In a way Danny Welbeck’s heart-warming return was a relief.
That’s a lie, in no way was the Arsenal striker’s first league goal since 2014 a relief – it was a running kick in the solar plexus and constituted a really shitty start to Sunday and worse end to a bizarre week.
From the moment Manchester City were beaten at the Etihad and Leicester City were installed as Premier League favourites it was impossible to escape the club I had to struggle to follow for the past two decades.
From full-time in that 3-1 win until the moment Welbeck profited from Marcin Wasilewski’s ludicrous tackle 8 days later and the Gunners were anointed by the bookies, it was futile to try and avoid the Foxes.
Every sports radio show, podcast, Sky Sports News segment, newspaper feature and web article was in some way related to Claudio Ranieri’s miracle men.
There were reams written on the sports science of their surge to the top of the table, tales of tiny wagers that would yield huge returns, profiles of the entire scouting staff – including those already scouted and poached by Arsenal and Tottenham.
There were premature comparisons made between a Leicester triumph and those of other minnows, like Nottingham Forest and Verona. The East Midlands’ finest were even the subject of Irish Independent GAA editor Martin Breheny’s weekly column.
We weren’t in Kansas, or Leicestershire, anymore Toto.
Raised on a meagre diet of Coca Cola Cups, League One and Championship glory days, I think I had reacted pretty magnanimously to Leicester’s season mirabilis but that win at the Etihad was the metaphorical water-ski leap over the shark.
Forget the defeats of Chelsea and Tottenham, it was caning City that made people take note.
Friends and relatives were bombarding me with texts. Colleagues were assailing me in the kitchen to ask me about the thermal nuclear reactor N’Golo Kante conceals beneath his jersey.
Lads at GAA training began to notice Steve Claridge’s name on the back of my jersey and the light-hearted accusations of bandwagon jumping came thick and fast.
It’s the rest of ye that are jumping on my bandwagon!
You know the feeling you get when that seemingly obscure band you like announce an Irish gig? You buy a ticket despite the nagging feeling you’re going to end up feeling sorry for them when they arrive on stage to an almost deserted venue. Then the show sells out.
Leicester City are my sporting Decemberists.
So back to Sunday morning and Danny F**king Welbeck.
That sickening, unpleasant taste of defeat that has not been so tart on my palate in many years, the consoling words of my wife (who can wow colleagues with her Jamie Vardy and Claudio Ranieri factoids) and the realisation, finally, in defeat, that Leicester can actually win the bloody thing.
Still two points clear, with home fixtures against Norwich and West Brom next and, unlike their rivals, no cup or European distractions. Nothing has been destroyed.
Now the discussion has moved on to Ranieri’s decision to give the players a week’s holidays and whether it is a sign he is showing the first signs of pressure.
So what if they are? This is uncharted territory and there are no hard and fast rules on how best to deal with a Leicester City title charge.
There’s no week in Dubai for we fans and our scrambled brains but we’ll take an FA Cup week, which gives us a chance to catch up on all that Leicester City coverage we missed out during that crazy week when we were favourites for the league and centre of the universe.
Still, Danny f**king Welbeck.
