John Nicholson

So there we are. At a rocker wedding. Beside the Pacific Ocean. Laguna Beach, Southern California. Summer '93. The bride is resplendent in a white leather dress/bodice type arrangement. The groom is wearing a bike jacket and leather jeans. They are joined together as man and wife. Later that day Marty, aged just 22, kicks off his first tour of clubs and bars with his band. Four months on the road in the American heartlands. And he's just got hitched. What was he thinking?

Three days later we play the same club at some roadhouse near Bakersfield. Marty is getting more froufrou than Warren Beatty. They love his English accent. And before you're too judgemental, until you have successfully managed to turn down being the meat in a sandwich with two beautiful blonde sisters from Fresno, then don't come to me with your moralizing. Did he feel guilty? Not enough to stop nailing someone's daughter in every town. Did the marriage last? Of course not.

Life on the road is not normal life, in exactly the same way as life as a top flight footballer is not normal. Yet season after season, rich young players insist on getting hitched. Why do they do it? Sooner or later you'll realise you're married with a kid when you should be having fun.

Unless you're sure you are the settling down type, it's a hostage to fortune which, given the feral nature of the British press, radio and TV media, will likely rob you of your money, your time, your reputation, maybe even your captaincy. You will be painted as an amoral monster and attract loathing from self-appointed 'decent' people.

In the tabloid world, if you're married and have a string of affairs, you're a 'love rat'; not a term used outside of tabloids. The latest fashion is to be called a 'sex addict' who needs 'help.'

Yeah, right. If you say so.

Oddly, when you're single, it's just called top notch shagging. We'd all be 'sex addicts' if we had the chance wouldn't we? If we had the attraction and power that comes with money and fame, we'd all be bedding underwear models until our balls withered up and fell off.

A single footballer on the pull is not a story, unless he's pulling pretty young boys in toilets, but a married footballer who is 'doing the dirty' is. They all know this. So why bother with marriage when surely you know you can't stay out of the girls' knickers which frankly, will be dropping like pensioners in a cold snap.

Too many want the big day at a garish hotel; they want the little woman on the arm and the inevitable oddly-named sprog. They seem to crave the respectability of being a married couple but can't refuse the limitless sexual adventures. Madness, especially when it starts to influence your football.

Clearly, most of them, like most of us at that age, are not ready for commitment. They are culturally and emotionally stunted by the culture of football anyway, so even aged 25-30 are more often like silly teenagers than grown men. We've seen that in the last week.

Mind you, it wouldn't be too harsh to assume many women who marry rich footballers do so in hope of a lucrative divorce in full knowledge that from the outset he'll be unfaithful. There'll be a big pay off and a few exclusive interviews to give her some extra Gucci money. All avoidable if you don't get married.

The wronged woman in these situations - who we're all supposed to empathise with - can be a bit pathetic, especially when it's clear for everyone to see from the start that she had married an absolute bounder or serial shagger. Women can't and won't change a man for long. It's not even worth bothering to try.

Even more galling is when they're described as brave for sticking by their man - their multi-millionaire man. In or out of the marriage, these over-made up ladies reap a rich harvest of rewards not available on the council estates they often grew up on.

To paraphrase Dr Gonzo, the football business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free. So the last thing you need is a wife in tow cramping your style. Stay single and you can get on with enjoying your status and money.

You've got the rest of your life for the pipe and slippers. Shop around and get some experience of the world before settling for the hair-dresser from the town you grew up in.

But if you do hook up with a gorgeous woman for a while before her eye wanders to someone richer, higher profile or simply nearer, have the decency to keep a perspective on your position.

Someone should have told Wayne Bridge this. Let's face it Wayne has been lavishly rewarded for his moderate talent. Due to a stroke of luck, England has very few left-backs and thus has provided a role for him in the England squad. He's had a decent run with a French underwear model, despite being a plain looking lad. He should be counting his blessings. Quite why Bridge's emotional state should have had bearing on how England is managed is infantile and ridiculous.

If, as several media blow-hards have told me this week, I should feel sorry for Wayne, then I've got to feel sorry for every other bugger on earth, almost all of whom have a worse life than Wayne.

You can't help who you fall in love with or when, but given that perhaps the majority of footballers are young dumb and full of cum, someone should be advising them to avoid tying the knot, long term relationships and certainly not pro-creating the species until they understand the difference between love and lust and have sown a lot of wild oats

Perhaps then we could have less boring so-called scandals in the press, less moralistic hubris from the media and its acolytes and less football decisions made based on what has happened in the bedroom rather than on the pitch.


You can now read more of Johnny's work on www.epltalk.com.