Paul Scholes opens up about stepping away from TV punditry to care for his 20-year-old autistic son Aiden, sharing emotional details of their daily routine, his struggles as a father, and the love that now defines his life beyond football.
For millions of football fans, Paul Scholes will forever be remembered as the midfield maestro who defined Manchester United’s golden era — quiet, lethal, and brilliant. But away from the roars of Old Trafford and the bright lights of television studios, Scholes is living a very different kind of routine — one that revolves around caring for his 20-year-old autistic son, Aiden.
In an emotional conversation on the Stick to Football podcast with his former teammate Gary Neville, Scholes revealed that his decision to step back from television punditry wasn’t about the camera fatigue he’s often joked about — but about being present for Aiden, who was diagnosed with severe autism at just two and a half years old.
“All the work I do now is just around his routines, ’cos he has quite a strict routine every single day, so I just decided everything I’m going to do, it is around Aiden,” Scholes said.
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The Life Behind Closed Doors
The 50-year-old former England international has long kept his private life away from headlines. But on the podcast, he opened up about the structure and love that shape his days.
Having separated from his childhood sweetheart Claire Froggatt — whom he married in 1999 — Scholes said that the two now share Aiden’s care equally.
“We have three nights each with him a week, and he spends Friday night with Claire’s mum,” he explained.
Each day follows a carefully crafted rhythm — one that helps Aiden find stability in a world that doesn’t always make sense.
“We always do the same things with him as he doesn’t know what day of the week it is or time. But he’ll know from what we’re doing what day it is,” Scholes shared.
Their weekly routine has become sacred:
“I pick him up every Tuesday from his daycare and we go swimming. Loves swimming, then we get his pizza on the way home. Thursday pick him up, go for something to eat, go home. Sunday, I pick him up from Claire’s house and we go to Tesco where he buys a trolley full of chocolate. So, he doesn’t know what day or time it is, but he knows from what we’re doing what day it is. He’ll be 21 in December.”
Understanding Aiden
Scholes described Aiden as “non-verbal”, but deeply intuitive — capable of understanding far more than words can express.
“When I say he can’t speak, I think he understands a lot more than we think. He has sounds, but it’s only people that are close to him that will know what he’s saying,” he explained.
The former midfielder also recalled the early years after Aiden’s diagnosis as some of the most challenging moments of his life. The physical signs of stress were visible even during his playing days.
“It had been the hardest in the early days of his diagnosis,” he recalled. “I often turned up for training at Carrington with bite marks or scratch marks which Aiden had given me out of frustration.”
“I never got a break from it, even when playing. It was very hard in those days… I don’t think (doctors) diagnosed it until they were two-and-a-half years old. But you knew early something was wrong. Then you get the diagnosis, and I’d never heard of it.”
The reality of Aiden’s condition hit Scholes in the middle of his footballing career.
“I remember the first time after we were playing Derby away and I just didn’t want to be there. I remember the manager dropped me the week after actually, and I hadn’t told anyone (about the diagnosis). I ended up telling them a few weeks later, I think as it was quite hard.”
Finding Meaning in Routine
In the years since, Scholes has learned to find beauty in the predictability of life with Aiden. Small moments — a swim, a pizza, a supermarket trip — are where the greatest joy now lies.
“Don’t get me wrong, he can be so happy it’s untrue, and it gives you great pleasure and joy, it’s not all bad,” he said warmly.
But not every moment is easy. One of the hardest experiences, Scholes shared, was seeing Aiden suffer pain he couldn’t express.
“There was a time he had a terrible toothache,” Scholes said quietly. “He couldn’t tell us what was wrong, and that was heartbreaking.”
Life Beyond the Limelight
Scholes’ withdrawal from live TV wasn’t just about privacy — it was about peace.
For years, his punditry work on Thursday nights conflicted with the evenings he was meant to spend with Aiden. The disruptions to their schedule would often distress his son.
“Last season on Thursday nights I’d do the Europa League for Man United — that’s the night I’d usually have him, so he was getting all agitated, biting and scratching,” Scholes explained. “He knows the pattern’s not there straight away. And I did that for years really, always thinking I’ve got to stop this at some point.”
Now, his new podcast with Nicky Butt, The Good, The Bad & The Football, gives him that balance.
“I do studio work, but everything is built around his day,” he said. “I had the chance to do the podcast and thought that would suit me more — well not me, Aiden.”
No Sympathy, Just Understanding
Despite his candidness, Scholes insists he doesn’t want pity. His story, he says, isn’t one of struggle — it’s one of love, resilience, and perspective.
“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want sympathy,” he said. “He can be so happy, it’s untrue. And it gives you great pleasure and joy.”
The former United midfielder has also used social media to share moments from his life with Aiden — not for attention, but to connect with parents walking the same road.
“I’ve heard from parents who have similar experiences that it can help in difficult moments,” he said.
Still, one fear lingers — what happens to Aiden when he and Claire are no longer around? It’s a question that no amount of planning can answer, but one that weighs on every parent of a child with special needs.
For now, Scholes is content simply being there — present, patient, and proud.
“Everything I do now,” he repeated, “is around Aiden.”
In football, Paul Scholes’ legacy was built on vision, precision, and control. In life, his legacy is quieter — a father’s devotion, a son’s laughter, and a love that has rewritten what success means.
It’s not the kind of story that makes the back pages. But it’s the kind that makes you stop — and see the man behind the medals.
