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There aren’t many players who can play till they are 40, and at the very top level of the game, and at one of the finest clubs-arguably one of the best ever-in the game, and play a mesmerising, captivating game. No, there aren’t many players who can do that. Of those elite few is Ryan Giggs.
There has been one indelible, indefatigable facet of the English Premier League since its inception. And quite arguably, it is him. It is Ryan Giggs.
Probably very few even know that he spent two years of his youth playing for the blue part of Manchester. But I guess that is as insignificant a fact as hockey’s importance in India. His heart-big, red and thumping furiously-always rested with the other side of Manchester, that was again, big, red and thumping furiously. The RED side. United.
This archetypal winger, who was a stellar part of those trend setting United youth teams of the early 1990’s, broke into the first team and never let his place in the team drift away from his feet. He was part of the ‘Class of 92′ who began their exploits with victory in the FA Youth Cup in 1992, and reached some unimaginable heights with the 1998-99 treble of the Premier League, FA Cup and Champions League titles.
Those magical feet seemed to talk volumes of the ability that he boasted of, and he went about his game in an extremely modest and unobtrusive fashion. With greatness came an additional package of modesty, I guess. Quite the lethal combination, I dare say.
A left foot fit to adore
His left foot was something of an exotic beauty. Alright, personally, I find left-footed players more exciting and stylish than the right-footers. Call it prejudice or partiality, but left-footers have a special place in my mind. And Ryan Giggs was a sparkling example to elucidate that idiosyncrasy of mine.
The command that he exhibited over the ball is almost as if he coaxed and cajoled the ball to do his bidding. It was akin to watching a flawless motion picture that had a tight, taut script, backed by hair-tingling background score, and spectacular, unparalleled direction. Quite evidently, a unique sight to behold.
His dribbling was surely a work of art. Weaving into and away from defenders. Zigzagging his way into spaces, and creating spaces out of nowhere. The ball would always look up at him, adoringly, always at the ready to go where he directed it to. The team did not matter. The stadium did not matter. The tournament did not matter. His dribbling, and his entire game for that matter, was well apart from all that.
His passing, always immaculate and precise, seemed to create a lot from almost thin air. What was it about his passing that left defenders gasping for breath, and always made the ball land where he wanted it to? Something quite breathtaking, oh so very definitely.
His numerous assists, game in and game out, every season for 24 years, were a huge contributing factor to United’s persistent goal scoring antics. Long raking passes, defense splitting through balls and those traditional crosses from the wings: he could execute them all.
He had a fair share of tricks up his sleeve when he used to be younger and used them very judiciously. And he scored his share of spectacular goals during his long, tenure at United. He had a knack of scoring them when they were needed too. A Giggsy goal would always stimulate the Old Trafford faithful to increase the volume of their support. Speaking of goals, one cannot forget this absolute peach of a run that culminated in a smashing goal.
Giggs will always remain untouched by club rivalry
I believe that he is one player who is untouched by club rivalry. Fans all over, those who can appreciate the game and its inherent beauty, watch him with hands-on-cheeks-mouths-open wide in amazement expressions.
And it is indeed a shame that he did not get to play at the grandest stage that the game presents: the World Cup. Whose misfortune was it? His or ours? He is one player whom the Old Trafford faithful will never forget. And he is one player whom football won’t forget. A grand club gave him a chance to show us what he could do. And he made us all swoon. He is one of those invisible beams of strength that will support the club, for eternity.
It was quite a wonder and a secret as to how he played for so long at such a demanding level. He was no Italian player who was privy to some top notch medical treatment in the contours of Italy. He was and will always be an enigma. Truly.
He played 963 games for Manchester United. But he will be an immortal fixture in the pantheons of the Theatre of Dreams. An immortal fixture, a colossal edifice of infinite gravity.
