After victory at Middlesbrough in October, Bristol City’s players headed towards the pocket of the Riverside Stadium housing their supporters. As the away fans sang on loop the name of their head coach, Liam Manning, the squad unravelled a giant red and white banner displaying the words “Fly High Theo” in block capitals. Manning, on leave after the death of his baby son eight days earlier, was watching from a rural cottage 300 miles south, on a much-needed getaway. “I sent a long message to the lads about it afterwards … yeah, lump in the throat,” he says. “The celebrations epitomised everything. It was above football.”
It is not the only heavy moment in a raw and moving conversation but the one thing Manning stresses, as he discusses the hardest episode of his life in an interview for the first time, is that this is not a sob story. He takes huge pride in sharing Theo’s name.
When Manning returned to the dugout two weeks after Theo’s death, a fan mosaic in the stands spelled out “Fly High” and Section 82, a supporters’ group, raised money for a huge banner that read “Theo John Manning”, with surplus funds donated to local charities.
His wife, Fran, was in the chairman Jon Lansdown’s executive box with Isaac, their six-year-old son, and Manning’s close friend and agent, Scott. “When you’re in a stadium with 25,000 people, trying to find a bit of privacy is not easy,” he says. “It’s something I’ll never, ever forget.”
How was he able to come back, on the face of it, so quickly? “You can only sit around the house and cry for so long. I’m a fighter. I didn’t have a playing career, so I’ve had to scrap to get where I am. I’ve been through a huge amount, so it’s made me quite tough.
“And it was two-way, right? What the fans did was incredible. It was important for me to show them my appreciation and the way I can do that is being on the touchline driving their club. It was my way of giving back a little bit. I know there were a few reservations from a few people: ‘Is it too early?’ But it just felt right.”
The timeline is tough listening. Manning’s family relocated from Oxford, his previous club, last August to prepare for the arrival of Theo, who was born at St Michael’s hospital in Bristol on the weekend of City’s home match with Cardiff. “The pregnancy was relatively straightforward,” he says, in his office at City’s training base. “I shot off from here, Fran spent the whole Friday night in labour and our little miracle was born on the Saturday morning. I did the Cardiff game on the Sunday. I went back [to the hospital] on the Monday, because we were off, and came home. Monday to Friday was the short time I had with him.”
It is one of those lump-in-the-throat moments. “It still cuts me up, I still think about it every day, still have real low moments. Immediately afterwards I was going to quit. I spoke to my wife about it and it was: ‘If I do something, I’m all-in.’ That first week was: ‘I’m done. I’m away too much, it’s too much. I’ll do a different job where I can be more present.’ If I want to do this properly and be successful, it has to be 7am til 7pm, and I’m taking a huge amount of time away from my family.
“But as time went by I quickly established that I needed purpose. My wife saw that I was cleaning, cooking, running … I started baking. I just had to keep my mind busy.
“We quickly learned you grieve in different ways. We’re such a tight unit in terms of understanding that as time went by she went: ‘You’re going to need to go back and do what you’re doing.’ I’m fortunate in how supportive she is – she’s been incredible. She’s incredibly strong, an amazing woman.”
Manning, who experienced the loss of his dad, at the age of 11, hopes sharing will help others. “Especially us as blokes, we tend to withdraw – and I’m not saying I haven’t done that, by the way – but I think this is almost a bit of therapy for me to put it out there. Hopefully, it helps somebody open up or reach out to a counsellor and get support or think: ‘Yeah, I will get back to work.’ It’s about letting people know it’s OK to find your own way. For people who have been through it or will go through it in the future: you are not alone, talk about it and know there is support.”
Counselling sessions, instigated by the League Managers Association, he says, continue to be a massive help. “I wanted to speak with someone straight away and the LMA were phenomenal. Normally they recommend waiting a few months but I wanted to start that process because I knew we were going to need it. They connected us with a fantastic person who has been very helpful for me and Fran, just to understand the journey we’re going to go through and strategies to help. We jump on [to a video call] together. It has helped us cope, vent – it’s been quite important.”
All manner of things have helped over the past five months. Manning and Fran recently enjoyed duelling on the tennis court. “Uber-competitive,” he smiles. Exploring the beaches of nearby Weston-super-Mare on dog walks with Ruby and Ted, their Hungarian Vizsla and cavapoo respectively, have been priceless. “We’ve gone down there just to get fresh air, cold air, the noise of the waves, walk, kind of empty our heads. That’s been a big thing for us as a family, escaping out there to unwind, unload a little bit. We take a football down and Isaac tears around the beach.”
Isaac, who is on his sixth school, via Manning’s jobs in New York and Belgium, is at the forefront of his mind. “Trying to maintain a level of normality in his world we felt was really important, which is tough. How do you release emotions? Where do you do it? We’ve told Isaac everything all the way – he’ll talk about Theo now and look for robins [City’s nickname], stars, different reminders. We still want to talk about him and be a part of our family.”
It is not meant flippantly, but on his return was it hard to take his job as seriously as previously? He digests the question. “Elements of it were difficult. I really struggled on away trips, being on my own, sitting on the bus, hotels were tough. Days out there,” he says, looking towards the immaculate training pitches in view, “smiling, feeling like you shouldn’t. Tough. There’s no rulebook. If you feel crap, you feel crap, if you feel a bit better one day, great.”
He has been overwhelmed by the volume of support from the game. Manning thanked Michael Carrick for Middlesbrough’s at the Riverside, when a minute’s applause took place and Theo’s name was displayed on the big screen and advertising hoardings before kick-off. England’s Under-21s side wore black armbands for October’s win over Azerbaijan at Ashton Gate.
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Rival teams posted messages on social media, clubs sent flowers, referees sent cards. After the Leeds game, his first back, Manning collected flowers left by fans on a lap of the stadium. “Even now after games players come up and say: ‘I’m really sorry for your loss.’ It was a reminder of perspective because we get so wrapped up in the day-to-day … it will be a hole in my heart for the rest of my life.”
A former international who went through something similar is among those to have been in touch. “When you’re in it there and then you kind of go: ‘How do I get over it? How am I going to feel better?’ It just feels so dark. When people reach out, it gives you hope things will get better.” How did he get out of that hole? “Am I out of it, I don’t know?” he replies. Fran’s understanding of the game having worked as a personal assistant to four managers at Ipswich – Roy Keane, Jim Magilton, Paul Jewell and Mick McCarthy – helps. “No 1 was making sure Fran was OK,” he says. “I would call her before training, straight after training.”
Then there is Chris Hogg, his assistant, who he met while the pair were progressing through Ipswich’s academy. Hogg took charge of two matches during Manning’s absence. Manning clears his throat a little.
“Probably the hardest one to talk about,” he says, a smile unfolding on his face. “First and foremost I couldn’t have a better friend. He was one of the first people I called to speak about it. Eight hours later he’s knocking on my door, having made the four-hour journey from Ipswich. He walked in, gave us all a hug, walked out and that was it, which speaks volumes of him as a person. He just gets it; he is comfortable with it being quiet, just being present or playing with Isaac. He doesn’t feel like he has to be doing something.”
It is appropriate to talk football, too. Manning has done an impressive job in guiding City, who host Norwich on Friday, to seventh in the Championship, where they are one of at least nine teams chasing the playoffs with nine games to go. They have not finished in the top six of the second tier since a playoff final defeat by Hull at Wembley in 2007-08. “The biggest bit is you want everyone to hope, to dream, to enjoy the ride for a little bit. It’s probably the first time in a long, long time that the club has been in a position in March where it’s possible. We’re so fixated on outcomes and where we want to get to, you forget to live in the moment a little bit. It’s like when you see people at music concerts with phones out: ‘Put that away and enjoy the moment.’”
Can he sense the thirst to reach the Premier League among the fanbase? City last played top-flight football in 1979-80. “You can feel it at times, that bit of frustration,” he says. “I was at Ipswich a long time in my career and I know they’d been there [in the Premier League] but they were in the Championship for 17 years and then dropped into League One. There was a period of time at Ipswich where it became a bit of a grind, so I’m fully aware of that. We want to excite people and get people coming to games with real hope and believing there is a chance.”
With that, Manning is off to take Isaac training a few miles away. He jokes about Isaac “bowling about” Ashton Gate and knowing his way around better than him. “He comes down straight after games, sees Scotty [Murray, the kit man] and grabs a ball off him – often he’s with a mate or Nahki [Wells’s] kids causing chaos,” the 39-year-old says.
Father and son recently enjoyed an afternoon at a Bristol City women’s match. “We queued in the concourse, got a couple of hotdogs, hot chocolates and it was just a nice moment to chill with him and do something we don’t get to do that often … the only problem is he’s used to hospitality which, at six, isn’t the norm.”
Now laughter fills the room. “There will be other people who have been through similar situations or experienced what we’ve gone through,” he says, “but we feel very fortunate and blessed to be able to share Theo’s name with the wider world.”