Robbie, Robbie, Robbie. What are you getting yourself into. So, as you may or may not know, legendary Irish striker Robbie Keane has been sold by Tottenham to the LA Galaxy, who ply their trade within the heady heights of Major League Soccer. You won’t catch this column bashing MLS in any shape or form, we support their brave attempt to forge a living under the weight of the ‘Big three’ (NFL, MLB and NBA), and the LA Galaxy have every right to buy up as many thirty something players as they full well please. However, for Keane, it is nothing short of the first step towards retirement.
Put it this way, if Kevin Doyle and Shane Long aren’t the Irish strike force from here on out, we will know good old Gio Trappa has completely lost the plot. Certain players thrive as they head into their autumnal years. They do so by remaining committed to the conditioning aspect of their game, and playing amongst the best players in the world. With all due respect to the LA Galaxy, those afore mentioned best players in the world do not play in LA. Or anywhere else in the MLS.
It would appear Robbie is raising the white flag and cashing in on his admirable legacy, getting paid one last serious pay check before heading off into the sunset to become, ‘Claudine’s husband’. Of all the development linked to this, most chillingly of all perhaps are Keane’s wife, Claudine’s comments in the aftermath of the transfer. Check this beauty out.
'It's our dream come true'
Right, so we are expected to believe it is Keane’s dream to play in a league roughly the equivalent talent wise of the SuperLiga played every weekend in UCD? This column believes its SuperLiga team from way back when, the formidable Borussia Baluba, could hold their own against the LA Galaxy.
Champions League quality MLS is not.
‘Our dream come true’, good lord. Keane has basically handed over the keys to the Ferrari and said to Caludine, ‘Here hon, you drive’. For the next two years prepare yourself for endless, mindless dirge in the daily rags about how Claudine and Posh are best mates, and just love eating bad sushi, shopping and going for pedicures together. ‘Our dream’, give me a break. As Keane’s last remaining reserves of greatness slowly sap out of his legs, spilling out onto the waste lands of MLS pitches, Claudine will be swanning around LA’s many boutiques, spending Keane’s legacy, and vomiting up fresh, turgid quotes to whatever Irish and English rag is paparazzi-ing its way after her. ‘Posh and I met Tom and Katy last night at Element, and then we went to Industry, where we were hanging with Lindsay and Paris. Posh talked a lot about Her Music, but all in all, what a great night!’
As Robbie basically urinates away the remains of his career, Claudine will be free to stage all the starchy, rigid, pathetically acted swimsuit photo opportunities she wants on the hot beaches of Orange county. ‘Oh my God, I can’t believe they were taking my picture!’ Sure thing Claudine, now could you just hold that pose a second longer?
‘Oh I just love LA, and I am really getting into Posh’s music, this is a dream move for us!’
Maybe for you, Claudine, but for the rest of us, it’s the sad beginning to the demise of the career of a true Irish soccer legend.
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