Well, I for one, must hold up my hands and say I wasted a lot of time, energy and emotion over this Denilson character, and so therefore, unfortunately I carried you, dear reader, with me and yes, didn’t I feel very silly waking up this morning to discover he’s skedaddled — exit stage left! — citing his leg injury as the reason why he is cutting his short-term contract super-short and departing for the comforting motherly embrace of his homeland Brazil (tomorrow I will picture him on a tropical beach waiting for the Lilt Man, wearing Speedos, contemplating if he should play a game of football tennis in the afternoon or not, what with the leg injury, or just hit the cocktail bar).
In the end, his Vietnamese story won’t even make a chapter in his own memoirs. Jesus, if he was on twitter, he’d barely have had to time to tweet a tweet. It was barely a cameo. More like an accidental venture, a wrong turn down Regrettable Avenue before slapping the gear into reverse, hastily retreating and hightailing it down the Highway to Home.
All in all, he lasted 20 days. In that time he got everyone’s knickers in a twist, incited a couple of near riots, first by arriving, secondly by not playing, he played half a match, scored one very nice goal (for which he pocketed a cool $5,000), got injured, and left. (He was also paid $12,000 — or maybe $15,000 — for his one appearance, last Saturday, and half a month’s salary, apparently $10,000). Whether he’s terrified of the agro-fans, wearied by the horrendous summer heat, or genuinely injured, we’ll never really know. My guess is the Hai Phong nightlife doesn’t cut the mustard for a Samba loving, caipirinha quaffing boy from Brazil. “A summer in Rio, a summer in Do Son, hmmm…” said Denilson weighing up the options to himself.
Oh Denilson, we knew you weren’t here forever, but you couldn’t even manage a summer long romance, now you’ve left us feeling cheap and dirty, like a young innocent maiden who’s be sweet talked into a one night stand by a slippery, silver-tongued philanderer. But once bitten, twice shy, I don’t care who’s up for sale on http://www.washed-up-brazilian-footballers-4-sale.com, even if it’s Ronaldo or the perpetually shifty looking Rivaldo, we’re not having them! Or at the very least, the Comical Hat will be turning a blind eye, we’ll be at the beach, in our speedo’s, sitting by the pool. Only the fact that we’ll be drinking caipirinhas will betray our innermost feelings.