My first experience of Juan Verón was when he signed for United. He was this siren of continental flair, emerging from the mists of far off, cultured, European competition to descend into the muck and thunder of the Premier League, a contest more akin to trench warfare than the soft lad leisure pace of yer walking-football Serie Ahhhh.
He made land fall in England, the eye in a press storm of opinion pieces and soundbites querying his suitability. Alex Ferguson was forthright in his opinions that Verón was the man for the job. After a bright start with some goals and assists in his first four league games, he began to feel the strain of performing in the quicker pace of the Premier League.
He’d find some joy in the more thoughtful pace of the Champions League, which he must have viewed as a nice little break from fury ball. He would play two seasons at United before packing up and signing into the early days of Abramovic’s Chelsea. His stint was one that never took off, some false dawns and stretches of promise but it never settled into a rhythm and we are left to furrow our brows and ponder what may have been.
Obviously I never watched walking-football Serie Ahhhh where he was the bees knees. I am a football philistine.
You can watch a 30 second time-lapse of this artwork being created here.