bigmick wrote:Well if the problem is simply one of "clash of personality", then it simply doesn't have to be so that therefore the player must leave. Xabi was like Rafa's son when he signed, his eyes and ears on the pitch very much in the ascendency in terms of who the manager trusted, even over Gerrard, so what has gone wrong? Obviously there's the carry-on last Summer, where I don't think even Rafa's staunchest admirers would pretend that he necessarily behaved at his best, but what else?
My point is, whatever has happened behind the scenes is the same as what happens down the delivery depot, down the warehouse, in the factoiry etc every week. From there, people either p!ss off in their seperate directions (or at least one of them does), they tolerate each other and get on with it, they go out and hammered together (much my favoured solution) ot they go outside and kick the sh!t out of each other which tends to put things into perspective as well. It doesn't have to be the first option.
Now assuming that at his age even despite his bouncer goatee Rafa wouldn't fancy a bit of fisticuffs with a professional footballer, (albeit one as outwardly placid as Xabi), that still leaves two other options other than Xabi leaving.
Surely from a culture which so ancient, so civilised, so rich and steeped in a tradition of long casual dinners overlooking the scorched terrain, they must be able to find it in themselves to have a chat about it. Perhaps a bottle of Rioja or two, some Patatas Bravas or whatever the feck it's called (you know that tomatoey potato stuff that you always end up ordering three portions of in the Tapas bar on your annual visit). Perhaps some marinated olives, a bit of mmm mmm and nodding your head as the other bloke is apologising and the olive oil is dripping down your chin. By the time the seafood course comes round, everyone will be loosening up. Rafa's missus will be telling Xabi's old woman about his little habits, he'll be denying it and they'll be laughing. The kids will be fecking around climbing the apple trees, and when Rafa suggests he and Xabi take a walk and a talk, all will be good.
The manager can put an arm on Xabi's shoulder, not metaphorically but literally, and tell him he wrong last Summer but everyone makes mistakes. He can ask Xabi where else on planet Earth would he rather be next Summer, than still plying his trade at Liverpool. He could ask him what he thinks it'll like to parade the Premiership trophy around a lush Anfield, in front of 45000 adoring fans, the majority of whom are long past singing and are now in floods of tears.
We have the opportunity to change the course of football history he could tell him. To put the stick into the spokes (cheers Bob) of the Mancs and their attempts to dominate not just football matches, but football in general, and to emerge triumphant. The long suffering people of Liverpool could at last have their day in the sun, and he could help provide it. Whatever it is that's eating Xabi, nothing is bigger than this.
Don't leave us now fella, we've got a title to win and we need you (that's me saying that bit).
you have sold it to me mik, I am going to spain for my holidays
