I rolled out of my bed at the luxurious Dunston Hall Hotel in Norfolk, pulled open the perfectly curtailed curtains and looked out the window as the snow gently settled on the most beautifully historic grade II listed building. The 26th January 2013, today was FA Cup 4th Round day, we had drawn Premier League Norwich City away. Non-League Luton Town, going to a team 85 places above them in the football pyramid. I caressed the curtains back shut, sat back down on the end of my bed, “I hope we can do ourselves justice today!”

As I sat in the hotel restaurant eating my Special K for breakfast – lads filtering down one by one with their bed hair in full flow – everyone was in a relaxed mood. Every week in the Conference Premier we were the ‘Big Club’, it was nice to be going into a game with no pressure, no expectation. After all a non-league club had never beaten a Premier League club in the FA Cup away from home, realistically we had no chance, Premier League teams don’t lose to Conference teams, it just doesn’t happen.

A nice warm shower, hair dryer helping place every strand of hair into place, key card handed into reception, sit and wait for the team coach to arrive outside for us. BBC were waiting for us in the hotel foyer. Matt Robinson, a full-time central midfielder and part-time rapper had written a song about us defeating Championship Wolverhampton Wanderers in Round 3. The BBC were covering the build-up to the game slightly. Elsewhere in the FA Cup were the more likely giant-killings, it wasn’t going to happen at Carrow Road.

Matt’s hotel reception concert complete, all the boys climbing onto the coach, we set of on the 5.7 mile trip along the A47. As we made the short coach journey, just under 5000 Luton Town supporters were heading to East-Anglia from all over the country. More in hope than expectation, Hatters fans were descending on Delia Smith territory looking forward to a day out. Heading to a ground that a club the size of Luton Town should be playing at every away game.

The Luton faithful hadn’t had much to shout about in recent times. Season 2008/2009 a 30 point deduction seen them shockingly banished into Non-League for the first time, a few tough years followed. Play-off final heartache on the quest to bounce back to the Football League in 2011 and 2012. Still in their numbers they followed, all round the country to Non-League stadiums in their thousands. The Wolves 1-0 victory in round 3, putting a smile on a few faces. Teams like Wolves should have been coming to Kenilworth Road every week, instead it was the likes of Welling and Woking who would be visiting LU4.

The plush Kings Ferry coach pulled up at the players entrance at Carrow Road. Wash bag in one hand, boots and shin pads the other hand I got off and entered a Premier League stadium as a player. The first time a 21-year-old me had ever done that. We walked out on to the lush green, snow drenched grass,everyone with phones in hand sending Snapchat videos to friends and family. If anything we were going to enjoy the day. I looked across at Mark Tyler, our goalkeeper. Stood there on his own, on the edge of the crisp white centre circle, a match-day programme rolled up in his trusted right-hand. ‘Tyles’ used to stand on the terraces of Norwich’s East Stand as a boy, his job today to keep the ball out of the net against his beloved Canaries.

We sat down in away changing, much bigger and more modern than the ones we were used to. Paul Buckle named the team – from the way we had setup all week we kind of knew it anyway. I was on the bench, of course I wanted to be starting but that is football. “We’re not here to make up the numbers today, stick to the game plan we have worked on all week and we have got a chance. It is 11 v 11, they are not on a great run of form. You lads know what it is like being the big boys every week. Today they’re the big boys, we’re the underdog.” The gaffer, believed we could get something, religiously all week in the build-up he had worked on Norwich having the ball for pretty much the whole game. “Don’t let them play through the middle of us, let them go down the sides. Janos (Kovacs) and Snoop (Lathaniel Rowe-Turner) will deal with crosses into the box all day. Don’t let them play through us.” He had give us a real sense of belief as we left the changing room for the warm-up.

It is not the biggest of Premier League grounds Norwich, 27,244 seats the capacity. I thought a few in the home end might be empty with it being seen as game that Chris Hughton side should comfortably win, but no! Every seat filled. Striding across from one side of the perfectly groomed pitch to the other I took it all in. As a kid you always dream of playing at a Premier League ground, I can’t say Norwich was one I used to pretend to be scoring in when I volleyed the ball past my 5 year old brother in a North London park but it was a Top-Flight ground I was going to relish every minute of it.

I took my place on the bench as the team led by Ronnie Henry walked out onto the pitch. “Come on Luton, Come on Luton” belched out from everyone of the travelling Hatters situated opposite the dug-out in the South Stand. Andre Marriner blew his jet black whistle, Paul Buckle stood on the periphery of his technical area. It was game on!

The clock struck 10 minutes, 0-0 we were comfortable. The battling Jon Shaw and Andre Gray leading from the front, Norwich having the majority of possession. Six-years previous the two teams were in the same division – 25 minutes in – you wouldn’t have known who were the higher ranked team. We were holding our own.

28 minutes – Norwich first real chance. We would have taken that before kick-off, one real chance in the first half-hour. Russell Martin plays the ball over the top, Simeon Jackson clean through on goal. “Stand up Tyles, stand up as long as you can.” The ball bounces three times as Jackson settles himself. Right-foot back he strikes it from 12-yards. Towards Mark Tyler’s right hand side he stands strong and beats it away. “Phew!”

I went for my first-warm up of the game. It is hard sitting on the bench to actually watch the game, I put on my orange coloured bib and jogged down the touchline. I watched on as Javier Garrido played in Bradley Johnson down the left, head up he pulled it back to a 19-year-old Harry Kane. Left foot from the edge of the area he scuffed it towards goal. It is heading for the bottom corner, Greg Taylor gets across and someone gets a heel on it. Away for a corner, the pressure is building, it was always going to.

41 minutes – Frantic! Norwich corner from in front of the travelling Hatters. Out-swinging David Fox delivers, flicked up in the air by Kane. From no where ex-hatter Leon Barnett leaps, launching himself at the descending ball. Getting there just before Mark Tyler he glances it towards goal. The yellow Umbro ball seemed to slowly drift towards the goal-line. It hits the post. As I stretch my groins on the touchline my hands go to my head, the pressure hand been building. The ball leaves the post, it bounces back to the free-falling Barnett. Right bum cheek struck it ricochets towards the net. “Stick to the game plan, do your jobs!” Them the words of Paul Buckle as the lads left the changing room. The ball nearly over the goal line. Alex Lawless, on the opposite post comes across, instinct kicks in. His right-foot comes up and somehow claws it away. Alex done his job, if goal line technology was involved back then and done it’s job Alex might not have kept it 0-0.

Luton fans are celebrating as if we scored as Alex clears, the ball comes out to the touchline. Jon Shaw picks it up, the ever willing Andre Gray on the halfway line. ‘Shawy’ clips it forward, Andre chases. He shrugs off Javier Garrido, bearing down on the penalty area the Norwich defender comes across. He is a strong boy Andre, “Big touch across him Dre. Then get your arm across and your one-on-one with the keeper” My anticipation got the better of me, Jonny Howson realises he is in trouble. Howson’s right foot gets to the bouncing ball, he nudges it ever so slightly into Andre’s path. Howson’s arm wraps round Andre’s shoulder. Andre goes down! Our whole bench go up, the whole Luton end go up! “Penalty, he has pulled him down. Stonewall penalty that!” Referee Marriner shakes his head. Half-time comes after a frantic few minutes. The lads have been brilliant, we have rode our luck but we were always going to.

Half Time Norwich City 0-0 Luton Town

The second-half began, Carrow Road slowly filled back up from fans indulging in their half time cups of tea. We were 45 minutes away from causing a real shock. Imagine a Conference team getting a draw at a Premier League ground and forcing a replay, unthinkable. We grew in belief in the first-half, stick to the game plan and we could grind out a draw in the second half.

55 minutes – Tyler to the rescue again. Norwich attack down the right, Andrew Surman into Jackson. He steps a way from Snoop, and stands a delightful cross to the back-post. Janos doesn’t see half-time substitute Grant Hold behind him. The cross is perfect, it is pin-point. It takes what seems to be an age to get to Holt. Half of Carrow Road rise and almost head it in for their number 9. He has got to score, Norwich’s leading marksman doesn’t miss them. Tyler takes two giant steps to his right, Holt puts it either side of Tyler it’s 1-0, all the hard work undone. Tyler stands strong, Holt connects perfectly. SAVED! “What a ******* save that is!” The boy who once donned the Yellow shirt of his boyhood heroes is keeping them at bay.

I continue to warm up, big jacket wrapped round me fighting off the bitterly cold Norfolk winter I stride up and down the side of the main stage. 65 minutes I look up, assistant manager Alan Neilsen waves down at me. “Here we go, I’m coming on!” I sprint back up to the dug-out like Usain Bolt, I want to get on there for as long as I can. More layers than a game of pass the parcel ripped off, match shirt on. The clock strikes 68 minutes, number 14 off number 17 on. Jake Howells moves into play alongside Jonathan Smith in centre-midfield, I come on left-midfield.

My family watch on from the away end, my little brother and my dad joined by half of Leighton Buzzard. They were going for a day out, they never expected anything other than an enjoyable day and a few beverages in East-Anglia. My dad took me all over the country as a young boy, I used to be out delivering letters with him for Royal Mail on a Saturday morning at 7 so he could get me to my Academy training for 9 o’clock. He proudly watched on, his boy had 22 minutes to try and create a memorable FA Cup draw.

5 minutes after I entered proceedings, it was time to freshen up the front two. The outstanding Shaw and Gray off, Stuart Fleetwood and Scott Rendell on.

78 minutes – Scott’s first involvement almost leads to a goal. Jonathan Smith clips one forward, Ryan Bennett tries to be clever and take it down. Scott nips infront of him, one bounce he lifts it over the head of the lacklustre Bennett. goal scoring hero from Round 3 Alex Lawless comes in from the right. The ball slowly drops out the darkening Norfolk sky, over Alex’s left shoulder. 12 yards out – it is a hard chance – a volley with three Norwich defenders surrounding the Welshman. “What a connection, this is going to be our only chance, imagine if that nestles in.” My thoughts as I look on as the ball sweetly connect with Alex’s right-foot. Declan Rudd is worried in the Norwich goal, he clambers to his left. It flies towards the goal, the Luton Fans rise. The ball beats Rudd, it skims the right-hand post. Anguish reaps around the South-Stand, a few millimetres to the left and we could have won it. 10 minutes left, we’ll happily take a draw.

80 minutes – The best 60 seconds of my footballing life were about to unfold. A wild punt forward from Rudd, Janos Kovacs the big Hungarian comes through like a wrecking ball, smashing Norwich players as he does. His big sweaty forehead crunching the ball, he heads clear. Fleetwood picks it up in front of Paul Buckle’s technical area. The Norwich players are all forward, a big space lies behind where their right-back Russell Martin should be. As Fleetwood collects the ball, I am off. The right ball from one substitute to another and I could be in here. Fleetwood raises his head, I raise my right arm in front of me, my index finger signals exactly where I want the ball as I gallop in full flow into Norwich’s half. “Don’t over hit it Fleets, put it in there, I can get on the end of it!” With the outside of his colourful Adidas boot he caresses the ball down the line. The weight of the pass majestic, he could have done it a hundred times over, he couldn’t have played it any better. It back spins perfectly as I reach it. 10 yards from the byline, I look up. I see Scott catching up the play, arm outstretched telling me to wait. I reach the ball, 5 yards from the byline. My head comes up as I take my first touch. I see Scott again, if I could have had any situation with any player in that game this was it. I know where Scott is going, lets hope Chris Hughton’s rear guard didn’t. Time really did feel like it stopped. “Just wait J, just wait!” Scott first movement looks as if he is going to go between the two central defenders. I know he isn’t, Scott knows he’s not. Bennett and Garrido have no idea where Scott is, BOSH! Here we go, Scott goes, we played together so many times, if the ball is right then I know he is getting there. My head goes down, it was to be the biggest pass of my life. My left foot connects, Scott is on the move, Bennett isn’t. The ball rolls perfectly towards Scott, Bennett sees him coming. It is to late! Scott gets there first, I knew he would – he knew he would. As his right arm went up moments ago this situation had already been planned out. Execution perfect, Scott across the front, his right foot nips in ahead of the despairing Bennett, he toe pokes it up into the air, Declan Rudd dives, there isn’t any need. The ball flies past him before he can react. IT’S IN!! ABSOLUTE PANDEMONIUM!

Scott leapt to his feet. The noise inside Carrow Road deafening. Years of heartache, years of injustice, years of trudging round Non-League grounds in the hope of seeing their beloved Luton Town back in the Football League. That moment was a proud heartfelt moment for every Hatters fan. Something to shout about, something to enjoy. And boy did they enjoy it! I chased Scott, nearly as fast as I ran down the line to latch on to Stuart Fleetwood’s pass. His arms outstretched, I followed suit. “What have we just done!” Everyone piled into the corner, close on 5000 hatters going mental. I was going mental, Ronnie Henry grabbed Scott, there heads went together and all the lads bundled on. “What a feeling, what a sight seeing the joy you can bring so many people!” Grown men crying, my brother pushing my next door neighbour down four rows. It was carnage, Non-League Luton had scored at Premier League Norwich. We had 10 minutes to hold on, even if we couldn’t we had giving the supporters something to shout about. We took what felt like forever to get back in our own half after celebrating, nobody could take that moment away from us!

Ten minutes felt like ten hours. “Ref, how long left?” Every 30 seconds Andre Marriner was getting peppered with the same repeating question. If we were determined to defend at 0-0 in the build-up to us scoring, we were even more determined to hold onto our lead. The clock struck 90 minutes. We were minutes away from doing the unthinkable. Minutes away from creating footballing history. We had come for a draw at absolute best, we were so close to a remarkable win.

90 minutes – The ball is played down our right hand side. Both Norwich centre halves are forward as they search for an equaliser. Snoop goes across to clear it with weaker right foot. Just inside our penalty area the ball skids up off the greasy surface. Snoop scuffs the ball with his right foot, it flies up onto his right arm. 23,000 Canaries scream for a penalty. “No, please no! Ref no chance, ball to hand ref, ball to hand!” All 11 Luton players pleading with Andre Marriner to not do anything. Another shake of his head, no penalty. “Andre Marriner you absolute hero!”

3 minutes of stoppage time went up, 3 minutes have been played. The ball goes back to Declan Rudd in the Norwich goal, all the Luton bench, all the Luton fans impersonating the referee as they blow imaginary whistles. “How long is he playing? Ref any chance?” Rudd clears it. THE REFEREE BLOWS HIS WHISTLE! THAT’S IT! WE HAVE MADE FOOTBALL HISTORY! NORWICH CITY 0-1 LUTON TOWN!

Everyone from the bench piled onto the pitch. The lads cuddling each other like they were family. We had achieved the unthinkable. We had done something very special, we had given the town of Luton and the loyal supporters something to be proud of.

I have had some special days in football, the 60 seconds from Janos clearing the ball to me setting up Scott and the celebrations after are something to me that can never be topped on a football pitch. I relive everyday the 26th January 2013, many times a day, will it always be like that? Most definitely. You face a lot more low points than high points in football. For me it is such a special day. The starting 11 done unbelievably well to keep Chris Hughton’s side at bay for the first 68 minutes. I was able to come on and help that, for the chance to fall to me and to be able to setup Scott is something that still gives me goosebumps watching today. The scenes in the away end as we celebrated as a team is something firmly etched in my mind. Paul Buckle didn’t have the easiest time as Luton Town manager, he would probably be the first to admit that. He was the mastermind behind that victory. He believed we could definitely come away with a draw, he set us up in a way to achieve that. We would’ve taken a draw if you offered us it sat in The Dunston Hall Hotel hours earlier. We achieved the unthinkable, we achieved the improbable. We created footballing history, the first ever Non-League team to knock a Premier League team out of the FA Cup. Everywhere you go, you should try and leave a legacy, try and do something that people remember you by. I was never going to be the greatest player to wear a Luton shirt, but every time I pulled it on it was a true privilege. I’m glad I was able to be part of that team that achieved something so unique and special that January afternoon. In the face of impossibility and against the odds, as a certain Norwich City supporter once said, “Let’s Be Having You”!

‘

To watch highlights from that History-making day. Please watch below.

Referee Brett Huxtable put the whistle to his lips. With one big exhale he blew it, I sunk to the floor. The 19th December 2014 – people remember birthday’s and anniversaries – to me that date will always live me. I didn’t just feel the 3-2 defeat away at Bristol Rovers , I sunk down and felt like my body had finally defeated me too.

It was a cold, wintry Friday night, 5,367 had braved the elements inside the Memorial Ground, thousands more watching around the world on BT Sport. As that full-time whistle went, I had never felt so alone. I knew deep down I was in trouble, big trouble. I couldn’t carry on how I was.

I hobbled back into the changing room, I packed away the painkillers that I had eaten like Skittles before kick-off and at half-time. I slumped in my seat, took of my shirt and placed it on the floor in front of me. ‘O’Donnell 18’ in white font stared back at me, it would be the last time I would take a match shirt off for close on three years.

The night of the Bristol Rovers defeat and the night thereafter, it was the team Christmas-Do in Bristol. Ask any player, it is one of the main highlights of a football season a Christmas-Do. As we sat in a sweaty west-country nightclub, lads bouncing round, drinks flowing like the nearby River Severn, all I could think of is how I was going to tell Gary Mills on the Monday that I couldn’t carry on anymore. “Gaffer, I can’t train or play anymore, I have got what feels like a bruise under my toe!” Imagine telling a European Cup winner who had played under the great Brian Clough that I couldn’t carry on cause of a bruised toe, I thought vodka and cranberry was going to make me feel sick that night, not the thought of speaking to Gary three days later.

I trudged into the International Stadium on the Monday morning. Physio Suzanne Davis knew about the problem of the severe discomfort, she didn’t know what was causing it though. I stopped by her room en-route to Gary Mills office, “Gaffer upstairs Suzie?” She nodded back, “Yes, he knows you are struggling, head up and see him.” I knocked on his door, my knuckles barely glancing the door as the embarrassment I felt come over me as I politely waited for him to invite me in.

First thing he is asking, “How was the weekend? Everyone behaving?” I couldn’t exactly tell him how Danny Wright was two-footing Christmas trees in the hotel foyer or how on the second night Danny was at it again, setting fire extinguishers off as Matty Pattison opened the hotel door of number 376. “Yeah all good thanks Gaffer, everyone had a good time.”

The Gaffer was brilliant with me, he always was. “Don’t worry son, we’ll get you to see someone at The Nuffield in Jesmond and we’ll see what is causing you the problem. Anything you need, you know where I am.” I left feeling like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

A few weeks later I was to spend two afternoons at The Nuffield on Osbourne Road. I was to have an MRI scan on the Tuesday and then back to see the foot and ankle specialist on the a couple of days later. Thursday, January 8th 2015 come, I got the lift up to the second floor of the private hospital. I sat and waited before Doctor Dave Townsend called me in. “So Mr O’Donnell, after having looked at your MRI scan from Tuesday, I can see you have severe Sesamoiditis in your left sesamoid bone.” Not in a rude way, it sounded like he had plucked a Roman Emperors name out of his overly clever brain and told me this was the condition causing me to barely be able to put my foot down on Tyneside surfaces.

“We will try a ultra-sound guided cortisone injection next week, 7-10 days after you should be able to return to full training.” Perfect, only two weeks and I will be back with the lads playing again. An ultra-sound guided cortisone injection didn’t sound overly appealing, neither very comfortable. If it got me back out playing games of football with no pain then happy days, I was going to do whatever it took.

A couple of gym filled weeks passed. The ever growing discomfort under my big toe only a few more days away from rectification. I arrived back at the hospital and proceeded to a dark room with more staff than a scene out of Holby City. One Doctor was to do the ultra-sound, another to get the cortsione injection out and ready, Doctor Townsend to administer the injection. Then a few trainees to overlook proceedings. The cortisone injection come out the packet. I thought the length from Gateshead to Torquay was long, I am telling you this injection wasn’t much shorter than that.

In it went, I don’t like needles anyway but this way by far the most painful one that had pierced my skin. A strange sensation as all the doctors liaised, and the needle wriggled about before Doctor Townsend’s thumb pressed down and the cortisone surrounded my sesamoid. Painful, but not long after I would be back doing what I love most, well I thought I would be.

Five days passed, then six, then seven. Day 10 came, it was time to go for a run behind the stadium on the grass pitches. “Get in! I am back, pain free thank **** for that!” My right foot went down, my left foot followed. A bit sore but alright, surely it was my foot just getting used to running again. A few more paces and it would all be alright, no pain at all. I looked down at my Casio watch, 5 minutes I had been running the pain was starting to get worse. “Got to be in your head this J, Doctor Townsend said it would be fine after 10 days, keep going the pain will wear off.” Second by second getting worse I hobbled through to 12 minutes like Suzanne had asked. I got home that afternoon, the pain was unreal, it was no different that night I slumped to the floor a month previous in Bristol.

I arrived at the stadium again the next morning. “Suzie, I’m not sure that injection has worked. I could barely walk last night.” She looked a bit baffled, “No problem, try another run today and if it is still painful we will get back in touch with Doctor Townsend.” Another run followed, I stopped after 5 minutes the pain was to much. I felt deflated, what had I done to deserve this.

A week later I was crossing the Tyne Bridge, heading back to see Doctor Townsend. “Sorry it didn’t work Mr O’Donnell, I have got some good news and some not so good news for you. Good news first, there is something else we can try, for the next 3 months I need you to stretch your calf muscles everyday for an hour. The tightness in your calf muscles could be causing the sesamoid bone to come under severe stress and this could be causing the inflammation.

“Now the not so good news, if that wasn’t to work then the last resort would be to surgically remove the sesamoid bone.” What does he mean the last resort, just take the bone out and I will be alright, that is the issue, remove it and then surely no issues. “I have only ever performed a sesamoidectamy once in my 32-year career, that was on an elderly lady who was 70. I know the thought of it isn’t nice but there is only a 50% chance you would be able to ever play again if we went down the route of a surgical procedure. I have done some research with the uniqueness of this injury. Two American Football players have had it, one returned to play again, the other sadly had to retire.”

I walked out the hospital, I opened my car door. Engine off, I sat for 20 minutes crying my eyes out, aged just 22 I had been told I might never return to playing football again. A ‘50% chance’ it wasn’t really the greatest odds. The first footballer known of in the world to have the condition, certain accolades you want as a footballer, this was definitely not one of them.

3 months passed, everyday on a calf-stretching device intent on lengthening my gastrocnemius. 60 minutes everyday. Tedious, boring, going out to watch the lads train not knowing if I was able to join in with them ever again. At first I was alright watching the lads train, it would go on to become something I really struggled with.

Did it work? No, absolutely no difference what so ever. I felt like I had wasted 5,400 minutes of my life stood on some stupid board that was meant to help. Last resort, back to The Nuffield to sort out a date and operation time to try and save my career.

While this was all going on I thought I was developing discomfort in my right-foot. At first I genuinely believed it was all in my head, it had to be. I couldn’t have this awful condition in both feet, could I? Well I was sorting out one foot, I may well have seen if this freak condition was developing in my other foot. Another MRI scan, followed by going back to see Dr Townsend. “Unfortunately Mr O’Donnell you have the onsets of sesamoiditis in your right foot also. If we are going to remove one Sesamoid then we may as well do a bi-lateral sesamoidectamy and remove both. This will mean you are going to need to be in a wheelchair after the operation for around 10-12 weeks.” I’m glad I went with my gut instinct and got another scan on my right foot to check. So that was it, an operation was going to be needed to try and save my career, a footballing dream that began aged just 6. I dreamt everyday of my childhood years to be a professional footballer, I thought my career might last longer than 5 years from the ages of 17-22. It was up to Dr Dave Townsend to try and save it. Football is my life, you could argue my life was in the hands of someone I barely knew.

Gateshead FC informed me unexpectedly that they wouldn’t be able to fund my operation, I have only ever played at the top-end of the Non-League game, that ruled out the Professional Footballers’ Association  (PFA) being able to step in and cover the cost with never having played in the football league. The ‘Football Family’ stepped in, a fund raising page was setup by two young Gateshead supporters and £7000 was needed to cover the cost. I had a 50% chance of returning, it wasn’t like this operation was definitely going to sort it out for me and people’s hard earned money was going to definitely get me back playing. The fund got off to an incredible start. Hundred’s of pounds raised in the first few hours and days. Incredible gestures from people from different clubs around the country. Giving money to a lad they had no affiliation to, all to give him a chance of maybe playing again. Everyday I think about the people who contributed to that fund, I wish I could thank them all face-to-face for what they done and the money the contributed. If you are reading this and I have never got the chance to say thank you for donating, to me football is my life and you helped save my life. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

We were at just under £5000, when naturally the funding page stalled a little. I was spending a few days in Belmullet, a little Irish town on the west-coast of County Mayo visiting my nan. Ireland isn’t great for signal, my nan’s WiFi slower than the 1 litre Ford Fiesta she had parked out the front. House phone rings, “JJ it is for you, it is your dad.” I walked out to nan’s non-cordless phone. With a lump in his throat, dad uttered the words: “JJ we have done it. Danny Graham has put in just short of £3000 in to your funding page. We have done it, you can get your operation!” A tear rolled down my face, in less than two weeks people had donated, many to a lad they didn’t know. Danny Graham, I didn’t know him at all. All I knew was that he was Sunderland’s striker, “Why would he donate that amount of money to me?” Every donation I was grateful, extremely grateful. For what Danny done for me and all the other people I will be forever thankful.

Operation paid for. Operation date set, I was back to The Nuffield. June 1st 2015.

The scariest day of my life, I walked in knowing I was leaving with two less bones and on two wheels of a non-stylish wheelchair. Down to theatre I went, canular inserted into my left hand, at least the needle wasn’t as big as the cortisone one. Off to sleep, it felt like I was asleep 2 minutes, 5 hours later I was back on the ward. Feet wrapped up like a child’s first Christmas present, as groggy as Danny Wright must have felt waking up the night after two-footing that Marriott’s Christmas tree. Dr Townsend stood at the foot of my bed as I come round, “Well Mr O’Donnell, the operation went very successfully. When the anaesthetic wears off you will be fine to head home.” Fast forward a few hours, after sampling the delights of Nuffield’s Michelin star food the physio come round to try and get me up and in a wheelchair. I couldn’t feel my feet, it was like when you get pins and needles in them, I had that constantly. “You’re going to have to stay in, the anaesthetic hasn’t worn off.” I thought my Low Fell residence was going to be enjoyable that night, instead it was a private room for one with nurses coming in every couple of hours to see if I was getting any feeling back.

I headed back down south to be with my family a couple of days later. It wasn’t possible to live on my own so my little brother came up and stayed with me while I faced the operation and then he escorted me rather uncomfortably back down the M1. A long process was to follow, you will meet some good people in life and football. I come across one through playing with his son James. Brian Marwood offered me the chance to use Manchester City’s facilities and medical staff in my long rehabilitation. Brian is Managing Director of Global Football at The Etihad. All free of charge, he knew the odds weren’t overly great in me returning so he offered me the best facilities and medical advice going. He never had to do that, you won’t meet many better people than Brian Marwood.

The next few months consisted of getting out of a wheelchair and learning to walk again. The sesamoid bones that I now felt like I was an expert on, helped you balance, I would have to learn to live life without them and walking again with out them. I knew it was going to be a difficult road to return. There was never a timescale put on the return, the Manchester City physio who I worked with Scot McCallister had never rehabilitated the injury, nor come across it. I was an experiment, what worked, what didn’t, nobody knew. Nail bed abscesses resulting in the permanent removal of my two big toe nails another obstacle I was due to face. I was to visit Manchester and Scot once a month for an update on how I was getting on, heading back to Bedfordshire with an edited gym programme depending on my progress.

Walking led to being able to sit on an exercise bike, an exercise bike leading on to be able to start some gentle weights. It wasn’t all plain sailing, I felt some days I had Scot on speed dial. “Scot, I have just tried this and I have felt something underneath my toe. What is it? Why is it hurting?” Day after day, week after week he would answer every phone call. “Don’t worry JJ, it is perfectly normal to feel discomfort or a strange sensation. Keep going with it you are doing brilliant.” Mentally you are trying to fight back as much as physically, an injury can affect your head as much as it affects the part of the anatomy that has actually seen the trauma.

Operation performed in the June, and after 3 months in Bedfordshire I returned to the North East to be closer to my then girlfriend. My rehabilitation continued, doing something everyday. The idea, try and get my legs as strong as they could physically be. That way your muscles would take more of the load as you plant your foot, not everything is being absorbed through your feet. Day after day, week after week I would be in the gym. As the Gateshead public comfortably sat in front of Downton Abbey on a cold wintry Sunday evening, I would be in the gym. I would be the only one in there, the staff must have been thinking, “Whose this idiot? Can’t he just go home and we can get off early?”

Days I felt like quitting. I was doing all this work in the gym 6 days a week, it could all be for nothing. Days I felt lonely, people who play football can sometimes be portrayed as having the best life in the world – no problems at all – the perfect life. As footballers you try and portray that, saying you are struggling is a sign of weakness, you can’t be seen to be weak in a changing room of 20 other larger than life characters. Days I struggled, I would ask myself if it was all worth it. “Why not just accept defeat? Get a proper job, spend my Sunday night with my Geordie parents Laurence and Ang, watching TV and getting an Indian takeaway.” That life would have been a much easier life. My motivation on them not so good days, my family. You have got to have a motivation for things. Mine, to carry my nephew out onto a football pitch with me the day I come back. I am not overly one for visualisation, everyday without fail I pictured carrying my nephew Lewis out with me. Whatever part of the country, whatever one of the 24 National League grounds it was going to be at, them lonely hours in the gym were all for that moment. That was my motivation, that and for my family to see me play again. Without that I would have quit, given up, accepted defeat.

Gateshead Football Club offered me a job the following January after my operation. My rehabilitation would now be performed alongside being the clubs ‘Kit-Man’. Neil Aspin giving me the opportunity to get back involved with a football changing room once again, something I had missed greatly. Sorting the kit out and going up to watch training, I found it hard watching the lads train. Even harder I was to find the match-days, I was grateful for the club to give me the opportunity but seeing the lads going out at 2:55pm for kick off, some Saturday afternoons at that time you would find me in the toilets, not releasing my bladder but fighting back tears, “What if I could never do go out on that pitch again?”

The rehab continued the rehab got harder. My legs were getting stronger, Scot hadn’t got away from my speed-dial list. I was working towards starting to jog again for the first time. Manchester City had an anti-gravity treadmill, basically a treadmill that raises you slightly from the revolving surface and the impact through your legs and feet is much less. I was scared going in to The Nuffield for my operation, I was just as scared that day I would step on the treadmill. I got on alright, a bit of discomfort. For the first time of running in nearly a year, it was always going to be strange. Along the M62 and back up the A1, I was pleased with my afternoon’s work, a big step in the right direction.

The next few weeks jogging was continued, everyday trying a little bit longer on the treadmill, gym sessions in the afternoon after fulfilling my kit-man role in the morning. While the lads would be kicking a ball around and having fun, I would be running the circumference of the training ground, increasing a minute or two each day. Progress going well another date was pencilled in. Try and get football boots on! I had been doing all my running in my trainers. Manchester City had arranged for me to see their Podiatrist, I would need to wear insoles for the rest of my life in every pair of shoes I wore. Boots ordered, the bright yellow Nike Magistas arrived. Try and get them on, and eventually change the running trainers for football boots and see how I got on.

Success, boots on and the Gateshead training ground grass feeling the ever buzzing stride of my Nike footwear. My mum and dad had come up to visit for a few days, I decided to wait and try and run in my football boots when dad would be there. He had been alongside me every step of the way in my career, to me this was arguably the biggest step I was to take putting boots back on and hoping my feet responded in a good way. Dad there, we took a ball and some cones up on our own to he training pitches. Dad watching on I strode with the ball at my feet, I felt like Red Rum, racing up the Aintree hill as I strode around the yellow markers I lay out 10 yards apart. Boots on, pain free.

I wanted to join back in with the lads the minute it felt alright, with the moulded studs underneath me. I knew I had to see how I got on individually for a few weeks myself. Ian Watson the fitness coach helping me in the gym every afternoon, himself and the lads encouraging me every morning to keep my progress going. I felt closer than I ever had. The following fortnight I was to join in with a training session for the first time in 29 months. I lay my head on the pillow the night before, my mind drifted back to that day at Bristol Rovers. I’d come a long way, a lot of people had kept me going to get here.

Neil Aspin was brilliant with me, “Do as much as you can, if you need to step-out at any point then no problem at all.” Passing drill followed by an 11 v 11 training match, I was going to play 15 minutes of the training-match that would be plenty. I got through it, emotion rained down on me. I raced back to the changing room, lads all asking how I was. I picked up my phone. I rang my Mum and Dad straight away, “15 minutes, I managed to join in with a match in training for 15 minutes. It didn’t hurt, I got through 15 minutes and my foot was fine.” Yes I did mention the words “15 minutes” that many times. To some it wasn’t much to me it was everything! Football boots on, kicking a ball around with no pain was a better feeling than winning the lottery to me. I still wasn’t there but as I drove the the 4.2 miles back to my Eighton Banks home smiling like a Cheshire cat, I was closer than I had ever been. I finally thought to myself, “You can do this J!”

Aspin had sorted out a behind-closed-doors game for a Tuesday, 15 days after my first training session back. Get on well in the next couple of weeks in training and the aim, play 70 minutes in that game against Newcastle at their Premier League training ground. Training went well, I was buzzing around everyday, doing a little bit more each session. One week of adjusted training sessions for me, the second week joining in properly just like I had almost 3 years before. Everyday getting back into changing room 8 at the International Stadium and texting my family saying I had been able to complete the session again. Driving home shortly after, I was wishing the hours away so I could get back out and do it all again the next morning.

28th March 2017. Ironically I passed by The Nuffield in Jesmond on my way to Newcastle United’s training ground in Benton. The day I had been waiting for since the slick wet Bristolian grass met my bum as I sat dejected all them months ago in my last game. All them lonely gym sessions, all them dark nights. All them trips down to Manchester. It had all built up to the 1pm kick-off against Newcastle United’s U23’s. Just another game for them and for the lads who I was playing alongisde that Spring afternoon, to me it was like the World Cup Final.

Warm-up done. I stood waiting for the referee to blow his whistle to begin the game, I looked down at my feet, “Please don’t fail me, please don’t hurt.” Whistle blown, I was tearing round the pitch, the Newcastle lads must have been thinking: “Whose this busy idiot? What is he doing chasing down the left back when he is playing left midfield?” I wasn’t bothered, I was running everywhere and enjoying every step I took. My feet were holding up. I got through to half-time I was playing well.

70 minutes the game stopped, it was time to come off. I looked down, 830 days I had waited for that match-day feeling again. I had got through 70 minutes and my feet hadn’t failed me. I walked past Aspin, “Welcome back JJ!”I sat down on the bench. Holding back emotion, I had done it. Non-competitive return completed, it was time to see about my competitive return.

It was to come, just over two weeks later. Neil Aspin informed me I would be starting against Sutton United away on 14th April. I informed my family, a few days before when the Gaffer told me. We stayed over the night before, it is always a good idea to get a good night’s sleep the night before any game. I couldn’t sleep, I was as nervous as I had ever been before a game of football. I didn’t get to sleep till the early hours, I was up at the crack of dawn. I had been asleep for a few hours, I felt like I had the best nights sleep I had ever had.

I got to the stadium, I hung my own kit on my peg. Squad number, 27. That number the date my little nephew Lewis was born on. Training jumper and t-shirt on I went out to warm-up. Mum, Dad, my two brothers and my uncle the first in the ground at Gander Green Lane. If they could have camped over the night before they would have, they weren’t missing it for the world. You go out 5-10 minutes before the warm-up starts to do your own bits. I seen Lewis, I lifted him over the white barrier surrounding the 4G playing surface. We kicked a ball to each other for a couple of minutes, nobody in the world would I have wanted to be passing the ball to in that moment. All them times I felt like quitting, all them times my body felt like it was failing me and I wanted to give up. All them moments had been worth it as I completed the warm-up and lined up in the tunnel. Lewis in my arms, I strode out on that hot April day with my little mate in my arms. Exactly how I dreamt of it everyday! I done it, I faced adversity, more obstacles than The Grand National. Had more down days that you could ever imagine. That day with my family watching on and Lewis alongside me I done it. 50%/50% chance of playing again. It was 100%/0%, I was back! Just short of three-years later, I was back doing the only thing I have ever known how to.

Am I the player I was before the injury? I’m much more appreciative of every training session and every game now. I don’t mind saying that I have suffered mentally for a few years. Up until the 2019/2020 season, I would play every game with the fear of getting injured and worrying more about that than actually trying to play football. It isn’t all plain sailing, I still have to stick to my gym routines to keep my legs strong and it is something now that I thoroughly enjoy. I get days where my legs and feet don’t feel great, as Scot used to say to me, “Don’t worry JJ, keep going with it.” Maybe I am not the player I used to be, I am happy that I can still play football and to me that is the most important thing now. I learnt that if you want to achieve something and have the drive and determination to do it then the odds can be what you want them to be. Hard work, endless lows but a motivation everyday to achieve what I set out to do. That with the incredible support I had the whole way through my injured few years is what got me back. To all the people who helped me along the way, to everyone who donated to a lad they had no affiliation too, to everyone who kept me going. I didn’t do it by myself, I never would have got there by myself. No matter the odds in life, against you or not, if you can believe you can do it and never give up, you have got every chance.

3 years on from getting back to playing, I reaached 100 Gateshead appearences in March 2020, something I am very proud of. I look back on that journey very fondly, something I am very proud of. It wasn’t easy getting there, but I done it.

From Academy days through to professional football, my career has seen me play against some great players. I have been lucky to share a pitch with some players that could be regarded as being among the best in the world. Here is who I think are the best XI I have played against!

Goalkeeper – DARREN RANDOLPH 

The Republic Of Ireland’s number 1, I have always admired Randolph as a goalkeeper whenever I seen him play. Played against him in Pre-Season 2019, he has had a good career mainly in the Championship but also in the Premier League. Currently at West Ham United, a good shot stopper and good with his feet.

Right Back – GEORGE BALDOCK

George has done brilliantly for himself. He was actually the year below me in the MK Dons academy. Never expected him to reach the heights of playing in the Premier League like he does now with Sheffield United. A combative central midfielder when I played against him back in 2013 when he was on loan at Tamworth in the Conference. He now plays a crucial role at Right-Wing-Back in the unusual system Chris Wilder effectively deploys.

Left Back – AARON CRESSWELL

To say I was in sheer admiration for Cresswell’s delivery would be an understatement. Played against him in pre-Season 2013 and I have never seen a delivery quite like it. He was at Ipswich at the time and every cross he delivered was pin point. I come off at the end of the game thinking he had the best left-foot I had ever seen. Now at Premier League West Ham, I thought he may have gone onto to receive more England caps than he has.

Centre Back – LUKE AYLING

I grew up playing against Arsenal academy where they had a central midfield duo of Luke Ayling and Jack Wilshere. Bigger stronger and technically comfortable it was no surprise to see Luke go on to have the career he has. Currently sitting at the top of the Championship with Leeds United he now plays centre back or right back. A real talent from his early days he was destined to always plays at the higher reaches of the football pyramid.

Centre Back – ETHAN PINNOCK

Might be a surprise for some people my selection of Ethan. When he was at Forest Green for many a year, I always thought he was the best player in the Conference. Not the stockiest he was never out muscled or ever looked uncomfortable. Technically the best centre half in the Conference when he played in it, I still think he can go onto play in the Premier League. Currently at Championship side Brentford it will be interesting to see if he can make the next step.

Centre Midfield – JACK WILSHERE

Simply the best I have ever witnessed! In my academy days he used to run every game we ever played against Arsenal. Strong, tenacious and technically outstanding if it hadn’t have been for his injuries I genuinely believe he would have gone onto be one of the greatest English players of all time. The game against Barcelona when he ran the show in 2011 at just 19 years old is still a game I remember fondly. What an incredible talent, injuries have killed him. Currently at West Ham United, a case of what could have been for Jack.

Centre Midfield – JONJO SHELVEY

Jonjo was another who is my age and I grew up playing against him while he was in the Charlton Academy. An arrogance from a very young age, he always knew growing up that he was better than everyone else. A set-piece technician, free-kicks from anywhere inside 30-yards would often nestle in stanchions as helpless keepers stood and watched. Was always going to play in The Premier League and would always let you know even in his younger days how good he was. At Newcastle United now, I always thought he might be an established Top 4 player.

Centre Midfield – FABIAN DELPH

Pre-season games are not always at the intensity of a normal league or cup game. Playing against Delph in pre-season 2014 I realised it didn’t matter what game he was playing in he was desperate to win. Screaming and shouting at his team-mates who weren’t up to his standard Delph was treating it like a Champions League Final. Technically very comfortable and a brilliant athlete, it is clear to see why he has represented his country and played for a club like Manchester City. Now at Everton, Delph has had a great career.

Centre Forward – CONNOR WICKHAM

I played against Connor when he was 16 and breaking through at Ipswich. He was as big as he is now at 16. Strong and quick he knew how to finish even at that young age. Seeing him in them early days he was always go on to play in the Premier League. Injuries have hampered him through his career, now at Crystal Palace maybe another whose injuries have curtailed an international career.

Centre Forward – CHRISTIAN BENTEKE

Pre-season 2014 Benteke was on the verge of a move to Liverpool when he turned up at Kenilworth Road. Media spotlight on him he didn’t fancy it at all. Steve McNulty elbowed him after about 2 minutes and bullied him the whole time he was on. A real goal threat during his time at Aston Villa, the Belgian international has struggled in the last few years.

Centre Forward – HARRY KANE 

You would never have believed that Harry Kane would go on to have the career he is having if you watched him back at Norwich City when I played there for Luton in 2013. Didn’t look like scoring he was eventually taken off. Fast forward 7 years and he is the leading marksman for England and the Three Lions captain. Arguably the best number 9 in world football, his price tag now would be a staggering amount. A clinical finisher he can do it all. A boy in 2013, now you wouldn’t want anyone else leading the line.

I have been blessed over my football career to share a pitch and changing room with some great players and great people. But who would I choose as the best XI I have played alongside.

Goalkeeper – MARK TYLER

‘Tyles’ is the best keeper I have shared a pitch with. Playing alongside him at Luton Town for 4 out of my 5 years there. A quiet person in the changing room but what a goalkeeper! He had everything, could play with both his feet, a terrific shot stopper and when you needed him he would always pull off a save to keep you in a game. A few inches taller and I have no doubt he would have played in the Premier League.

Right Back – ANDY YIADOM

‘Yids’ was part of the Academy set up with me at Watford. A striker in our childhood days he has gone onto represent Ghana at international level and currently plays in The Championship with Reading. Nowadays a full-back, quick, strong and good on the ball I am delighted he has done well for himself in the game. One of the good people in the football.

Left Back – LEE HODSON

Like Andy, I played in Watford’s Academy with Lee. Another one who started off as a centre forward in our academy days, he worked his way back to playing left or right back. A Northern Ireland International, Lee played in the Premier League for Watford and has had spells at Brentford, Glasgow Rangers and is currently with SPL side St Mirren.

Centre Back – ALFIE MAWSON

Alfie come to Luton on loan from Brentford. A centre-half he was equally as comfortable with his left as he was his right. Technically probably the best centre-half I have seen on the ball. Could pass a ball elegantly and always fancied himself from 25-yards over a free-kick. Representing England at U-21 level I always thought Alfie could go on to be a regular in the International setup but it hasn’t quite happened yet. Currently at Fulham in the Championship.

Centre Back – GEORGE PILKINGTON

It always baffled me how ‘Pilks’ never played at the very top. What a player and what a person. You would struggle to come across a nicer person in the game. Although very quiet in the changing room as soon as you were on the pitch, what a leader. Not a screamer or a shouter, ‘Pilks’ led by example with the way he played. Not the tallest I never seen him lose a header. He could play off both feet and just made the game look so comfortable. Once picked up every single award going at the end-of-season awards dinner at Luton, what a talent.

Centre Midfield – KEVIN NICHOLLS

Definition of captain and leader. ‘Nico’ was by far the best player I have trained with. It was like you were playing in the World Cup Final every day with Nico. I remember my first few weeks at Luton, I nutmegged Nico and called it as a young lad would. I was to learn a harsh lesson, “Don’t ever try and mug me off again, you understand?” Them the words of Nico as I rolled the ball through his legs and collected it the other side. A couple of minutes later I got the ball, Nico come at me. SMASH! Absolutely nailed me and put me out for 6 weeks. He apologised greatly after, I never tried to nutmeg him again. A combative Central Midfielder, you wanted to be on his team and have him alongside you. I played with him as he was coming to the end of his career but I would have loved to see how he trained and was in his prime. Could tackle, pass and always reliable from the penalty-spot.

Centre Midfield – JOHN OSTER

Probably the only player I have played with that I felt was too good for everyone else in our team. ‘Ozzie’ wasn’t the biggest or the strongest Central Midfielder but what a player and I could easily see how he had a career playing in the Premier League. He seen things that none of our players could see and never ever looked worried in possession. Had a drop of the shoulder that you could see a mile off but I never seen anyone be able to read it. Another one of the good people in the game I played with Ozzie as he was coming to the end. Would have been good to see just how good he was in his prime.

Attacking Midfield – SCOTT RENDELL 

I shared my greatest moment on a football pitch with ‘Rens’ whilst we was at Luton. I have never played with anyone else who had an understanding quite like me and him. Playing on the left-wing whenever I played with Scott I just knew where he was going to run. I set him up for a fair few goals in the season we had together, as soon as my head was up Scott was across the first defender. I put a bit of pace on the cross along the floor and 9/10 times Scott would be on the end of it. One of my good friends in the game Scott has had a great career in the lower reaches of the football league. A natural goalscorer.

Left Wing – MARCUS MADDISON

For me the best I have witnessed on a football pitch. Give Marcus the ball and he could win you a game on his own. He produced the only 10/10 performance I think I have ever witnessed as we at Gateshead beat Torquay on the opening day of the 2014/2015 season. Two absolute wonder goals and literally was unplayable, it was one of his last games before he got his move to Peterborough United. If he fancied it then he would win you a game. I think the only reason he hasn’t played at the very top is his attitude, ability wise it is unquestionable but his persona and the way he carries himself leaves a lot to be desired.

Right Wing – CAULEY WOODROW

Cauley made his debut for Luton when he replaced me as a sub at Welling United in the FA Trophy in 2011. Not long after as a 16-year-old he sealed a move to then Premier League Fulham  for a fee rising to £1million. A natural goal scorer, Cauley played for Fulham in the Premier League. A real natural goalscorer, Cauley has represented England at U21 level and now plies his trade in the Championship with Barnsley.

Centre Forward – ANDRE GRAY

I couldn’t be happier for what Andre has achieved in the game and the moves he has secured himself. A humble lad who has never forgot his roots. Andre arrived at Luton Town from Hinckley in 2012. He went on to fire us to promotion in 2013/2014 season scoring 30 goals. Quicker and stronger than anyone in the Conference that season his goals helped secure Luton the title. A move to Championship Brentford and then onto Burnley. The top-goalscorer again to fire Burnley to Premier League promotion in 2016/2017 season before sealing a £18.5million move to Watford. A girlfriend from girl-band Little Mix he has done brilliantly for himself, a great lad and great player.