For all footballers out there lying about their past glories: the taxman cometh | Soccer

Those of you who follow my content with even the faintest interest will know I have been squeezing every last drop out of perhaps five anecdotes for more than two decades.

So with no apology, presuming that Stockholm syndrome has set in and you have been trained to enjoy their retelling, here is the day I almost won a header against Jaap Stam.

Old Trafford, 2 May 2010. The game is United Relief, a team of former Manchester United legends and celebrity fans against a team of former pros and other famous faces. Clearly the latter squad was light on the “celebrity†so I packed my Puma Kings to sit on the bench in the hope Paddy McGuinness might get a calf strain.

It was a Saturday in the Soccer AM glory years, so I arrived at half-time. I donâ€t have all my stats: duels won, high presses, xG and the like. But two assists (for Ralf Little and the late great Ugo Ehiogu) and scoring a penalty in a victorious shootout made it a good day.

At 2-0 United put their first-choice centre-backs back on: Jaap Stam and Ronny Johnsen. I didnâ€t get a kick. I can still hear Jaap yelling: “Ronny, Ronny, here†behind me.

Dave Beasant was, unlike Dave Beasant, playing everything short, but I just wanted one chance to win a flick-on against the Dutch giant. Finally Beasant pinged a goal-kick in my direction. I read the flight of the ball. My whole career as a big No 9 has hinged on being good in the air. I timed my jump, I soared like Michael Jordan. The ball whistled towards me. I felt a presence behind me, but I was in total control – I was going to win a header against Jaap Stam. I was going to tell this story again. And again. The ball descended towards my then salt-and-pepper grade four all over, I was ready to cushion this for the on-running Dean Holdsworth/Alan Thompson/Lee Mack. Suddenly my head was in the turf, and Jaap had headed the ball about 200 yards the other way. My one shot at glory was over.

But more importantly – is my retelling of this story even true? At the back of my mind is a niggling doubt. Despite recounting the time Jaap Stam beat me to a header so many times I can see the action play out in my mind, is it possible that it was actually Clayton Blackmore that won that header? With all due respect to Clayton, losing a header to someone 5ft 9in whoâ€s 15 years older than me isnâ€t an anecdote at all. Jaap Stam is Jaap Stam: 6ft 3in and only 37 at the time. I donâ€t think Iâ€ve misremembered. But 1% of me isnâ€t sure.

Jaap Stam: just imagine saying you won a header against him. Photograph: Tom Jenkins/The Guardian

I have lied before. When I was four, I told my best friend, Nick Harding, that I had an underground base and that a monkey lived next door. Nick was quite gullible – in the proceeding 42 years he has wised up to this kind of thing, and I am steadfastly more honest.

Former professional footballers are living in fear of having their lies picked apart by the HMRC of Football podcasts, of which Karel Prince is the self-appointed chief. Prince takes the war stories of former players and factchecks them. It is the best social media content Iâ€ve seen for a while: funny, engaging and charmingly revealing.

In one example he finds the former Newcastle midfielder Lee Clark on a live Kilmarnock fan podcast talking about the best player heâ€s played against. “I was lucky enough to play in big games in the Champions League and stuff like that … Zinedine Zidane when we played Juventus in the Champions League wasnâ€t bad either … Iâ€ll just put that one up there.â€

Prince goes to work: turns out poor Lee has never played in the Champions League, and when Newcastle played Juventus in 2002, he was at Fulham, and Zidane was at Real Madrid. If you canâ€t stretch the truth talking to a few hundred Kilmarnock fans, then nowhere is safe.

In another Prince picks out a tweet from Gary Taylor-Fletcher, who noted that he “tore Nemanja Vidic apart†in two games for Blackpool in the Premier League in 2010-11. Who possibly can be bothered to go back and watch both games between Manchester United and the Tangerines from 15 years ago? Well Karel Prince can. He finds one moment where Taylor-Fletcher gets the better of Vidic on the touchline and puts in a cross that comes to nothing. And thatâ€s it.

Princeâ€s great skill is that he manages to expose such embellishments in such an affable way that they donâ€t feel like gotcha moments, even if thatâ€s exactly what they are.

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As a broadcaster I believe in total honesty. I can only ever remember getting angry once in a radio studio when a producer tried to feed someone an answer to a quiz that was dragging on for way too long – I love a painful silence. Worse than cheating at a pub quiz.

The Celebrity Rivals XI celebrate after beating a Manchester United Legends XI (with Max Rushden second from left, back row). Photograph: John Peters/Manchester United/Getty Images

I want listeners or viewers to know that what they are consuming is real. If a feature is bad, say itâ€s bad. If no one is calling, say no one is calling. If you ever hear “the phone lines are red hot†trust me itâ€s not true. Years ago, I was hosting the breakfast show on BBC London, a three-hour phone-in. One August bank holiday Monday the phone board was blank. Finally at 6.30am after a painstaking half-hour, Faye in Chiswick calls. “Hi Faye, what did you want to talk about?†“I donâ€t know, you rang me.†What a blow. Desperate producers ringing listeners. A career nadir.

A lot of TV and radio is people constructing spontaneous arguments or inventing opinions that have been carefully planned in meetings. Hosts feigning surprise at information they already know.

The question is whether it really matters? There are lies and there are lies. When democratically elected governments are lying about starving a people or when the next World Cup hosts are lying in order to clamp down on free speech, perhaps thereâ€s no need to stress about whether Steve Bull swore at Gazza after scoring against Scotland. Even still, it is a pleasure to see it deconstructed.

We all accept that comedians exaggerate truths to make a show. Former pros on the after-dinner (and now podcast) circuit are one step away from that. Clearly saying you played against Zidane in a game that featured neither of you is a stretch.

You wonder whether Prince will single-handedly bring on a footballer-bullshit-amnesty, where former Premier League stalwarts can confess to their fabrications before the taxman arrives. And although Iâ€m certain I didnâ€t get my Stams and my Blackmores muddled up, if I did, let me sign my confession and take my punishment.

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