You only notice how truly mental a football season is until you try to take 24 hours off, when your job is to write about it.
As I often say, football never stops, never rests, never sleeps, and I often link to this song.
I went to see my elderly and ailing (but battling-on) mum in the south-west of England, which meant driving a fairly long way, made more complicated by narrow lanes and fallen trees. I avoided the storm, but not its aftermath.
While I was away, but still plugged in, there was just the matter of two title rivals dropping points, and another winning three; a big-name striker probably ending his career, but at least not his life, via a Ferrari; Man United’s best-of-the-best sporting director sacked, after three of the most comical goals you’ll ever see conceded in one weekend; Mo Salah, after his best 45 minutes in years, apparently now offered a new contract along with the other two (albeit one will probably go to Real Madrid); and a whole lot more madness after the Goodison derby was called off.
Liverpool have mostly benefited, without playing. And gained a well-needed break in an insane schedule.
So I get home, write this article, and before I can even publish it, David Coote has (finally) been sacked, but we await to hear how many of the allegations were true or not. Either way, that he was grossly unprofessional seemed a certainty.
And now it seems that Chelsea might be title rivals, as if spending £1billion might lead to something instead of failure.
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