My whole life had been dedicated to becoming a footballer – and, once I became one, to becoming the best one I possibly could.

To realise I wouldn’t be one any more was scary. Really scary. But it’s one of them: do you sit there and think, what if? Or do you get your head down and focus on a new career?

I did the latter. And I did it quickly.

One day I was in the changing room with the first-team boys at Peterborough, worrying about the game on Saturday. The next I’m trembling in front of the club’s Under-18s, looking at me thinking: “Come on then. Impress me.”

The greatest thing about being thrown in the deep end is: sink or swim? During those first few weeks, I had to find a way to get on with it. To get better quick. Work out what I was doing. Not only to help the players, but also to help myself.

In the summer of 2017, West Ham came calling again. And, once more, I couldn’t turn them down.

I have a lot to learn as a coach, but everything I went through as a player has left me in a good position to pass on some valuable lessons. Some of the lads might know my story. Others might not realise I kicked a ball at that level. Football is quick to forget.

But I’ll always be thankful for my experiences – the good and the bad. They are the reason I know I’m in the right job. I can still smell the history through the walls. This is where I’m meant to be.