Troy Deeney: Being a footballer around Christmas might be the most depressing time of your life – it’s torture

BEING a pro footballer around Christmas might be the most depressing time of your life.

I’m not asking for huge amounts of sympathy.

We are very privileged people who get paid extremely well, so I don’t expect the tiny violins to be coming out.

But it is not an easy time. Your whole family is buzzing — the Pringles are out, the wine, the beers.

So many things that you would normally enjoy but just know you cannot do it.

I remember as a footballer having Christmas dinner and knowing we were playing a game the next day.

I would have to ask for a third of what I would normally stuff on my plate.

Now I am retired — my first Christmas away from the game for nearly 20 years — I asked my family to give me a third more than I can even stomach.

I was so excited and loved it.

But as a professional player, you would be counting how many potatoes you have eaten.

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Then the club nutritionists would be on to you.

I used to have to jump in the gym straight after my turkey dinner.

Usually, if we had an away game on Boxing Day, we would have to train in the late afternoon or early evening on Christmas Day — and then it was straight to wherever the hotel was.

I’d get up in the morning on Christmas Day, do stuff with the kids, have a light breakfast, probably run a 5k on the treadmill, then the family came over to have dinner but you are always watching the time.

Let’s say we had dinner at 1:30pm.

I would then get on the scales at 2:45pm and I am two kilos over. So, I have to jump in the sauna for 20 minutes.

Then it is in the car, down to training, weigh yourself again and into a hotel with 20 other lads who also don’t want to be there.

You’re looking on your social media and everyone is posting videos of themselves enjoying some drinks, opening presents, spending time with their kids. It really hits you.

By the time Boxing Day comes around, everyone is in the mindset of, ‘Thank God that’s over’.

I always tried to have a bigger dinner that day to make up for what I missed.

For me and my family, our Christmas Day would be on the 27th, so you could enjoy yourself and have a few days resting before the New Year games.

As players, we were generally well behaved during those periods.

Sometimes at Watford, depending on the manager we had, we would have to come in for training at 8am on Christmas Day, so everyone would be home by midday.

Get in, get out.

There used to be a rule whereby you then did not have to report until Boxing Day morning.

But that was stopped after a few players would turn up with red eyes after staying out until 2am.

Those Christmas Day morning sessions were the worst, because my kids would wake up all excited wanting to open their presents and I would have to say: “No, wait until dad gets home!”

It’s torture.

And even when I got home, I would have to eat, shower, have a little nap and then drive back to the hotel for 7pm.

When I first met my wife, she thought I would only train a couple of times a week and then play on a Saturday.

She then got the biggest shock of her life. My life was so regimented, even at Christmas.

Look, it’s part of the gig. You’re paid to put up with it but it was a mental strain at times, especially with kids and those who were really family-orientated.