THE PROBLEM with generalisations is that they often fail to hold up to rigorous scrutiny. The popular conception that footballers spend most of their time chasing good odds, bad women and any kind of booze or drugs you care to mention is of course an exaggeration. It is the minority who overindulge, but there are still enough to keep the red tops busy most weeks and perpetuate the negative stereotype.
We've read the stories over the decades from Jim Baxter and George Best right up to the latest to go public, Steve Paterson. The former Aberdeen manager has struggled with his demons for years and the latest exposé has him owning up to having spent t
he best part of £1m on his own personal weakness of gambling.
We know that certain character types with too much time and money to burn are particularly susceptible. Of course anyone can suffer from addiction, it isn't discerning of age, social class, job description or sex. Whether they admit it or not, however, most professional footballers are adrenaline junkies and as such they maybe slightly more predisposed to the behaviour, and gambling is just another easy fix for some on those long free afternoons after training.
I personally know one ex-England centre forward who at the end of a glittering career having earned millions, still ended up skint, living in a tiny council house having lost everything, including a loving wife, to his bookmaker. The game has at least acknowledged the problem and has tried many things over the years to stop the continuous level of self-destruction, with admittedly varying levels of success.
The Sporting Chance clinic, founded by former Arsenal and England star Tony Adams, is the latest last resort for fallen footballers and the place where Paterson has gone, with the help of funding from the English PFA. Paterson, who began his career with Manchester United, was a member of the players' union between 1975 and 1981 and expressed his gratitude for their support, coming as it did some 27 years after he last kicked a ball down south. Football is now making more than a token effort and is at least showing some consideration as many people think the sufferers are little more than spoilt millionaires who deserve little or no sympathy, when in actual fact they have an illness that needs treating.
The help wasn't always professionally organised by groups of specialists and psychoanalysts. Not so long ago they had to depend almost entirely on their union and unsurprisingly there were some well-intentioned mistakes. Maybe the biggest was subbing one of the gamblers in cash from union funds to pay off his debts. It was a schoolboy error really, but one that was never repeated after the 3.30 at Haydock didn't go the way said player expected. The union did eventually claw it back, but it took years.
With the increasingly incredible sums of money being made by the players, maybe it is surprising in some respects that while they may bet £100,000 on a night in the casino instead of a couple of grand at the horse racing, the alcohol abuse hasn't turned quite as readily into hard drug abuse.
Maybe it is simply because as the game is more professional, faster and your opponents much fitter, they simply wouldn't get away with that sort of behaviour for very long before being found out. Team-mates are also more likely to admonish negative behaviour because the stakes are so high and the old drinking attitude has been diminished by the increase in foreign players who do not import that culture with them.
The foreigners often fail to relate to the card schools at the back of the bus as well, so even that temptation is less prevalent. From being a fun pastime on long journeys it can become a source of major problems if there is a gambling addict on board. Some managers spotted the problem years ago and didn't allow money to be exchanged in these games, but it was hard to police as confirmed gamblers got round this by playing for matchsticks, each worth a fiver.
Managers fear this type of gambling because it can and does harm the spirit of the group. Sometimes players would lose a week's wages to a mate just on the way to the game from the hotel, hardly the way to get you in the right frame of mind with each other or the job in hand.
The disintegrating family life of the club addict is mirrored by his standing in the dressing room. I knew one star player in financial trouble who borrowed off almost everyone including the young reserves who had very little money in the first place. He couldn't pay it back and lost not only the cash, but also the respect of everyone in the team and eventually his place at the club.
It led to a hasty departure and I discovered later through my work with the union that the signing-on fee from his new team didn't go to paying his debts, it went to the casino, his habit still being stronger than any feelings of shame.
It isn't of course the only temptation; recreational drugs are more rife than ever so some young players will inevitably experiment. Of course they know there is a risk of being caught in a random test, but football still isn't stringent enough. It may have improved but I can tell you that in a 19-year career I was tested only once. Even with a little more frequent testing now, it is understood that everyone gets at least one chance as long as they agree to counselling and rehab.
The reality often is that if you are a player of relatively limited value, the club are likely to get rid of you quickly after any dalliance with drugs. If, however, you are a sellable asset then every possible effort will be made by the club to keep it quiet, get you advice, help you recover, get you clean and then back on top form. After that they will be keen to cash in by selling you on as soon as possible so that if there is a recurrence it is someone else's problem.
It was once suggested to me that the addicted footballer's plight is all the worse because he will have his story plastered all over the papers. He will be aware that the most embarrassing and undignified moments of his downfall will be highlighted for friends and family, including his blameless children and everyone he has ever known.
Oddly this can be an unlikely salvation. Most serious addicts have to reach a very dark place before they are willing to confront the reality of what they have become. It is difficult to ignore or hide that reality if it is splashed across the front pages. Would Tony Adams have made such efforts at recovery quite as soon as he did had it not been for the huge coverage he endured? In fact without the headlines he could have fallen further, to a place he might not have escaped from alive.
Before lauding the red tops too much though, there is a dilemma. When one of them gets the exclusive and agrees to pay the addict for the personal exposé, there is every likelihood that by the time the evening edition is out, it is the bookmaker or the dealer who is going to be cashing the cheque. I just hope they are able to consider their moral duty, even if the individual they paid hasn't always been able to do so himself.
The full article contains 1292 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
