Why I walked out on my wife and kids
I married my first wife, Pat, at 17 while I was at Birmingham. She gave me two great lads, Mark and Paul, but we always struggled with money.
I have to admit that I was not great with money; I had trouble keeping it in my pocket, especially when I was gambling.
I had money problems at Birmingham, that's for sure.
In 1973-74 I went away with Birmingham pre-season and never went back to Pat in our semi in Tamworth. It wasn't Pat's fault, it was mine.
At the end of the day I took the coward's way out. Yes, I was young, but I should have known better. It's not something I'm proud of and I felt very sorry for deserting the lads, who were only four and two.
I would take them out in the car for the day but there would be tears all round when it was time to take them back.
I could see their faces pressed against the window and I would sit in the car crying my eyes out. It was hell.
It was tearing me apart. I was numb. You could have run me through with a knife and I wouldn't have felt anything, so I decided it was best not to see them.
I convinced myself it was for the best; that I had to be cruel to be kind. I was ashamed of myself and I missed out on seeing my two boys grow up – although they didn't do too badly without me.
They've given me three granddaughters but I don't see them as much as I should do.
My second wife was Louise, who I met when I was asked to open a sports shop in Tamworth.
She came with me when I moved to Forest. We had two lovely daughters, Emma and Laura. Unlike Pat, she had all the good times – and the money. I got together with wife No.3, Kath, on the rebound after Louise left me. Kath came to work for me in my pub and we'd sit and have a drink.
One night a couple of drinks led to a couple of kisses and then a cuddle and one thing led to another.
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