There has, it can now be revealed, a shadow hanging over these pages for the last few weeks. That shadow has caused nightmares, ruinous ruminations and palpatations but today the sky has cleared, the sun is shining and happiness reigns. The reason can be found here:
For those unfortunates unaware of his beauty, Xabi Alonso is a footballing poet. He sprays passes the length of the field, distributing the ball with the vision of a philosopher, the precision of a neuroscientist and the artistry of a leading scenic carpenter or fanatical glassblower. His thinking is on a par with most computer boffins (especially those involved in AI), and the incision with which he directs the midfield echoes the incision of a keenly minded legal eagle. Further more his care and consideration keenly matches former Scottish dwelling single parents and his grace is catlike. He is a teacher par excellence and probably a good cook as well.
Having now described this footballing great in terms that most, if not all, readers of this blog can idntify with, you will be minded as to why I am very happy it appears he will not leave English Football's most successful club.
And in keeping with the underlying ethos of these occasional submissions, I promise to mention football no more until the posting "A Faint Whiff of Optimism" makes it's regular appearance in August, (just before the start of the season) and the consequent annual withdrawal of that posting four months later.