From The Times:
Less than half a mile from the stadium where he was adored by supporters of Manchester United, Norman Whiteside would shuffle into North Trafford College with his physics homework. The rest of the class was made up of pimply teenagers. He was a grown man who had played in two World Cups and scored in an FA Cup Final, but he still had to recite Archimedes' principle.
Going back to school to take his GCSEs was, Whiteside says, the most frightening thing he has done; more terrifying even than facing a crimson Sir Alex Ferguson after yet another bender.
But he did it, which is one of the reasons why his forthcoming autobiography is called Determined rather than "Always Look on the Whiteside" or "Belfast Boy". "I chose Determined because I've always been like that, whether it's becoming a footballer or going back to school," he said. "I decided not to swear when I was 11 and I haven't since. I'm like that when I set my mind to something."
From sharing a bed with two brothers in a terrace house off the Shankill Road in Belfast, Whiteside's single-mindedness brought him 272 appearances for Manchester United and 38 for Northern Ireland before a battered knee cut his career brutally short at 26. He likes to look back with a laugh rather than regrets and he likes to do so with a drink in his hand. His determination on the day we meet is to break records for Rioja consumption.
The longest of lunches follows an unexpected reunion with Paul McGrath, his former United teammate. Great friends, their stories have been entwined in the public mind since Ferguson turfed them out of Old Trafford in a 24-hour purge of the unruly drinkers. As he summons another bottle of red, Whiteside, now a jowly and jolly 42, is not about to deny that he likes either the taste or the warming glow of alcohol, but he is adamant that injury rather than booze brought about his premature exit from Old Trafford. As his first manager, "Big" Ron Atkinson, might have said, Whiteside can drink for fun. McGrath would drink to oblivion.
"Paul might have a different answer, but I always felt in control," Whiteside said. "If you're 18, 19, playing for the best club in the world, getting reasonably well paid, you are entitled to go and have a few beers. I never thought it was harming my football.
"I have admitted my part of it [the drinking culture], but Bryan Robson could and would drink more than me. But he was the best player in the country and he didn't have a dodgy knee."
Whiteside had a serious operation even before his record-breaking appearance for Northern Ireland in the 1982 World Cup finals. At 17 years and 41 days, he was nearly six months younger than Pelé had been in 1958. Sharing a plane with the great Brazilian one day, Whiteside took childish delight in mouthing "only the second-youngest" behind Pelé's back for the entire journey.
He had played only 102 minutes for United before his World Cup debut, making Sven-Göran Eriksson's choice of Theo Walcott at last year's World Cup finals seem almost conservative. But while he was youthful in age, the Shankill Skinhead might have been born with stubble.
What relevance has Whiteside's story today? Well, plenty for the United supporters who roared him out at Wembley in May, when he joined a parade of renowned FA Cup finalists. There would be collective embarrassment on the Stretford End when reminded that only 7,434 turned up for his testimonial in May 1992. The fans did not have the stomach for another match after narrowly missing out on the title to Leeds United, but that was no consolation for Whiteside, who could have done with the money.
Just as football's drinking culture has changed in time to spare Wayne Rooney from guzzling in Cheshire pubs, so salaries spiralled only after Whiteside's retirement in 1991, in the wake of two injury-ravaged years with Everton.
He needed a job and having spent so much time in the physiotherapist's room, he decided to become a podiatrist. He spent five years gathering the qualifications and was taken on by the Professional Footballers' Association before, shortsightedly, the funding was cut.
He still has a room in a clinic in central Manchester, but examining people's feet is a part-time job along with summer coaching courses, after-dinner speaking and match-day hospitality at Old Trafford.
"But I'm glad I did it," he said. "It wasn't easy going back to school. You've got kids gawping at me, but I'm head down, leave me alone. Eventually the teacher got me up the front of the class to talk about playing for Man United. And I could see some of these teenagers thinking, 'Did he really play in the Cup Final?' "
He did and, what's more, he can still recite Archimedes' principle, even after a couple of bottles of wine.