1. Why I hate Chris Martin (no, not that one)

A thread.

2. This one.

3. It was Sunday 26th March 2017, and the culmination of the 4th round of fixtures in the UEFA qualifying campaign for the 2018 World Cup.

4. As was common, I had put a large accumulator on the weekends fixtures, which started the day before. £20 on a 450/1, 12 way bet that stood as much chance as any as I’d placed before. Almost none.

5. The Friday fixtures came and went with some short-priced winners, but also with the first draw on my coupon - any acca’s golden bullet - coming in, with Ireland and Wales dulling a 0-0 stalemate. Decent start, but still 7 legs to go.

6. Saturday’s fixtures play out, and include several draws - 2 of which I had in my acca, including Greece surprisingly holding Belgium to a 1-1 draw. Suddenly, improbably, my acca was looking possible.

7. England and Germany completed some routs, and suddenly I’m looking at the prospect of Scotland beating Slovenia - at Hampden Park - to win £9,000.

8. At this point betfair offered me £2,200 to cash out and run. That wasn’t in my make up, and was out of the question given this was the closest I had ever come to winning an acca of this size.

9. The match started, and by the 5th minute I was pacing my lounge quicker than Scotland’s manager Gordon Strachan was pacing his dugout.

10. A poor game in desperate conditions was petering out, and I was turning the air bluer like a Glaswegian on derby day. I had given up, feeling nauseous that I’d turned down betfair’s 2k hush money.

11. Then, in the 82nd minute, Strachan subbed on Chris Martin - an out of form striker whose form at the time was so bad, the Scottish fans booed his entry. He was no-one’s saviour.

12. In the 88th minute, Martin scores from 12 yards, Hampden Park erupts, and I sit blinking manically at the the TV. My nausea of regret is now nauseating panic.

13. It’s the 90th minute and betfair are offering me 6 of the 9k waiting for me in 3 minutes. I’m on the phone to my brother who is urging me to cash out. I hover over and suddenly Slovenia go on the attack.

14. Betfair suspend the cash out, and I can only wait. 60 seconds feels like 60 hours, but the final whistle goes and I’ve just won £9,054 from a £20 acca. By far the most I’ve ever won in 12 years of betting.

15. I decide not to withdraw it, and go to bed not with my heart racing, but a strange numbness. It was dismissed almost immediately, and like any other night I went to bed dreaming of a big win. I had just won 9k, and am now dreaming how the 9 could become 90.

16. I can’t sleep and decide to put £500 on the Asian qualifiers happening the next morning; a small four way acca of favourites - Japan, South Korea etc.

17. By 10am the next morning I win another £3,000, and now have over 12,000 of the Queen’s pounds in my betfair account.

18. I tell no one other than my brother. Work colleagues, partner, family - all unaware. Why would I tell them of my wins when I didn’t my losses?

19. I withdraw £10,000 and keep £2k playing money. Two thousand pounds, playing money. The 9k had done its damage, and I’m now completely removed from financial reality.

20. Inevitably, the 2k is lost quicker than it took for Chris Martin to win me 9k.

21. Winning 9k should have meant I ‘completed the game’. I’d never won that in 12 years, and was unlikely to again. What it meant was that my staking was never the same again.

22. Winning £12,000 in 24 hours skewed my already warped thinking. No bet was now enough unless it returned 5 figures. It wasn’t worth bothering with.

23. As I quickly realised the 450/1 shots were likely going to take another 12 years to hit, my stakes grew as the odds shrank.

24. It was quickly commonplace, whether on my lunch break at work, or sat in my car at a red light, to be staking three figures on outlandish bets. The buzz was now simply seeing the potential returns.

25. Over the next 3 years I would lose nearly £100,000 in a relentless chase for a moment. My urge to bet was greater than my urge to win. 12k should’ve been the full time whistle, but it was the starting pistol.

26. Now 3 years later, in recovery and without a bet in nearly 2 months, I still can’t listen to a Coldplay song without thinking about that game.

I never liked them anyway.

End of thread.

Please RT the above thread of lived experience to raise awareness of gambling addiction;
@PaulMerse @andros_townsend @WayneRooney @StanCollymore @NevilleSouthall @KeithGillespie7 @JohnHartson10 @JeffStelling @RuthDavidsonMSP @Eidur22Official @MichaelChopra @KennySansom03