£10k a week is a ridiculous sum of money, no-one needs that much .
You do if you've got a £1million mortgage, a massive ****-off car and all the trappings of wealth.
£10k a week is a ridiculous sum of money, no-one needs that much .
The rain hammered down incessantly on Bridcutt's tin roof. He gazed up and listened with interest at how a couple of deep thuds of rain had turned quickly into a crackling chorus of echoy splashes. After a few moments and almost as quickly as it had come, the rain ceased. Leaving in it's wake the fresh smell of due and electric humidity. The green clearing in the centre of the woodland buzzed with life. The rain clouds above had disappeared and left in their wake an infinite white sky. Bridcutt rubbed his eyes and took a deep lungful of air. Moving his bones, now stiff from fatigue, outside of the shelter, he smiled. All around him he heard the echos of what had just passed. The squelch of his boots in mud, the drips of water falling from treetop, to leaf, to floor. Despite the stillness that surrounded him, life in the East Sussex was restless.
Haunted by the memories of last summer, Bridcutt walked across the downland, the spaciously aligned trees allowing any route to be taken and yet not conceding a clear path. He chose a direction and walked. At that moment of decision his mobile phone sprang to life. It's buzz and hum, normally quiet, seemed to echo all around. The called ID: GUS.
Bridcutt cancelled the call immediately. Last summer had been a difficult year for Liam, and his relationship with Gus was strained. When his employer parted company with the Uruguayan, relief had swept through Bridcutt like a wave. The hazy days of summer with Gus had past, tainted with the sting of less than favourable memories.
After hours of walking Liam had found sanctuary. He stepped off the uneven path and onto the firm pavement of Brighton's bustling town centre. The move away from instability reminded Liam of his arrival at Brighton. He had been a trialist at several clubs, never quite making the grade until Brighton took the chance. He felt safe in Brighton, he felt steady. However after what had been hours of walking, Liam became tired. Even the sun struggled to stay awake. Pink and amber flares slowly giving way to the yellow hazy buzz of the streetlights.
A deep magenta haze shone through the window, catching Bridcutts features in it's crossfire. The light danced round him like heat off baking sands. He checked his phone again. Thirteen missed calls. All from his agent. Liam slammed his phone onto the ground, breaking it instantly. A slow evening had ended abrutly.
He loved Brighton, and the snakey antics of his 'people' and former employer were of no concern to the young midfielder. He was in Brighton now, and he had a job to do.
-----------------------------
That's my alternative scenario. Yours is more far fetched though.
The rain hammered down incessantly on Bridcutt's tin roof. He gazed up and listened with interest at how a couple of deep thuds of rain had turned quickly into a crackling chorus of echoy splashes. After a few moments and almost as quickly as it had come, the rain ceased. Leaving in it's wake the fresh smell of due and electric humidity. The green clearing in the centre of the woodland buzzed with life. The rain clouds above had disappeared and left in their wake an infinite white sky. Bridcutt rubbed his eyes and took a deep lungful of air. Moving his bones, now stiff from fatigue, outside of the shelter, he smiled. All around him he heard the echos of what had just passed. The squelch of his boots in mud, the drips of water falling from treetop, to leaf, to floor. Despite the stillness that surrounded him, life in the East Sussex was restless.
Haunted by the memories of last summer, Bridcutt walked across the downland, the spaciously aligned trees allowing any route to be taken and yet not conceding a clear path. He chose a direction and walked. At that moment of decision his mobile phone sprang to life. It's buzz and hum, normally quiet, seemed to echo all around. The called ID: GUS.
Bridcutt cancelled the call immediately. Last summer had been a difficult year for Liam, and his relationship with Gus was strained. When his employer parted company with the Uruguayan, relief had swept through Bridcutt like a wave. The hazy days of summer with Gus had past, tainted with the sting of less than favourable memories.
After hours of walking Liam had found sanctuary. He stepped off the uneven path and onto the firm pavement of Brighton's bustling town centre. The move away from instability reminded Liam of his arrival at Brighton. He had been a trialist at several clubs, never quite making the grade until Brighton took the chance. He felt safe in Brighton, he felt steady. However after what had been hours of walking, Liam became tired. Even the sun struggled to stay awake. Pink and amber flares slowly giving way to the yellow hazy buzz of the streetlights.
A deep magenta haze shone through the window, catching Bridcutts features in it's crossfire. The light danced round him like heat off baking sands. He checked his phone again. Thirteen missed calls. All from his agent. Liam slammed his phone onto the ground, breaking it instantly. A slow evening had ended abrutly.
He loved Brighton, and the snakey antics of his 'people' and former employer were of no concern to the young midfielder. He was in Brighton now, and he had a job to do.
-----------------------------
That's my alternative scenario. Yours is more far fetched though.
Don't think I've ever had a compliment on my diplomacy skills before. Regardless, teams don't have to sell players. Does anyone think Liverpool regret telling Suarez he had to stay?It was a light-hearted complement to your diplomacy skills.
I think it's unfair to call it greed, since every right minded person would take the pay rise (100k vs 10k). That's not greedy, that's just normal. And when players make decisions about moving, they will take different things into account, and no doubt the needs of their family, and the length of their career will be in their mind when making such decisions.No, not many people would turn it down. But my point is that the reason is not because their careers end at 30 as they can earn enough in 3 years to set them up for life. The reason is, as highlighted by your response and theose below you by nwgull and Tricky Dicky, simply greed.
The rain hammered down incessantly on Bridcutt's tin roof. He gazed up and listened with interest at how a couple of deep thuds of rain had turned quickly into a crackling chorus of echoy splashes. After a few moments and almost as quickly as it had come, the rain ceased. Leaving in it's wake the fresh smell of due and electric humidity. The green clearing in the centre of the woodland buzzed with life. The rain clouds above had disappeared and left in their wake an infinite white sky. Bridcutt rubbed his eyes and took a deep lungful of air. Moving his bones, now stiff from fatigue, outside of the shelter, he smiled. All around him he heard the echos of what had just passed. The squelch of his boots in mud, the drips of water falling from treetop, to leaf, to floor. Despite the stillness that surrounded him, life in the East Sussex was restless.
Haunted by the memories of last summer, Bridcutt walked across the downland, the spaciously aligned trees allowing any route to be taken and yet not conceding a clear path. He chose a direction and walked. At that moment of decision his mobile phone sprang to life. It's buzz and hum, normally quiet, seemed to echo all around. The called ID: GUS.
Bridcutt cancelled the call immediately. Last summer had been a difficult year for Liam, and his relationship with Gus was strained. When his employer parted company with the Uruguayan, relief had swept through Bridcutt like a wave. The hazy days of summer with Gus had past, tainted with the sting of less than favourable memories.
After hours of walking Liam had found sanctuary. He stepped off the uneven path and onto the firm pavement of Brighton's bustling town centre. The move away from instability reminded Liam of his arrival at Brighton. He had been a trialist at several clubs, never quite making the grade until Brighton took the chance. He felt safe in Brighton, he felt steady. However after what had been hours of walking, Liam became tired. Even the sun struggled to stay awake. Pink and amber flares slowly giving way to the yellow hazy buzz of the streetlights.
A deep magenta haze shone through the window, catching Bridcutts features in it's crossfire. The light danced round him like heat off baking sands. He checked his phone again. Thirteen missed calls. All from his agent. Liam slammed his phone onto the ground, breaking it instantly. A slow evening had ended abrutly.
He loved Brighton, and the snakey antics of his 'people' and former employer were of no concern to the young midfielder. He was in Brighton now, and he had a job to do.
-----------------------------
That's my alternative scenario. Yours is more far fetched though.
Most, if not all, footballers would take it yes. But I think, and I bloody hope, that it is not the case to a lot of people. If you were on 10k a week to do a job you enjoy but were offered a job on 100k a week would you take it even if it was doing something you morally disagreed with?
Personally once a wage gets above a point where I can live comfortably the wage is not an issue, what you are doing/where you are is much much more important.
But anyway I think this has slipped off on a tangent
Hmm, I'd question the credibility of this latest "development" given their quote fails to recognise the fact that he's cup-tied (in the COC).
"Liam Bridcutt has seen his reputation rocket over recent years and Sky Sports understands that Sunderland are closing on his signature. The Black Cats hope to have reached an agreement with Brighton for the highly-rated midfielder by the time they face Manchester United in the Capital One Cup semi-finals on Tuesday."
£10k a week is a ridiculous sum of money, no-one needs that much and I LOVE living in Brighton (where I'm soon to move out of because I can't afford to live here, despite working here).
But we're only talking about football, so I don't know where 'morally disagree' comes into it. If it was to do testing on animals, I'd say no thanks. If it was to be a banker, I'd take the 900% pay rise.If you were on 10k a week to do a job you enjoy but were offered a job on 100k a week would you take it even if it was doing something you morally disagreed with?
The rain hammered down incessantly on Bridcutt's tin roof. He gazed up and listened with interest at how a couple of deep thuds of rain had turned quickly into a crackling chorus of echoy splashes. After a few moments and almost as quickly as it had come, the rain ceased. Leaving in it's wake the fresh smell of due and electric humidity. The green clearing in the centre of the woodland buzzed with life. The rain clouds above had disappeared and left in their wake an infinite white sky. Bridcutt rubbed his eyes and took a deep lungful of air. Moving his bones, now stiff from fatigue, outside of the shelter, he smiled. All around him he heard the echos of what had just passed. The squelch of his boots in mud, the drips of water falling from treetop, to leaf, to floor. Despite the stillness that surrounded him, life in the East Sussex was restless.
Haunted by the memories of last summer, Bridcutt walked across the downland, the spaciously aligned trees allowing any route to be taken and yet not conceding a clear path. He chose a direction and walked. At that moment of decision his mobile phone sprang to life. It's buzz and hum, normally quiet, seemed to echo all around. The caller ID: GUS.
Bridcutt cancelled the call immediately. Last summer had been a difficult year for Liam, and his relationship with Gus was strained. When his employer parted company with the Uruguayan, relief had swept through Bridcutt like a wave. The hazy days of summer with Gus had past, tainted with the sting of less than favourable memories.
After hours of walking Liam had found sanctuary. He stepped off the uneven path and onto the firm pavement of Brighton's bustling town centre. The move away from instability reminded Liam of his arrival at Brighton. He had been a trialist at several clubs, never quite making the grade until Brighton took the chance. He felt safe in Brighton, he felt steady. However after what had been hours of walking, Liam became tired. Even the sun struggled to stay awake. Pink and amber flares slowly giving way to the yellow hazy buzz of the streetlights.
A deep magenta haze shone through the window, catching Bridcutts features in it's crossfire. The light danced round him like heat off baking sands. He checked his phone again. Thirteen missed calls. All from his agent. Liam slammed his phone onto the ground, breaking it instantly. A slow evening had ended abrutly.
He loved Brighton, and the snakey antics of his 'people' and former employer were of no concern to the young midfielder. He was in Brighton now, and he had a job to do.
-----------------------------
That's my alternative scenario. Yours is more far fetched though.
My scenario also included:
"There will be very high expectations of him from the fans, Short, Di Fanti and the rest of the Sunderland squad as he would be a "Gus signing". There would be nowhere for him or Gus to hide and he has to live up to that Golden Child reputation Gus has put on him. Both their futures will be put under extremely close scrutiny."
The rain hammered down incessantly on Bridcutt's tin roof. He gazed up and listened with interest at how a couple of deep thuds of rain had turned quickly into a crackling chorus of echoy splashes. After a few moments and almost as quickly as it had come, the rain ceased. Leaving in it's wake the fresh smell of due and electric humidity. The green clearing in the centre of the woodland buzzed with life. The rain clouds above had disappeared and left in their wake an infinite white sky. Bridcutt rubbed his eyes and took a deep lungful of air. Moving his bones, now stiff from fatigue, outside of the shelter, he smiled. All around him he heard the echos of what had just passed. The squelch of his boots in mud, the drips of water falling from treetop, to leaf, to floor. Despite the stillness that surrounded him, life in the East Sussex was restless.
Haunted by the memories of last summer, Bridcutt walked across the downland, the spaciously aligned trees allowing any route to be taken and yet not conceding a clear path. He chose a direction and walked. At that moment of decision his mobile phone sprang to life. It's buzz and hum, normally quiet, seemed to echo all around. The caller ID: GUS.
Bridcutt cancelled the call immediately. Last summer had been a difficult year for Liam, and his relationship with Gus was strained. When his employer parted company with the Uruguayan, relief had swept through Bridcutt like a wave. The hazy days of summer with Gus had past, tainted with the sting of less than favourable memories.
After hours of walking Liam had found sanctuary. He stepped off the uneven path and onto the firm pavement of Brighton's bustling town centre. The move away from instability reminded Liam of his arrival at Brighton. He had been a trialist at several clubs, never quite making the grade until Brighton took the chance. He felt safe in Brighton, he felt steady. However after what had been hours of walking, Liam became tired. Even the sun struggled to stay awake. Pink and amber flares slowly giving way to the yellow hazy buzz of the streetlights.
A deep magenta haze shone through the window, catching Bridcutts features in it's crossfire. The light danced round him like heat off baking sands. He checked his phone again. Thirteen missed calls. All from his agent. Liam slammed his phone onto the ground, breaking it instantly. A slow evening had ended abrutly.
He loved Brighton, and the snakey antics of his 'people' and former employer were of no concern to the young midfielder. He was in Brighton now, and he had a job to do.
-----------------------------
That's my alternative scenario. Yours is more far fetched though.
Sorry but l can't agree. With very few exceptions, defensive midfielders don't fetch fantastic amounts of money. As good as Liam is at his job, he doesn't norm ally venture very far from his position in front of the back four, isn't a box to box type player, or weigh in with his share of goals.
If Sunderland, or any other club were to offer, say £2.5m for him, l'd do business. Especially bearing in mind we already have Keith Andrews and Rohan Ince on the staff who can do a similar job, (perhaps not quite as well, but at least adequately).
That £2.5m could then be spent on bringing Craig Conway back to the club permanently, and maybe attract another proven target man to sign for us, especially bearing in mind the continuing absence of CMS, and the possibility that Ashley Barnes will jump ship before the window closes.
No chance when I am old talking to my grand children do I tell them about the year we scraped into 4th from bottom in the prem or the year I was there for a cup final win?
Don't think I've ever had a compliment on my diplomacy skills before. Regardless, teams don't have to sell players. Does anyone think Liverpool regret telling Suarez he had to stay?
I think it's unfair to call it greed, since every right minded person would take the pay rise (100k vs 10k). That's not greedy, that's just normal. And when players make decisions about moving, they will take different things into account, and no doubt the needs of their family, and the length of their career will be in their mind when making such decisions.
I managed about 3-4 weeks but the lure of the xmas period drew me in and I could not put up with all the family time without itI thought you were giving up watching professional football
The rain hammered down incessantly on Bridcutt's tin roof. He gazed up and listened with interest at how a couple of deep thuds of rain had turned quickly into a crackling chorus of echoy splashes. After a few moments and almost as quickly as it had come, the rain ceased. Leaving in it's wake the fresh smell of due and electric humidity. The green clearing in the centre of the woodland buzzed with life. The rain clouds above had disappeared and left in their wake an infinite white sky. Bridcutt rubbed his eyes and took a deep lungful of air. Moving his bones, now stiff from fatigue, outside of the shelter, he smiled. All around him he heard the echos of what had just passed. The squelch of his boots in mud, the drips of water falling from treetop, to leaf, to floor. Despite the stillness that surrounded him, life in the East Sussex was restless.
Haunted by the memories of last summer, Bridcutt walked across the downland, the spaciously aligned trees allowing any route to be taken and yet not conceding a clear path. He chose a direction and walked. At that moment of decision his mobile phone sprang to life. It's buzz and hum, normally quiet, seemed to echo all around. The caller ID: GUS.
Bridcutt cancelled the call immediately. Last summer had been a difficult year for Liam, and his relationship with Gus was strained. When his employer parted company with the Uruguayan, relief had swept through Bridcutt like a wave. The hazy days of summer with Gus had past, tainted with the sting of less than favourable memories.
After hours of walking Liam had found sanctuary. He stepped off the uneven path and onto the firm pavement of Brighton's bustling town centre. The move away from instability reminded Liam of his arrival at Brighton. He had been a trialist at several clubs, never quite making the grade until Brighton took the chance. He felt safe in Brighton, he felt steady. However after what had been hours of walking, Liam became tired. Even the sun struggled to stay awake. Pink and amber flares slowly giving way to the yellow hazy buzz of the streetlights.
A deep magenta haze shone through the window, catching Bridcutts features in it's crossfire. The light danced round him like heat off baking sands. He checked his phone again. Thirteen missed calls. All from his agent. Liam slammed his phone onto the ground, breaking it instantly. A slow evening had ended abrutly.
He loved Brighton, and the snakey antics of his 'people' and former employer were of no concern to the young midfielder. He was in Brighton now, and he had a job to do.
-----------------------------
That's my alternative scenario. Yours is more far fetched though.
I managed about 3-4 weeks but the lure of the xmas period drew me in and I could not put up with all the family time without it
Don't lie, it was the lure of Gus' post match interviews that did it...