WEMBLEY WAS A CRY FOR HELP
JIM Burnside felt numb. Music was blaring, beer was flowing, and everyone was dancing. The changing room was erupting with jubilation. But his mind was elsewhere.
It was May 22, 2022 and United Counties League side Newport Pagnell Town had just beaten Little hampton Town 3-0 to win the FA Vase at Wembley. In front of 15,000 fans, and thousands more watching on TV, that sunny afternoon under the world’s most famous arch should have been the best day of Burnside’s life.
Instead, it was one of the saddest.
The celebrations continued into the night but Burnside was nowhere to be seen. He spent the evening alone and, in the morning, checked himself into a psychiatric hospital.
“I needed an intervention,” says the 31-year-old striker. “I was at the peak of my career and lowest point in my life.”
Two years on, Burnside can recall very little from that day. A combination of depression, drug and alcohol addiction, undiagnosed bipolar disorder, and ADHD had by that point left his life at crisis point.
Two weeks before the final, he made what he describes as a semi-serious suicide attempt.
“Voices in my head were telling me I was a cancer and I would infiltrate people’s goodness,” he says.
“It was a cry for help – I don’t think I wanted to die. I just wanted to show people how bad things were.”
The worst, however, was still to come. After spending five weeks at a London Priory facility, Burnside’s 11-year relationship with his partner fell apart.
They had been married just over a year and the divorce sent him spiralling. Burnside admits that in the weeks following the separation he would drive on the wrong side of the road and run red lights hoping to crash.
Then, while in Spain for his 30th birthday that summer, Burnside was arrested after getting into a fight and later spent the night in prison with cracked ribs and a broken jaw.
He was forced to share the space with the man who had inflicted those injuries and, after being denied toilet access, his cellmate defecated on the floor.
“That was a really rock-bottom moment,” admits Burnside. “I was sitting in jail with human faeces everywhere thinking this may be as bad as it gets.”
Today, Burnside is in a much better place. He is more than 150 days sober and, despite several relapses, has daily routines in place to keep his recovery on track.
Robots
Now the Bedfordshire-based personal trainer is hoping to use his experiences to help prevent other footballers from going through what he did.
At his gym, Ten Fitness, where he offers football-specific strength and conditioning, Burnside’s clients range from the elite – Brentford and England striker Ivan Toney was a regular during his eightmonth ban for breaching FA betting rules – to those at NonLeague. But Burnside is striving for more than just physical progress.
He insists a stigma remains about mental health in football and his goal is to create an environment where players feel comfortable talking openly about their struggles.
“There is a desperation in the game, it’s an epidemic in itself,” says Burnside, who has since turned out for Real Bedford and AFC Rushden & Diamonds.
“Players from every level are crying out and not enough is being done to help.
“We’re too quick to say: ‘Oh, but they’re paid loads of money.’ But it’s not about that. We’ve got to stop seeing these players as robots.
“I know no two situations are the same and everyone’s individual experience is unique but exercise is a great way of starting these conversations. Helping create a space where people can open up is the most rewarding feeling in the world.”
One aspect of the game Burnside believes is particularly damaging is the obsession with targets and statistics. In his work and the talks he gives at academies, the emphasis is instead on putting the person before performance.
“We are putting ceilings on our potential through these numerical values,” he says.
“And when you give people a value based on an arbitrary figure, that’s what their success metrics are driven by.
“I only know that from doing it so wrong myself. The pressure I put on myself felt like I was towing an emotional caravan.
“So my relationship with these players isn’t affected by how they perform on a Saturday.
Superpower
“I couldn’t care less about whether they score or not. It’s about them being the best version of themselves.”
It’s an outlook Burnside has embraced in his own life and he is finally starting to see the best version of himself.
In February, he turned out for Newport Pagnell for the first time since Wembley. There were no TV cameras, the pitch was sodden, and the crowd was fewer than 100 people. But he was happy.
“It was a hugely transformative moment. It was nourishing for the soul,” he says.
“I’ve accepted my illness will never go away but it’s a superpower in so many ways. It has made me kind, caring and compassionate. So I’m grateful for all the pain I went through because I’m living my dream now and I couldn’t see that for a long time.”
On show that day was a tattoo Burnside got on his left forearm during recovery. For someone who bears his scars so openly, it felt entirely apt.
The image shows a lightbulb and serves as an important reminder to Burnside that the lights may be on but noone can be home.
“I’m walking into rooms feeling like I can light them up again,” Burnside adds. “And that’s such a lovely feeling to have back.”
Voices told me I was a cancer. I don’t think I wanted to die, I just wanted to show people how bad things were Jim Burnside