There is a definite expectancy in life that men should sort themselves out, get on with it and cheer up. But I want to write about my troubles in football, and how I think it affected my career.
I should start by saying I’m not suicidal, never have been, and although I have almost certainly been depressed, it’s so tough to write about it and I have genuinely been wanting to for so long. The irony is, to write about anxiety and nerves you have to overcome them. Therein lies the problem.
I can pinpoint the first time I ever felt nervous before a game. It was for St Johnstone in 2008 against Hamilton at McDiarmid Park in my first season as a professional. I hadn’t started a game since a new manager took over in October, then suddenly I was thrown in against the side at the top of the league.
I was always relaxed before games, but suddenly self doubt and anxiety crept in. Although I would try and tell myself I wasn’t nervous, my body was telling me different. I felt physically sick, couldn’t eat, could hardly speak to people, felt breathless and my legs felt heavy. These symptoms are all due to nerves, lack of self belief and anxiety. I honestly think that anyone who says nerves are good for you has never been nervous. I can 100% guarantee that the body feels better, the head clearer and everything is easier when you are relaxed before a game.
When I was 21 I was super fit and pace was the main part of my game, but on this day I was tired after one run, my legs felt like they were cramping up and I had zero energy. I had a bad game, and it was the beginning of the end for me. This was the start of 10 years of this feeling and the start of what was a downward spiral in my career.
The dressing room and training ground are tough places to be if you have anxiety or depression. There is no place to hide and when I was young and at Queen of the South I found it difficult. I remember feeling so nervous before my first game I told the assistant manager I was too nervous to play – fortunately I was on the bench. I hadn’t eaten, felt sick and had no energy. It is the only time in my whole life I have ever told anyone I was nervous. As it turned out I came on for an injured player after about 15 minutes. It was probably the best way as I had no time to think about it, and I ended up playing quite well.
From then on, though, I was nervous about every game. I was sick several times, once on the pitch during the warm-up, and it affected my performances regularly.
Downward spiral
The worst thing about it is that it becomes a never-ending downward spiral. I lacked confidence and doubted myself and that made me play worse, which made me doubt myself more. I remember calling in sick on the morning of a game because I felt so bad. I felt ashamed doing it and I lay in bed all day feeling awful. I used to see people who were arrogant and full of confidence and wish I had that in me.
After three years at Queen of the South my contract wasn’t renewed and for six weeks I had no deal. I was resigned to calling time on full-time football but luckily I got the chance to train with Falkirk. After the initial nerves at training and in my first game, I soon found myself feeling better. That is down to two things: the manager was perfect for me – full of praise, knew exactly what I was good at and used me in a way that suited me perfectly. The second was that the squad were younger and the dressing room friendlier. It coincided with the best spell in my career; eight to nine months almost injury free and playing every week.
The second year was a different story. Hamstring injuries had ruined pre-season for me and although I was in the team by September, I wasn’t playing well. I remember coming back from another injury and playing my first game after a few weeks’ training. I felt fit but due to so many injuries and weeks missed, I felt nervous and in the first half I got hammered by the winger. I had jelly legs, no energy, sore head, the usual symptoms. I remember the manager saying my fitness was a disgrace, and it probably looked like that. I wish I could have told him the truth.
My fitness was high but my anxiety was the issue. I hardly played again for Falkirk apart from a decent spell in February and March, and I knew my time there was coming to an end. My old problems had returned, or rather had never gone away.
I have learned to deal with the feelings over the years, but they never really go away. I can force food down before games and I can relax sometimes, but the truth is I was never the same player again. I never ever felt carefree and confident like I had when I was 19, and it resulted in part-time football and dropping down the divisions.
Feeling anxious
In the years since, injuries have been a problem, my pace has gone, and although I still had the appetite to train hard, my body didn’t let me. I lost confidence, I felt anxious and felt unfit every Saturday, even if I was as fit as I could be. I could never produce anything like the form I wanted, and even if I was training well I never gained confidence.
Looking back I wish I had asked for help, or had at least spoken to a manager I trusted. But I didn’t and I am sure I was not alone. This is my way of opening up and telling people my problem, and there are so few people in football that are an open book. Mental illness remains a huge taboo.
People always say you get out what you put in to life, and football is the same. But if your mind doesn’t let your body work the way it is trained to, then you won’t get your rewards. Although I had a decent career, it should have been much better and I’ll probably always think that.
(The Guardian)
