but can we talk about how he gave him his match worn jersey from his first PL goal!!!!
let me set it up for you. this was not some publicity visit arranged by the spurs PR team. this was not some carefully crafted moment set with a boom mic and proper lighting. this was a family desperate to make their sick son’s dreams come true reaching out to dele’s family. this was doubt that the busy footballer would actually take the time to stop in on his day off between travelling back to England after a taxing cl game and other obligations already arranged for that day.
this was dele looking in his wardrobe that morning and wondering what he could possibly bring to someone so young and so sick other than his own presence (as if that wouldn’t have made it everything anyway!), and seeing something he’s cherished for over a year and probably would have for the rest of his life. something priceless to him. did he even hesitate?
2 days. 2 days between little Tony’s parents reaching Dele’s and Dele showing up next to his hospital bed and spending a few hours playing FIFA and leaving behind something of sentimental value to both of them, and not just the memories.
It was early in April in the year ’83 that I woke one morning to find Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed. He was a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the mantelpiece showed me that it was only a quarter-past seven, I blinked up at him in some surprise, and perhaps just a little resentment, for I was myself regular in my habits.
“Very sorry to knock you up, Watson,” said he, “but it’s the common lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she retorted upon me, and I on you.”