What you don't see ... how the pressure of a promotion push affects Rotherham United boss Paul Warne and his family

IT’S the worry in his children’s eyes that gets to him.
Paul WarnePaul Warne
Paul Warne

Pressure? Yes, Paul Warne admits he feels pressure.

It affects his family too.

At one stage not too long ago the manager’s Rotherham United team were 13 points clear in the race for League One automatic promotion. Now it has come down to a last-week battle that will go to the final day at Gillingham before things are mathematically decided.

“I can tell by the way my kids look at me that they’re concerned for me,” Warne says. “It’s my daughter more than my son.

“She looks at me in a more nurturing, loving way. She wants her dad to be happy and for us to have a family holiday in a few weeks and for me not to be stressed the whole time.”

We’re talking on Zoom last Friday at a time when the Millers, so unstoppable earlier in the season, so victorious at Wembley in the Papa John’s Trophy Final only three weeks earlier, have won only two of their last nine league fixtures.

Other journalists are on the call but it’s me asking the question about pressure amid concern that a different ‘p’ word isn’t the guarantee it once appeared to be.

“It’s difficult ... it’s difficult,” the boss repeats, as keen as ever to be honest and trying to work out how exactly to word his answer. “Some managers will do interviews and say: ‘I don’t feel pressure, I just do the best job I can and that’s it.’

“If that’s the case, then good on them. It isn’t the case for me. I want the team to succeed and I do feel the responsibility. I want everyone at the club and in the town to have a really enjoyable season.

“I think they have done, it’s just unfortunate that our dip in form has happened when it has. If we finish in second place everyone will think we have done really well.

“I do feel pressure that we got ourselves in a really good position and unfortunately, through a few circumstances I don’t want to discuss, we’ve come away from it a little bit.”

Warne is speaking three days after defeat at Burton Albion had quashed some of the optimism that victory over Ipswich Town the previous Saturday had revived.

A home win over Oxford United 24 hours later does much to lift spirits, before Sunderland away in midweek and a trip to Priestfield Stadium this Saturday bring the regular campaign to a close.

Sixteen-year-old daughter Riley and wife Rachel weren’t at Burton’s Pirelli Stadium but son Mack, aged 18, was among the 1,600 travelling supporters.

“He went to the game on Tuesday and we didn’t speak about it until a dog-walk on the Thursday night,” Warne says. “He was probably thinking his dad was still a bit raw about it.

“Last night I didn’t sleep very well. My missus has gone away for a few days — good on her, she probably needs to get away from me — and I slept for only about three hours.

“Every time I woke up I was thinking about the team, thinking about my midfield, thinking about how my bench should be.

“It’s a constant thing, Mate, that’s the truth. I feel it all the time.”

The last few weeks have taken their toll. January saw only one defeat, February brought win after win and a grip on top spot, but as form and results dipped in March and April so did the manager’s demeanour, maybe more than he realises.

Warne doesn’t believe the ‘I don’t feel it’ bosses. “We’re all trying to save our jobs,” he says. “We’re all trying to have success.

“Success for us at the start of the season might have been a top-eight finish, but because of the way the season has gone success is now judged really on finishing in the top two or going up in the play-offs.

“If we don’t win games, the criticism comes to my door. I’ve got better with it over the years — I’m a bit more resilient now, a bit more leather-skinned — but I don’t know if I truly cope with it.”

It hurts that his family suffer on his behalf, but suddenly the humour returns. It’s never too far away. He uses it to deflect, to survive, to keep going.

“My wife’s approach is different to the kids’,” he says. “She treats me like a child. She might go: ‘Oooh look, a Chocolate Orange’.”

He laughs at the absurdity of it.

“She knows me well, mind,” he concedes. “I do love a piece of Chocolate Orange.”