I talk about Owen Hargreaves too much. Of my obsessions, he’s right there in my top five (I won’t disclose the other four on that list, but if you follow me on Twitter you can probably figure it out).
About once a month I tell myself that it’s time to move on and let the anger go. When he signed for Manchester City I had a bit of a crisis of faith. I got over it – it helped that he didn’t play much – but I held my nose for each of those four appearances.
Hargreaves is the embodiment of that girl (insert gender/orientation of your choice here, but this is my obsession so it’s a girl...) in high school that broke your heart – you know the one. She flirted with you just enough to give you hope, just enough to make you think maybe and then...
[PRBREAK][/PRBREAK]
She took the cooler, better looking and more fancied guy to the prom. You could see it coming for months – it hardly mattered that you gave her all the attention and that he didn’t really care about her – but it still was a kick in the gut. Of course she had every right to go with him. Yes, she had a better chance at being Prom Queen with him. Still, it felt like a betrayal – your friends telling you that you should have worked out more, dressed better and bought a better car if you wanted to win her heart didn’t help.
You kind of wanted to punch them, actually.
Even now, years later, the memory still burns. You’ve had your heart broken again – in some cases by those that you had more substantial and longer relationships with – but the first one always hurts the most.
There are no mature, be-the-bigger-person-hope-they-are-happy instincts with the first. Just bitterness and resentment. Yes, you laughed when you heard that prom-boy left her. You don’t claim to be mature or rational about her.
If you ever got the chance to tell her how much she hurt you you’d be all over it. Circumstance has prevented you from doing so, but, man...if only.
What were we talking about again? Oh, yes. Owen ****ing Hargreaves.
Apparently he thinks he can still play. MLS is an option, he says.
Please, God, tell me Columbus needs a broken holding midfielder.
One game. One corner kick in the southeast corner. Please. I need the closure. I promise I won’t rush the pitch.
In theory.