Cesc Fabregas says that we shouldn’t place too much emphasis on him being stuffed into a Barca shirt by Barca players. Hodgson says that he’s lifted by Fernando Torres wearing a Liverpool scarf during his World cup celebrations. I’m not sure why we’re placing that much emphasis on what footballers are wearing during the off-season. I’m pretty sure that their choice (or lack of choice) in clothing is immaterial to the validity of their club contacts.
Iniesta is the latest Barcelona player to chime in and say that Cesc should move. He said:
Everybody has come out and spoken of the desire we have for him to be with us next season. We would be delighted. Not just because he is a team-mate and a friend, but because it would be great for the club. His arrival would give us a huge jump up in quality and he would play his part to help us stay up there competing in the big competitions. We would love him to be here.’’
But considering Barcelona’s debt, it’s hard to see where they’ll get the £50m to push a transfer through. I think we’ll end up with an arrangement whereby Cesc will go to Barcelona for free, and Wenger will get to roam around La Masia with a couple of large canvas bags and kidnap as many talented young Catalans as he wants. Cesc gets to go to Barcelona, Barcelona get to reunite their Golden Generation, and Wenger gets to coach a clutch of little Cesc Fabregases for the next five years.
That said, Cesc himself is quite vague about his transfer prospects this summer:
"I think now the less said about the subject much the better, because these things are worse for everyone when they come to light and people talk more about the matter. Right now we have to be very calm and what will be will be."
I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see what happens. My guess is.... nothing will change.
So on the 284th last day of my 20s, I went to work, and went to a work function after work. Met my old boss, asked about the old job. It’s a bit different now. People move on and things change. Nothing stays the same. For every season turns, turns, turns. And rot like that.