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The Hall Of Arse: Andy Kennedy 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.
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