…or Middle East, to be more precise.
I’ve been an ardent Liverpool fan since their heydays in the early and mid-80s, when just about anything was possible and giants (well, nearly at least) like John Barnes, Ian Rush and Peter Beardsley roamed the pitch at Anfield.
Since then, my happiest moment football-wise has by far been the magic night in Istanbul in May 2005 when Liverpool overcame a 3-0 deficit in half time to squeeze the win from AC Milan and grab the European Cup Trophy for the 5th time. Truly magic stuff, that was.
Now? Now magic is way out the window, and business has crawled in from the dark. Now the club is being courted by Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid al-Maktoum. Or, rather, the club is being pimped rather vigourusly to said Sheikh, who is zipping open his wallet and other open-zippable things as we speak, getting ready for some action.
Not that I mind! I mean, for the right kind of money I’d be happy to sell all I hold dear. Wouldn’t you? What’s pride and honor in these days? Just words with a best-before date that ran out some 20 years ago. To be able to compete with Chel$ki, Arsenal and ManU “the club needs this money”. Well… perhaps it would then be better not to compete.
But at least the Sheikh might have some nice impact on how the club is run. I mean, this is the guy who was recently sued for holding 30.000 (!) boys in captive to use as camel racing jockeys. He might have a positive influence on a number of guys in the Liverpool squad, with his slav.. eh, man-managment skills.
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