Interview: Mark Hughes - Sparky ignites real hope in the land of grand illusions

Wales, their self-respect restored, can thank an old warrior. Andrew Longmore meets a serious footballing man with fresh motivation

Mark Hughes is happy to admit it, now that the boots have been safely hung up in the closet. He never listened to team talks. Or, at least, he never listened to the majority of the team talks. Only the bits that concerned him. He would listen to those, but, after nearly 20 years in the game, with a pretty clear understanding of what was required of him anyway. There was not much in the game that has escaped the attention of Sparky.

And now he is manager of Wales and fingering his open collar before knocking on the door of the conference room of a hotel in mid-Wales where the worthies of the Football Association of Wales have gathered. The Jaguars are in the car park and discussion of who has which foreign trips is the subject of debate in the washroom. Finland, been there, Luxembourg, Italy away would be a favourite, not Azerbaijanpreferably. But there is no disguising the air of anticipation. A 2-0 victory in Helsinki, where England failed to win last year, has given Wales their most promising start to a qualifying campaign for more than a decade, and Hughes has widely been credited with etching the outline of a miracle. The players all turned up to play, for a start.

But, back to the Commodore Hotel in Llandrindod Wells, an unlikely but scenic venue for Hughes's rendezvous. Perhaps he should have put that tie on, after all. But he has the smart suit and a win under his belt. "Wish me luck," he says. The door opens to a chorus of welcome. A year ago, almost to the day, Wales were facing their final World Cup qualifying match against Belarus at home, knowing that defeat or a draw would condemn them to being classed as the worst side ever to represent the country. Twelve games without a win had stretched the Welsh gift for footballing underachievement beyond breaking point and Hughes, his own cussed nature seriously tested by the sequence, had to summon the protective shroud. It was also, he pointed out, only two defeats in eight games. More significantly, he added: "I've played in far, far, worse Welsh sides than this one."

As he is holds 72 international caps and is the purveyor of a world-class glower, no one cared much for an argument. He amplifies the point. "At times, we'd be criticised for lacking passion, but it wasn't that, it was because we weren't organised. It didn't matter how desperate we were to kick someone up the backside, we couldn't get near enough to do it. I'd run out to play for Wales and I didn't have any idea who the opponents were, what they were good at, what they were bad at. Some of the time I didn't even know what they looked like. I have tried to address that, because that uncertainty was a particular fear of mine."

The temptation is to suggest that he should have paid closer attention to the team talks. But at your peril. Those who tweaked Sparky on the field were liable to spend the evening trying to find a comfortable way to sit, and there is not much difference off it. You know what he means. With Big Neville Southall in goal, Kevin Ratcliffe at the back, Hughes and Ian Rush, who needed organisation anyway? It is too late now. Hughes administers the power- point presentations, short and sweet, player by player, always ending the analysis with the weakest link to boost morale. He does it by video and computer.

"Not to show how clever I am, but in this day and age, with the PlayStation generation, a flip chart and a pen just doesn't grab the attention. You can't throw every-thing at the players. I highlight what concerns them. Players like to be told what to do, they want to be clear in their own minds when a particular situation develops, this is what's needed. It comes with good training, having a definite goal and a philosophy of what we're about."

Hughes bursts out of the committee room, almost breaking the door off its hinges. No smoke has emerged from the chimney yet. A few details remain to be sorted out on the contract, which will take the new manager and, with luck, his team to Euro 2004 in Portugal and on to Germany in 2006. Just a matter of time, says Hughes. His hand is strong right now, so he can afford to wait a few more weeks to put pen to paper.

Wales have not qualified for a major championship since 1958, and Hughes himself covered too many miles in pursuit of an illusion to let this opportunity slip away lightly. "He's restored our respect as a soccer nation," said Des Shanklin, president of the FAW. As a manager he can fill the one gaping hole in his playing career, a powerful motivational factor in the mind of a serious footballing man. Besides, managing has eased the pain of retirement. (For a few centre-halves, it has just eased the pain.)

Faced with his first non-playing season since, well, since birth, Hughes went brightly along to Oldham to watch Cardiff, a reckless piece of bravado anyway, given fans' long memories and Hughes' last-minute equaliser in the semi-final of the Cup in 1994. "There was a decent crowd, good weather, newly mown turf, all striped and inviting, the two teams come out, new kit and I'm thinking, 'What am I doing here stuck here in the stand?' I'm sure this time next year when I'm a bit older and a bit fatter, it won't hit me so hard."

But you can tell he is not sure. When he announced his retirement last spring, Hughes could barely bring himself to utter the word. So perhaps the marriage of Wales and Hughes is emotionally well balanced. Hughes has certainly endured – sometimes even enjoyed – a crash course in the art of management.

"I suppose the change from playing to managing hit me hardest one morning in Belarus when there was a knock on my door at 9am," he laughs. "I'm going about my business, wondering who that could be. It's my three coaching staff, asking what we were going to be doing today. To be honest, I hadn't got a clue.

"As a player you just pick up your kit, go out and train or wait for the ref to blow the whistle. You have to re-educate yourself. What worries do defenders have? What will stop my midfielders from expressing themselves? I had to get up to speed very quickly on what people wanted from me and I've had great staff to help. But, touch wood, I'm quite comfortable with it now."

That might come as news to the residents of the Manchester United dressing-room who noticed the shyness in the well-muscled kid from Wrexham and, a decade later, were still waiting for the personality to blossom. In a list of all-time most influential players under Sir Alex Ferguson, Hughes would make the top five, along with Keane, Cantona, Bruce and Schmeichel. The warrior tag – "Usually grey-haired warrior," Hughes chips in – was misleading. Yes, Hughes relished combat, misses his regular elbow-and-rib encounters with Martin Keown, which were as much philosophical – attacker v defender – as physical. But Steve Bruce and Bryan Robson were the talkers in the United dressing-room at the time.

After the 1985 Cup final, he could not find anyone to share his enjoyment at the final whistle. He wandered across Wembley in a daze, unwilling to gatecrash the celebrations of his elders. His nickname "Sparky" followed him east from the Wrexham Schools side, but not many of his team-mates. Only when he was transferred to Chelsea, ending a 12-year association with United, broken by an unhappy two-year spell at Barcelona, did he realise the extent of his influence. When he spoke, players listened. It says as much for Hughes's modesty as for his single-mindedness that it took him so long to understand his own status in the game.

His observations on the changes in the game might surprise a few, though not his dislike of the new trend towards pattacake football. Players are, by and large, better behaved now, have a greater sense of responsibility than when he started. Nutrition, physical training, pace, athleticism, every aspect of the preparation of players has improved, he says, while proving the exception to the rule that careers will necessarily become shorter. You cannot imagine Hughes waking up one morning, as Patrick Vieira did last week, claiming burn-out at 26 and, without any noticeable pace, he managed to survive at the top level to the last kick.

Hughes was brought up on a council estate in Wrexham. "Every day of the holidays I'd be out there, out at 8.30 in the morning, back after dark. I always had a ball under my arm. My main claim to fame was that myself and a mate would bounce a ball up against the wall of the local leisure centre. The noise must have echoed in the hall because they put a sign – "No ball games" high up on the wall so we couldn't tear it down. Didn't stop us. We spent our time trying to hit it." One of the old school, in upbringing and style, a refugee from the front cover of Charlie Buchan's Football Monthly.

"Football's become a non-contact sport and that's spoiled a lot of the fun for a lot of the people, including spectators. The first 10 minutes of a match used to be a battle, confrontations all over the pitch, tackles flying in. With players like Martin Keown, your professional pride and ego says, 'Well, I'm going to come out on top either with my ability or my physical presence'. In my last years I was conscious how I used to play the game when I first broke through. It was absolute chalk and cheese. I probably finished at the right time. There won't be many players like me in the future."

Ability and physical presence. The warrior could play a bit too. An average of a goal every three games through 718 appearances across seven clubs and three countries is a fair reflection of Hughes's eye for a chance. But the unrecorded "assists" would be an equal test of his worth. Nowhere, other than the Nou Camp, did he let himself down; nowhere, he says, would he feel embarrassed to return. At Everton, in his final season with Blackburn, they cheered him as he warmed up. "And I was only there a few months, but they are a football club, aren't they?" Grudging respect, he calls the reaction of most supporters in the land. "When they knew I was getting too old to be much of a threat."

In the club v country conflict, Hughes has one advantage. He can call on Ferguson, Glenn Hoddle, Terry Venables and Steve Bruce, among others, without putting out the begging bowl. "How shall I put this carefully?" he asks himself. "I've seen managers in the past go to a player immediately after a game on a Saturday knowing that the player was meeting up at 7pm that evening in some hotel 100 miles away and asking him, 'Do you really want to go?' The player would say, 'You're right, boss'. I'd like to think that doesn't happen now."

Not to Wales. Out of a squad of 25 for the last game, 23 appeared in the hotel foyer. "That shows how much they want to be part of it." Hughes, though, can prepare his team immaculately; the destiny of his campaign will ultimately rest on the wellbeing of Giggs's hamstring and Craig Bellamy's knee or the whim of a club manager. For Hughes, raising expectations has included travelling first-class as well as preparing professionally. When Italy arrive at the Millennium Stadium on 16 October, the stadium will ring with anticipation. And that is the final difference between playing and managing.

"As a player, when you get beaten, you can comfort yourself by saying you did reasonably well. As a manager, when you get beaten, you think it's all your fault, but 70,000 people and all those watching on television know it's your fault."

Biography

Born: 11 January 1963 in Wrexham.

Position: Centre-forward.

Playing career: Club: 1980-1986, 1988-1995 Manchester United (345 appearances, 119 goals); 1986-1987 Barcelona (28, 4); 1987-1988 Bayern Munich (loan) (18, 6); 1995-1998 Chelsea (95, 25); 1998-2000 Southampton (52, 2); 2000 Everton (18, 1); 2000-2002 Blackburn Rovers (59, 7).

Internationals: Wales (72, 16).

Honours: 1993 and 1994 League Championships. 1985, 1990, 1994 and 1997 FA Cup winner. 1992 and 2002 League Cup winner. 1991 and 1998 European Cup-Winners' Cup winner. PFA Player of the year 1989 and 1991.

Management career: November 1999-present, Wales.