Chopra: my gambling misery
“I’d bet 30 or 40 grand a time”
Michael Chopra was a self- confessed Peter Pan who struggled to grow up – and it almost cost him everything. The former Newcastle, Sunderland and Cardiff striker speaks to FFT about the gambling problems which blighted his playing career, and how a move to India helped to turn his fortunes around
can still vividly remember the moment that changed my life. The moment that changed me from a selfish, egotistical footballer into the person that I believe I am today.
It was during my first spell with Kerala Blasters in 2014, when I was staying in one of Mumbai’s plushest hotels. As my father’s side of the family is Indian, I’d always been fascinated by the country and its culture, and didn’t take a lot of persuading when I was offered a chance to play there. But nothing had quite prepared me for that experience. I never realised the scale of poverty until I was there and witnessed it for myself. You’re either very rich or very poor – there doesn’t seem to be much in between.
I was staying at the St Regis Hotel, and one day stepped out because I wanted to do some shopping at a mall. Suddenly, I became aware of several homeless people hanging around. The contrast couldn’t have been more stark: here I was living it up in a five- star hotel, all marble floors and luxury, while yards away were fellow human beings living on the streets. Kids – and I’m talking three or four- years- old – coming up to you begging for money.
We were told not to give them cash because they were likely to get robbed, and to give them food instead. A few days later, I went over to the mall and spent about £ 50 on cakes, drinks and sweets. I must have had around 100 kids surrounding me, desperate for their share. It’s an experience I’ll never forget for as long as I live.
Thinking back, it’s what I needed: a complete culture shock to shake me up and view everything from another perspective. My time in India made me appreciate my own life a lot more and understand what’s really important. I realised that I didn’t especially like the old Michael Chopra, the flashy footballer who thought he was the bee’s knees; Mr Big; the best thing ever.
Look, I’m being honest here. I thought I was above the law – with the amount of speeding tickets I’d picked up, I’d been banned from driving three or four times. But I just shrugged it off. After all, I was a Premier League footballer. I was better than everyone else. That wasn’t down to my parents or the way they brought me up. It was me. I believed I’d made it, sharing a dressing room with superstars. I became drunk on the adulation, the attention, and thought: this is the life for me.
Observing some of the young players today, I fear when I hear about them splashing out on expensive motors when they’ve barely kicked a ball in the first team. I wish they could experience now what I did in my thirties, as it did change my life. Without wanting to blow my own trumpet, I’ve finally grown up and become a better person.
Team- mates at Cardiff and Ipswich used to call me Peter Pan – the kid who never grows up. I was doing immature stuff all the time, and I’m not just talking about gambling, which I’ll come to later. I’d ignore speed limits and get involved in spats on social media with supporters who had a go at me. If anyone criticised me, I’d give as good as I got,
which is wrong. These days I’m still on Twitter, but understand people have a right to give me stick. I shrug it off or ignore it.
The seeds of my self- destruction were sown during my early days at hometown club Newcastle. I was a Geordie striker who’d done well at youth team level, so suddenly I was being called the new Alan Shearer. That felt like quite a weight on my shoulders, because the club wasn’t producing too much homegrown talent at the time. When I began to score a few goals, everyone started taking notice. From a fairly young age, I’d be recognised in the street – I was a bit of a local celebrity. Did I like that? I loved it.
Once I’d made my League Cup debut against Everton [ in November 2002] and missed the crucial penalty in the shootout, it drained me of confidence. I was naturally a bubbly, bright guy going into every game, thinking I was the best thing since sliced bread. Now I had to cope with the feeling of letting lots of people down – a far cry from the debut I’d dreamt about. I had to rebuild myself, but that penalty hung over me like a dark cloud. In hindsight, it affected my Newcastle career.
Fortunately, I soon got back on track with loan spells at Watford and Barnsley, and even managed to score four goals for Watford in a 7- 4 win at Burnley [ in April 2003]. They were also in the FA Cup semi- finals, and I remember asking Newcastle manager Bobby Robson if my loan could be extended if Watford beat Southampton and reached the final.
Being the gentleman that he was, Bobby readily agreed, but sadly they lost the semi- final 2- 1 at Villa Park.
Missing out on the final was a huge disappointment, but I returned to the North East confident that I could score goals. I managed only one league strike in a black and white shirt, but it couldn’t have come in a bigger match: the Tyne- Wear derby at Sunderland, in April 2006. Even though I realised that I’d have to leave Newcastle by then, that can never be taken away from me.
Of course, I wish I’d fulfilled my potential with the club I supported, but I played in the Champions League against Barcelona at the Camp Nou and scored against our biggest rivals. As a local lad growing up on Tyneside, that’s what you dream about as a seven- year- old kid kicking a ball in the street.
In 2006, I moved to Cardiff for £ 500,000. On the pitch at least, that was a rewarding period in my life. Their fans still talk about a hat- trick I scored against Leicester, which is regarded as one of the best ever at Ninian Park. Although that game eventually finished 3- 2, we went 3- 0 up after I broke the deadlock with a free- kick, then chipped the keeper before completing my treble with a rocket from outside the box. I had a great relationship with the supporters there. The Welsh are a lot like the Geordies: loud, passionate and opinionated people who love their sport. Ninian Park always had an incredible atmosphere, with the fans so close to the pitch.
Cardiff was a very good move for me. I hadn’t really hacked it in the Premier League, so knew I should drop down a level to get my career going again, and that’s what I did in Wales. Luckily, I had a manager in Dave Jones, and chairmen in Sam Hammam and Peter Ridsdale, who put their arms around me. They showed love and support for a young, single lad away from home that I wanted. Dave’s man- management was brilliant. He knew when I needed time off to go back to Newcastle, or when I could do with a break. It was a perfect fit for me.
The next thing I knew, though, I was heading back to the North East to join Sunderland. I was on a pre- season tour of Portugal with Cardiff, looking forward to the new campaign, when my phone started ringing.
It was a withheld number, which I don’t usually pick up, but on this
“I WAS A GEORDIE STRIKER SUDDENLY BEING CALLED THE NEW ALAN SHEARER. IT WAS A WEIGHT ON MY SHOULDERS”
occasion I did. An Irish voice said, ‘ Hi, Michael... it’s Roy Keane’. Initially, I thought it was one of the lads winding me up, but he was great and knew everything about me. He even said, ‘ Look, I know you bleed black and white, but I’d love you to score goals for me at Sunderland’.
He gave me a couple of days to think about it and discuss the move with my parents. Meanwhile, Cardiff banned me from training because they were desperate to sell. They had financial issues at the time and couldn’t accept Sunderland’s £ 5 million bid quick enough. It didn’t take me long to agree to the deal, too. It was an opportunity to play in the Premier League, go back home and, above all, play for one of football’s born winners who had learned from the very best in Brian Clough and Sir Alex Ferguson. I wanted to learn from him.
“I FEEL ASHAMED. I WAS BETTING ON ONE HORSE WHAT PEOPLE NOW, WITH DECENT JOBS, TAKE HOME IN A YEAR”
I knew I’d have to hit the ground running – after all, it had been little more than a year since I’d celebrated a Newcastle goal in front of the Sunderland fans. Unlike my Toon debut, though, this one couldn’t have gone any better. I came off the bench after 72 minutes of the season opener against Tottenham, then scored the winning goal in injury time. Four days later, I scored again to help earn a 2- 2 draw at Birmingham. I was a Mackem hero!
I didn’t score loads of goals for the club, but I certainly did my bit to keep Sunderland in the Premier League, as nearly all of them counted for something. Sadly, the writing was soon on the wall when Roy tried taking the team to another level by bringing in the likes of Djibril Cissé, El Hadji Diouf and Pascal Chimbonda. I found game time hard to come by, which was frustrating because those three didn’t really suit a club like Sunderland. Their mentality was all wrong; prima donnas who spat their dummy out when things weren’t going well. I think Roy knew by the time he departed that he’d made a mistake.
Once Roy left part way through my second season, I knew my time there was pretty much done and dusted – he was the chief reason I’d signed. I’m proud of what I achieved at Sunderland. Sure, I’m a long way from being remembered as a legend, but I wasn’t a failure either. I proved a lot of people wrong, believe I paid back my fee and did far better than some footballers who have played for the club.
So it was back to Cardiff in November 2008, initially on loan and then on a permanent basis the following summer. Funnily enough, I heard that Roy tried to buy me for £ 4m when he became Ipswich boss, but the bid was turned down. Eighteen months later, he got the sack and Paul Jewell replaced him. I ended up joining Ipswich in 2011, despite not actually wanting to leave Cardiff. At the time, Craig Bellamy was there and had plenty to say for himself, even if he was on loan from Manchester City. I heard he told the board that for Cardiff to progress, they had to get rid of me because I was trouble.
My gambling was becoming a big problem by then, but on the pitch it wasn’t affecting me. I was doing the business. I knew I was living on borrowed time, so asked a mate who was playing for Ipswich to check if Jewell was interested. He was, and got me for just £ 1m.
At that point, my life off the pitch was spiralling out of control. I’m often asked when the gambling first started, and it was at Newcastle. But it got serious while I was at Cardiff, extremely bad. I’d have a bet
on anything – not just horse racing and football. I’d finish training and head straight over to the bookies.
That first full year back at Cardiff, I scored 21 goals despite my crazy life off the field. It’s hard to fathom how I could go from one extreme to the other, but once I crossed that white line, my head was focused on football. It was away from the game where I ran into major trouble. As I earned better wages, the bets became bigger. The more time you have away from training, the more time you have to gamble.
I was bored and alone with lots of money in my pocket. Sometimes I’d bet 30 or 40 grand at a time. It was so stupid. If I won I’d think my luck was in, and if I lost I’d chase. Looking back, I feel ashamed. I was betting on one horse race what people now, holding down decent jobs, take home in a year.
But as a footballer who was yet to grow up, the more money I made, the easier it became to gamble. It was a disease – something I had to do out of necessity, rather than any great pleasure. Over the years, I’ve worked out that I must have lost around £ 2m. You’ve got to be open and honest about it.
I realised that I was an addict and did seek some professional help in those early years. At Sunderland, Roy Keane even sent me away to a clinic for a week, but deep down I didn’t really want to stop then. It wasn’t until my second season at Ipswich that I knew I had to change. To kick the gambling habit, just like with drink or tobacco, it has to be you – no one else – who’s the driving force.
So I contacted Sporting Chance, the charity Tony Adams set up, and told them that yes: I genuinely wanted to give it all up. Ipswich were good with me: CEO Simon Clegg, owner Marcus Evans and Paul Jewell ensured that I was banned from every betting shop in the local area, that I couldn’t get on any betting websites, and even hired an Olympic rower called Steve Williams to work closely with me. He’d recently won a gold medal for Great Britain, but was fully committed to helping me on a one- to- one basis. We’d meet up in the gym each day at 7am. He planned my diet and kept me busy after training. Ipswich enrolled me on a mechanics course at university. I’m a practical person and didn’t want to be sat in a classroom taking notes – I wanted to be doing and making things. It was excellent: taking engines apart and fixing tyres. I reached the levels required to become a qualified mechanic.
I’d caused a lot of trouble for Ipswich in my first year there, but they went out of their way to help me and I’ll always be grateful. It was the following year that I checked into Sporting Chance, where I’d stay in the week, get let out to play games and go back on a Saturday night. Some days, I’d jump in the car and link up with the lads on their way to the ground. I scored on one of those occasions, and as I travelled back Clegg was on the phone saying, ‘ Great goal. You seem a different guy. Delighted you’re cured’. I had to tell him that it was a long process and I was returning to the clinic. I knew I was on a journey that might even take years, but I was prepared for that. It’s like alcoholism. You take it day by day – there’s no magic wand and no fixed period for recovery.
My life off the pitch was improving while my football career began to wind down. I had a spell at Blackpool and then trained with Port Vale; later, after I’d been to India once, a mate who scouted for Alloa asked if I’d fancy a move there. To be honest, I didn’t know where Alloa was or in which division they played, but when I looked at the fixtures I saw that they were in the Championship and would be playing Rangers and Hibernian that year. So I decided to give it a go.
That was probably the start of me viewing life differently. For the first time, I was outside the football bubble, mixing with normal guys who were part- timers: teachers and builders during the week; players who put their heart and soul into the club every Saturday. We only trained once a week, which meant I could live in Newcastle again. I look back at that time with so much pleasure.
When the offer came to join a club in the new Indian Super League before that, though, I was never going to turn it down. It wasn’t solely because of my dad’s background, but also to give something back to the country of my ancestors. I’d actually been approached to play for the national team in 2006, but said no because I harboured England ambitions. By 2014, however, India appealed both from a geographic point of view and a sporting one. Stars like Alessandro Nesta, Nicolas Anelka and Alessandro Del Piero were there, and David James would be my manager with Kerala Blasters. It all felt right.
I didn’t play many games or score many goals, but it’s probably the best decision I’ve ever made – because of who I met as well as what I learned. After my second stint with Kerala in 2016, I was asked to do Champions League commentary for Indian TV, which I took to easily. That set me up for my life as a non- footballer.
When I was in India, there was a major conference held about how to improve football in the country. I was introduced to a Greek agent called George Kazianis. We got talking, hit it off, and later he asked me if I’d like to work for his Amsterdam- based company called Only4stars. It was a chance to work on the other side of the fence, and although I didn’t have a licence, I would put players in touch with him and help do deals. We moved Jason Puncheon out of Crystal Palace to Pafos in Cyprus, which worked out well for both parties, and ex- Leeds defender Matt Kilgallon joined Hyderabad in the ISL.
I’m currently based in the Dutch capital, but with my other business interests I do a lot of travelling – COVID- 19 permitting – and try to see and experience as many places as I can. As a footballer you might go to plenty of countries, but never properly see or learn about them. I’m now involved in a project in Indonesia – a nation with massive football potential, but no grassroots infrastructure. I’ve been asked to help out with what is a huge undertaking, beginning in Jakarta and moving on from there. There are some brilliant young kids good enough to play in Europe, and it wouldn’t surprise me if that becomes a lucrative market for a few clubs in the future.
It was through contacts in Indonesia and Singapore that I became involved in the Bellagraph Nova Group’s takeover bid at Newcastle last year. I won’t go into all the details, but that offer was genuine. It was shortly after the Saudis pulled out, which was something I’d become aware of several weeks before it became public. The BNG Group lodged a £ 280m bid, had proof of funds and a sound business plan, but to cut a long story short, they got no reply from Mike Ashley’s lawyer. It was strange. We’ll see what happens with the Newcastle takeover – there’s more about the Saudi bid which hasn’t come out yet.
But I’m just getting on with life, and not allowing anything to worry me in the way I might have a few years ago. Today, Michael Chopra is a happy person with a wonderful family – probably happier than when I was playing. At the end of the day, football was a job, not real life.
I’m no longer Peter Pan. Now I’ve finally grown up, I’m truly living.