Paul Gascoigne used to be a footballer. But then, he shed tears in the 1990 World Cup in Italy, when a semifinal yellow card meant he knew his tournament was over, and he became, universally, Gazza. Gazza, now 48, was more than a footballer. He grew into a national treasure, whose popularity transcended his skill as a player, and whose vulnerability made football people want to nurture his talent and the rest of us protect him from himself - and from the world. Being Gazza was harder than it seemed, and for all the laughter and the adulation, he was gradually falling victim to alcoholism so severe it has almost killed him more than once and, unless he can keep the demons at bay, might yet do so.
I have known Gazza for years. Like many people, I have long urged him to get and stay off the booze. I played a small part in his successful pursuit of newspapers illegally hacking his phone, in that I persuaded him to get my lawyer to take over his case, and in May he was awarded £188,250 in damages by the Mirror Group. Like many people, I have found something irresistible in his childlike generosity of spirit, and his love of life when life is good. But like most chronic alcoholics, Gazza can be a hard man to help. Some can never forgive the domestic violence against his former wife Sheryl. But she also knows that when he is sober and well, Gazza is as nice as they come. It is when the drink takes him over that he loses the personality that makes him loved by so many - never more clear when, a couple of years ago, a rumour spread that he had died.
Read more: Gazza’s tears, Italia 90 and the madness of Merrie England
Gazza now lives in Sandbanks, Dorset, close to the Providence Projects rehab centre that has helped him stay or climb back on the wagon. He still has to work to live, not least because he gives so much away to his family, and we met to discuss a new documentary, titled simply Gascoigne, which, with a feature film to follow, he hopes will herald the next stage of his life being Gazza. He was sober, but had recently had what he calls "a blip", meaning a heavy bender. He was looking OK - his face clearer and smoother than it might be because of a propensity for Botox - though his hands were slightly shaky, and there was an occasionally intense pain clear in his eyes. He insisted he was happy and, most of the time, I was almost convinced. He is one of those people who makes you long for his happiness to be real.
Alastair Campbell: So, how are you?
Paul Gascoigne: Good, apart from the press telling lies about me all the time. I go to a shop and buy cigarettes, but the press say I am buying booze as well, and then I lose work, and it builds up and when I do have a drink, I end up regretting it and I cry my eyes out.
When was the last time you had a drink?
Two weeks ago, a one-day bender, then after that the therapist comes round and we just sit and talk.
What is the longest you've ever gone without a drink?
I've been three years sober, then two years, three years, two again, one-and-a-half years, then two-and-a-half, nine months, year and a half, recently six months, then I've had this blip. I've got good support here. But the lies in the press get me down. I had this friend and I found out she was giving stuff to a guy from the Sun. He rang up saying horrible stuff, so I went on Twitter and hammered him, and then the police came round and I got done for harassment. They banged me up for 22 hours, and then I spent four days in hospital and I'm saying, "Hold on, I was using Twitter, not using alcohol."
Do you feel like a drink every day?
No, I can go for ages, but then I have these blips.
How do you feel when you know you are falling off the wagon?
When I get the bottle of gin or whatever, I start crying. I'm shaking before I open the bottle, because I don't want it, I really don't, but then after a couple of mouthfuls I feel OK, but then I regret it and I start crying again.
So what drives you to it when you know you will regret it?
It builds up. The press outside all the time, this woman giving information to them, then I get banged up. This time I was lucky because I just rang the hospital, went there, checked my liver was OK, and then I done a bit of fishing, played golf, and I was OK again. Recently I was supposed to open this lap-dancing joint for my daughter Bianca, so I went to London and then realised it wasn't a good idea as the press were all going to be there: "Gazza opens a strip joint", so I decided not to.
Bianca said she was disappointed you didn't turn up.
Yeah, I know. But I have to think about myself, too. I was worried with the press being there. When I have a situation where I can't buy a packet of fags without them saying I am on the drink, you can guarantee some of those lap-dancing girls would have been round me, taking pictures, and they're off talking to the press and before you know, it's a real mess.
How is the relationship with the family right now?
I've not seen them for a while.
You get very upset when the kids talk to the press about you.
It upsets me big time. I don't think they should talk to the press at all after what they've done to me - the hacking, the following and the lies. Then I heard Sheryl was down here, five minutes away, and she never came to see me. Bianca was down too and I heard about it from someone else.
What do they say when you say "don't speak to the press"?
I don't speak to them. But then not speaking means it is bad on me because I don't get to see the kids, and bad on them because they don't see their dad.
In the documentary Gary Lineker says he warned you to be careful when you came back from Italia '90. Did you realise what he meant?
Nah. I remember he said, "Gazza, be careful," and I said, "What do you mean? I've done nothing wrong. I've done well in the World Cup," and we get off the plane and there were all these people singing my name, and I started to realise something big had happened. Suddenly I am opening shops, people are sending us guitars and jewellery through the post, buying my dad cars. It was mental, and I'm thinking, "How do I handle this?" But do you know what f***s me off? I am getting followed more now than when I played football.
What do you think that is about?
They want to think I am like George Best.
What? They're on death watch?
Yeah, they did it to Lady Diana and they are doing it to me. I have drunk two years out of 18, but they're following me around waiting for the next time.
Did you enjoy the adulation as a player?
I loved the bit where I was giving money to my family. I was just happy playing football.
But were you conscious of being seen differently to other players?
Yes. I was at the Player Of The Year awards last year, and I am sitting there with ex-players who have four or five people around them asking for an autograph and I've got 50. I like that. What I don't like is all the lies. It drives me nuts. I have to get on the phone, tell everyone it's not true, and someone will say, "We'll see you when you're better" and I'm like, "I am f***ing better, it's lies."
Looking back at your whole life, when were you happiest?
Being on that green grass for 90 minutes. The only time I felt free was when I was on the pitch. Or in rehab. Then I feel free, and I feel safe, at least I will get breakfast for 28 days. When I am like this, happy and sober, and I've got my golf and my fishing, they can't touch me. I am happy when I don't have a drink.
Can you imagine a whole life without drink?
I can. I have had loads of years of being sober, if I add it up.
Of all the mental health issues - depression, bipolar, OCD, alcoholism, psychosis - what has been the worst?
The press make me depressed but I can get over it. I can speak to the Provvy [Providence Projects], speak to someone like you, speak to Terry [Baker, Gascoigne's agent], and I am over it. The worst was the psychosis through cocaine, ten years ago, when my sister got me sectioned. The paranoia was unbelievable. I was frightened to touch food. I was up in Gateshead with my dad and I'm going, "Dad, that bloke's fing looking at me," and he says, "You're Paul fing Gascoigne, course he's fing looking at you." I get home, I get to bed, and I've got a couple of packets of wine gums and I wake my dad up and I say, "The wine gums are fing looking at me," and he says, "Eat the bastards and get to bed," so I eat them and then I find another packet and I get him up again and I say, "Dad, there's another packet fing looking at me," and he went, "For f sake, eat the bastards and get to sleep." I thought my lighter was listening to us. I had a Rolex and I threw it out the window because I thought it was listening to us. I had six mobiles and I was sure they were all being tapped. Of course I was right about that one. But I was well gone.
What was the nearest to dying you have ever been?
Two-and-a-half years ago, I'd been on a bender and they got me to Cottonwood [rehab centre] in Arizona. I had the shakes for two days, not too bad, but the third day there was nothing they could do to stop the shakes. I was rushed to hospital, and I heard a doctor on the phone to Cottonwood and he said, "This guy is not going to make it, he will die," and I said, "Please don't let me die - I need to water the plants back home." [Laughs.] They were injecting my heart and my lungs to keep me alive.
Who was with you, family-wise?
Nobody. Cottonwood wouldn't let anyone in.
Was that the time the rumour went round that you were dead?
Yes.
Did you get a sense of how much you meant to people?
After three weeks I came round, I phoned a friend and said, "I'm ready to come home" and he said, "You're fing joking, you've been in hospital for 20 days." I had no idea. I rang my mam and she went, "Fing hell, Paul. At every football match they were putting up number eight Gascoigne shirts," and that is when it hit me how stupid I'd been and how much I meant to the fans. I don't mean to let fans down. I can promise everyone in this country I do not mean to drink and I am going to try really hard, really hard not to.
Have you always been very emotional?
Yeah, and I know when I am getting well, because I can have normal emotions. I was watching a film yesterday, about two Indian kids who went to play baseball and I cried because they made it. I do miss my family badly. I used to go up every three months and see them, but I've not been for five months. I miss my dad's dog Maggie the most, and going out for a run with her in the morning.
Do you think your parents would rather you had never been famous?
No, because I always wanted to be a top footballer and I said they would never have to work again and they haven't. What they want is for me to stop the blips. I don't mean to have them and I shouldn't. It's not nice when the press are outside our house every day. The police come round and say we will deal with it and that is all you need to hear.
At least they deal with it. Not like when you did "The Sash" [a Loyalist ballad] as a Rangers player and got IRA death threats?
That was scary. They went to see this guy and they came back and said yeah, he's serious about killing you. They gave us a thing to look under the car for bombs. They told me to watch out opening the mail, and I said to Jimmy ["Five Bellies" Gardner, long-time friend], "Do you fancy coming down and I'll pay you a hundred quid a week to open my mail?" That was when we were still speaking...
Have you fallen out?
Yeah, he did a story with the press. I wasn't happy. I don't speak to him any more.
I noticed when you were at Rangers, they had McEwan's lager as the shirt sponsor. Do you think alcohol has too big a grip on football?
Footballers get better wages because of it, and it won't stop them having a few drinks if you take that message off. I am just unfortunate because I am an alcoholic.
When was the last time you went to a match?
Can't remember. Ages.
Last time you watched on TV?
Chelsea-Leicester. Great match. If I watch a game and it's crap after 20 minutes I turn it off. I like the Discovery channels.
Which players remind you of you?
I know Wayne Rooney thinks the world of us, Steven Gerrard's been a great player, but I don't think they get near us. Frank Lampard, f***ing hell, if he had had my personality, he would have got the same treatment, but he keeps himself to himself, he's sensible. What a player though. More than a hundred goals from midfield. Amazing.
So it's your personality that took you to that different level?
Yeah, but I wouldn't be me without my personality. I lose my personality when I have a drink.
Who was the best you played with or against?
Bryan Robson, both. I called him "dogshit" because he was everywhere. When I first played for England he said to me, "Gazza, I am at the end of my career so let me do all the hard stuff, the tackles, the battles in the air, you just play great football."
You didn't listen did you?
[Laughs.] Yeah, 36 operations later. Maradona of course, he was unbelievable. I played against him when I was at Lazio, a friendly against Sevilla. I scored a great goal and then he scored a freekick and he winked at me because I think he knew we were both pissed. Then they asked us to do the press conference and he said, "No way, I can't speak," and I said, "I can't speak either," but they made me do it and I got fined £40,000 for being pissed.
Best manager you had?
Bobby Robson was great to me, a lovely guy. Terry Venables was a great coach. And Walter Smith was on a par with him. What he did at Glasgow Rangers was incredible. When I was leaving Lazio, [coach] Dino Zoff said Chelsea, Aston Villa and Rangers are in for you. I said I'll speak to Chelsea and Villa but I'm not signing for f***ing Queen's Park Rangers. He said, "It is Glasgow Rangers, not QPR.' I said, "Get them over."
Why were you so keen?
Because of the players they already had, but also the fans. Walter came over and he said, "Let me tell you about the club" and I said, "I'm signing," and he said, "Aye, but let me tell you about the club," and I said, "You don't need to, I am coming."
Best fans?
Hard to tell. Always had great fans. Even the away fans loved us. Lazio fans were brilliant. I scored that header against Roma in front of 105,000 people. I went back five years later for a holiday, they were still singing my name. I was getting pestered in town so I went to a little bar in a village in the countryside. There was just the owner in there and I asked for a beer. He says, "You're Paul Gascoigne," and I says, "No I'm not, gissa beer," and he looks at me and then at this picture of me on the wall, and then he goes out the back, and I'm saying I want my beer, and by the time I'd finished it there were 6,000 fans outside.
Who are your best mates in football?
Chris Waddle, Peter Beardsley. Kenny Wharton.
Do you still miss the banter of the training ground?
I do, yeah. Harry Redknapp was always asking us to go to QPR to train. José Mourinho offered for us to train with him too.
He says amazing things about you in the documentary.
I went to Everton-Chelsea a few years ago and he chased after me saying, "Gazza, Gazza, you are the special one," and I said, "No, José, you are the special one," and he goes, "No, no, no, Gazza, you are the special one," and I go, "José, I'm telling you, you are the special one," and he says, "No," and I says, "If you are on an advert with that fing big platinum credit card, I am telling you, you are the fing special one." [Laughs.] When he was at Inter Milan, he sorted me tickets and I went to the team hotel and said, "Paul Gascoigne, José Mourinho has left three tickets for me," and they said, "No, nothing under that name," and I was going mental, and then I said, "Hold on. Have a look and see if there is an envelope for 'the special one'." And sure enough, there was.
Would you have loved to play for him?
Oh yeah, he is phenomenal. He wins the [Premier] League for Chelsea, goes away, they haven't won the league for five years, he comes back, they win it. What he does in that dressing room, on that training ground, I would love to see it.
What was your best prank as a player?
The ostrich takes some beating. I went to the zoo and I said, "Can I borrow an ostrich?", and I put a Spurs shirt on it, stuck it in the car and took it to training. I waited for the players to start warming up. Terry Venables thought I hadn't turned up but I shouted, "Gaffer, got a new player for you." This f***ing ostrich was copying the players running side to side. Got me fit, mind. We finished training at 1pm, and I finally caught the ostrich at 5pm. Another good one - I had a .22 gun and when I was signing for Lazio, the club secretary was taking a pot of tea to the club president and I shot the teapot. Another time, at Tottenham, it was a boiling hot day, so I drove to training wearing just a tiny pair of swimming trunks. Some guy hooted the horn at me, so I waved, and then shit, I hit the car in front of me and this woman gets out and says, "Come and see the damage," and I says, "How much do you want love?" but she made me get out and look. So I'm wandering up and down in this skimpy pair of trunks.
Do you still get recognised everywhere?
Everywhere. I will stop for anyone. If I can make someone happy, I am happy. Also, being an alcoholic I try to do three good deeds every day. Give a bit of a cash to a tramp. I always buy the Big Issue. If I see someone struggling with the drink I might get them half a bottle of whisky.
Is that sensible? You wouldn't want people giving you drink would you?
I'm talking about when they're drunk or withdrawing maybe. There was a tramp I saw recently, he didn't know who I was, said he was just out of jail, I gave him a tenner, then got him a bit of drink and a sandwich, and then another tramp comes over and he gives the money, the booze and the sandwich to him! [Laughs.]
How do you feel seeing footballers a 100th as good as you earning a fortune?
Yeah, sometimes I can't handle that, a shit player on 80 grand a week. I was on good money but I gave a lot away.
How much money have you lost down the years?
Not as much as you think drinking. I can drink for free anywhere I go. It's what I have given away. Family. My divorce. Maybe £200,000 in rehab.
Are you OK financially now?
I've had times when I've struggled. The PFA [Professional Footballers' Association] have been great. Terry [Baker] gets me work and he helps me out. I'm OK for money, I'm not greedy. If I was greedy I would have three million in the bank. As long as I am sober I am happy. The Providence Projects is brilliant for me.
Is that why you live here?
No. I was done for drink driving and I had to get rehab as part of the sentence, and then stay in the area for a year, and I loved it. I was supposed to get my licence back, then I go to the DVLA and they say, "You've been drinking again," but it's the papers lying. Anyway, as long as I stay sober, I get work. I have got the documentary coming out, then the film, Gazza: British Raging Bull.
**Who do you want to play you? **
Sean Bean. He's from up north, and he is not a bad footballer. I wouldn't fancy being the actor who has to play me on the piss, mind.
**Now what about the time with Raoul Moat? [Gascoigne tried to meet the gunman during a police manhunt.] What was that all about? **
I was gone, man. I thought he was my mate. The taxi driver was the funniest. I get in the cab with some chicken, fish, fishing rod, fishing jacket, some bread and four cans, and when the driver sees a sign to Rothbury he says, "You're not going where I think you are, are you?" and I say, "Yeah". We get there and I says, "Just hold on, I'll be back in two minutes and I'll pay you then," so I get out and next thing the cab has screeched round and he's off. [Laughs.] So I say to the coppers, "Raoul is my mate and I can calm him down," and they say, "He's just blown someone's face off," and I say, "Yeah, but he's my mate. Give him the loaf of bread and the chicken and he'll be all right." I get home and I've got about 500 texts and I thought, "F***, what have I done?" and I turn on Sky News and oh my God! I phoned home and my mam said, "You mad f***ing bastard, what are you doing?" and I said, "I thought I knew him," and that's when I knew I had to get help.
When you look ahead, is it one day at a time, or do you have a sense of where life will be in ten, 20 years?
I just want to be happy really.
What about getting reconciled with the kids?
Yeah, I'll do that. They know I will. At the moment it's hard though, because of the stuff in the press.
Are you done with working in football?
Yes. When I was manager at Kettering, I was on the back pages more than Premier League managers. When I did my coaching badges, you have to watch games, and I'd go along and I couldn't watch the games because I'm getting mobbed.
But on balance, being Gazza has been OK for you?
Yeah, brilliant.
Do you think you would have had such a big alcohol problem regardless, even if you hadn't been a footballer?
No. I drank with my mates, and none of them are like me. I drank normally till I was 33. One day, I was at Middlesbrough at the time, I had a drink with the lads, went to bed at 11.30pm, fell asleep, woke at six, craving a drink, I went to the shop, got a drink, drank for a few hours, fell asleep again, woke up 8pm, craving a drink. I realised I had to do something. I went to rehab and they said, "You're an alcoholic," and I said, "No way am I an alcoholic."
When was the first time you admitted you were an alcoholic?
Around then, 33. Three years sober after that. Blip for a month or so. Always had these little blips. I don't like it when I drink. I didn't ask to be an alcoholic. I get on my knees morning and night and I pray for a sober day and I pray to get to sleep. I would not wish being an alcoholic on anyone. Well, people who give me stick for being an alcoholic, maybe I wish it on them, all the pain of being an alcoholic.
Did you find God through your rehab?
It's the 12-step programme. I like to think there is a god but it's a question of how many there are. People get down on their knees to different gods. I can have God as I want God to be. I am not upsetting anyone when I say the Lord's Prayer.
It helps you?
Yeah. Six months sober and then these stupid little blips. Why did you do that? I didn't need it. Would be nine months. But I have done well for the past week. And I keep smiling. When I lose my smile that is when I worry.
But you're OK now?
Yeah, I'm happy today, sober, I'll go home and watch a bit of telly, then down three bottles of gin and I'll see you later and we'll have to do a different interview. [Laughs.]
Gascoigne is available on DVD and Blu-Ray now.
