Secret Footballer - The secret footballer : access all areas

By Mrs TSF

People often ask me what its like to be a WAG; but I dont consider myself to be a person who is defined by an acronym made up by a journalist even if I do know what they mean. In his early books my husband, the Secret Footballer an idea that he came up with lifted the lid on how the world of football really works. I read those books and, personally, I came away feeling that they were only the tip of the iceberg but then apparently I dont understand brand building. Although the first books are certainly informative about the real workings of the football world, and a lot of fun, they are to my mind, given what Ive witnessed, pretty tame, and I told him that. So he said hed write the book that I wanted to read, and reveal all the things he said he had protected me from: the things I was better off not knowing. Id just have to deal with it once it was released.

When people ask me what its like to be a WAG, it doesnt even occur to me that what they really want to know is how many pairs of shoes I have, what car I drive, how many bedrooms there are in my house, and what Coleen is like (I dont know, by the way). I tell them to read this book. If you really want a snapshot of what it has been like to be married to a footballer, wondering whether he is going to be on the front page of the Sun on Monday morning rather than the back, worrying if some people are going to turn up at our front door because he has got in the way of a deal somewhere, read this book. This is the book that will really open your eyes to what I have been dealing with for 15 years: the violence, the threats, the women, the debauchery and the intense mood-swings. This is the book that I wanted him to write from day one. It isnt pretty in fact, its everything that I thought it would be and ultimately dreaded but it is this book that gives me closure.

I think the most impressive thing is that he got out alive. As I stand here today I can honestly tell you, with my hand on my heart, that there were a couple of occasions when I went to bed and I really did not expect to see him ever again when I woke up the next morning. Everything about the game seemed to add to the toll for him rather than improve the situation. Every time a new experience came along it seemed to ratchet up the pressure on him, because he was always the player that the club used as its poster boy.

And then there are the injuries. Since the introduction I wrote for his last book he has managed to crack another rib and put his tooth through his top lip. I dont know if youve ever seen anybody with their tooth sticking through their top lip, but its one of those curious things that is both horrifying and humorous at the same time.

It has never been the case that he thinks hes right about everything. Its more that, if he does something then it will be his way or no way. This isnt because he has an unshakable belief that his way is the right way rather, he has an unshakable belief that teaching and training primarily serve to restrain a persons natural instinct for the way that something should be done. And there is a naivety in that belief which manifests itself in a creative output that ensures his uniqueness, honesty and integrity. All of his coaches in football told him that they couldnt coach him because he played in such a way that seemed to galvanise the entire team hed play passes or take up positions that were not like anything youd ever coach a player who had come through a youth team or an academy.

And when he started writing his columns for the Guardian it was the same. I can remember Paul Johnson, the deputy editor of the paper, saying to him, Its a different style of writing. Youd never train a journalist this way, thats what makes it so good. He lives for comments like that; he loves the fact that he can turn his hand to something and hold his own. Thats how he feels about football: hes an outsider coming in and hes actually doing it, in his own way, as well as anyone else, while everyone else is left scratching their head asking, How?

When he signed for his first big team, an ex-England player who was already at the club did an interview, with the local paper no less, in which he said that if the club wanted to do anything significant then it should not be signing players from the lower leagues.

He probably wont thank me for telling you the story because its so well known, but a few years later when that player had retired and become a pundit he inevitably had to cover his former team football always throws up uncomfortable scenarios like that. At that point my husband was having a great season and the club were on the verge of making history. My husbands ex-teammate came running up to him in front of all the Sky cameras and all the people who hang around the tunnel on a match day and tried to hug him, as if they were long-lost friends. My husband stepped back, looked him dead in the eye, and said, I think you might be beneath me, Im afraid. It was a metaphor for what each had achieved during their time at the same club. My husband left as one of the best players in the clubs history, his head held high, untouchable by any player before or since but not just for his prowess on the field; it was the respect for the way he led the fans into battle. They felt that they were following him; everybody did. As long as my husband was walking out of the tunnel on to the pitch, then the club had a great chance of success. Thats how he felt, and people all around the city bought into him. And, ultimately, he ended up pulling off that faith in the most spectacular way.

As with all people who are on the edge, just about in control of themselves, he has crossed the line and done some things that he isnt proud about. He regrets calling Dietmar Hamann a Nazi (he then swapped shirts with him, something that he holds Hamann in the highest esteem for), but he doesnt regret calling Michael Ballack a Nazi because hes convinced that Ballack continually tried to elbow him after an argument that hed had with another player. Though, as it happens, I feel like I should apologise for what he said to the other player too.

But when the Secret Footballer is over, it wont have been for him, or me, or our children, or our bank balance. It will have been for you. Its entertainment. Give the public what they want, entertain them, thats what he wants. Thats how he was as a player. He could have played in the Premier League for 10 years, but he hated it and decided that hed be happier writing books about it. You have to admire that: there arent many people left who will forfeit riches and fame for entertainment alone.

But deep down I know that he loves football. He has loved football all his life in some capacity. I remember when we first met and we talked about our schools. Our mothers both worked as school dinner ladies and I remember asking him what his favourite dinner was. He said that he made his mum put him on packed lunches so that he could eat it in class before the break and have the full lunch hour to play football.