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Reflections on a footballer

By Kevin   Sparke  ::  29/11/2011   53 Comments (»Last) I?m rarely shocked by anything these days, but hearing of Gary Speed?s death on Sunday knocked me sideways.

When we bought this player from Leeds, I thought we?d nabbed the bargain of the century as, even in his early days, he always looked a touch of class. When he departed under a cloud to Newcastle United just a couple of seasons later, I was totally gutted as he was one of the few bright sparks in a sea of gloom during that Kendall Mk3 era.

I?ve heard a few different rumours about Speed?s departure from Everton ? some of them contradictory and so I?m not going to repeat them here... what I will say is that, if there is ever a league table for messing things up off the pitch, then Everton Football Club must be approaching Champions League status. However, castigating the board of directors, both past and present, is not the reason why I?m writing this.

The life of a professional footballer is short. From schoolboy days, you are pampered and preened, told you are wonderful, classy, athletic... filled full of dreams of glory... and, if you are successful, you are showered with more cash than you can imagine; you are hero worshiped and tempted with booze, gambling and access to easy sex...

Then you?re placed in a unique position of having your working life analysed, scrutinised, criticised to the n-th degree... and all too often excoriated by people like me who?ve not the tenth of your skills and athleticism. You have songs written about you ? by your supporters and the opposition alike. You are told you are the greatest human being ever to walk the planet... and then, the week after, when you miss a tackle or shoot into Row Z, you?re a feeble-minded, bow-legged, donkey-footed imbecile who needs taking outside and shooting.

Is it any wonder that some of them turn to drink or start to believe they really are supermen? Well, they?re not angels... nor are they devils ? they?re young blokes being young blokes, and most of them are all too aware that one mistimed tackle or spliced tendon means that the dream life they live is going to come crashing down and an ordinary job and an ordinary existence beckons. When that happens, for some, believe it or not, it?s a blessed relief.

We come into this life with a blank slate and live our early years hoping we can be the best we can be. Most of us have not tasted the excitement nor the rewards of sporting success at any level and we certainly have not touched the pressures. As fans, we do this vicariously and live our dreams through our team and our heroes; sometimes they don?t live up to our exacting standards and we let them know, often cruelly and without mercy. We can easily escape from this cauldron of lunacy by switching the game off or walking away. It?s important to remember that some players don?t have that luxury; it?s their livelihood and some of them don?t cope very well with the criticism when they fail... or, indeed, the plaudits when they do well.

Every now and again, a genuine person emerges through the frantic madness and the uber-hype of top-flight professional football and most of us recognise this when we see it. One example was Sir Bobby Robson, a bloke who was almost universally admired throughout the football world; another is Gus Hiddink who rarely has a bad word to say about anyone. I?d put Gary Speed into that category. We never knew how good a manager he would have made and I?ve a feeling we?ve missed out on what might have been a very good career ? we'll never know; that story has ended.

Well, Gary Speed, in a life that promises so much and often delivers so little, you lived your life to the full... in the great arena that is football, and you played on the biggest domestic stage and represented your clubs and country with pride. You were loved by many, admired by many more... and most importantly you never let anyone down, especially yourself.

Some poet once wrote that the life of a man is brief, like a sparrow flying through a hall, and none of us know how long that flight is going to be. For those who have the comfort of religion or belief in an after-life, you?ll live on in another place... for me, it?s enough that you lived at all and played this stupid but oh so wonderful game we love ? with heart, skill and to the best of your ability ? your sun shone brightly and you lived your far too brief life to the full.

You?ll be missed lad, both as a footballer, a blue and a fellow traveller ? more importantly, you'll be remembered with affection by most who knew you or watched you play.

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