Being Frank

What do you call a midfield player who’s a bit of a plodder? A lumbering lumpy player who lacks real pace? A guy who plays with his head up but doesn’t always seem to act on what he sees? A lad who appears to prefer to pass the ball square and backwards – possibly because his accuracy rate plummets when he sends it forwards? A guy who deludes himself that he is being criticised only because he isn’t scoring regularly?

The answer is simple. You call him Frank Lampard. You continue to seduce him with outrageous and unjustifiable hype, despite the fact that it is damaging to a decent lad’s respectable career. And you persist in selecting him for England even in the wake of a succession of disappointing performances. Just because he is Frank Lampard.