“The sun’s out,” says Nick Anderton, gazing at the clear blue sky above his home in Lancashire. “That’s good.”

A bright April morning helps Anderton’s mood on his latest day with cancer. Spring and summer, all being well, will bring more such cheer. “It’s little things, like when I go to hospital, get out of the car and it’s a bit brighter, then you walk out in the evening and it’s still a bit light,” he says. “It helps you.”

Anderton, the Bristol Rovers footballer who previously captained Carlisle United, has been explaining the physical and mental experience of osteosarcoma, a rare form of bone cancer with which he was diagnosed last summer, and which he confirmed last Friday has ended his career.

We meet a couple of weeks before the retirement news breaks, and Anderton asks for my discretion until he has made his statement. It was, he says, always his plan to announce it before his 27th birthday, which fell last Saturday. “I wanted to keep it all in chapter 26,” he says, hoping that the next page can be happier.

There was little prospect, he says, of him continuing to play after having a 12cm section of his right thigh bone removed. Anderton is wearing shorts and it is easy to see the long scar on his leg where surgeons took the tumour from his fibia and where, later, he underwent a complete knee replacement.

Now midway through a course of chemotherapy, Anderton has no interest in concealing the details of his situation, even though there are many times in our conversation when he puffs his cheeks in a sign of disbelief. When we go upstairs in his house to look at the many football shirts he has been sent by former team-mates and friends, he does so in a half crawl. “You’d better go first,” he says, laughing lightly.

This is Anderton’s present reality, and, all things considered, he prefers to share it. “If anything, it makes me feel better [talking about it], because it’s real,” he says. “I haven’t spoken to you in a while, but I just said, ‘Come and have a chat’. This is how I am.”

We have indeed not spoken since Anderton was captaining Carlisle in the 2020/21 season, but his friendliness extends to discussing the toughest of times now. After the procedure on his femur, he was told in December that the cancerous cells had been more aggressive than hoped for, hence the chemo which has, at present, cost him his hair.

“It’s been the craziest year,” he says. “After one phonecall, you’re told you’ve got cancer, and in the space of a few months, your career’s over. Yet, as much as that’s devastating, some stuff’s more important. I’ve got two children, my girlfriend, and I’m fairly young when it comes to human life.

“I want to look at the positives, which boils down to, ‘Let’s get out of the end of this treatment, and get back healthy’.”

Anderton left Carlisle in the summer of 2021 and went on to join Bristol Rovers. A few months into the new season he felt discomfort in his knee. “I just thought it was wear and tear. I thought I had a tight IT [iliotibial] band or some cartilage nipping somewhere. I don’t think I’ve played a game since I was 21 without feeling stiff or a bit of pain. Everybody’s like that in football.

“Especially at the back end of the season, when we were picking up, I said to myself, ‘I can’t drop out of the side now’.”

Anderton, having helped Bristol Rovers to promotion, felt further discomfort whilst on holiday, and his knee flared up again early in pre-season. This saw him referred for a scan, leading to his diagnosis.

News and Star: Anderton posted this picture of himself in hospital last month during chemotherapy treatmentAnderton posted this picture of himself in hospital last month during chemotherapy treatment (Image: Nick Anderton Twitter)

I remark that it is incredible to think, now, that he played for months with a tumour growing in his leg.

“I have thought that a couple of times,” he says. “What’s the odds?”

“When I was told I had a tumour, my first thought was with Isabel, who was eight weeks pregnant,” he continues. “I just thought of her and the kids, because you automatically presume the worst.”

Anderton had hoped the tumour was benign, initially imagining he could play again, but the seriousness of the surgery, and the invasiveness of the cancer then grew evident. Since then he has experienced the cycle of treatment and recovery, the precarious ups and gruelling lows of chemo. It must, I say, feel surreal for a healthy young footballer to have been pitched into this situation.

“I have sat down a few times, with my missus and my mates, and gone, ‘I still can’t believe it’,” he says. “Not in a way where I’m angry and furious. Just taking a minute and going, ‘Can you believe we’re doing this?’”

Anderton says he has not felt anger “only because, before all of this, I had no idea about cancers, treatments…I haven’t had anyone I was really close to who had been through anything similar. I was oblivious, really.

“I needed to learn about what kind of situation I was in, but I haven’t once Googled anything about it. I’ll go and meet the specialist and talk about it in person, but even when they gave me leaflets I’d give them to my girlfriend and my mum.

“I just thought, ‘Well, it ain’t gonna be good, is it?’ If I’m reading some side-effects on a list, I’m probably psychologically waiting for them to happen. If I don’t know what they are, I just take them as they come.”

Anderton says he did not want to add to the already obvious worries by “going down rabbit holes” online and running the risk of happening upon, and obsessing over, inaccurate information. Trying to maintain a positive mindset is a crucial challenge.

“Sometimes you just think negatively. There have been times when I’ve thought the worst. I presume it’s only natural. But you have to try your hardest to switch it mentally, because it will consume you.

“I’ve spoken to a few people I’ve met in hospital who’ve said how important the mental side is – almost half the battle. Your mind can be your best mate and your worst enemy. I’ve just been trying to tick the weeks off, break it down into weeks and cycles.”

News and Star: Anderton, pictured in Bristol Rovers' game against former club Carlisle last season, said he started feeling discomfort in his right knee during the campaign - never imagining it might be a tumourAnderton, pictured in Bristol Rovers' game against former club Carlisle last season, said he started feeling discomfort in his right knee during the campaign - never imagining it might be a tumour

It sounds trite to ask whether a footballer’s competitive instinct can help in any way in such a predicament, but Anderton says: “I completely know what you mean. I’ve tried to attack it as I did my life in terms of having a career of playing footy. There’s ups and downs, which does remind me of footy, but I’ve discovered that the human mind and body are so much stronger than you think.

“You go to points where, afterwards, you think, ‘I’ve never felt like that before’. And to come through it to that place is a good feeling. But it has been hard.”

Anderton, amid his trips to the Christie Hospital in Manchester, says he has learned how to read his body when there are times he needs, for instance, to relax totally, or eat more. He recounts occasions when he has suddenly been sick out of his car window, and adds: “You don’t realise how weak you are. I had an infection a month ago – because my blood cells were low, I caught a cold, and that turned into a near-40 degree temperature, so I had to go in hospital for a couple of nights.

“You’ve got to keep the best care of yourself, because you are very vulnerable.”

Anderton breaks down some of the side-effects. “The hair loss is still ongoing, but I’m not bothered about that. My daughter Grace, at her age, finds it funny. It’s the feeling ones that are a struggle. My ears ring quite a bit, and my fingertips are sometimes sore and tingly. Smell, taste, appetite all go. You’re sick randomly, and I’ve got to check my temperature all the time for any signs of infections. There are the aches and pains everywhere.

“I’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel normal. This week, I’m feeling ok, but if you were here on another day, I’d be a hell of a lot worse.”

Anderton says he has drawn the most strength from his family – from Isabel, baby George who was born in January, from Grace, and from his parents – and has found the solidarity expressed by the world of football “unbelievably helpful”.

A huge number of supportive messages and gestures have come from many quarters, with Bristol Rovers at the forefront. Their players and staff shaved their heads in support of Anderton amid a massive fundraising drive. “From the very beginning,” he says, “the doctors, physio, gaffer [Joey Barton], coaches, lads, media team, CEO, owner…every single person you can imagine has been unbelievable for me and my family.

“To do the fundraising…they didn’t need to do something like that. The fact the headshave was in the barbers that I used to go in, and the lad who does it is a Bristol City fan…it was a nice story.

“Beyond that, footy’s a big family. You form good friendships when you share a dressing room. I’ve been sent a lot of shirts, with Anderton 16 [his Bristol squad number] on the back. When [the cancer] was originally announced, my phone was absolutely bonkers.”

Anderton also greatly appreciates the messages he’s had from supporters, including those of the Cumbrian clubs he played for, Carlisle and Barrow, while thinking back to those and other days has helped. “I’ve done a lot of reminiscing,” he says. “I bet the lads are sick of me ringing up and talking about funny things that went on in games, things fans maybe wouldn’t see.”

Has he watched much football since his diagnosis? “No. I’m glad you asked me that, actually. I watched our first game after, when Aaron [Collins] held up the shirt [in tribute to Anderton]. But I thought, ‘I’m not doing this’. I watched bits of the World Cup, but not much else. I didn’t want to feel that I needed to watch lots of football. I haven’t wanted to put any pressure on myself for what’s next.”

Does he also want to avoid inviting the frustration that he can’t be on the pitch any more? “Maybe. I don’t want it to be like that, so I think I need a bit of distance. Since I left school, it was intense for nine or ten years in football. I’ll take myself back a bit.”

Anderton, with perspective, can reflect that his final days as a player were spent amid great times. Bristol Rovers’ extraordinary promotion last season saw them beat Scunthorpe United 7-0 on the final day to pip Northampton Town to League One by one goal. Anderton and team-mate Collins were involved in iconic celebrations as they shinned up a lamppost, surrounded by fans.

“You very rarely get those moments,” he says. “To experience it was just class. To go out with that season...I can’t complain, really.

“Mentally, I’m at peace with retirement at the minute,” he adds. “For ten years, I always grafted hard, every session, every game, and never pulled out of anything. I’m gutted I never made it to 250 appearances in all competitions. I’m not counting Evo-Stik Prem, but from National League upwards, and cup competitions, I’m on 240-something. But I’ll take that.

“I always told my dad I’d want to look back on my career in terms of how many games I played. Some players can earn a lot more money and win more, but not play as much. I always wanted to play. So you can’t take that away from me.”

News and Star: Anderton captained Carlisle in 2020/21Anderton captained Carlisle in 2020/21

We talk a little about Anderton’s time at Carlisle, a spell of 54 appearances, most as captain. He led the team which, under Chris Beech, topped the table in January 2021 before sliding to mid-table in a Covid-hit campaign.

“My debut, I scored against Walsall. I couldn’t believe that. Right peg, as well,” he smiles. “And I scored against Cambridge, right peg again. The season after, there was one game we played at home, against Stevenage [a 4-0 win in December 2020, when Anderton also scored] when I thought, ‘Wow – we’re good’. We were flying at that point. But you don’t get nothing for flying in December, do you?”

The way Carlisle struggled after the turn of the year was a regret. “Everybody involved gave it everything. We were hurting as much if not more than everyone else. I do think I learned from it as a player – the experience of going through it. In all, though, I had good times at Carlisle. It’s a good club. Everybody there were good and honest. I was proud to wear the armband, but many lads in that dressing room could have done it. There were a lot of good characters.”

Anderton, who also played for clubs such as Blackpool and Accrington Stanley, is not yet contemplating whether he will remain in football. His focus is more immediate. He aims to improve his ability to climb stairs through strengthening work on his knee, and to continue through the six chemo cycles which will run until late summer.

“I don’t want to say, ‘I’m gonna do this’ and then something changes. I’d just like to get back to feeling as normal as possible, and then have a bit of time to reflect. And be a dad at home, all the time, for a while.”

Anderton refers again to his family when I ask how he feels about the label of bravery which we commonly apply to those with cancer. “It’s an unbelievable question, but I don’t know how to answer it,” he says. “Other people have messaged me saying I’m doing well, but I feel I’m just in a warp, a zone, a daze where I don’t even think about it.

“Weekly I see people who are a lot worse off. It’s more a case that I’m trying to do it for my family. Without them, I’d have proper struggled. I’m doing it because…I want to be here. Do you know what I mean?”

News and Star: Anderton says: I’ve discovered that the human mind and body are so much stronger than you thinkAnderton says: I’ve discovered that the human mind and body are so much stronger than you think (Image: Jon Colman)

I tell Anderton that his openness will help others facing the confusing fears of cancer. “That’s the first time I’ve ever thought that,” he replies. “But if my reality can help in any way, then I hope it does. Because everybody’s helped me more than they’ll ever know.”

We get off the sofa, take some photos and chat at length about Carlisle’s promotion prospects: a few minutes of normality, it feels like, after the sort of conversation about his life which Anderton, on some level, still can’t quite believe he’s having.

As I then prepare to leave, he smiles. “I’ll have to get up for a game some time,” he says, brightly. I open the door, walk out, and see that clear blue sky again.