Men we love: Harry Kewell
June 19th, 2008If we lived in an age before television and moving pictures, the text of this post would simply read: ‘Because he is a hot bitch’.
Maybe I’d mention his ponytail a little too, because those were some good times. God knows it wouldn’t mention soccer at all, because I care not for soccer.
But because I can see him move and talk on the ‘television’ and understand words and sentences in the language they call English, I know that Harry Kewell is so very much more.
Harry Kewell is just so … special (and yes I mean that in That way). And I love him … the way you love a special child.
Oh, Harry.
When our idol Errol was confronted by journalists and by his place in history he dripped gems like:
I despise mediocrity above all things. I fear it, yet I know some of my performances have been mediocre. I also know that I have turned in half a dozen good performances. I call myself a bum; but I have been working hard most of the days of my adult life.What would I be like at seventy? At seventy I confidently hope I will have had at least eight more wives, have grown a stomach that I can regard with respect and can still walk up the stairs to the bedroom without aching or groaning.
When bowed by the weight of World Cup competition, living under the burning eyes of the world’s media, Our Harry pondered, and pondered, and finally – ever so slowly – said in his tiny slow-mo British halfwit voice:
So… until you lose then?
When injured, and arguably confronted with the tenuous nature of his success and his livelihood, not to mention the ever-present question of mortality, he explained:
I took a whack on my left ankle, but something told me it was my right. Innit?
Oh, Harry.
When wrapping his kneaded dough brain around the meaning of this sport they call the beautiful game, he concluded:
Sometimes in football you have to score goals.
OH HARRY.
How can this man coordinate all four limbs to play soccer at a world level? It amazes me. But that’s part of the magic of Harry. Just like his spivvy little mangy moustache. How can you not love him? When he sauntered onto the Footy Show tonight with his London accent and a pleather jacket my heart melted a little bit.
And when Fatty Vautin threw to him to give a promo for Politix who provided his outfit, and Harry Kewell answered ‘I loike fashion … just not going out and getting it, you know?’. Well I’m sure you can guess.
Oh. Harry.
* I may have added in the ‘innits?’, but I’m 99% certain he said them. You know he always does.
Well, You’ve got to believe that you’re going to win, and I believe we’ll win the World Cup until the final whistle blows and we’re knocked out. Innit? *
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