Danny Rose has opened his heart to Press Association Sport: “I have been impressed, jealous, angry – I have been through a whole load of emotions. I’ve just been itching to get going for the past couple of weeks and I’m just grateful that I’m back in amongst it now.
“I have started seeing a psychologist to try and help me think positive. I have started reading books now to try and help keep me positive as well.”
Rose also spoke frankly and openly in a wide-ranging interview with talkSPORT and BBC Radio 5 Live, offering a glimpse into the depths elite athletes can plummet during difficult times.
“Last season I was doing well, I felt untouchable, I felt like I was one of the best. I felt that if I carried on with that form, anything could have happened.”
What we have here is a simultaneously welcome and unwelcome glimpse behind the curtain. Yet more wholly damning confirmation of the low IQ fuelled neediness of your average Premier League superstar.
‘I can’t show off and earn more money than god because I stubbed my toe-y woah-y and nobody loves me whaaaaaaaah, whaaaaaaaaaah, whaaaaaaaaaaah. Tell me you miss me and that I’m still the best, I stubbed my toe-y woah-y and it hurted me and now nobody is telling me they love me. I wanted to do what Bonzo did and fill my romper room with a banknote blower and floor to ceiling mirrors. My toe still hurts, tell me you love my toe, but not too much because it’s my toe and you have to love me more and tell me nice things. Whaaaaaaaaaah whaaaaaaaaaaaah this is all so unfair…’
What a hateful little child. You just know the closest he’s come to reading a book in the last decade is glancing at the instructions of an Xbox game.
This won’t sit well with many of the snowflakes reading this, but I’m only surprised that more of these morons don’t end up wandering into motorways or are found sat on railway bridges.
If it wasn’t for the fact that some poor ordinary – well adjusted – human (who hasn’t had a pay rise in 7 years) would have to scrape them up, I’d encourage them to keep on walking. Jump I say. Let’s all walk into the fast lane. Less mooching, more jumping, more walking. The levels of self indulgence here beggar belief.
On full pay (twice what the average Joe breaks his back and sells his soul for to earn in a year) for 8 or 9 months or whatever the hell it was and the navel-gazing drove him to needing to waste a psychologist’s time and use a self-help book as a coaster?
Footballers who can’t cope are competition winners who only won the second prize and so feel shortchanged by life.
Don’t worry, you’re still untouchable sunbeam. Nobody in their right mind would touch you with a bargepole.