I had a happy, calm upbringing, which perhaps explains why I’m equable. My mum was always around, but Dad worked long hours, got up at 4am to go to the wholesale market, bought fruit, sold it all day in Leicester market, came home to do his book work, then fell asleep on the sofa. My abiding childhood memory is playing football in the back garden. My life has always been dominated by sport.

I avoid confrontation at all costs. I really don’t like it. I’m not accustomed to it, and it’s probably the one thing in my life that freaks me out. If there’s a potential flashpoint, I try to get out of the situation. I don’t want to upset people. I hate hurting their feelings. But if I need to argue my case with someone I really care about, a child or a partner, I’ll do that.

I like the feeling of being in control. I rarely lose my temper. People say to me, “How can you be a footballer and not be competitive?” But I was competitive, and ambitious, and I was very motivated. There’s a difference between being competitive and having a rage.

I wish I’d punched a referee before I retired. As my career developed, this whole “He’s never had a yellow card” thing emerged. I wasn’t a saint. Being in Spain for three years, where the cards pop out all over the place, it was a miracle I didn’t get one. People used to joke with me: “Why don’t you just punch the ref for a laugh?” which obviously would have been really stupid, but it might have been funny in my last game.

Hearing 50,000 people singing your name is what you play sport for. It certainly appeals to your ego. It’s the same explosion of joy and relief and satisfaction you get as a fan when your team scores, but multiplied by a hundred, because you’re the hero. It works both ways, of course. You have the same number of people screaming, “Gary Lineker, you’re a wanker!”

I don’t like watching myself on TV. If I’m forced to, I always think: “Oh God, you look old.” I think most broadcasters will say the same thing and can’t stand looking at themselves. Except Piers Morgan who, I think, quite likes it.

Social media has sparked my public politicisation. Until Twitter emerged, I never voiced my views. Politics at the moment is a shambles. It’s divided and it’s tribal and it’s depressing, and the hatred between Brexiteers and remainers makes me feel sad. Twitter has fuelled that fire. I don’t let what the trolls say bother me – they’re all talking shit.

It might be unusual, but I get on with both of my ex wives. I had two good marriages. They’re good people. So we get on. One is the mother of my four boys. The other is my best mate. I just think it’s much more grown up that way. And, as I said, I don’t like confrontation.

Even if I had 800m Twitter followers, I still wouldn’t get involved in politics. It’s something I’ve always been interested in, but I’ve got no interest in getting into politics. People used to say, “You’re outspoken about Fifa. Why don’t you get involved in the running of the game in the Football Association, or Fifa, or Uefa?” It’s not something that excites me.

I find cooking cathartic. It’s become a new passion over the past years; I cook all the time. I like the process of going out and getting the produce, then the preparing. I find it peaceful. It helps me switch off – and gets me off the phone.

Behind Closed Doors by Gary Lineker and Danny Baker is published by Century at £20. Buy it for £17.60 at theguardianbookshop.com