The 'Mou'rnful Swansong: He could have had it all

It had all the makings of a modern day ‘love-is eternal’ masterpiece. Just like tales of love and passion galore, this romance traces it roots to a grand masquerade, the Champions League, which provided the perfect ‘excuse’ for a ‘chance’ meeting between a fiery Portugese warrior, Jose Mourinho, and the charming yet laced with brimstone English Maiden called Manchester United. By the end of their first ‘collision’, the lady was left aghast and a little petrified, as the warrior-elite waltzed his way to glory, joyously running along the touchline, unable to mask his jubilation at his most important triumph, all the while humiliating her trusted guardian, the wily Scotsman, a certain Sir Alex Ferguson, the true ‘knight’ on these footballing shores. The Portuguese had seemingly kick-started his legend at the maiden’s expense, and while he garnered acclaim far and wide, in Manchester his name would always evoke a tide of resentment, echoing sentiments of the need to reclaim some lost pride.

But as fate would have it, the valiant Iberian was seduced by the riches on offer at the nearby Kingdom of London. The alliance bore fruit, a new dynasty had been established, heaping more misery on the Scottish stallion who had so painstakingly reinstated Manchester as the centre of the Footballing universe in United-Kingdom, all this while nurturing United and transforming her from a tumbling toddler to a virtuous princess imbibed with ultimate respect for tradition and culture, becoming the apple of so many eyes, while turning other ladies green with envy.

In the meantime, the self-absorbed, brooding yet humorous Portuguese mastermind had, with his triumphant pursuits backed by his confident demeanour, made heads turn around, even charming United and her followers.

The Portugese Warrior (L) meets the Sorcerer

A perceived wanderer by nature, the ‘Special-One’ set sail for Italy, where, unsurprisingly, he was again pitted against the steely Scottish resolve, only for him to succumb this time around. But you could sense that his endearing qualities,coupled with his fearless persona, had struck a chord with the guardian, who, now in the twilight of his career, was on the lookout for a suitable ‘man’ capable of taking care of his beloved girl. The bond, it seemed, was growing stronger, a sense of inevitability heightened by Sir Alex’s candid confession that only three candidates, the warrior included, were suitable enough to forge an alliance with the lady in red.

Spring 2013. Life, it seemed, had come a full circle. It was the same stage where they had ‘rendezvoused’ for the first time, and there was a lingering sense of elopement this time around. Confessions of mutual admiration were publicly shared, and a seal of approval was ‘uncorked’ alongwith a bottle of wine between the Scot and his heir.

After all, the timing seemed just right, as the Scottish taskmaster had helped erase the scars inflicted, and had so vociferously rendered mute the verbal jibes of the noisy neighbours aimed at de-valuing the auspicious life of the lady. In Spain, tired of another tumultuous fling, the nomadic wanderer, it seemed, would have lapped up the prospect of the consummate union.

But alas! Traditionalist, more often than not, sound the death-knell for a love-stricken couple wishing to walk the aisle, as it did indeed turn out for the silent apprentice, and a homely Glaswegian, the epitome of stability, a certain David Moyes, who all his life had harboured feelings for United, had won, attaining the hand of the angel with the blessings of his God-father no less.

The Sorcerer (L) and his Apprentice

It signalled the triumph of sustained perseverance over fleeting evanescent passion, and for the warrior, it seems the long awaiting arms of a despairing Chelsea should provide some solace, hopefully driving away the ‘torn-in love’ blues.

It was supposed to be football’s best kept secret. It might have just been revealed.