Auf wiedersehen, Didi Hamann

By Emerald Gao
Written on July 13, 2006

I thought I'd gone through hell when Michael Owen left Liverpool, and with the Gerrard fiasco (both times), I didn't know what to think, so I closed my eyes and desperately clung onto hope, and guess what, the man went and actually answered our prayers.

But Didi leaving the club, this hit me like a suckerpunch. We knew he'd been talking to Bolton before the World Cup even started, so it's not like his departure was a surprise. I'm even glad that he decided to play for Man City instead of Bolton.

So why do I feel like bawling?

Maybe it's because he's always been the behind-the-scenes guy at the club, the jester and the wise man, the kaiser and the gentleman. His awkward blinking, like a tic, or possibly a secret plan to hypnotize the opponents; his shoulders, bony but strong; the Scouse tinge to his accent, a badge of honor not only at the club but with the fans as well. He's been at the club for as long as I remember supporting them, so it'll be jarring to not have him on the bench, to not see him coming into a match to make things happen, or stop them from happening. I'll never forget the way he stepped up to take his penalties against AC Milan and West Ham, and the way his presence made us breathe a tiny sigh of relief (even as our fingers were crossed airtight).

But hey, this is what clubs do. They transform and grow. It's Momo's time to slot into the vertebrae of the midfield, and I'm excited like hell to see him there, just as much as I am shattered to see Didi go. I wish he'd stayed long enough to get a standing ovation from the fans. They would have given it to him tenfold. But he's going, quietly, without much fuss, and with his head held high: how typical of Didi Hamann.

What an utter legend.

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