Book Review - The Secret Life of Tony Cascarino

“The sportswriter from Dublin had arrived to paint his shiny, happy portrait of a perfectly balanced life.” (1) But Paul Kimmage didn’t find what he expected. The result is Tony Cascarino’s autobiography. Cascarino manages to reminisce past glories and failures, though the football pitch isn’t always the setting. By letting readers into his head, Cascarino recreates the image of footballers as men, not stars. Vast amounts of money and leisurely lifestyles don’t stop footballers like Cascarino suffering and failing like everyone else. In fact, as Cascarino explains with such brutal honesty, it often means the opposite.

The book strives to move away from the usual formulated style of football autobiographies and give an account of Cascarino’s life, not a sugar-coated version of his career. He’s “not interested in talking about games I’ve played or wankers I’ve met in dressing rooms.” (1) At the end of his career with nothing to lose, he paints a self-portrait of a flawed man, both professionally and emotionally. This creates depth and provokes sympathy and ultimately respect in readers. He realises that he’s always thought about “My feelings. My needs. My world. Me.” (1) Through the book he tries to explain and apologise to those he has hurt and exorcise his own demons, rather than reveal those of others: “I’m not interested in hurting anyone but me.” (1)

Cascarino does fall into the footballer’s stereotype of exposing others faults when railing about Glenn Hoddle, a man he has little time for. “If he was an ice-cream he would lick himself,” (1) he recalls of his former Chelsea manager. Even with the emergence of New Sportswriting, autobiographies still sell on these revelations, easily serialised by newspapers to increase sales. For instance, Robbie Fowler’s autobiography was reliant on dirt-dishing on Sven-Goran Eriksson’s “negativity” (2) to boost profits.

However, Cascarino’s book rises above this mediocrity, partly due to its style and structure. ‘Told to Paul Kimmage’, the book’s lack of chronology and unconventional manner can be credited to the former professional cyclist. He won 1990’s William Hill Sports Book of the Year with Rough Ride, and writes with warmness that reveals his fondness for Cascarino. The book is also written in 1st person; these factors combine to make readers share Kimmage’s affection for Cascarino despite him admitting “I was a total shit,” (1) and his actions throughout the book persuading them to concur with this assessment. We are swept into Cascarino’s world by the varying writing techniques. Kimmage tantalises the reader by giving glimpses of future revelations but not exploring fully. This grips the reader, enticing them to read on. Flashbacks, chapters written as day-by-day diaries and large amounts of dialogue generate a wide scope of personality traits. We see Cascarino’s “contempt” (1) for football, his selfish treatment of his family, his womanising nature; but the book’s depth allows the resounding image become that of a caring, funny, remorseful man.

Cascarino is a product of football culture. He lives up to the footballer stereotypes of drinking, gambling and womanising. However, his honesty allows readers to see problems within this dream lifestyle. “Success isn’t easy when you see what it does to people.” (1) Cascarino doesn’t complain though. He realises he is privileged, echoing Jimmy Greaves, who said in his autobiography “I’m sorry, but earning 50 grand a week, doing what you enjoy, I can’t see where the pressure are.” (3) Simultaneously though, Cascarino explains where they are. He divulges how much he earned from football - “Total career earnings since 1982: £2,314,700…. Where the hell has it all gone!” (1)This is followed by a list of where it’s all gone. Now, “everything we spend is budgeted for,” (1) and the money “hasn’t insured my happy-ever afters.” (1) Cascarino doesn’t brag about his money, he shares the reader’s astonishment.

Uncommonly known, Cascarino rebuilt his career in France. Playing for Olympique Marseilles and Nancy FC, he enjoyed an “Indian summer!” (1) This illustrates football’s globalisation. How can someone who admitted to manager Liam Brady while at Celtic “I’m a bad player. I’m crap,” (1) move countries to play for “the biggest club in France”? (1) It shows football is a universal language, which can transform ordinary lives. Cascarino’s transition from hairdresser to France’s Ligue 1 top-scorer via building work and lower-league football is a story that inspires, capturing the romance of sport. He went from living in England to the culture of the French Riviera, finding form and a new wife in the process.

The details of the Marseille move reveal how politics affects sport. Marseilles needed players on free transfers due to sanctions placed on them restricting deals after they were found guilty of bribery. Had this sleazy business not been exposed, Cascarino would never have signed!

Furthermore, if it wasn’t for political meddling in sport, Cascarino wouldn’t have been an international. Recounting the books conception, he’s told he’s “not exactly David Beckham!” (1) He manages to get his book written by disclosing he wasn’t qualified to play for Ireland. (His Irish grandfather wasn’t biologically related to him.) Cascarino stresses that without Passport rules changing, he wouldn’t have found out he was “A fake Irishman.” (1)

This raises questions of national identity. How can he suddenly not be Irish due to a technicality? Cascarino notes “all the Irish-born lads….never regarded us as inferior Irishmen. We were always a team.” (1) This taps into the togetherness and unity sport can evoke.

This is especially relevant in terms of fan culture. Ireland was immersed in Ireland’s success under Jack Charlton. Cascarino captures this, telling tales of “fending off girls.” (1) He shows genuine affection for his celebrity, reminiscing about “when we were kings” (1) and handshakes in the street.

He also exposes the other side of fans from a player’s perspective – the abuse they receive. “Get your finger out you fat-arsed Irish cunt” (1) is just one example, while his son asks him “You’re not very good, are you Dad?” (1) after being teased at school. The passion fans feel about teams is recounted in many books since New Sportswriting’s rise, but Cascarino delves into the joy and misery this passion can provoke in players. Sport is an escape from everyday life for fans. For players it is life.

Full Time shows us footballers aren’t all spoilt prima-donnas, but they’re occupation doesn’t allow for normality either. For every David Beckham there is a Tony Cascarino. Full Time shows this is a good thing.

Greg Rose