I can't blame any of my bad stuff o

I can't blame any of my bad stuff on other people. My mum and dad went back to Jamaica when I was 17 and suddenly I was in the big wide world with nothing. So I went and lived with my sister in Croydon. She'd just had a child and neither of us had much money; the easiest way for me to survive was through crime.
I'd started playing football when I was three years old; my parents encouraged me but, because there were eight of us, they worked hard and their time was limited. Although I was always involved with local teams around Battersea, I never attracted the interest of a professional club.

Just after my parents left this country, I was arrested for the first time. A friend and I were caught driving a car stolen. From here, I went steadily downhill and, when I was 19, I was sent to prison for theft, assault and numerous robberies.

I went to Eltham young offenders institute. Although I was scared, many of my friends were there. That made it easier. I went to the gym every day, I worked out in my cell, I did some courses, and I played football constantly because I still believed I could make it.

I spent a year there. Did I think about what I'd done? Being honest, most of my crimes were against people like myself - never against women or old people - and so I thought they deserved what they got.

I was released a month before my 21st birthday and, just six weeks later, I was back in trouble. This was with a guy I'd had problems with over the years; he was having a go at a friend of mine so I beat him up, then robbed him.

He didn't go to the police immediately. Instead, he went around telling everyone he was going to kill me. I waited for him one day and said: 'I heard you were after me?' He turned and ran off and that was when he got the police involved.

What happened next was startling. The friend, whom I'd stuck up for, did a deal with the police: he agreed to give evidence against me in return for being let off. I went on the run for six weeks, hiding out at my sister's. It wasn't fair on her and when you're in hiding the only way of earning is to commit more crime. Also, I still wanted to make it as a footballer.

The first time I'd gone to prison my parents did not find out but while I was on remand, my mother came over from Jamaica. She visited me and said, 'Son, why are you doing this to me?' She began to cry, which made me cry as well - the only time I cried through all of this.

At the trial, my so-called best friend stood in the dock and spoke against me. I got four years for robbery with violence, and was sent to the Isle of Wight.

There, unlike in young offenders' institutions, men are not trying to prove themselves, even if I did have one problem early on. I put my name down to use the telephone and this bloke rubbed it off. When I asked him why, he said, 'Don't give it or I'll do you.' I said, 'You know what, let's go to the table tennis room and sort it out.' I beat him up - I had no more trouble after that.

Even at this stage, I knew I could make it as a footballer. Then something happened that convinced me it was meant to be. On Boxing Day 1993, I played for the prison against a semi-professional team, Cowes Sports. I scored two goals and then their manager asked the prisoner governor if I could play for them.

I took it from there. For the first month or so I played against teams on the island and became a bit of a local celebrity. I continued playing well and professional clubs started to watch me. This was my big opportunity, but I was never nervous. Nervous, for me, is standing in a courtroom waiting to be sentenced.

I was released in 1993 after 26 months inside. Ninety days later I went up to Sunderland for a trial and managed to do well enough for Terry Butcher [then Sunderland's manager] to offer me a one-year contract. It was difficult to take in. I signed on the Friday and on the Sunday appeared as a substitute in an away game at Middlesbrough. They played 'Jailhouse Rock' on the PA as I warmed up, which made me laugh. To come on as a substitue, to have the chance actually to play professionally, was an amazing experience.

The following Tuesday, in front of 18,000 at Roker Park, I played from the start. I was shaky at first but soon settled down; when I came off, I received a standing ovation.

It was unbelievable. I'd gone from one extreme to another. Now, 10 years later, I've appeared in more than 250 matches, won the Littlewoods Cup with Leicester, and have 13 caps for Jamaica. If it were not for prison, I would never have made it as a professional footballer.

When I am finished, I'd like to work in the community with young people. I'd like to use my experience to show them that, if you get into trouble as a young person, your life is not necessarily over. You can always fight back and make something of your life.

Kết quả (Việt) 1:

Tôi không thể đổ lỗi cho bất kỳ công cụ xấu của tôi vào người khác. Mẹ và cha của tôi đã đi trở lại Jamaica khi tôi đã 17 và đột nhiên tôi đã trong thế giới rộng lớn với không có gì. Vì vậy, tôi đã đi và sống với chị em tôi ở Croydon. Cô sẽ chỉ có một đứa trẻ và không phải của chúng tôi có nhiều tiền; cách dễ nhất để tôi tồn tại đã thông qua tội phạm.Tôi đã bắt đầu chơi bóng đá khi tôi đã là ba tuổi; cha mẹ tôi khuyến khích tôi nhưng, bởi vì có tám của chúng tôi, họ làm việc chăm chỉ và thời gian của họ đã được hạn chế. Mặc dù tôi đã luôn luôn tham gia vào đội địa phương xung quanh thành phố Battersea, tôi không bao giờ thu hút sự quan tâm của một câu lạc bộ chuyên nghiệp.Chỉ sau khi cha mẹ tôi rời khỏi đất nước này, tôi đã bị bắt cho lần đầu tiên. Một người bạn và tôi đã bị bắt lái xe một chiếc xe hơi bị đánh cắp. Từ đây, tôi đã đi xuống dốc dần và khi tôi đã 19, tôi được gửi đến nhà tù cho hành vi trộm cắp, tấn công và nhiều vụ cướp.Tôi đã đi đến Eltham người phạm tội trẻ viện. Mặc dù tôi đã sợ hãi, nhiều người trong số bạn bè của tôi đã có. Điều đó làm cho nó dễ dàng hơn. Tôi đã đi đến phòng tập thể dục mỗi ngày, tôi đã làm việc ra trong tế bào của tôi, tôi đã làm một số khóa học, và tôi chơi bóng đá liên tục bởi vì tôi vẫn tin rằng tôi có thể làm cho nó.Tôi đã dành một năm có. Tôi đã suy nghĩ về những gì tôi đã làm? Được trung thực, hầu hết các tội phạm của tôi đã chống lại những người như bản thân mình - không bao giờ đối với phụ nữ hoặc người già - và vì vậy tôi nghĩ rằng họ xứng đáng những gì họ có.Tôi đã được phát hành một tháng trước khi sinh nhật 21 của tôi, và chỉ cần sáu tuần sau đó, tôi đã trở lại trong sự cố. Điều này là với một người đàn ông tôi đã có vấn đề với trong những năm qua; ông đã có một đi lúc một người bạn của tôi vì vậy tôi đánh bại anh ta lên, sau đó cướp anh ta.He didn't go to the police immediately. Instead, he went around telling everyone he was going to kill me. I waited for him one day and said: 'I heard you were after me?' He turned and ran off and that was when he got the police involved.What happened next was startling. The friend, whom I'd stuck up for, did a deal with the police: he agreed to give evidence against me in return for being let off. I went on the run for six weeks, hiding out at my sister's. It wasn't fair on her and when you're in hiding the only way of earning is to commit more crime. Also, I still wanted to make it as a footballer.The first time I'd gone to prison my parents did not find out but while I was on remand, my mother came over from Jamaica. She visited me and said, 'Son, why are you doing this to me?' She began to cry, which made me cry as well - the only time I cried through all of this.At the trial, my so-called best friend stood in the dock and spoke against me. I got four years for robbery with violence, and was sent to the Isle of Wight.There, unlike in young offenders' institutions, men are not trying to prove themselves, even if I did have one problem early on. I put my name down to use the telephone and this bloke rubbed it off. When I asked him why, he said, 'Don't give it or I'll do you.' I said, 'You know what, let's go to the table tennis room and sort it out.' I beat him up - I had no more trouble after that.Even at this stage, I knew I could make it as a footballer. Then something happened that convinced me it was meant to be. On Boxing Day 1993, I played for the prison against a semi-professional team, Cowes Sports. I scored two goals and then their manager asked the prisoner governor if I could play for them.I took it from there. For the first month or so I played against teams on the island and became a bit of a local celebrity. I continued playing well and professional clubs started to watch me. This was my big opportunity, but I was never nervous. Nervous, for me, is standing in a courtroom waiting to be sentenced.I was released in 1993 after 26 months inside. Ninety days later I went up to Sunderland for a trial and managed to do well enough for Terry Butcher [then Sunderland's manager] to offer me a one-year contract. It was difficult to take in. I signed on the Friday and on the Sunday appeared as a substitute in an away game at Middlesbrough. They played 'Jailhouse Rock' on the PA as I warmed up, which made me laugh. To come on as a substitue, to have the chance actually to play professionally, was an amazing experience.The following Tuesday, in front of 18,000 at Roker Park, I played from the start. I was shaky at first but soon settled down; when I came off, I received a standing ovation.It was unbelievable. I'd gone from one extreme to another. Now, 10 years later, I've appeared in more than 250 matches, won the Littlewoods Cup with Leicester, and have 13 caps for Jamaica. If it were not for prison, I would never have made it as a professional footballer.
When I am finished, I'd like to work in the community with young people. I'd like to use my experience to show them that, if you get into trouble as a young person, your life is not necessarily over. You can always fight back and make something of your life.