And when he shall leave,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of football so fine
That all the world will be in love with it... -CG
A footballer's legacy at a club is much like a well-woven quilt. Sometimes, if you blur your eyes a bit, you can't separate out where the stitches are really going, whether or not they're even straight, if they end in clean knots, or are even of the same color thread, and you can really just:
appreciate.
I hope that people always look at your "quilt" that way. Not to be scrutinized by what did or didn't happen: where you went and where you didn't go. But to just appreciate the blue man with the big heart and the quiet, humble sort of charisma that exuded even on the pitch and won everybody over. I hope they see that.
And just like those pretty quilts, with the intentionally shiny threads in some areas and the special embroideries in carefully-selected corners, I hope that there will always be a special group of people that does scrutinize your quilt, in the finest of light, seeing the quiet beauty for which it beholds. The debut goal against Norwich that alerted us of the start of something unspeakably special. The heart-stopping cross to Drogba, that helped to crown us the Kings of Kings. The post-season free-kick against Manchester City, that rendered a certain girl in Yankee Stadium too exited to breathe (hardly any exaggeration, there... too excited to breathe). The celebration of redemption against Arsenal: the goal we didn't know would be the last, putting us through once more against our metropolitan rivals. The record-breaking, mind-bottling assists. The two-time Player of the Year. The European Champion. The inventive and crafty artisan, who slipped through defenders with an unmatched grace. Incredible. Stopping our breath and our hearts. All of the little things that make letting go impossible.
But football is beautiful, and it football is cruel. It is as unforgiving as it is fulfilling. And for these purities and impurities, we devour it. We embrace it with our hearts and souls.
Each player's time at a club is also like a book. There are words, and pages, and chapters. Some are longer than others, and some shorter. Some have nice conclusions, and some offer better prologues. So let's take a look at your book, shall we?
A dream start with that debut goal. It's already a magnificent read, and the story only excels as the first chapter concludes in trophy glory. The second chapter follows suit, with maybe a little less silverware, but an equally charming tale.
And then the audience prepares themselves for a climactic third, which doesn't go quite as planned. There are a few unexpected twists and turns, a shift in some outcomes, the heavy-handed stroke of a new editor's red pen, and the downfall of a hero. And the book lingers on what could be unanticipated closure. Is it? Perhaps not? As if the end pages were ripped out prematurely.
I'm sorry that your story couldn't end with the bells and whistles. So sorry am I that you didn't get a more comprehensive edition, to say the least. I pity that your book, with the perfect opening, came to such an awful, abrupt closure.
And the situation is unbelievable. Unfathomable. And as Blues, we will keep marching on in our own direction. But, always remember the legacy that you did leave. We will too. It's what keeps us here with tears rolling silently down our cheeks, our crying eyes lowered behind our blue jerseys and matchday scarves as we watch you go. It's what will keep us there, long after any ultimatum, nodding silently. Understanding. Knowing. Accepting the decision of the magic man who never failed to make us feel loved.
Love.
It's what will staring at your kit, hung proudly upon the wall. It's what will keep me chanting your name. And it's what will keep me waking up subconsciously, each and every Monday morning at 5:30, without fail.
-@cassgabe7
Here at the Bridge, whether rain or fine, we can shine, all the time. Home or away, come and see us play, you're welcome any day....