Football, bloody hell.
After a month, but what already feels more like a year, of business and politics colonising the back pages as well as the front, of innumerable news stories and opinion pieces struggling under the weight of references to governance and company law, credit cards and expenses, committees and sub-committees, and reports and reviews, it was beginning to get damnably hard to see the woodwork for the fees, to remember that, at the beginning and whatever will constitute the end of FAIgate, right at the very beating heart of it all, is the eternal stuff of childhood dreams.
And then, right on cue, along come Manchester City and Spurs in the Champions League to serve up a sensational reminder that, whether it’s the frugalities endured by the local grassroots or the obscenely high living of the global elite, there is nothing ailing the game of football which can’t be redeemed by, well, a game of football.
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