I didn’t watch Rio Ferdinand’s Being Mum and Dad documentary tonight. Not because I don’t like him, I do. Not because I don’t have immense sympathy for him following the death of his wife, I do. I didn’t watch it because I have been in a bad place recently and I wasn’t sure I could cope with the sadness. I’ve also been busy on social networks blocking people who have been critical of Ferdinand.
Rio Ferdinand, lest we forget, was a Manchester United and England footballer. He has more money than god and need never work again. He was happily married with three children. Now he is a widower with three children. There is absolutely no doubt whatsoever that he would give up everything, all that wealth and fame, just to have his wife back again. Yet some people criticise him.
I have seen him abused for being critical of the government’s cuts to benefits for widows and widowers. “How on earth could he possibly care about that? He’s a multimillionaire. He doesn’t need hand outs.” Well, no. He doesn’t need hand outs. That’s not what he is saying. And anyway, hand outs are what the Mail and Sun call vital benefits for the most needy in society. What Rio Ferdinand is saying is that he has empathy with people in his position. He has not forgotten where he came from. He believes that we should not condemn working class people who go through the agony that he has experienced to be left penniless. This does him more credit than anything else.
Can people not see what Ferdinand has been through? To most people’s eyes he had everything. A glittering career at one of the biggest clubs in the world, as well as playing for his country. Wealth. A beautiful wife and three beautiful children. What could possibly go wrong? Just say the words breast cancer.
Ferdinand has done us a great service by telling his story and I suspect he told his story for all the right reasons. He would not have done it for the money, that’s for sure, and I doubt that he did it for cathartic reasons. I can only make a speculative judgement but how about he did it to help others? I can think of no other possible explanation. And, from what I can tell, he opened his soul and allowed the TV cameras to capture his genuine emotions. This is nothing else but pure courage. Ferdinand has provided an enormous public service.
Not many men admit to crying, that’s for sure. I’m afraid I do, rather more than I’d like to, and I don’t care who knows it. I am old and getting older. If someone thinks bad of me, then that’s their problem, not mine. But famous people don’t cry. They don’t have emotions. They don’t say what’s happening in their lives. Famous people, especially footballers, speak in cliche, in standard form. Rio Ferdinand speaks like an ordinary bloke who has been visited by tragedy. Despite his fame and wealth, suddenly he is everyman. Money can buy the biggest house, the best car, the most luxurious holiday, but it rarely buys life. As a relative poor boy, as someone who never made it at anything, I feel desperately sad for him.
I didn’t watch Being Mum and Dad because, I suppose, I bottled it. I suspect it would have made my clinical depression worse. I was selfish but I was also protecting myself, just in case.
There are some very bad people out there, hurling abuse at Ferdinand just because he happens to be a very rich man, at least financially. They don’t understand just what he has done tonight, trying to change attitudes, to ensure that people in his position who do not have his wealth are not left behind. These people represent the ugly side of our country, but we are better than that.
And we are better than that because people like Rio Ferdinand up about their own desperate tragedies because it enables others to be more open about theirs. And because he refers to the benefits for those left behind it makes it harder for governments to introduce sly cuts which affect the bereaved.
I am not sure I could do what I didn’t see Ferdinand do tonight. I am sure I couldn’t respect him anymore.
