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MAIL ON SUNDAY
Final Whistle
by James Beattie
30-05-04
Beatts ponders life after death with head bowed
SOUTHAMPTON striker James Beattie is looking forward to a dog's life after he's substituted for the final time.
My parents were born Roman Catholic, so you could say that I come from a fairly religious background. I remember that we used to say grace at primary school, and every now and again the headmaster would pick out one child at assembly to say it in front of the whole school. I read it a couple of times without making a single mistake.
I don't know what my religious beliefs are now. I'm a bit confused about the whole thing. I admire the Christian values of the Bible, but when it comes to how the world in which we live in was created and where we originate from, I've no idea. I think the Ten Commandments and the moral outlines in the Bible are good rules to live by. Everybody seems to be happy enough with them.
The closest I've ever felt to a sense of spirituality was when I had a scary, paranormal experience four years ago. I was lying in bed awake in my flat when I heard a faint scratching sound on the door. Someone was whispering, "James, James." I tried to get up, but I couldn't move my head or arms. I was completely paralysed. Then, suddenly I regained the use of my limbs, got up and ran to the door, but there was no one there. It freaked me out. I never told anyone about it.
There's only one instance in which I'd choose cremation over burial, and that's if I were to spend the rest of my career playing for Southampton. If that happens then I'd like my ashes to be scattered over the pitch, so that future players would grind my remains into the turf. I quite like that idea. Otherwise, I'd prefer to be buried. I'm not squeamish about my body lying in the ground; I wouldn't mind being eaten by maggots. And, given the choice, I'd like to be buried in St Francis Church in Lancaster, close to Blackburn, where I'm from.
When I was younger, I used to think that people should wear black at funerals out of respect, but now I've changed my mind because I like the idea of people celebrating my life rather than mourning my death. Maybe everyone should wear bright colours, although I still feel there should be some sadness involved. It would feel rather weird to look down and see everyone rejoicing my passing, although funerals should be occasions of mixed emotions. I'd be happy to have fans as well as friends and family to see me off.
A close friend of mine died in a car accident a few years ago. He was just 24. At his funeral, his brother arranged for his favourite song - Puff Daddy and Faith Evan's I'll Be Missing You - to be played. That tune really struck a chord.
I had a bad car crash myself two years ago. People talk about you life flashing before your eyes when you think you're going to die, but nothing like that happened to me; I didn't see a thing. I just remember taking my feet off the pedals because I'd heard that's what you should do. When I got out of the car, I was so scared I couldn't walk. Thank God I was all right. It had a profound effect on me and I've changed the way I think about a lot of things. I'm a lot more careful now.
I'd like my mum and dad to talk at my funeral, because they know me best. Afterwards, maybe my friend, footballer Garry Monk, could say a few words -even if they were just, "What an idiot." I hope he'd say that I was a good mate and a good player.
I'd like Rudyard Kipling's If to be read out, because I loved it in the film Mike Basset: England Manager. 'If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue/Or walk with kings, nor lose the common touch/If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you/If all men count with you, but none too much/If you can fill the unforgiving minute/With sixty seconds' worth of distance run/Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it/And which is more "you'll be a Man, my son!"' Those are memorable words.
I'd like there to be a big party at my house afterwards, and perhaps U2 could play in my front room. My mum can make a big Sunday roast for everyone and there will be lots of Remy Martin Louis XIII brandy. Everyone should get steaming drunk and dance a lot.
I'd like to die in my sleep, having had the chance to say goodbye to family and friends. I don't know if I'll go to heaven, but I imagine it to be like the Grand Canyon: huge, bottomless and beautiful. Hell would be like Fratton Park, where Southampton's local rivals, Portsmouth, play.
It's important to me that I die happy and with no regrets. I don't believe in reincarnation, but if I were to come back, I'd like it to be as a dog because they don't have to do anything but lie there, eat food and go for the odd walk.
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