It’s fuck all to do with FC United, admittedly, but Jamie Carragher’s autobiography looks like it’s going to be full of inadvertent laughs. Check this shit out:
Lucas Neill’s lucky escape after breaking Jamie Carragher’s leg
By Jamie Carragher 4/09/2008
When my leg was broken in an horrific tackle by Lucas Neill in September 2003, my mates were ready to hunt him down if I gave the go-ahead.
A few weeks later I received a phone call. “You won’t believe this, Jay. We’re in the Trafford Centre and Lucas Neill is walking straight towards us. What do you reckon?”
Did I really want Neill to take a crack? “There’s only one problem,” added the voice. “Little Davey Thommo is with him.”
That was that. I could hardly let one of my best mates, David Thompson, now a Blackburn player, become a witness to an assault. Besides he’d have recognised the attackers. The impromptu mission was aborted and I sent a text to Thommo telling him Neill should give him a hug of thanks.
As word got back to Blackburn about the near miss, or should that be hit, their coach Terry Darracott, a Scouser, appealed to one of my friends to call the boys off. I agreed.
Which explains why Lucas Neill decided to sign for West Ham instead of Liverpool, I guess. But wait! There’s more!
After I established myself at right-back, our African defender Rigobert Song found himself out of the team and our previously healthy relationship instantly deteriorated.
One morning in training he was told I’d been called into the England squad after performing well at full-back.
There was a look of astonishment on Song’s face – a bit like the one we used to give him when he claimed he was only 21.
He might as well have blurted out he thought I wasn’t good enough for international football.
He strolled off to his French speaking friends and began talking to them. I could see him pointing towards me while everyone was grinning. It was clear what he was saying and the rage inside me simmered.
Later, Song walked on to the training pitch with a smile on his face. He was limping off it with a grimace an hour later. The first chance I got, I did him. Never have I hunted down a 50-50 tackle with greater appetite.
“You’re not f***ing laughing now are you, you soft twat?” I said as he hobbled away.
Did I care he had a knock? No way. I don’t remember him or anyone else in the squad for that matter trying to take the piss out of my ability again.
What a marvellous human being Jamie Carragher appears to be.
You wouldn’t get our defenders acting like that, no sirree. And their literary output seems to be fair more interesting than the usual ‘contraversial’ autobiog. A quick Amazon search reveals two titles by a David Chadwick, the snappily titled ‘Zen is Right Here: Teaching Stories and Anecdotes of Shunryu Suzuki, Author of Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind’ and ‘Thank You and Okay! An American Zen Failure in Japan’.
So is this the secret behind Chaddy’s recent heroic form? Has he finally aligned his chi and found inner peace through meditation? Next time you see him, ask him this: If the Main Stand are in a forest, and no one’s there to hear them, do they make a sound? And if they do, is it the same sound as one hand clapping?
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