The first feature in a series where Watford Media Relations Officer Jackie Bass gets to know the person behind the player.

NOTE the irony. My first sit down feature piece with the Watford players is in the diary and I've got Mart Poom as my first candidate. But when the Estonian tells me that he can't make it due to a spot of physiotherapy that has overrun, Richard Lee steps in.

It seems that his life off the pitch mimics his life on it - covering for the number one in every which way. So this gets me to thinking - despite the fact that he's been a part of Watford for some 15 years, how much do we really know about Richard Lee? And how does he deal with the mental and emotional side of the game, or rather, how does he cope with not playing the game?

We've all heard of the rags to riches stories of tough estate kids whose only way out of the city ghettos was to capitalise on the skills they possessed when they had a ball at their feet. It's actually become quite par for the course.

But what about those who travel in the opposite direction? I wouldn't go so far as to say that Richard Lee was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but having been educated at Aylesbury Grammar, one of the top 20 schools in the country, it's fair to say that his Mum would have been more than correct when telling her son that he could do anything he set his mind to.

Perhaps that explains the business head on his young shoulders. The owner of six properties, some on home soil and some overseas, Lee is more than capable of making the correct decisions both on and off the pitch.

However, it's when we come to look at his footballing career that he readily admits he hasn't achieved as much as he would have hoped. Synonymous with the club, it is therefore somewhat ironic that he hasn't enjoyed more time between the sticks.

It's always insightful to sit in a casual environment and talk properly with someone who you can normally only grab on the go. The mannerisms, the way they cast their eyes skywards when you've asked them a particularly taxing question - it all amounts to so much more when you have the benefit of speaking to someone as measured as Lee. I open with a question about his education, and ask why someone with 11 GCSEs at grade A-C is throwing themselves on the floor for a living.

And here begins the first skywards glance as he weighs up his answer, like I said before, he's measured: "I've never really thought about it like that. I could be working up in the city couldn't I?" I'm not sure if the question is rhetorical or if he's looking for affirmation, so I just smile and wonder if he will continue with his train of thought and unearth an inner desire to become the next Nick Leeson.

"I was lucky with my upbringing I guess, my Mum and Dad always stuck by me and I was privileged enough to have the education that I did. You had to pass an entrance exam to get into my school so it was clear from the off that it was very much a learning environment. I did everything I could in terms of sport, apart from football ironically, it just wasn't on the curriculum there.

"In a way it was probably a good thing as I may well have burnt out. I did cricket, tennis and basketball. I loved basketball and I still use some of the drills today to help with my spring. I didn't miss football because I was already with Watford by the age of 10.

"Then just before my exams I knew that I was going to sign for Watford, so I guess I didn't study as hard as I should have done for my GCSEs. I kind of took it easy."

There must be a fair few kids who wish they had 'taken it easy' and still come away with grades as good as the Watford stopper, but that's what I was growing to learn about the Aylesbury lad, he's constantly striving - nothing is ever good enough. Perhaps that explains why he turns up to training an hour before he's supposed to.

"I just feel that it's something I need to do. I'm not playing, so how do I get around that? Be better, train better, until my time comes. There's something that you gain from playing as opposed to training, a sense of fulfilment. That's what I'm there to do. I still get a few nerves before a game, but afterwards I feel as though I've achieved something, even if we've lost. It's my job - and on those occasions I'm having the opportunity to do just that."

It reminds me of the line from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory: "They do it because they were born to do it." It must be the equivalent of telling Aidy Boothroyd to stay off the touchline, or Picasso to put the brush down. The problem is, there can only be one goalkeeper - and therein lies the rub, as Hamlet once said.

Despite the fact that if need be, he has undoubtedly got plenty of excuses as to why he has never made the number one shirt his own, he refuses to use them. There he goes again with the humility: "Yeah I've been injured a lot, but I don't like using that as an excuse. My biggest regret was playing through an injury after I ruptured my bicep was also suffering with torn cartilage. Aidy had just joined the club and I was about to have an operation, then he asked if I was able to play through it. I did and I've regretted it ever since. Not because it set my back in terms of my fitness, or because I injured myself even more, but because I felt that I'd done myself an injustice.

"I hate even saying this because it sounds like an excuse. I just want people to know that it wasn't the real me out there and I hated the thought of letting them down. Straight after that I went on loan to Blackburn, my body was a mess, and I didn't want the Watford fans to remember me like that."