Mr Unbelievable

Thankfully, with the help of Tim Lovejoy and Helen Chamberlain on Soccer AM, the producers saw the funny side. Tim and Helen showed the clip on their Saturday morning programme and absolutely loved it, laughing their heads off. By the second viewing, even I was laughing. By that time, I knew that my job was safe and I was so surprised, it may have been the first time I used the term ‘Unbelievable!’

In those early days, in order to get things right for Kamaracam, myself and Colin the cameraman would often go to the stadiums a day early. We’d scope out the best places to stand and get the background shot just right. At first, I think that a lot of the people who watched the programme back then really believed it was all just a gimmick and we were producing the show in a studio with a blue screen behind us on which we then played crowd images. To shut them up we included more crowd scenes. Occasionally we’d even encourage the fans to jump up and down, just to prove we were really there.

It was important for me to work on my delivery too. My mate Rob McCaffrey – who would later go on to be my co-presenter on Goals on Sunday – spotted the Oxford United incident and called me shortly afterwards. He had found the whole thing hilarious, but said, ‘That wasn’t the Kammy I know, you are coming across like a TV news reporter on location. It was as if you were trying to be like Kate Adie, on the front line in the Falklands.’

He went on to explain that I should be myself in front of the cameras. He knew I could be a very excitable character and he reckoned I should make the most of it, no matter how much of a wally I looked. It was the best advice anyone had given me. These days, I act as naturally as I can. It seems to be popular with quite a few people.

Sometimes it can be tough work, because for every four-all thriller, there can be a crap, goalless draw. Generally, though, there’s always something to get excited about, whether it’s a goal-line clearance, a controversial penalty decision or even a sending-off. I’ll try to inject as much enthusiasm as I can into each incident, because I think that’s what Soccer Saturday fans expect of me. They don’t want me to be negative – they can get that from the guys on the other channel! It also comes naturally because I’m genuinely buzzing to be watching football for a living. I act like a fan when I’m reporting on any game of football: I’m so excited, and I just can’t hide it. Hang on, perhaps I should have been a songwriter thinking up words like that!

Sometimes, it’s very easy to get lost in the moment. I remember Heurelho Gomes dropped a clanger when Spurs lost to Fulham at Craven Cottage in 2009. The ball bounced in front of him and he flapped with his arms as the ball dropped into the net. It was the easiest catch to make, but Gomes blundered big-time. I patched through to the studio that a major incident had taken place and Jeff lined me up.

JEFF: ‘Heurelho Gomes, the Tottenham goalkeeper, has his head in his hands at Craven Cottage. Let’s find out why: Chris Kamara…’

KAMMY: ‘Ha, ha! And so he should have, Jeff! He is absolutely shocking. There’s a shot from Simon Davies … well, he could have thrown his cap on it. And it’s bounced in front of him and, somehow, it’s bounced off his chest and gone into the back of the net. It’s laughable. Unless you’re a Spurs fan…’

I felt bad afterwards because I had got carried away. I was laughing my head off at him. It’s not intentional, you just lose it when you’re commentating. Thankfully, I’m able to say now what a fantastic player he is. A season later he played out of his skin for Spurs at Craven Cottage and kept a clean sheet. I was able to say, ‘Look, this is a different fella. He’s a class goalkeeper.’

Over the years, the mistakes made on the programme have given TV critics – the likes of Ally Ross in the Sun and Ian Hyland in the News of the World – plenty of material. I’m as likely as anyone to make a faux pas. I’m not precious. I love people taking the mickey out of it because what we do isn’t rehearsed. It can’t be. Most of it comes straight out, instinctively, and I’ve always been pretty good at saying it as I see it and retelling the action as accurately as I can.

The official term is Kamaracam. Everyone who goes out on the road now – whether it’s Ian Dowie, Scott Minto or John Solako – works under that title. It’s even on the production sheet, and it used to confuse people at first. I’d have friends from Everton or Newcastle ringing me before games. They’d say, ‘I see you’re at our ground today – fancy a beer after?’ I’d have to explain to them that I wasn’t actually going to be there, it was another presenter working under the term Kamaracam.

I don’t really have any preferences on where I do my reports. To be honest I love going to all the grounds. I’ve always said that you should never judge a book by its cover. In a football match you don’t really know what’s going to happen. I could be freezing my nuts off in front of Bolton versus Wolves, but then you might get a wonder goal out of the blue that could change the whole complexion of the game and indeed unfreeze my nuts. Stoke versus Wigan could be 5–0, but unpredictability is the beauty of football.

There’s no class distinction either, because you’re just as likely to get a flat game at Old Trafford or Stamford Bridge as you are at Goodison Park or the Stadium of Light. When it comes to choosing the games, I try to share it around as best I can. People also moan on about how often I go to the grounds of other teams. They say, ‘You never come to the Emirates, you must hate Arsenal,’ or ‘What’s your bloody problem with Liverpool? You’re never there.’ In truth, it all comes down to geography. I have to think about how easy it will be for me to get back to London that night to present Goals on Sunday the next day. Some grounds are harder than others – Hull is tricky to get back to London from; getting in and out of Birmingham is always a headache. Until I have a massive win at the Grand National, my private plane – Air Kammy – will remain grounded.

On Saturday mornings I’m up and running from the moment I awake, often with a sore head after a night out with Jeff Stelling and the gang in the hotel bar. The boys – Jeff plus Charlie Nicholas, Phil Thompson and sometimes Matt Le Tissier – always meet up on Friday for a drink. It’s a great night out and an essential part of the show. Jeff will usually hold court over several pints of Hoegaarden (I hear he’s angling for a sponsorship deal), while I’ll go to the steam room with Charlie Nicholas for a gossip. After that we’ll go for a drink, usually into the early hours.

This might sound like a jolly boys’ outing to most of you, but the truth is, the hotel bar plays an important role in the success of Soccer Saturday. What we talk about that night usually sets the tone of the show the next day. Jeff will go through all the hot football topics that week and gauge everybody’s opinions. He’ll also pick up rumours and news of what’s been going on in the game from us, the stuff the papers might not have reported. I’m still involved on a day-to-day basis with players, agents and managers, as are Thommo and Charlie, so we can pass on plenty of info to Jeff. He would never categorically come out and reveal the gossip we have passed on, but he might float an idea or an opinion as a result of that confidence.

Different presenters have different methods of preparation. Jeff, for example, drives to a motorway service station in Winchester with a bag full of newspaper cuttings, magazines and an info pack from Sky on all the players, goals and stats. He’ll memorise as much as he can. For me it’s Sky Sports News from the moment I am awake. If I’m covering Stoke against Liverpool at the Britannia Stadium my preparation would be to watch the games of both teams from the previous weekend. I’ll take a look at the teams and if there are any new faces in the side, I’ll ring around and find out a bit more about them. If there’s nothing new, then my work is done. I’m not there to deliver stats and facts on the teams, that’s down to Jeff.

When Jeff comes to me on air, he wants to hear what’s going on in the game, as do the viewers. They want the goals, the drama, the blunders and the controversy. It’s no good me yelling, ‘Unbelievable, Jeff! This is Everton’s sixth win in 10 games! Tim Cahill has just delivered his eighth assist of the season!’ The hard stats are Jeff’s party piece and he works tirelessly on getting them right all week. I’m not going to tell anyone how to do their job, but some Soccer Saturday reporters try to cram their broadcasts with facts and trivia. That’s wrong. You have to tell the studio what you’re seeing, how both teams are playing and who has scored the goals or who has been booked, rightly or wrongly. In other words: ‘Unbelievable, Jeff! Louis Saha couldn’t hit a barn door with a banjo! Phil Jagielka is as useful as a fish up a tree today! Marouane Fellaini hasn’t trimmed his beautiful haircut for nine weeks! One–nil!’ I wouldn’t dream of telling the viewers that I had the same hairstyle as Fellani when I was a player. The referees used to blow on my head like a dandelion to check the 90 minutes was up but I’d rather keep that a secret – whoops!

In the words of Roy Walker in Catchphrase, ‘Just say what you see.’

From mid-morning, Kamaracam is up and running. I usually get to the ground as early as I can so I can catch up with the team news and have a chat with a few people at the ground, just to get some extra background on the game and what’s going on at the club. At around 2.30, climbing into the commentary gantry can sometimes be an uncomfortable business. I remember our position at Portsmouth used to be particularly dangerous, until they eventually moved us. Nobody ever actually got injured, but that was a miracle really.

Once the game gets under way, Carly Bassett will communicate with me. She can see me on camera in the studio, but I can only hear her. The production guys also watch all the games, so as soon as someone scores in my game or an incident of note takes place, they can cut to me shortly after.

As the game progresses, Carly will tell me when I’m due to go live. ‘We’ve got three waiting to come in and you’re next.’ It’s a bit like air-traffic control at Heathrow, but without all the drunk pilots and near misses, though some people would argue that we suffer a lot of those as well. It can be a frustrating business. Sometimes there might be a penalty decision or goal and the studio can’t get to me until minutes later. Other times they want me to give a report even though absolutely nothing has happened at all. That’s when I have to say, ‘Boring game, nothing has happened here.’

Sometimes, though, the action goes on behind me without me even knowing. The most famous instance of this – and I say famous because everyone who missed it on Soccer Saturday could watch it on the internet, and plenty have ! – happened when I was commentating on Fulham against Middlesbrough at Craven Cottage. My monitor shows all the action so I can see in detail what’s happening on the pitch when I have to turn my back on it to deliver my report. At one point that day the monitor decided to pack up. Typically this was the moment Fulham chose to score, as you can see from the action replay:

JEFF: ‘Is there any way back for Fulham against Middlesbrough, I wonder? Chris Kamara…’

KAMMY: ‘Well they’re trying, Jeff. Papa Bouba Diop, the man mountain himself, is playing as a striker and he’s got [David] Healy on one side of him and Diamansi Kamara on the other side and … it’s Papa Bouba Diop with a header! AAAAGH! AH! It’s a goal! It’s a goal, Jeff! Is it David Healy? He’s running away… Andy D’Urso’s playing on… Sorry, my monitor’s down again! [Turning around frantically] I’m looking over my shoulder… What? I don’t really know … the assistant… Has he given it? [Complete panic flashes across my face] Oh, the assistant hasn’t given it, I don’t think, Jeff. No! The referee hasn’t given it either… Don’t really know what’s happening, Jeff. Ha, ha! [cue: laughter from the studio panel] Could be, could be not… Ha, ha, ha!’

JEFF: ‘I tell you what, Kammy, it’s not the first time you’ve not known what’s happening, but I can tell you, well, the ball went in from close range, Schwarzer got both hands to it, it’s over the line! There’s no question the ball is over the line, but the referee has not given it. And Fulham, well, 2–1 behind, Middlesbrough still lead, but that ball was a foot and a half over the line before Schwarzer managed to scramble it clear. They’re still playing and there’s going to be real controversy over that one.’

These little disasters have made the show an unbelievable success. Soccer Saturday has definitely revolutionised football coverage – other TV channels have tried to copy it, but they’re still nowhere near as good as we are. It’s also made a name for all the lads working on the show. Most of them had much greater success and fame during their playing careers than I did, and yet today my popularity as part of the Sky gang never fails to amaze me.

CHAPTER FOUR KAMMY’S TV TWERP

OK, you’ve heard of Harry Hill’s TV Burps, so now let me introduce you to Kammy’s TV Twerps.

Over the years as Soccer Saturday’s roving reporter extraordinaire, I’ve made some bloopers and gaffes, usually at the rate of three an hour. Most of these are available for you to laugh at on the internet and, believe me, a lot of football fans have thrown them back at me over the years. But for those of you away from your computer at this moment, here’s the transcript of the more calamitous moments. And please excuse my poor use of the English language in these following clips as I do tend on occasions to have trouble with my worms. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I can get very, very excited … unless you ask my wife, of course – she’ll tell you she doesn’t remember the last time I got excited, but that’s another story, even another three chapters.

These are the clips that change this particular roving reporter extraordinaire to roving reporter extraordinary.

ON ALEX McLEISH

‘Alex McLeish has his hands in his head.’

IN THE BUILD-UP TO WIGAN v. WEST HAM

KAMMY: [Smirking] ‘I’ve had a chat with both managers and obviously I can’t tell you the teams, but Wigan are unchanged and Lucas Neill plays for West Ham.’

JEFF: [Sighing] ‘OK, thanks very much for keeping that to yourself, Chris.’

ON A STRUGGLING NOTTINGHAM FOREST

‘It’s real end-to-end stuff, but unfortunately, it’s all up Forest’s end.’

ON AN ALAN SHEARER GOAL

‘They’ve one man to thank for that goal: Alan Shearer. And they’ve also got to thank referee Alan Wilkie.’

ON JUNIOR LEWIS

‘Not only has referee Graham Poll shown Junior Lewis the red card, but he’s sent him off!’

ON BURNLEY

‘For Burnley to win, they’re going to have to score!’

ON CHELSEA 0 SCUNTHORPE 1

JEFF: ‘It’s not 0–0 at Stamford Bridge, the deadlock broken very early on, but it’s Scunthorpe who’ve scored!’

KAMMY: [High-pitched laughter] ‘Jeff, you’re not going to believe this, it’s incredible… Can they believe it? I can’t believe it! Ha, ha! They’re winning one–nil!’

ON FULHAM

JEFF: ‘Have Fulham got their just deserts?’

KAMMY: ‘They have and they deserve it!’

ON A HUGO RODALLEGA INJURY

‘Hugo Rodallega fell over the advertising hoardings as he was running in on goal.’

SOUTHAMPTON v. WEST BROM BUILD-UP

JEFF: ‘Is West Brom a good game for them to have today, you know, in the sense that expectations might be slightly less than if they were playing another team who were struggling?’

KAMMY: ‘Very much so, George. Oh, sorry… I’ve just been speaking to … er, George Burley, Fred… I mean Jeff [cue: fits of unstoppable laughter]’

ON CARLOS TEVEZ

‘They’ve got this man with a heart as big as … as big as … a plate.’

ON DARIUS VASSELL

‘Darius Vassell has had a lot of weight on his shoulders but someone’s just taken those shackles off his feet.’

ON THE BEAUTIFUL GAME

‘That’s the beauty of football. Sometimes it starts off crap, then it gets a bit better.’

So forgive me, Harry Hill, I don’t know which is the biggest gaffe, Carlos Tevez’s big heart or Fulham’s just deserts. There’s only one way to find out… FIGHT! Come on Carlos Tevez…

CHAPTER FIVE UNBELIEVABLE, JEFF! (HOW I CAUGHT A CATCHPHRASE)

Every great showman has to have a catchphrase. For some people it’s a gimmick to grab the excitement of their audience. I remember that Bruce Forsyth used to open The Generation Game with the words, ‘Nice to see you, to see you – nice!’; Dale Winton was forever saying ‘Bring on the wall!’ during Saturday night favourite Hole in the Wall (well, I loved it). Other TV entertainers have yelled something to raise a comic reaction. When Frank Spencer fell out of a window and clung on to the back of a double-decker bus (while attached to a pair of roller-skates, usually) the only words he could scream were ‘Ooh, Betty!’ It always got me giggling.

In truth, I’ve probably got more in common with Frank Spencer than Brucie. But instead of bus surfing or injuring myself in a calamitous fashion, every Saturday afternoon I watch footballers kicking lumps out of each other. Each goal, booking or Fergie tantrum is greeted by the word ‘Unbelievable!’, which is then boomed into the homes of millions of Soccer Saturday viewers. Often ‘Unbelievable!’ arrives attached to the name ‘Jeff!’ as I relay the action to the show’s anchorman and Smurf-in-chief, Jeff Stelling. It’s become a bit of a cult phenomenon. For some reason, a lot of people seem to like me shouting into their living-rooms at jetplane volumes.

When Soccer Saturday first started, I had no idea how much I said ‘Unbelievable, Jeff!’ on the telly. This sounds crazy, I know, because I must have used the adjective at least half a dozen times a weekend. I think I first got wind of my conversational tic (and it is an affliction, just ask Mrs Kammy) around six or seven years ago when the production team at Sky decided to run a Christmas special. This 30-minute programme showed all the gaffes and bloopers from the season. A lot of them were mine. Take a look online – it’s all on youtube.com if you don’t believe me. If you can’t be bothered, here are the highlights:

‘This is unbelievable, Jeff!’

‘Unbelievable, Jeff!’

‘Jeff, unbelievable!’

‘Jeff, you’re not going to believe this! Unbelievable!’

And so on. The day after the Christmas special, I covered a match between QPR and Manchester City at Loftus Road. Kevin Keegan, then the manager at City, came out of the tunnel as I was preparing to deliver a touchline report. Just as we were about to roll, he crept up behind me and shouted, ‘Unbelievable, Jeff!’ at the top of his voice. At that moment, I knew exactly how Jeff felt whenever I yelled into his ear piece. I also knew my big gob had been running on overdrive. My stock description of a dramatic incident in football as soon as I was linked to the studio was shouting the words ‘Unbelievable, Jeff!’, and everyone in the English game had known it. Everyone apart from me.

Kevin was laughing his head off. Apparently the whole City squad and coaching staff had seen the funnies that morning. ‘It’s all you ever say, Kammy,’ he said. ‘Let’s go down to Kammy at Loftus Road [the home of QPR, where we were]. Unbelievable, Jeff ! Unbelievable, Jeff! Unbelievable, Jeff…!’

I knew then that I had unintentionally created a monster. By all accounts, the boys in the studio had picked up on it months before, but the reason I wasn’t conscious of saying ‘Unbelievable Jeff !’ was that I wasn’t thinking about making a catchphrase for myself. I was just acting naturally. If I had deliberately tried to invent a saying, it wouldn’t have worked and I would have looked wooden and awkward on air.

When it comes to Soccer Saturday fans, we all attract different ‘types’. Jeff usually gets the grannies, mainly because of his work on Countdown, but also because he reminds them of a garden gnome and they want to pop him in their window boxes. Former Arsenal star and gambling disaster Paul ‘Merse’ Merson attracts Gunners fans and masochists looking for a no-hoper tip on the horses. I tend to get the lot – kids, OAPs, stattos and fanatics – because I do three shows on the telly, Soccer AM, Soccer Saturday and Goals on Sunday. There’s never a day when somebody doesn’t shout ‘Unbelievable, Jeff!’ at me. This morning it was the delivery guy with my supermarket goods.

I think the first time I really noticed the attention was when I went to Japan with Jeff and Soccer Saturday producer Ian Condron for the 2002 World Cup. From the minute we stepped off the plane, football fans were shouting ‘Unbelievable, Jeff!’ at us from across the street. Tourists were coming up, asking for photos and autographs. It was so weird. I loved it, but I think Jeff was quite taken aback.

‘Bloody hell, Chris, it’s like Kammymania out here!’ he said. I think he ended up working the camera as a line of fans posed for a picture with me. I think it’s fair to say that these days it would be me holding the camera for him – his popularity is immense.

The attention there in Japan was a bit of a pain in the nicest possible way. We were blocking walkways as crowds gathered around us. Traffic came to a standstill. At one point we had to duck down a side street like the Beatles in A Hard Day’s Night and run for our lives. Or was that the night we jumped out of the taxi without paying? I can’t remember, but it was upsetting at the time, because it was almost impossible to get a pint! The English fans were there in force, and so were the Irish. Between them, they had taken over pretty much every bar in the country. We were in double trouble. I signed so many autographs that writer’s cramp had set in by the end of the trip and none of us could get to the bar without being recognised.

It’s my own fault. I’ll chat to as many people as I can. I always remember a time when I was a kid and I approached Stuart Boam. He was the captain of Middlesbrough during the seventies and when I saw him in the street one day I asked for an autograph. Boam just brushed me aside. He might have been in a hurry, but it really stuck with me. Because of that, I always try to give attention to people if they want a photo or a signature. Besides, most people want to talk to you about their club, which is great because it sometimes gives me the inside track on what the fans think about various issues affecting them and I can use the info for Soccer Saturday or Goals on Sunday.

You might get one or two idiots who say, ‘You hate our club and never say anything nice about us.’ I only say what I see: if a club does well, I shout it from the rooftops; if it’s not so good, then I say so. Thankfully those people are in the minority, but they’re wrong. I don’t hate any team. I don’t support any particular one either, but they don’t seem to take any notice when I tell them that. Leeds fans think I should be more like Jeff when he talks about Hartlepool, because I used to support Leeds as a kid. My old school-mate Steve Gibson, the Middlesbrough chairman, used to think when I was talking about Boro on the TV I was more against them than for them! Yes, they are my home-town club and he is my big pal, but I’m really 100 per cent unbiased. Unlike Matt Le Tissier, who wears Southampton socks under his Soccer Saturday desk when he’s working.