Footballer Marc Williams On Overcoming Gambling Addiction And The Key To Anti-Gambling Training Design

It was great hearing you speak at Old Trafford last year about your story with mental health and football. For those who don’t know your background, how did your relationship with gambling begin, and where did it eventually lead you?

My relationship with gambling started from a very young age. From about the age of five, growing up in North Wales by the seaside, I was always in arcades and bingo halls, and I really enjoyed it. I loved going on a Saturday morning when we’d get a pound each. My mum and dad would go into the café and we’d go and play. The bright lights, the sounds—even from that age, I loved being in that environment.

The same with bingo halls. I loved the last game of the night when it was for actual money. Throughout the night it would be prizes, then the big one at the end. It ignited something in me. We also had family traditions like the Grand National. My dad would come home with a paper, we’d all pick a horse and watch it together. I loved picking the horse, watching the race, and that chance to win.

Even then I was very compulsive—if I didn’t win, I’d ask my dad if we could do it again. Scratch cards at Christmas were another thing. I’d wake up on Christmas morning and see a flashy scratch card. I guess I grew up around risk and reward, and I enjoyed it.

We played cards as a family. I had two older brothers and a sister. We were always around games, cards, collecting stickers, trading in the playground, throwing wool at the wall to see who got closest. Anything to do with trying to win, I really enjoyed. That became part of my personality, especially in sport.

From a young age I was competitive and driven. I wanted to be a professional footballer. That personality wasn’t a bad thing and it helped me. I signed for an academy at eight. Liverpool came knocking when I was 13 or 14. There was a bit of hype around me in North Wales, and I stayed at Wrexham hoping to break through young, which I did, making my debut at 17.

But even before that, when I left school at 15 and arrived at the training ground, I saw the betting culture within football. People were betting, talking about it. The exposure increased. It became normal. As a youth team, after training we’d go into bookmakers in Wrexham High Street. We were underage and gambling on football. There was no education, it was just part of the culture.

At 16 I won £342 off £1. The excitement was unbelievable. It felt so easy, and I couldn’t wait to do it again. The next bet got bigger. Every big win made me chase that feeling more. When I was 20, I had the biggest purple patch of my career—17 goals in 20 games for Wrexham. I was playing for Wales at different age levels. Everything felt like it was coming together. In that January transfer window I had chances to move to Championship or League One clubs, but I stayed at Wrexham after promises from the manager and a new contract.

Four weeks later I broke my fifth metatarsal. I had surgery with pins and plates, and suddenly I was on the couch. Going from scoring goals and being the main man to sitting at home was incredibly difficult. That injury changed things. I had time, money, boredom, and I started gambling more. I was on the app every day, playing with £100.  That compulsion from childhood really came through.

I came back, got injured again in my second game, and it became a cycle. When I did play, I wasn’t sharp or fit. I wasn’t scoring. I struggled with pressure, criticism, and trying to get back to who I was. The more I struggled, the more I gambled. My football funded the addiction, though I didn’t see it as addiction at the time.

When I left Wrexham and earned less money, the problem became obvious. I started chasing losses, using credit cards, and things spiralled quickly. My behaviour changed. I became angry and aggressive, took it into the dressing room and home life. My mood depended entirely on wins and losses. I lived in a different world where the only thought was getting the money back.

I now realise it wasn’t about money. I was struggling with losing my identity. I went from being talked about, playing with Ramsey, Bale, Joe Allen, Andy King, to being forgotten. Gambling became my coping mechanism and escapism. In the gambling world I felt in control, even though everything was out of control.

I lived like that through my twenties. By 30, the debt was huge, and my career was basically gone. I became a part-time footballer overnight. That transition—from playing professionally and internationally to part-time football and a normal job—was the hardest thing. I clung to my identity as a footballer while it was being stripped away.

At 30, my daughter was nearly two. Addiction had taken me away from loved ones, even her. My priority every day was gambling. On 7 November 2018, I took out my last payday loan—£10,000. I went on a huge winning run and thought I’d finally escape. But I couldn’t withdraw. I always wanted one more spin. When it hit insufficient funds, I had nothing left. I broke down in front of my daughter.

That moment changed my life. I realised I needed help if I wanted to be a dad and turn my life around. From that day, I got help—and seven years on, I’m here.

Once you got help, how did that lead you to EPIC and the work you do today?

At first, recovery was just for me. One day at a time. Don’t gamble today. String days together. Consistency changed everything, but it was a long process. Even after one or two years, things weren’t okay. I was trying to rebuild relationships, finances, and be a good dad. I only had my daughter two days a week, and it was tough.

About five years ago at Christmas, my daughter brought home a family drawing and I wasn’t on it. That hit me hard. I realised I needed something bigger. I needed purpose.

I decided to take accountability and be open about my past. I didn’t want to be the elephant in the room. I put a Facebook post out saying I was a former gambling addict and hadn’t gambled for two years. What shocked me was the response—not just support, but the number of people asking for help.

That post led to me setting up a voluntary page where people could reach out. It gave me purpose. Helping people changed my life. I later worked for 18 months delivering lived-experience talks across Wales, in football clubs and schools. It transformed how I felt.

I’ve now been at EPIC for four years. From where I was seven years ago to now—travelling the world, sharing my story, helping others—it’s incredible. At EPIC, everything we do comes from lived experience. We deliver authenticity, real-world insight, and education that empowers people and helps organisations understand gambling-related harm.

Between 2024 and 2025 alone, we reached over 109,000 people globally. That impact is what drives us.

From your experience, what makes an effective gambling education programme, and what does good implementation look like?

Education is prevention, even though prevention is hard to measure. I see rooms change just by me sharing my story and being honest. I watch sceptical players become engaged when I come from my perspective as an ex-footballer and admit that I had a gambling addiction. Lived experience creates authenticity and safe spaces. When people see vulnerability, especially in macho environments, it normalises the conversation.

People often reach out after sessions. After one hour with someone they’ve never met, they feel safe enough to ask for help. That shows how powerful safe spaces, empathy, and non-judgment are.

All our programmes are fully evaluated, and every session is assessed. That feedback allows us to constantly improve and stay ahead. Compliance alone isn’t enough anymore. Organisations want genuine understanding and empathy, and that’s what lived experience provides.

Can you give a couple of concrete examples where EPIC workshops have delivered clear, measurable results?

There are two initiatives that really stand out to me. The first is our work with the SPFL. Before those sessions last season, awareness around gambling harm in the room sat at about 70%. By the end of the sessions, that awareness had risen to 93%. That’s a 23% jump from a single intervention programme, which is pretty incredible.

What sat underneath that was the normalisation of the conversation. As part of that work, we also delivered a safer gambling piece in November 2024, where I sat down with Brian Rice and interviewed him. Brian spoke openly about his own experiences. You had an ex-manager, a current assistant manager, and me as an ex-player, all sharing lived experience and insight. The reach and the views that got shows just how powerful it is when people in football open up. It’s a really strong example of how storytelling and lived experience extend the impact beyond the room.

The second example is our work with the European Athletes and Players Association. We delivered a Train the Trainer programme where I trained people from player associations representing different sports and different countries around the world. Ireland was rugby, Italy was volleyball, Spain was futsal, and others from across Europe. The idea is that they then take that training back into their own player associations.

What that does is scale impact properly. We give them the tools to understand gambling harm, to recognise it, and to have the right conversations. From there, they’re able to support athletes within their own systems. Alongside that, we’re now developing digital products specifically for athletes as part of that programme.

That piece of work sits under #PROtectIntegrity, which is an EU Athletes initiative that’s running right now. It’s a good example of how in-person education, train-the-trainer models, and digital tools all come together. For us, that’s where you really start to see the sustained impact of these workshops.

EPIC also works closely with athletes through its Pro Sport Advisory Board. Can you explain how that works?

The Pro Sport Advisory Board is a sounding board of people from different sports and gambling ecosystems. They collaborate globally with player welfare at heart. One of the most impactful outcomes has been the Gambling Harm Prevention in Sport white paper, which sets best practice for sports bodies.

That work has directly influenced initiatives like the SPFL and our partnership with William Hill, embedding safer gambling provision across the league. We’ve also established a North American advisory group to address the unique challenges of the US sports draft and newly regulated betting market.

You’re also part of the Stay Well Collective, and one of the key pillars of that movement is to create Stay Well Cities. What does a Stay Well City mean to you?

It’s about cultural change and psychological safety. It aligns closely with EPIC’s mission to share our personal experiences and expertise to educate and empower people to navigate gambling safely and sustainably, negating any issues that people can experience with it and bringing them into the open. Events I’ve spoken at in partnership with Stay Well bring together shared experience, ideas, and best practice. They give people tools to understand mental health and allow others to enter that space.

It normalises conversations that people have kept quiet about for years. Being around people who genuinely want to create change gives me faith in humanity. That’s what a Stay Well City represents to me: community, safety, and shared responsibility.

Finally, EPIC has been developing more digital and e-learning tools alongside its in-person workshops.

With that in mind, if you could give advice to young footballers about protecting their mental health today, what would it be?

I say this a lot, and the digital side of what we’re doing at EPIC is a really important part of it now. We’ve only got so many facilitators, and there’s a huge amount of travel involved. If I showed you where I’ve been over my career at EPIC, you’d probably ask how I’ve managed it physically and mentally. We’ve only got so many boots on the ground, and yet we’re working in over 40 countries.

Because of changing regulations, compliance requirements, and emerging markets like the UAE and Brazil, we have to stay proactive and ahead of the game. That’s where our digital health tools and e-learning platforms are so important. They allow us to reach young people and athletes globally, consistently, and at scale, with options to cater for language barriers too, that would otherwise exist during in-person sessions. There’s only so many times myself or another facilitator can physically get to a venue, but digital tools allow us to keep supporting and reinforcing messages long after a workshop ends.

In terms of advice to young footballers, the first thing I always say is: work on your head as much as your body. I’m probably healthier today than I was when I played football, and that surprises people. The reason is access. Everything is there now—nutrition information, hydration, gym programmes, podcasts, high-performance content, mental health apps, and digital learning tools.

When I went into recovery at 30, I started doing simple things: walking, being in nature, going to the gym consistently, meditating to stay calm and channel emotion. I didn’t do any of that as a footballer. All the things I do now to be a better person and to stay grounded would have helped me massively in my career.

The second piece of advice is to understand that success isn’t just physical. When I was 18, I thought it was all about how fast I could run, how long I could run for, and how much I could lift. I never once worked on my mentality. When things got hard, that’s what broke first.

That only changed when I went into recovery, started counselling, and really went deep into understanding myself. I still do that work now. I’ll drive long distances listening to podcasts, learning every day about myself and about why I react the way I do. Learning allows you to grow.

Young athletes often don’t think they need to do that work, but that mental work is the one per cent that takes you to the top. When criticism comes, when you’re dropped, when you go from starting on a Saturday to the bench on Tuesday to the stands the following weekend with no explanation, your mind has to cope with that.

Right now, young players are pulled in a lot of directions—doom scrolling, gaming late into the night, FIFA packs that mirror gambling behaviours, sedentary lifestyles, instant food and delivery culture. Those are all vices competing for attention. On the other side, you’ve got tools that can genuinely help you become a better athlete and a healthier person.

You only get one shot at being a professional footballer. And believe me, when it’s over, and you know you didn’t fulfil your potential, that regret never leaves you.