Is Barry stuck in the rumour mill?

Tag : football shoe

It has been a prolific few days for football's rumour mill, thatunflagging source of the plea, the wrangle and the want-awayhitman. At times like these it seems strange that very little isknown about the mill itself. Although, oddly enough, I came acrossit only last week during my annual summer barging holiday on theEast Kent and Thanet canal network.
I'd been drifting north, traversing a series of lowlands, flatlands and flat, low lands. Out of this landscape the mill loomed, ahuge, red-brick structure. Intrigued, I came ashore and followedthe sounds of chugging machinery until I was surprised by a smallman in the traditional robes of a master rumour-monger. Luckily, Iwas prepared.
"Swoop," I said slowly. "Snatch. Frenzy. Locked in talks."
He looked surprised. "You speak rumour?"
"Well, I'm a little rusty."
"You must excuse me. We rarely receive visitors. It's a lonely lifeat the mill."
He introduced himself as the mill's Director (Football Guff) andinsisted we take a turn around the factory floor. It was a darkplace, the brickwork sooty with generations of KO'd summer switchesand unanswered come-and-get-me-pleas. Around the artisan tablestraditional rumaiolos massaged the raw rumour base, hurling italoft to ensure a thorough aeration.
"We send the product out through our network of rumour-mongers,"the director explained. "It's a growth industry. Nobody mongscheese or iron these days. They're all in rumours. It's where themonging is."
Outside he showed me the mill's new venture, an extensive organicrumour garden. "Very popular with the broadsheets," he confided."Locally sourced, bit of mud on them. We got a lovely crop ofUnited-linked-with-obscure-Colombian last week. We do a rumourdelivery box, too. A turnip, an unsettled Belgian goalkeeper and aroot that tastes of shoe polish."
"Of course, it's busy now," he added, taking my arm. "But times arehard in milling. Come here and you'll walk away with aclose-pal-backed, quality rumour. For the same price on theinternet you can get 50 off-the-peg ROBINHO 2 MAN U DEF TRUE HERDIT FROM HIS M8 jobs. It's the Chinese, flooding the market. Theycome over here, taking our mistruths and snidey barbs ..."
"What's in there?"
"Oh, nothing. No, don't go in there."
It was a converted barn, far from the mill proper. Inside,suspended in a giant transparent pane - very much like theimprisoned evil General Zod in Superman - was the huge, flattenedface of want-away Aston Villa ace Gareth Barry.
"Our new service," the director shrugged. "With Barry trapped hereinside a purgatory of rumour and counter-rumour we can flood themarket with Barry-talk, all of it authentically Barry-flavoured.Within weeks we can transform an entire career into amind-numbingly repetitive transfer rumour. Did I tell you we hadthat Cristiano Ronaldo in? Very large neck muscles."
"This is unacceptably weird," I cried, pounding my fist on the walland feeling my eyes bulge like Edward Woodward in The Wicker Man."Gareth. I'm busting you out of here."
Seizing a sheaf of unused Bosman raids I shattered his Perspexrumour prison with a single blow. "Run. Get away from here. Youwere doing well at Villa. You don't need all this. You're in theEngland team."
"It's no use," the director said quietly from the doorway. "Hecan't. He's ours now." And so it seemed to be. Pale, almosttransparent, Barry stood motionless on the flagstone floor. Lookinginto his face, just for a second, I thought I saw a tear begin tofall.