F***ing hell, James Milner, the lad's gone and proper fucked his knee up good and proper, hasn't he? Missed pretty much the whole fucking season, the poor b***ard. And now he's come out and said he thought he might never fucking walk again! Can you imagine that s**t? One minute you're playing the beautiful game, next you're wondering if you'll ever be able to take a fucking stroll down the park with the missus and the dog!
Milner's Injury Hell
The Brighton midfielder - and I use that term loosely, considering he's spent more time on the physio's table than on the fucking pitch this season - did his knee in back in August. Started the first three games, looked like he was getting back into the swing of things, then BAM! Limped off against Arsenal and that was that.
But get this - the daft c**t only went and had his knee rebuilt or some s**t, and the quacks fucked it up even more! Damaged a nerve, left him unable to even lift his fucking foot. What a bunch of useless fucking muppets. Surgeons taking the piss, if you ask me. You're supposed to fix the fucker, not make it worse!
The Long Road Back
So there he is, lying in a hospital bed, unable to fucking walk, wondering if he's ever going to play footy again. Must've been going out of his fucking mind. I know I would be. Can you imagine? Your whole life, all you've ever wanted to do, taken away from you because some c**t of a doctor couldn't do his fucking job properly?
But credit where it's due, the lad's a fucking fighter. Worked his b***s off to get back, and finally made it on the pitch for the last game of the season. And what a game to come back for - sticking it to those Spurs mugs, 4-1! Must've felt like fucking paradise after the year he's had.
Experience Counts
And even though he hasn't been playing, he's still been there, helping out behind the scenes, using his experience to guide the younger lads. That's proper leadership, that is. Knowing you can't do fuck all on the pitch, but still turning up every fucking day to make sure your teammates have got what they need.
Some of those young lads, they've got no fucking clue, have they? They need someone like Milner, someone who's been there and done it, to tell them what's what. They'd be fucked without him, and they know it. That's why they were carrying him around after the game, showing him off to the fans like he was some kind of fucking trophy. Because he is. He's a fucking legend, and they know how lucky they are to have him.
Looking Ahead
And now he's talking about staying on for another year. You know what? I fucking hope he does. Brighton could use a bit of his experience, a bit of his grit. The lad's got plenty of miles left on the clock, and he knows it. Said he feels good, feels like he could keep going.
And why the fuck not? The bloke's a machine. A fucking 40-year-old machine, but a machine nonetheless. The way he looks after himself, the way he trains, he could probably play until he's 50. And I for one would love to see it. Love to see him running rings around those soft c**ts in the Premier League, showing them what real fucking football looks like.
So here's to you, James Milner. You fucking hero. You fucking legend. You magnificent b***ard. Keep on fighting, keep on grafting, and keep on showing the world what the beautiful game is all about. Because we fucking love it, and we fucking love you. You c**t.
