Every football fan has their own idea about what makes a player great, or otherwise. Perhaps you love the types who give everything on the pitch and run around like a headless chicken without a great deal of purpose. Maybe you admire hard-hitting midfielders. Or perhaps the elegant, almost artistic, type gets your vote.
But it appears that the latter would make the ideal choice for the writer of this open letter which was found on Thursday.
Dear the Premier League,
I know what it is that you are missing. Of late there have been hints and suggestions that football fans are beginning to turn off your broadcasts, disillusioned by the combination of the cost for TV stations which carry matches and ludicrous transfer figures.
The prices don’t add up. The people want artistry and elegance; creativity and flair; style and panache – currently few can provide such traits.
Zlatan Ibrahimovic was expected to bring such exuberance combined with his obnoxious self-assuredness, but until now he has been a grave disappointment with respect to the former.
‘The next Cantona’, they said. ‘God’, he called himself.
No, there is only one who can be associated with those labels and you let him escape your grasp. An underappreciated genius comparable to biblical heroes – a player whose first touch could cure disease… You now of whom I speak.
But perhaps Dimitar Berbatov is finally ready to forgive you.
Banished to the far-away lands of Greece, Berbatov has been writhing, stirring, conjuring – just waiting for the time to make his return from Olympus.
I hear he’s now a free agent. That’s right, free of contractual constraints and listening out. Much like the One Ring, he wants to be found. I also understand he’s been enjoying the works of J.R.R. Tolkein in his unemployment. So I’m told.
Do what must be done – bring our hero home.
Dimitar A football fan