"Dedication to the cause ..... I'm not the only one who will bleed"

I believe that obstacles are sent to test us. Injuries are endured so that we return stronger, restraining orders teaches us control our urges, and, as I told myself on Thursday morning, as I stood outside the England teams training pitches, security personnel is sent to us to test our determination. I understand why you’ve done this Fabio. I do. I understand why you’ve posted two monobrowed guerrillas barring my path.

How bad do you want it Michael?

I want it badly Fabio. You tease. And what Michael wants. Michael gets. Oh yes.

Initially I returned from the training ground a little dejected. A little frustrated. I couldn’t understand why Fabio would select me, currently England’s highest scoring footballer, for his 31 man squad, only to bar me from practice after just one session. Was it something I’d said? Something I’d done? Was it for striking Darren Bent with my crutch? If it was then he should be nothing short of impressed. To hit Darren from that distance, with such an unwieldy instrument, is nothing short of miraculous. Had I not been restrained then surely the second would have hit the mark too, what with him being prone at that point too.

It makes no sense.

Later on that day I sat in my hostel dorm and composed a stiffly worded poem for him but eventually rejected sending it in favour of doing my training. I donned my England kit (circa 2006/07) and went through my paces. Lunges. Shuttle runs. Press ups. Star jump. Shadow boxing. You name it. Then I went into the common room and surfed the channels until I caught news stories on the camp. I took notes. The swelling around Darren’s eye has certainly subsided. Then I scrutinized the movements in the background. What was Fabio drilling into them? It was difficult to tell really as the anchor woman obscured their movements but there was a segment on the fringe players on the squad who might be shelved and I wasn’t mentioned, which bodes well, and then there was a few shots of Rooney, Bent and Heskey scoring a few goals.

So that’s your game is in Fabio? Goals. Very canny. Very old school. Next you’ll want assists! It’s certainly a step up from Sven who really only demanded of me that I ‘looked earnest’ in my on pitch endeavours.

The good old days.

That afternoon I spent over an hour in Aundostvic Park with Mel the Australian backpacker and a stray dog, hammering home a few goals! God it felt good. Save for the dog shit it reminded me of my days training with Newcastle. Just with better opposition and more intensive. I can’t wait to tell the boys how it’s going tonight at dinner. I’ll even show Fabio the poem I wrote for him. It’s called ‘Pick me or I’ll knife you you duplicitous fucking wop.’ Actually that’s not really a poem, more a title. But I wrote it over and over again so it filled a page.

Good times.

Anyway I’ll write soon! Wish me luck!

Michael.