something like that.

It makes me laugh. I say to him: ‘Don’t worry about the words before the ‘but’, just get straight to the ones after it. You’re going to ask me anyway and I’ll always say ‘yes’ to you.’

Breck is the kind of bloke who says ‘yes’ to everything himself, the sort of bloke you want around you. He brings out the best part of your own personality because he is such a giving man.

He ‘gets’ the game, understands the pressures of it and is a really good sounding board for all of the staff, not just for me. Rich, Hammy and Andy also think the world of him. There’s not much in football that he hasn’t seen or been a part of.

One of the things he always tells us when we win is that we have to pause to smell the flowers. ‘Smell the flowers, lads, smell the flowers,’ he says. It always makes us laugh. Considering I have hay fever, it’s even funnier.

If I stopped working for this club tomorrow, I would still keep in contact with him. I’d go for a coffee with him when I could and I’d go to Rotherham and watch a game sitting beside him.

Breck is just an all-round magnificent ambassador for this club and for humanity. He’s up there as one of the top ten people I’ve met in my football career.

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A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER

Danny Hall is a sports journalist at the Sheffield Star and owner of Vertical Editions

IN publishing ‘Breck, My Life in Football’, I had the pleasure of working with two men who are local legends in their respective fields.

Perhaps the best thing about the pair of them is that they don’t seem to know it, yet alone let it go to their heads.

John Breckin, about 1,000 games as a professional and 50 years a Millers legend.

Les Payne, about 1,000 years as a reporter and of a similar standing in Rotherham United folklore.

I had the pleasure of working with Les for years at The Star and got to know Breck well in the process of publishing his book. I knew from the instant that it became a possibility that I wanted to get involved.

It’s something of a dream team for Millers fans and the end result is an engrossing, personal, funny and overall superb account of the life and times of one of the town’s favourite sons.

The role of book publisher can sometimes be a difficult one: chasing people who are playing at being an author, sending in their book late or in terrible shape. There was none of that here. It’s written with typical Les accuracy and Breck’s personality and voice shine through.

The response has been exceptional. It is to date the biggest-selling book via Vertical Editions’ website and Breck’s fears that no-one would buy it were very, very quickly allayed.

We’ve had orders from all over the world, and from fans of rival clubs enamoured by Les and Breck’s brilliant iFollow commentary on Millers matches this season.

I only hope people, no matter who they support, enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed my small part in putting it all together.

With proceeds from the book supporting Rotherham Hospice, it is fitting that the work of two jewels in Rotherham’s crown will benefit another.