When I retired in 2013, people started asking me to make a documentary about my life and career.
At that time, I wasn’t ready to look back. I’ve always been someone who moved from one project to the next and I still had more to achieve. My parents instilled this work ethic in me as a child. It wasn’t until we got close to the 10-year anniversary of my retirement that I felt it was the right time to embark on this journey. It was a big decision and one I didn’t take lightly. I wanted to create something for my family to look back on that brought everything we experienced together in one place.
The moment I met director Fisher Stevens, I knew he was the right person to tell my story. He didn’t just want to talk about football or being married to a Spice Girl — he came with a different perspective and looked at my life through a wider lens. I could tell from our early conversations that he wanted to delve beneath the surface and understand me on a deeper, human level.
In all honesty, there were times when Fisher’s raw approach made me feel uncomfortable and a little bit nervous. But I knew that embracing this discomfort was a necessary part of the process. I told him that I only wanted to do this once, and I wanted to do it properly.
I must admit I wasn’t fully prepared for the depth of commitment and emotional energy this process would require. It was challenging and at times, hard. I spent over 50 hours with Fisher, and every time I saw a session with him in my diary, I would try and come up with ways to get out of it! After each interview I found myself needing time alone to decompress. Reflecting on both the highs and lows of my life and career was — at times — mentally and emotionally draining.
I realized that I had pushed so many of these feelings and emotions aside for years. I had always been taught to hold everything in and put on a brave face. This was the first time I had truly confronted some pretty monumental moments in my life, and it was therapeutic.
I grew up and became well-known at a time when mental health was rarely discussed. Looking back on the media scrutiny Victoria and I endured as a family and our experiences following the 1998 World Cup — when I faced immense vitriol across England after my sending-off against Argentina — one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is just how important it is that we take care of our mental health.
Two decades ago, questions like “Are you okay?” or “How do you feel?” were rarely asked. Thankfully, today we have the opportunity to openly talk about these issues, which should never be taken for granted. I hope anyone struggling today knows that they don’t have to carry the pressure alone.
I’m not quite sure how we got through those difficult times. I made a mistake in the 1998 World Cup, and I spent the next four years being shunned in my own country and received abuse at every game. Obviously I am human and you take things personally, but I felt the most guilt for the pain it caused my family.
I wouldn’t say that making this documentary gave me closure because I still feel pain from those moments. But it did allow me to forgive myself and let go of some of that guilt. After the premiere, my mum pulled me aside and reassured me, “You don’t need to feel bad anymore.” Those words make me feel emotional to this day.
It’s been almost a year since Beckham was released, and the response has exceeded my expectations — whether it’s people that I have known for a really long time coming up to me to say that they had no idea what I had been through, or hearing from people of how nostalgic it made them for the ’90s and their own memories.
I wouldn’t have been able to make this series ten or even 5 years ago. I needed time and distance from my career to properly reconcile with my story and process everything I have been through. In hindsight I realize that a big part of moving forward is to look back and reflect. I am incredibly proud of what we created.
Source: Hollywoodreporter
