It’s been a pretty strange few weeks of sport these last, erm, well, few weeks, topped off with Gary Neville giving everyone a little lift by announcing his retirement from football.
He’s been labeled the best right back in Premier League history (are we forgetting Thomas Helveg had a brief stint in the Prem at Fortress Carra??), been ridiculed for his ‘admiration’ for David Beckham and irritated everyone, I would say outside of the red half of Manchester but that wouldn’t work… and been, in my opinion, possibly one of the most cynical players to play football, up there with Muscat (Maybe that’s a bit harsh, even on the GNev).
He may not be very close to my Favourite Footballers XI- in fact he’s not even on the bench of my Players-Whose-Existence-In-Football-I-Acknowledge-Let-Alone-Appreciate reserve team- but I’ve developed, today, a begrudging respect for him.
Yep, that’s right.
He was one of the very, very few one-club players left in the modern game and I know that if he had donned the yella’n'green for the entirety of his career I would have the same affection for him as those United fans do. He’s one of those (cliche alert) love him if he’s on your side/hate him if he’s not. Not only that he was one of the best at it, Robbie Savage and Lee Bowyer pale in comparison. His heart takes up his whole sleeve, he’ll give you every drop for his side and there aren’t too many of them about nowadays.
So there it is. I won’t miss him, though.
No way.
His announcement was almost the antithesis to the chaotic events of Monday night. Continue reading
