Peter Crouchs' Diary!

[InsaneApache]

From Peter Crouch’s diary, February 17, 2007



Meeting today at Anfield with the Americans. Me, Stevie Gerrard and the gaffer. Quite surprised to be asked along, but can’t hurt to show your face. First impressions very favourable. Lots of stuff said about “taking the franchise forward” and “growing the brand on the Pacific Rim”.

Not really my area, to be honest. But very friendly atmosphere. I even thought the main man, Mr Gillett, took a bit of a shine to me. He was definitely looking at me a lot, smiling and nodding encouragingly. It was a bit hard to tell behind the glasses, but I think he even winked a couple of times.

I was looking to Stevie for his reaction. I knew he had met some of the Dubai boys, when they were in the frame, and had felt that they understood the culture of the club. Plus they seemed up for dropping a bundle on loads of new players and a stadium, so he couldn’t see a problem. Anyway, he seemed to like the Americans, too. Handshakes and smiles all round.

Slightly strange thing at the end, though. As he was showing us out, Mr Gillett grabbed my elbow and said: “Can you bounce-pass?” I must have looked confused. He said: “I’ll bet you got a pretty cute bounce-pass, don’t you?” I just smiled and nodded, as you do, and he roared with laughter, clapped me on the shoulder and shut the door.


February 24

Say what you like about the new regime, it’s certainly freshened up training. And it’s great for me, personally, to find myself at the centre of so much of it. The figure-eight weave offence is coming along well. So is the set-piece routine where Jermaine Pennant runs to the back post with a step ladder, Dirk Kuyt legs it up the ladder and knocks it down to Xabi Alonso and I turn a cartwheel and knock it in with the back of my head. There was a bit of a setback when Dirk slipped on the second rung and did his knee, but it’s only his posterior cruciate ligaments, fortunately, so he should be back before the end of the season.


February 27

Lost 9-0 at Wigan. Disappointing, but obviously some of the new ideas will need time to bed down. Midway through the first half, I’ve gone to the crowd with the bucket of water, except it’s actually full of shredded paper — only I’ve got the wrong bucket, so I’ve ended up soaking this woman in row B and she’s now threatening to sue for distress, and also for ruining a family-size tub of popcorn. Avoidable, maybe. But, in my defence, it’s a lot of buckets to have to think about. I’ll get the hang of it eventually.


March 8

Got sent off in a 6-0 defeat at home to Manchester City. Jamie Carragher has fed me the ball and I’ve tucked it under my shirt and set off up the pitch, running with my knees up high and my hands in the small of my back. It’s something we worked on all week in training and the crowd absolutely lapped it up.

But not Graham Poll, of course. He’s straight over to me with the cards out. Couldn’t believe it when I saw it was red. I said: “For Christ’s sake, Polly. It’s called entertainment, you xxxx.” He just doesn’t get it, though. Never has and never will.

Incidentally, people say the soul went out of Anfield when the Americans bought in. I don’t agree. When the whole of the Kop stands with scarves raised before kick-off and whistles Sweet Georgia Brown, I don’t think there’s anyone who wouldn’t feel the hairs stand up.


March 12

I’ve got off with a token fine and a one-game suspension for the Man City business, but I reckon we’re in for much worse after it kicked off big time in the 16-0 defeat at Sheffield United tonight — mass riot in the technical area, both benches getting stuck in, Lucozade bottles flying everywhere, Neil Warnock heavily involved, it goes without saying. And all for what? Because Rafa Benítez came on the pitch on a bicycle and squirted party string over Phil Jagielka. You’d think some of these people had no sense of humour.


March 18

I was up before the FA today, charged with deliberately switching the official match ball for another ball, identical in outward appearance yet altered as to its physical properties, such that it would bounce in a random and unpredictable manner, causing unsuspecting players to swipe at the air, fall over on their faces, or otherwise look silly.

The club’s lawyer argued that I was merely working in a hallowed comedic tradition that has brought pleasure to millions around the world and was once honoured with its own specially syndicated Hanna-Barbera cartoon series. Even so, the FA has thrown the book at me: five-match ban and a £300,000 fine. The gaffer’s incensed. Reckons they’re punishing me on account of my reputation. I think he’s got a point.


April 14

Lost 32-0 at Blackburn and dropped into the relegation zone. Got summoned to see Mr Gillett. Found him looking tired and pale, staring mournfully at the framed pictures on his wall.

“Know who this guy is?” he asked me. I didn’t. “That’s Fred ‘Curly’ Neal,” Mr Gillett said. “Best dribbler in the history of the Harlem Globetrotters. Know why they called him Curly?” I took a stab. “Because he’s bald?” “Correct!” At this point, Mr Gillett went into a long, helpless laughing jag, not fully recovering until he had taken out a handkerchief and blown his nose.

He then pointed to another of the pictures. “That’s Reece ‘Goose’ Tatum. The Goose had a hook shot so good, they retired his goddamn shirt. And this one? Wilt Chamberlain. The legendary Wilt. These guys were funny! Show me our Meadowlark Lemon, our Robert ‘Showboat’ Hall. Where is our William ‘Pop’ Gates, our Junius Kellogg?”

I said: “Steve Finnan does quite a good impression of the ladies from Little Britain.” Mr Gillett ignored me.

“You want to know about winning? One time, the Globetrotters had a 2,495-game winning streak. The night it ended, back in ’71, against the New Jersey Reds — unforgettable. It was like laughter itself had stopped. You know which comedy great was made an honorary Globetrotter? I’ll tell you who. Bob Hope.”

I said: “We’ve got Jimmy Tarbuck, though.” Mr Gillett looked at me coldly. Then his face kind of melted and tears came into his eyes and he let out the biggest sigh I’ve ever heard. “I had such high hopes for you, Crouchy.” Then he went and sat back at his desk with his head in his hands. “Just go,” he said.


August 4

Optimistic about the new season. Yes, it’s Championship football, but we’ve just got to get on with it and come back stronger. And with the new arena going up, this is an exciting time to be around Liverpool. Plus the owners have delivered on their promise to attract top talent to the club, using the summer window to bring in Michael “Wild Thing” Wilson, who holds the record for a vertical slamdunk (12 feet!).

Obviously, his arrival puts me under a bit of pressure, personally, but I have vowed to stay and fight for my place. You’ve got to, haven’t you?

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0, ... 87,00.html