What happened to my secret snap of David Beckham?

There is one footballer who will be under particular scrutiny at the Qatar World Cup – but not because he’s playing in it. David Beckham retired as a player, aged 38 in 2013, but nine years on his stature has continued to grow. The former England captain's profile is so high that those tasked with the tricky job of getting positive publicity for Qatar agreed to pay him a reported £10 million to plug the tournament. 

This is the story of my role as a cog in the wheels of the media machine that helped propel Beckham to this position – and of one particular incident, involving surreptitious snaps of him sitting on a sun lounger. But first some context.

Twenty years ago, Beckham was also arguably the most scrutinised footballer at a tournament: the 2002 World Cup in Japan and South Korea. England qualified for that tournament courtesy of what was probably Beckham's single greatest moment. They had only needed a draw at home to secure automatic qualification and avoid the anxiety of a playoff, but with just seconds to go they were losing to Greece, 2-1. When England won a free-kick, 25 yards out, deep into injury time, it was their last chance. Up stepped their captain. 'Up over the wall and in! David Beckham has done it! It had to be Beckham!' screamed the BBC's commentator Alan Green. 

He had saved the day. He had bent it like, well, Beckham.  

Following this, hopes were high for England. There was no other obvious World Cup favourite. We had a very good crop of players: Rio Ferdinand, Sol Campbell, Ashley Cole, Steven Gerrard, Paul Scholes, Michael Owen – and, of course, Beckham himself. The Number 7 had the game, the goals, the fashion – sarongs and exotic tattoos – the hair and the popstar marriage. Brand Beckham was already very big and getting constantly bigger.  

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The England camp were furious

Then, two months before that World Cup began, Beckham was carried off on a stretcher while playing for Manchester United. Suddenly the whole country was discussing his injury: would he be fit for Japan? The previous week, few knew what a ‘metatarsal’ was; suddenly it was common parlance in pubs. England was Becks-obsessed. 

Naturally, so was the media. I was, back then, a general news reporter on the Evening Standard assigned to cover the tournament. My photographer partner and I arrived in Japan a week before England’s first game and started filing content immediately: news, features, fluff, anything. But each time we checked in with our respective news and picture desks, the reaction was the same: 'Got anything on Beckham?'

Our response was usually 'no'.

England's star player was being kept behind closed doors, as he tried to get back to fitness in time for that opening game. Infuriatingly Beckham was keeping the lowest profile he had had for years just when demand for him was at its peak. One night, over an Asahi, my colleague suddenly had an idea: if Beckham wouldn’t come to us, why didn’t we go to him? 

The England team were staying in the vast Westin Hotel on Awaji Island, near Osaka. They had block-booked a floor or two, but the rest of the hotel was functioning more or less as normal. We were able to check in, no questions asked. The reception desk was able to offer a selection of rooms but each initial suggestion was dismissed: 'Too dingy…no view….the wrong view…we want something with light and a pool view'.

I was sure they would see through us, but no: we finally managed to secure a room looking directly over the swimming pool. We went up to it and waited.

A variety of players came and went: Nicky Butt and Paul Scholes, Trevor Sinclair, David Seaman. We bided our time, desperate to avoid being rumbled by those in the England party who would recognise us as hacks. To avoid being spotted, we were holed up like some FBI surveillance unit, without once leaving our suite, living off room service, curtains drawn. 

Finally, after three days, it happened. On a bright mid-afternoon, following some gym work, Becks strolled out to the pool, alone. He stripped down to just a pair of slimline trunks and lay back on a sun lounger. He was physically, I still recall, God-like. His skin was golden, his body sculpted. It was like witnessing Narcissus gazing at his reflection in the mythical pool. 

As he sunned himself fare below, my colleague’s lens was poking out of a small gap in our curtain, his camera shutter snapping furiously. He had it. We checked out immediately. I cobbled together some words along the lines of Beckham ‘showing that he’s nearing peak fitness’. Although I’m no expert, he had certainly looked fit to me.

Back in London, it was not yet breakfast time so our story arrived in time for the first edition of the paper. They splashed it. As soon as the Standard hit the streets others were calling about obtaining the rights to the pictures. Our photograph was on the front of every other paper the following day. We even saw it in Japanese papers. The story was huge, it had gone around the world.

But then, the backlash: the England camp were furious. Beckham himself never voiced any displeasure – in fact, I suspect he warmly welcomed the attention. But the Football Association (FA) wanted to discourage any repetition, so their press team took a pragmatic retaliation: they threatened to ban the Standard from any further England camp interview access unless they withdrew the image. Without these player briefings the back pages would be empty. The Standard had no option but to comply. My colleague and I were only yellow-carded: we kept our accreditation on condition we didn’t do it again. Which, of course, we didn’t. 

One remarkable footnote about this episode was that the FA’s strategy actually worked. In today’s world there would be a million screenshots of the picture within minutes of it appearing. Trying to withdraw it would be like Canute ordering back the tide. But in those nascent internet days of 2002 the removal of the picture from photo libraries sufficed. I’ve never seen it since – and no amount of Googling has turned it up. It’s lost to history. 

This is a shame for its subject, because it really did capture Beckham at his absolute peak: physically as both an athlete and a pin-up. It wasn't long, of course, before the dream that Beckham might be the one to finally end our 1966 hoodoo gave way to reality.

Beckham did get fit in time for England's first game, against Sweden, on 2 June. The team, and Beckham, did pretty well right up to the 50th minute of our quarter-final, when David Seaman chronically misjudged a looping highball from Ronaldinho, gifting Brazil a 2-1 win. We were out and a distinctly average Brazil went on to become champions yet again. Beckham played on for another 11 years, but never reached quite that level of national focus again, at least not in a sporting sense. 

Today, Beckham's reputation has taken a hit after his decision to accept the Qataris' cash. Doing so has put Beckham at odds with most of the rest of the country. The England team this week pointedly flew to Qatar on a plane bedecked with rainbow markings in honour of gay rights. 

Some claimed that when Beckham queued in September alongside ordinary people to see the Queen lying in state that this appeared to be a pre-emptive action ahead of Qatar to look good. A video emerged yesterday of Beckham shown to a youth festival in Doha in which he said: 

'You share Generation Amazing’s twin passions for the game of football and for making the world a more tolerant and inclusive place'

Just hours later, it emerged that Qatar had imposed a last-minute alcohol ban at the tournament – to the astonishment of sponsors Budweiser. A Danish TV crew were also shut down this week by Qatari police for filming in public. None of this will have improved the confidence of gay fans assured by Fifa that they can ‘show affection’ in public safely. 

It remains to be seen what happens to Beckham’s reputation and public image over the next four weeks and beyond – and whether that fat fee from the Qataris costs him the knighthood he’s apparently long craved.