Yaya Toure and the detachment of the modern football player

Article by e-Manchester City's Shaun Heywood

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Lying in bed listening last week to the news filtering in of the latest footballer to completely detach himself from the reality of the men and women that idolise him, I felt a gut wrenching feeling that we may have witnessed new depths of petulant ego-mania.

To compound the already disturbing news that this player was threatening to leave the club that he had just heroically carried to the league title, it was the realisation that the player in question was, in fact Yaya Toure. Yes. Yaya Toure- the man with the gentle tone of voice and warm smile that belies his thunderous authority on the field of play.

Assuming that Toure is behind the claims of his cretinous agent (judging by his lack of public announcements to the contrary) it is beggars belief that one of the most highly paid players in the world can actually use perceived underwhelming birthday wishes to agitate for a move and/or, even more disturbingly, a raise in salary over and above the already exorbitant package.

Ironically, one of the signature chants from the adoring Manchester City faithful is, to the tune of ‘Delilah’:

‘Ya Ya Yaya Toure, Ya Ya Yaya Toure, So before, you break away and you score, Yaya Toure I think we should pay you some more’.

I myself have belted this out on many occasions this season with the gusto of a supporter trying to lift the spirits of one player genuinely capable of literally dragging his team to victory. Pay him more. Yes, why not? But bow to demands behind a veil of cantankerous trouble making I think not.

How many City supporters can expect a congratulatory email message from their employers on their birthday? A card maybe? Or how about a polite ‘happy birthday’ by the coffee machine or staff meeting. A cake would surely be too much to expect- as would a pay rise or a gushing endorsement of importance from the board of directors.

It’s not so much the fact that Toure feels in some way disgruntled with life, or the shortcomings in the club making him feel special and warm and fuzzy, but the way it has been played out. It is almost like some kind of warped parallel universe where the twittersphere is the weapon of choice to play out a game of charades whilst alienating the common supporter. I'm sure he hasn’t even an idea of the embarrassment he has caused himself until he hears cries of ‘happy birthday to you’ in grounds up and down the country next season.

The abiding message to Yaya is this; Happy Birthday Yaya, we love you. The club loves you. We adore the way you drive through opposition defences with the power of a late 19th century locomotive. But next time you feel the need to vent your frustrations, however unfounded or otherwise, give Mr Begiristain a ring, sit down over a pint and have a chat- avoid allowing your agent to make announcements that drive the evermore substantial wedge deeper in between those who live the dream and those who dream to live your life.

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