It has been a sad week or so for anyone with football in their hearts, jolted awake as we were last Sunday to the news that Gary Speed – Premier League legend and Welsh national team manager – had died, having apparently taken his own life at the age of 42. Within minutes of the news breaking TV, radio and the internet was awash with tributes, from those who knew him personally and from those who simply knew him as a fantastic practitioner of his chosen art. From amidst this sea of sadness flooded forth words which painted an impression of a gifted yet gentle man; a charmer and a genuinely revered model professional with so much still to give.
The reasons behind Speed’s death are as yet unclear, and it would be unfair and disrespectful to speculate too wildly as to their nature. What I do feel comfortable saying is that, having observed the immediate aftermath, the issue of mental well-being amongst footballers has been troubling close to the headlines in recent weeks
The widespread presumption has been that Speed’s suicide was an act born of clinical depression. As I say, we don't know if this affliction has any direct link at all to Speed, but many of us have felt a somewhat chilling sense of unease at the preceding days' discussion of depression by professional sportsman. On Saturday the Guardian's always-enlightening Secret Footballer spoke of his own diagnosis in 2002. Hours earlier – and even more eye-openingly – Stan Collymore had followed up some worrying Twitter postings with a harrowing account about a recent bout of depression, which you can read for yourselves here.
Collymore's troubled past has been exhaustively documented, but over the years he has taken it upon himself to speak out about his health issues. Regardless of any direct link to Speed specifically, there seems to have been a greater willingness in recent times to speak openly and frankly about health problems which go beyond a tweaked hamstring or broken metatarsal. The confirmation from Tony Adams' Sporting Chance clinic that at least ten current professionals have contacted them to seek advice on their own troubles in the sad hours since Speed’s passing suggests that some invisible barrier may be on the verge of being pushed away, hopefully replaced with an air of frankness and honesty within the public footballing discourse.
There is an encouraging precedent for this kind of development. German football has had it's episodes of real and near-tragedy in recent years, the most notable being the suicide two years ago of national team keeper Robert Enke. Only weeks ago referee Babak Rafati was discovered just hours before he was due to take charge of a Bundesliga tie, having apparently attempted suicide and failed. Germany has also dealt with a high-profile case of depression. Following a spate of terrible injuries, midfielder Sebastien Deisler was diagnosed in 2004, his various health battles eventually leading to his retirement at the age of 27. Enke's passing in particular triggered a reaction in Germany. Ronald Reng, who received the William Hill Sports Book of The Year award (the day after Speed's death, no less) for his account of his friend Enke's life, has stated that players had previously found it difficult to publicly communicate the desperate pressures which it appears with hindsight were unknowingly commonplace. But, says Reng, things have improved. “After Robert's death the network of sports psychologists is much better. There are helplines, there is much higher awareness.”
The overriding feeling from those in the know is that Germany is witnessing a profound shift. In England, the abstract notion of the 'footballing community' is a commonly mentioned one, and it's true that in tough times it can act like any other: it can be a guiding hand; a strong network of support, but it can also be prickly and, at worst, downright self-serving. But the day of Speed's death really did feel like a close-knit community had lost a dear friend, the widespread grief palpable and felt beyond the sporting world. These terrible instances in Germany seem to have reminded football once more that life is brittle no matter who you are or what you do. The most celebrated players on the planet, the ones whose lifestyles and pay-checks we envy, regularly experience moments of great success and adoration. The message which Germany has embraced is that they, like all of us in our darkest hours, are also capable of looking in the mirror and seeing very little staring back. Over the past week the FA have sent out 50,000 booklets to ex-players containing advice on coping with depression. It's certainly a start.
As I say though, no one really knows how much of this debate relates to Gary Speed at all, and to speculate would be to do a disservice to his memory and to those he leaves behind. So what of Speed contributions to the beautiful game? The basic facts are as multitudinous as they are impressive. He was a versatile midfielder of energy and ability, with a knack for goals of all kinds and a one-time appearance record holder for both league and country. A captain of every team he’d played for along the way, Speed won the old First Division title in 1992 with Leeds United, before going on to score in every Premier League season in which he played, a remarkable feat only since bettered by his compatriot Ryan Giggs.
But it seems obvious that Speed’s legacy will go well beyond mere statistical analysis. In life’s grand scheme, football obviously ranks fairly low down on the scale of important things, but that's not to say that those involved do not hold it in high regard. From all the moving tributes paid to Speed, the one thing it's easy to gleam is that he carried out his job with great pride.
The moment at the Liberty Stadium when the pre-match minute’s silence erupted into rapturous applause and the spontaneous singing of Speeds name became a scene repeated at grounds across the UK throughout the week, and clubs were united in their mourning once more this weekend. When it happened in Swansea, mere hours after the world learnt of Speed's fate, it felt less like an outpouring of grief and more like a moment of genuine, heartfelt celebration and gratitude for what Speed had given the game. It spoke with a clarity no obituary ever could.
Last Sunday evening I, along with millions of others, listened with a heavy heart to BBC Radio Five Live’s exceptional 606 tribute show as a Leeds supporter recounted a tale of travelling across country with his son to see his team play, only to arrive at Elland Road to find the game sold out. Spotting Speed, and having previously encountered him a year or more previously, the supporter asked – more in hope than expectation – if he could pull any strings. Within minutes, the Welshman had retuned grasping two of Eric Cantona’s spare allocation. Their paths crossed again in the future, and Speed never forgot the man's name.
Stories of this ilk continued to be told throughout the show. As I listened it became increasingly clear that Speed saw and understood the significance of what he was involved in, and how much it mattered to those who could only ever dream of living in his boots. It seems apparent that he fully appreciated the high regarded in which he and his fellow exponents of the game were held, and when it came to the simple, privileged task of being a professional footballer, he was determined not to disappoint. For the record, he never did.
~ Matt
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