The Hall Of Arse:
by Chris Stride
Andy Kennedy was THE stereotypical footballer - off the pitch. A player
profile-style interview for the programme would surely have elicited
"Steak and chips", "Luther Vandross", "Snooker and golf", "The
wife-and-kids", "The gaffer", "Golf GTI", "German Shepherd called
Prince", etc. etc. Add to this a page three girlfriend, perfectly coiffured
hair, and a Baywatch-style perma-tan that suggested he spent his
afternoons off under a sunbed rather than down at the local bookies or
The Artichoke, and you have, well, a very sad man indeed.
All of which would have been irrelevant to us style gurus on the terraces
if he'd scored a few goals. Watford strikers from the wilderness years of
87 to 97 fell three categories - "too good to stay long", "tried but
failed", and "just couldn't be arsed". The latter group are the ones I
hated most - step forward Nogan, Charlery and particularly Andy Kennedy.
He had good control, strength, ball skills and packed a powerful shot. In
his early days at Blackburn, I saw him score a magnificent twenty-five yard curler
and have an all round blinding game against Aston Villa in the FA cup.
When he signed for Watford I was hoping for more of the same. All we ever
got was one long range effort away to Southend in the First Round of the
Coca-Cola, and a couple of seasons of strolling around the pitch
preserving his hairstyle and energy for Maria Whitaker.
I imagine his principal reason for signing for Watford was to live near
London; he appeared far more in love with being a footballer than
football itself. I don't remember his departure or where he went to. I
doubt he plays football anymore. However, his spirit lives on in Jamie
Moralee, Craig Ramage, and potentially David Connolly.