Former Wolves goalkeeper Carl Ikeme: Recalling the infamous tactics board

I felt I had a good season in 2012/13, even though it turned into an absolutely disastrous one for Wolves as a team.

It didn’t work out for Stale Solbakken after a promising start, but I never had a problem with him, and I know he has asked after me a few times since my illness which was nice.

I couldn’t let that season pass without mention of an incident which I know I am still very much remembered for.

Yes, the infamous tactics board!

First of all, some background. Having worked with Dean Saunders at Doncaster, I wasn’t really sure it was the right decision when he came in to Wolves to replace Stale in the January of that season.

When he came in, Dean tried a few different things to change stuff around the place, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing when you are on such a bad run.

We had been talking about playing out from the back, and working on it, and Dean would always say that if anything went wrong then it was on his shoulders and he would take the blame.

That was giving us licence to take a few risks, although in truth, and especially with limited practice, we weren’t good enough to play out from the back at that time.

It was a game against Bristol City when I passed the ball out to David Davis, as I had been asked to, and, under pressure, he had to knock it straight back to me.

The way the ball reared up, I wasn’t too sure whether to control it with my foot, or my knee – as it turned out I did neither!

It squirmed under my foot, to give Bristol City the lead, in what was such a massive game for us at the time.

Strangely enough we had played Leeds at home a few weeks before, and Jamie O’Hara had whipped a ball back at me in the air, in the middle of the goal, and on my weaker left foot.

I’m not too bad on my left foot, but wouldn’t necessarily choose taking one in the air in the middle of the goal unless I really, really needed to!

I remember saying to (goalkeeping coach) Pat Mountain that it was getting ridiculous and that it was going to cost us soon and I would end up looking like a fool.

Lo and behold, a few weeks later, I did.

It was one of those occasions when you want the ground to just swallow you up, but, once it’s happened, all you can do is put it behind you and get on with the game.

Going into the changing room at half-time, when something like that has happened, you don’t need anyone else to point it out. I knew exactly what I had done, and I knew that it would need to be discussed later, but at this time I was more focused on putting it behind me and moving on into the second half.

And, as I have said, Dean had previously said he would carry the can if something went wrong given the way we were trying to play out from the back.

Anyway, we’re in the changing room, and Dean started giving me a bit, about what had happened.

This was a time when I was really p****d off and frustrated about how things were going for the club, and the way everything seemed to be heading.

I took my profession very seriously, it wasn’t like I could just make a mistake and would forget about it, but I knew what I had done, and how I needed to recover.

Anyway Dean kept on going, “What the f*** are you doing?” and so on, and, all of a sudden, I just exploded.

I chucked my water bottle across the room and stood up. “Shut the f*** up,” I shouted, and from there it all turned into a bit of a melee.

People got in between us with some pushing and jostling and it always makes it look a bit worse when that happens doesn’t it?

I don’t think I would ever have hit him – he was the manager, after all – but the red mist had come over, 100 per cent.

In that situation, in that changing room and in a team environment, I am respectful, but as soon as that button has gone in me I am done with talking to anyone.

It is best then to just leave me alone to calm down.

I needed to get myself out of the situation and, as I walked out of the dressing room and into the shower area, the tactics board was an easy target.

And a far better option than hitting a person! So I took aim, and, whack, gave it a wallop, right in the middle. What a punch.

The only problem was, I didn’t realise that the board had a metal pole in the back of it, and I had caught it beautifully, full on, right in the middle.

I was upset, crying with anger and rage as I locked myself in the toilet trying to compose myself. After a few minutes I had calmed down a bit, and took off my goalkeeping glove.

My hand was double its normal size. This wasn’t good.

I had to walk in to the Doc’s office to tell him that my hand was wrecked.

There was no way I could carry on, and while there were a lot of whispers about what had gone on, I think Dean and the club tried to keep it all quiet after the game.

By this time I was on my way to hospital, thinking that was my Wolves career well and truly over.

Surely that was me done. No going back.

The wheels were well and truly coming off – the whole situation had just got completely mad and out of control.

I remember while I was waiting at the hospital I caught up with the final result and received a text from Sylvan Ebanks-Blake who had got one of the goals as we had come back to win 2-1.

‘All for you brother’, he wrote. That put a smile on my face. Nice one, Sylv!

I needed surgery, so had an operation and the hand pinned and a wire put in the next day. Seriously tough opponent that tactics board, I wouldn’t recommend going a few rounds with it.

After that it was all about what would happen for me at Wolves.

My season was finished, but was my career at Molineux going the same way?

Tomorrow: Carl Ikeme’s mother Jackie recalls the moment he told her he had been diagnosed with leukaemia .

Carl’s book – for which he joined freelance journalist and former Wolves press officer Paul Berry – is on sale at the Wolves club shop, and Wolverhampton’s Waterstones book shop.

He will be signing copies at Waterstones on Saturday (12-2pm), and at the club shop on Saturday, December 14 (10am to 12pm) and Thursday, December 19 (5-7pm).