home, it wasn’t my home. I felt guilty for not being around the children so I tried to make up as much time as I could with them in the short while I had. But I also had a young wife who wanted my time and affection and I couldn’t do it all at once and the next thing I am back up the road.
That was part of the reason I became the human snarl. I was unhappy and if I was going to be unhappy, I wanted to make damn sure everyone knew I was unhappy and that they were unhappy, too.
It took the death of Gary Speed for me to step back and find happiness within myself. It wasn’t my wife’s fault that I had been unhappy. It wasn’t a club’s fault or a manager’s fault. It wasn’t because I had had an argument with Graeme Souness or Roberto Mancini. I was stopping myself from being happy. I’d been doing it since I left Cardiff at the age of 15.
If I had not got help, if I had not begun talking to Steve Peters, I was facing a dark, empty future. Gary Speed’s death, the fact that he apparently took his own life, shook me to the core. It scared me. There are a lot of similarities between me and Speedo.
I understand myself a lot better now, I think. I have been able to cope with the separation and divorce from my wife. I still find it very hard not being able to see my children when I want to but I am coping. I am not sure how I would have dealt with it if it had happened a few years ago.
It’s not always been pretty but I am a better man for having been involved in football. It’s taken me to different countries. It’s put me in a position where I have been able to found a football academy in Sierra Leone and try to help people make a better life for themselves through the game. Maybe one day, people will be able to see beyond the snarl.
There was a time when I thought that when I retired from playing, I would have a period away from the game but I know now that I can’t be without football. I would miss it too much. If anyone else comes into my life, they have to be prepared to share me with football. It doesn’t drive me mad any more but it still consumes me. Any job can make you unhappy if you let it. Finally, just in time, I’ve come to understand that if I love football this much, why not just enjoy it.
And I am enjoying it. I’m enjoying it more than I’ve enjoyed it at any time since I was a little kid dashing around on ABC Park in Trowbridge with my mates. I’m enjoying it more than I’ve ever enjoyed it. It’s the greatest game in the world but it’s nothing more than that. Apart from my children, it’s been the best thing in my life. I wake up every morning and I can’t wait to go to training. I feel grateful for that.
Craig Bellamy, 2013
1
Where I Belong
M y home is Cardiff. More specifically, my home is Trowbridge, on the eastern edge of the city, on a 1960s estate near the Eastern Avenue, the dual carriageway that cuts a swathe through the suburbs on its way out to the M4. I live in Penarth at the moment, on the south side of the city, in an apartment that looks out over the sea. I’m recently divorced. I’m exiled from the house I once lived in with my wife and children in the countryside to the west.
But I’ll always think of Trowbridge as home, the 1960s estate, with its streets named after Welsh towns and areas. Abergele Road, Caernarvon Way, Prestatyn Road, Aberdaron Road, Menai Way.
They’re the names of my childhood, the names of the streets and crescents I used to dash along to get to ABC Park, where I’d play football with my mates.
Along those streets I’d sprint, through the little alleyways where knots of youths used to gather to smoke dope or sniff glue or try to get high from air fresheners. I’d join them in time, watching and shuffling around uneasily, trying to be part of the group.
I suppose some people would think of it as a rough area, a place of unemployment and delinquency. It never seemed that way to me. I had a happy childhood. I grew up a happy kid.
That was part of the reason I became the human snarl. I was unhappy and if I was going to be unhappy, I wanted to make damn sure everyone knew I was unhappy and that they were unhappy, too.
It took the death of Gary Speed for me to step back and find happiness within myself. It wasn’t my wife’s fault that I had been unhappy. It wasn’t a club’s fault or a manager’s fault. It wasn’t because I had had an argument with Graeme Souness or Roberto Mancini. I was stopping myself from being happy. I’d been doing it since I left Cardiff at the age of 15.
If I had not got help, if I had not begun talking to Steve Peters, I was facing a dark, empty future. Gary Speed’s death, the fact that he apparently took his own life, shook me to the core. It scared me. There are a lot of similarities between me and Speedo.
I understand myself a lot better now, I think. I have been able to cope with the separation and divorce from my wife. I still find it very hard not being able to see my children when I want to but I am coping. I am not sure how I would have dealt with it if it had happened a few years ago.
It’s not always been pretty but I am a better man for having been involved in football. It’s taken me to different countries. It’s put me in a position where I have been able to found a football academy in Sierra Leone and try to help people make a better life for themselves through the game. Maybe one day, people will be able to see beyond the snarl.
There was a time when I thought that when I retired from playing, I would have a period away from the game but I know now that I can’t be without football. I would miss it too much. If anyone else comes into my life, they have to be prepared to share me with football. It doesn’t drive me mad any more but it still consumes me. Any job can make you unhappy if you let it. Finally, just in time, I’ve come to understand that if I love football this much, why not just enjoy it.
And I am enjoying it. I’m enjoying it more than I’ve enjoyed it at any time since I was a little kid dashing around on ABC Park in Trowbridge with my mates. I’m enjoying it more than I’ve ever enjoyed it. It’s the greatest game in the world but it’s nothing more than that. Apart from my children, it’s been the best thing in my life. I wake up every morning and I can’t wait to go to training. I feel grateful for that.
Craig Bellamy, 2013
1
Where I Belong
M y home is Cardiff. More specifically, my home is Trowbridge, on the eastern edge of the city, on a 1960s estate near the Eastern Avenue, the dual carriageway that cuts a swathe through the suburbs on its way out to the M4. I live in Penarth at the moment, on the south side of the city, in an apartment that looks out over the sea. I’m recently divorced. I’m exiled from the house I once lived in with my wife and children in the countryside to the west.
But I’ll always think of Trowbridge as home, the 1960s estate, with its streets named after Welsh towns and areas. Abergele Road, Caernarvon Way, Prestatyn Road, Aberdaron Road, Menai Way.
They’re the names of my childhood, the names of the streets and crescents I used to dash along to get to ABC Park, where I’d play football with my mates.
Along those streets I’d sprint, through the little alleyways where knots of youths used to gather to smoke dope or sniff glue or try to get high from air fresheners. I’d join them in time, watching and shuffling around uneasily, trying to be part of the group.
I suppose some people would think of it as a rough area, a place of unemployment and delinquency. It never seemed that way to me. I had a happy childhood. I grew up a happy kid.
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