The article below is by no means an expert’s analysis on the Norwich-Chelsea game, who Chelsea Football Club should turn to for goals, or what lies ahead for the beleaguered Number 9, Fernando Torres. It is what I would simply describe as a short piece written as a result of a rush of blood to the head.
It sits down perfectly for him, and though he is under pressure from two bulky defenders, a simple toe-poke should suffice. He goes for it, and…Jesus, somehow he has fired wide narrowly. A familiar tale now, isn’t it?
Fernando Torres and the goalposts have been familiar foes for quite some time. The old Torres would finish his chances with aplomb. Right now he can’t buy a goal.
The funny thing here is that it’s not even that the man is playing badly. He has displayed good movement throughout his most recent barren run, which has, for the record, lasted three months. He is taking on the opposition’s back four with self-belief again, and getting the better of them a fair number of times too. He is once again displaying his appetite for the game.
For most of El Nino’s nightmarish 12 months in London, I was inclined to believe that confidence was the only missing ingredient. The problem was purely psychological, I thought. That is, at least until another remarkable miss came along against Norwich City at Carrow Road, from the man whose head they’re all calling for once more.
Now it seems the issue is much more serious than that. I’d say the whole universe has contrived to keep him away from euphoria. Fate has it so.
We’re talking here about goalies making saves you normally wouldn’t back them to, or the woodwork repeatedly proving to be the final stumbling block. What can anyone do about that? Fate has it so, it seems.
It’s past mid-January. Wasn’t this supposed to be the time when Fernando would finally step out of the shadows of Didier Drogba, and make the centre forward slot his own? Well, it wasn’t.
Dear Lord, what is the matter? Is the man being punished for some horrible deeds from his past life?
Destiny is something I’ve never truly believed in. But watching my beloved Chelsea’s Spanish frontman struggle and seeing his reputation take a beating over the past 365 days, I have been brought to a point where I’m questioning my own beliefs. Maybe there really is something such as predestination.
I said this in the title, and I will say it again: What more must the bloke do before some justice is served for his persistent efforts to pull himself out of this whirlpool of sorts?