Bobby chased a hare today – across the fields at Ryton – as though he was 17 human years young. It was like Alex Ferguson’s description of when he first set eyes on a thirteen-year old Ryan Giggs - “like a cocker spaniel in the park chasing a piece of sliver paper in the wind”
Oh, who am I kidding – he was like a 71 year-old man running for the bus. It was like if I rocked up to Durdham Downs for one last appearance for West Town, a team I was already too old and fat for when I was 25. Luckily, they were too shit to notice.
Unlike me, today, cheering on the side-lines, as Bobby wheezed to a halt halfway up a hill, hollering at the hare – come back, I’ll have you – come here – oh, buggering hell – you pesky kids…phuwee.
I swear there was a moment when the hare stopped and waited for him.
Bless. Still, no doubt he'll score a hat-trick in his dreams tonight, like I have these last thirty years...
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