I think what summed him up that season for me was the quarter final v West Ham. No fight, no tackles no goal threat against a team that were actually almost as bad as us, in a game we actually had a chance in. The only game I ever attended with my late dad as he was a blue from Clayton but never went to games. We were sat right behind Pearce just to the left of the dugout, had gone down 1-0 (hazy memory) and there was a tackle to be made right near the touch line in front of us, proper 50-50. I can’t remember who it was but our player hardly attempted to win the ball, they broke and it was in the back of our net. The player didn’t give a fuck and Pearce (considering he was meant to be a hard man, king of the 50-50’s) just stood there in silence, no emotion, never uttered a word. He was an absolute disgrace. We would have been better grabbing a blue from the crowd to coach them and kicking Pearce and his cuddly toy as far as we could into the canal.
