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Why we'll miss the buttock-spreading, line-sniffing, glorified rent-collector
Simon Hattenstone
Wednesday February 1, 2006
The Guardian
I can't get the following song out of my head.
We all live in a Robbie Fowler house
A Robbie Fowler house
A Robbie fowler house
I'm walking round my house, which isn't actually a Robbie Fowler house, singing it louder and louder, to the tune of Yellow Submarine, till it becomes a demented bawl.
I've got a lump in my throat, and feel emotionally conflicted, as Sigmund would have it - betrayed yet weirdly ecstatic. Robbie, aka Blobbie, aka the Blobster, has just told us what he really thought of Manchester City: nothing. He's walked out on us to return to Anfield, his spiritual home, for a huge pay cut, the promise of a contract till the end of the season, and a seat on the bench if he's lucky.
And this is the gratitude he shows to City fans. "I'm so happy, it's frightening." With every word he plunges the knife deeper. "I can't believe it's happened." Then he gives the knife a twist. "Just to put on that red shirt again will be amazing." And another. "Leaving was one of my biggest regrets in football." Judas.
Just in case we've not got the message Liverpool manager Rafa Benítez adds: "I don't think I've ever seen a player quite so happy to be joining a club." The headlines, of course, trumpet THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL SON.
Why? Fowler is a blobby has-been, a coke-alluding scally (remember the line-sniffing celebration for which he was fined), a glorified rent-collector (at the last tally he owned 84 properties including half of Oldham, and was the Premiership's wealthiest footballer with £28m) and a gay-taunter extraordinaire (the buttocks-spreading gesture he made to Graeme le Saux, then falsely rumoured to be homosexual, earned him another fine). What's more, he used to wear a ridiculous plaster on his nose.
So, am I bothered? Well, yes. Why? OK, here goes. Robbie had just started scoring after another long injury absence; he was still very possibly our best player; he cost £6m and we were giving him away for nowt; he is bound to have an amazing two years at Liverpool, win an England recall and score the winner in the World Cup final. We've never had our own prodigals - players who would do anything to return to City, their spiritual home (that is, unless you count Kenny Clements, a right-back with a great afro who never successfully crossed a ball in 241 games); but we do have a history of players bursting out crying when they score for us against their true loves (Denis Law's backheel that confirmed United's relegation).
Most important, though, Robbie is a character, he makes me smile. Just think of the time he took off his Liverpool shirt to reveal another shirt supporting the sacked Liverpool dockers - yes, of course, he was fined for that as well. In his own way he is also a good sport - he was praised by referee Gerald Ashby for admitting he'd not been fouled at Highbury after a penalty had been given.
My favourite sketches on the brilliant football show Soccer AM featured (a fictitious) Robbie and Steve McManaman on a couple of swings discussing the "issue" of the day. They went something like this:
Robbie: "Terrible all this racism in jails, eh Macca?"
Macca: "Yeah, awful. But what can you expect in a country where racism is institutionalised?"
Robbie: "Yeah, it does make you think Macpherson has had no impact."
Macca: "Spot on, Robbie. Change has to be evolutionary and organic."
Robbie: "Yeah, come on Macca, I'm bored. Let's go and buy a house."
The sketches would never work with Beckham or Lampard, no matter how many houses they owned.
Even in his short stint at City he provided memories. In his first few games he seemed like a recovering stroke victim trying to remember things all over again - it looked as if he'd never headed or chased a ball in his life. Gradually it all started to come back. Despite his apparent failure at City, his bloated belly and lack of pace, he finished top scorer last season. When interviewed just after his comeback hat-trick last month, the reporter commented on the fact that they were his first goals in eight months. True, Fowler said, quick as a flash, but it was also his first full game in eight months.
Fowler grew up an Evertonian, but ended up the ultimate Liverpool Red. A few weeks ago he scored City's third goal against Man United, ran over to the United end and stuck up five digits. The four fingers and thumb represented Liverpool's five European Cup victories compared with United's two. As far as Robbie was concerned, he'd scored the goal for Liverpool not City against United. Perhaps that is why so many supporters love him - because, more than anything, he is a fan. It's just a pity the bastard isn't a City fan.
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