Why the sad retirement of Reading star Chris Armstrong shames the game's obsession with wealth and vanity

By Michael Calvin

Published 23:02 12/03/11

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If life was fair, and decent human beings received due reward, Chris Armstrong would be playing for a Wembley place today.

In those final, frantic ­seconds before Reading file out to meet Manchester City in the FA Cup quarter-final, his name will be invoked, his spirit will be ­summoned.

But he will be absent, ­surrounded by a young ­family who must deal with the reality of the ravages of multiple ­sclerosis.

At 28, Armstrong’s life has a new purpose, which shames football’s obsession with unfiltered emotion, ­undeserved wealth and ­unhealthy vanity.

The Reading defender ­retired suddenly last ­Monday, 16 months after being diagnosed with a condition that leaves his body in a state of civil war.

The fluctuations of his ­secret struggle left him ­hollow-eyed with tiredness. Signals passed from his brain to his body were blurred, ­indistinct.

He was on the subs’ bench as recently as the FA Cup fifth round win at Everton, but could no longer deal with the intensity of the physical ­demands placed upon him.

He said his farewells to his former team-mates at the training ground on Friday.

Dressing rooms are ­claustrophobic places, stages for casual cruelty and quiet compassion.

Insecurity is often the only thing that unites a disparate set of characters which, quiet often, splinters under ­competitive pressure.

Players are conditioned to the sudden, violent death of their dreams, the rash tackle, on a standing leg that can end a career.

They can deal with the ­tyranny of the team sheet, the lottery of ­personal opinion.

They have been survivors since primary school.

But something like this does not compute. It is too random, too savage, to take in.

Even his manager Brian ­McDermott struggles to deal with the emotion it arouses.

He’s a football man, ­accustomed to making ­life-changing decisions.

But when he talked of Armstrong, he was on the verge of tears. “There was shock, ­sadness, all the things you can ­imagine” he said. “It’s very, very sad. Chris can’t do day in, day out, what he wants to do.

“He doesn’t want sympathy. He’s a complete inspiration.

“It’s difficult to talk about because he’s such a good ­person. I’ve seen the process, what’s ­happened and what he’s gone through. We talked about what he needed to do and how he wanted to handle it.

“The only positive I could say to him was that he has had a ­fantastic career.

“There might be people out there with that horrible ­illness who can look to him for some type of help.”

Around 50 people will have been diagnosed with MS this week. The majority will be aged between 20 and 40.

On average, the condition shortens a man’s life by 11 years. The strain it induces ensures suicide is a ­“significant” cause of death

Armstrong is a private man, reluctant to play the role of victim. His reticence befits his background as one of ­football’s blue collar ­workers.

He progressed through Bury and Oldham before overcoming a career-­threatening knee injury at Sheffield United.

He refused the option of ­retirement and an insurance payout and fought on to earn a £500,000 move to ­Reading.

He was their player of the year in 2008-09, earning 80 per cent of the votes.

Football uses the language of the battlefield to ­articulate the emotions of a simple game.

Players talk about courage, pride in the shirt, and the sanctity of the group.

But the behaviour of so many ensures such sentiments are meaningless.

They overlook the ­privilege of being a pro, the simple pleasures now denied to Armstrong

He’ll miss the banter of the dressing room, the soundtrack to every player’s life.

Football has consumed him, defined him – until today.

Think of him when the first whistle blows at ­Eastlands.

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