I’ve wanted to write something about Vicente for a while, but the timing never seemed right. Well, now seems as good a time as any, since his much hyped re-emergence. For much of the season, we have been left in the dark as to whether Vicente would be on the pitch, on the bench or in recovery.
Way back at the curtain call of August 2011, news broke through that Brighton and Hove Albion were set to sign Vicente Rodríguez Guillén, a name and personality whom had escaped me until that point. I won’t pretend to be an expert in European football and claim I issued the immortal words “Could do a job”. He was alien to me. Apart from a latter recollection that I had three of him to fill my Panini World Cup 2006 album (a desperate attempt to claw back my youth and youthfulness).
Three Vicente’s trumped by 17 (Seventeen) Clint Dempsey’s
August 2011 seems like a lifetime ago on a personal level. I was re-finding my feet after a long spell of depression (too long) and things were beginning to pick up. The spring was returning to my once bouncy step.
Despite knowing next to nothing of Vicente, I got caught up in the fervour via www.northstandchat.com For my sins, I was sold as soon as I heard he was a Spanish winger bearing the nickname of El puñal de Benicalap (The Dagger of Benicalap). Further research suggested that he was once described as being the best winger in the world. And he was on the verge of signing for Brighton? Championship Manager cheating type proportions of improbability.
This guy has extreme class, 38 caps for Spain, five major trophy medals and a fanbase larger than our entire club. Real Madrid once tried to buy him for €
This wasn’t a case of Ian Wright playing for Burnley in his twilight years or Socrates turning up and playing for Garforth Town. This was a case of an injury plagued (former?) world class player trying to rebuild his playing career in a different environment. A man with time on his side and not an apparent swansong.
Anyway, the internet began to buzz and various sources began to suggest that El puñal was on the verge of joining the mighty stripes. Madness.
A poster, going by the name of Ezzoud, claimed the initial scoop of actual proof that the dagger was in Hove.
“Okay folks – I don’t post much and have never done any rumour type things before so….
I have just seen Gus, Tanno and three other men entering Galileo italian restaurant in Woodland Drive. I was buying a paper from the shop next door and it took me a while to work out what was going on.
The other four had gone into the restaurant but Tanno was still outside so I politely asked him “Are we signing Vincente Rodriquez” and he looked at me suspiciously and said “Yes we are” and continued in to the restuarant.
What does Vicente look like – I didn’t get a very good look at the other three men but one looked
a bit like Cristian Baz if that’s any use?
This was at 1.45 pm..”
The Pizzeria
It way my day off. I was a stones throw away from Galileo and curiosity got the better of me. It would be churlish to turn down this opportunity to check it out. My palms were sticky, my brow housed beads of sweat and my general demeanour was that of a trembling teen on the verge of losing his virginity. All over a player I had little knowledge of thirty minutes prior.
750 metres later, I was standing outside Galileo, the premier suburban pizzeria of Hove. I could see my intended targets, but the glare of the window scuppered any sort of chance of a quick pap and run. I was going to have to go inside.
I strode through the front door and was greeted by an empty looking restaurant, save for one table. Gus, Tano, Vicente and another gentleman (I assume it was his agent) were next to me. I was so close, I could smell the basil of Tano’s bruschetta and the parmesan on Vicente’s pasta dish. I grabbed a menu from the counter and steadied my phone, setup to take the all important snap.
The Decoy
“Hello mate, it’s Baz here. I’m in Galileo. What pizza did you want?”
Nothing – Of course, there was never going to be a response. Due to my decade old hearing problem, I have been unable to use a telephone for its conventional use. But in this instance, there was no-one at the end of the line. The camera was set.
“Ok. Excellent. I’ll order that now”
Click
My mission had been accomplished or so I thought. I checked the phone and the first effort proved nothing beyond being in a wholly deserted restaurant.
A stark reminder of previous transfer windows
I set about making my second phone call and went through the same rigmarole.
Click
Trembling hands do little to disguise the premier appearance of Vicente
Vicente had been snapped and I dragged my shaking knees out of the door and returned to the safety of my car.
After a day or two of protracted talks and a mad dash of an Albion supporting airport worker to sign the all important paperwork, Vicente was a Brighton player. Footballing experts, commentators and pundits alike were agog with news of this capture. Potentially the finest and most famous signing of our dear south coast outfit.
I write this blog on the back of the latest cameo of the dagger. We went to Elland Road and our efforts had been stifled until his introduction. The most famous son of Benicalap proceeded to lay on two goals as Brighton took the spoils – to add to his short, but triumphant appearance against big spending Leicester.
In this past week, his effortless transition from the busy hands of the physio and a smattering of appearances to a match winner has been seamless. Cries from the (padded seat) terraces that we will not see him during the winter months have been misguided. From his deathbed, he has skipped off and potentially changed the course of our season with a little help from his amigos.
The start of the calendar year is always an important one. Heading towards the stage whereby the table does not lie. The rush of games over Christmas can disrupt even the greatest of squads allowing little recovery for the chilled winter months that lay ahead.
In the middle of things (vs Leicester)
With a half fit Vicente, the future looks bright for this season. Very bright.
Heaven forbid all else, we unsheathe a fully fit dagger upon the Championship…