About a Boy

Welcome to Planet Beckham. A fairy tale world out of Disney with more ups and downs than a Disneyland rollercoaster. It makes a compelling story but, unfortunately, on this evidence Beckham is not the best person to tell it. Beckham is a celebrity, and one with more real achievements than most of today’s 15-minute breed; he’s been there, done that, signed the autograph too. But the greatest irony in the Life of Beckham is that he’s a celebrity in spite of himself.

And it’s that trademark inhibition which prevents the subject from revealing too much. It’s almost as if Beckham is overawed by his own achievements, much as any of his young fans are. So this is a safe, occasionally revelatory plod through Bubble Beckham, as he calls his world. True to its title, the book comes across as his explanation of every incident he’s been criticised for, every time he’s made headlines for the wrong reason. But his defence fall into two categories: his love of football and his love of his family.

There is lots on life at Manchester United — too much, perhaps, for a lay reader — and, cloyingly, on life with Victoria and his children. There are glimpses of the relationship he shared with his Svengali Alex Ferguson — who treated the player as a son before, apparently fed up with his celebrity and the influence of Victoria, getting rid of him.

But no mention of thongs, or Goldenballs, or indeed what he feels about his wife — dubbed ‘Yoko’ by United fans — telling the world about their private life. And little on being Metrosexual (a word probably created for him). Not enough, indeed, on how he managed to balance two completely different worlds at no apparent cost (whatever Ferguson felt) to either.

There are, though, a couple of tales that offer a fascinating insight into his life and personality. One is an incident where the Beckhams and a close friend dine at a posh London restaurant; at another table, they realise, is Michael Jordan. Beckham — whose Real Madrid jersey number, 23, is what Jordan used to wear — and friend then wonder whether they should go up and ask for his autograph. ‘‘They don’t allow that here,’’ the friend says, a moment of great irony and one that reveals Beckham for what he is. Eventually Jordan comes over and Beckham’s day is made.

The other is, of course, the sheer hell he went through after that sending-off in the 1998 World Cup. Much of it is known but there is one frightening incident of a man throwing a brick through his window at midnight and just standing outside in the dark, not saying anything.

But there’s little else that you haven’t already read about. Perhaps this book should have been a biography, that could explain the impact Beckham has made on sport, fashion, youth and celebrity, putting the sportsman in social context. But the cash registers have been ringing non-stop. Beckham has taken the shot, and he’s scored again.