Thierry Henry is the only man on the planet I'd leave Mrs Pitch for! She fully accepts this and probably feels the same! He's left us once before. We all locked ourselves in our bedrooms and cried ourselves to sleep. This week we will do the same. The great man returned briefly to make us feel how only he can. He kissed the badge, he scored winning goals, he played with our emotions one last time. Yet before next weekend he will be off to do what he does for us for people who don't need him and certainly can't love him like we do. All we can hope is some of his magic has brushed off onto Park or Chamakh returns a different player as our game changing substitute disappears across the pond.
Having driven 200 miles north for a half term jaunt the majority of the first half passed me by. As I strolled the streets looking for shops to replace the things we'd forgotten to pack I looked at my little DAB radio and actually wondered if they had digital this far north! It turns out they do along with electricity and running water! The half time report told me we were comfortable without any threat which was worrying.
As I queued with a hand full of toothbrushes there was still no breakthrough. Liverpool had lost, the Chavs were down 2-0 so we needed to take advantage. News from the laughably named Stadium of Light was not welcome. They told me a horrendous error by Mertersacker led to Sunderland's opener. It was due to Martin O'Neill's magic apparently. Having seen the goal it was more due to the awful pitch than the bouncy Irishman. The only way Magic Martin can be responsible for that goal is if he's the one who looks after the rice they grow on the pitch between games. Per went over like a new born giraffe and had to be carried off by 20 men on two stretchers.*
Doom returned. Derogatory texts and tweets were swapped. Swear words restricted to 'Oh No' and 'Damn it' as I stood in a small quiet bookshop with my daughter. She had no idea that I wasn't really paying her attention. I kept her on my left side and was somehow able to say the right things as the radio pumped news into my right ear.
'Rambo! Yes!' is not the most normal thing to exclaim in the tourist information office. My daughter put on her 'I'm happy because dad's happy' face despite not really caring about why I'd cheered up. 1-1. Good result? Bit disappointed actually. We need wins.
As we began our walk home I suddenly stopped. The dangling earphone was pressed into the free 'daughter listening' ear as the nice lady from Radio 5 started her sentence. "You will not believe this" She said. WHAT WON'T I BELIEVE? I stood slightly crouched ready to either spring in celebration or slump to my knees. "Thierry ....." is all I heard. It's all I needed. The legs straightened. The feet left the floor. The red and white Saville Rogue scarf won from Arseblog was waved. The fist was pumped. The daughter was hugged and thrown playfully in the air. People stared!
He'd done it again.
*might not be totally true.
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