Desire overcometh all. Do you want to play son? do you want to run the injury off? do we need to see you grimacing, shaking your head and gesturing towards the bench when we haven't got a replacement ready?
After the much-touted operation, can we expect to see you pounding the streets of your millionaires backwater, hoodie on with sweat dripping off the end of your nose as you crank up that aerobic fitness. Have you already got your multi-gym on order, ready to come back to after your morning and afternoon run and work your socks off to rebuild and strengthen the muscle tissue? Have you enlisted the services of a dietician to monitor your intake, ensuring that the old wieght doesn't climb during rehab, putting more strain on the affected area?
Most importantly of all, what do you see when you close your eyes and imagine yourself coming back? Is it a spectacular goal or two, a memorable piece of trickery away to Stockport in the Carling Cup. Or is the football writers player of the year, after helping Liverpool to a sustained Championship challenge and progress in all the cups?
What's it to be Harry? where's your next club, Bolton, Barcelona or Bondaii Buccannears? Only he knows, and redemtion is to be found between those pierced ears and not on some surgeons bench in the US. Desire overcometh all, find some son or do us all a favour and feck off.