I actually don’t remember precisely where I was when President Kennedy was assassinated. 1963… probably in school, at age 7 I was too young to be in the snooker hall or smoking behind the bike sheds, so I’m guessin’, school. But I do remember precisely where I was when Gareth Bale scored a hat-trick against Inter Milan at the San Siro. Firstly because, after being 4-nil down at half time to the Italians, eventually losing only 4-3 felt like the most victorious, energising, screaming, hysterical loss ever. We won the second half. In fact, He won the second half. And at the time, he was our left back.

If he ever played better than in that match it was definitely in the return leg at White Hart Lane. He didn’t score but he created everything we did to beat Inter 3-1. He fucking terrorised them from start to finish. At his totally unplayable best.

Unfortunately, (for Spurs), those two matches hi-lighted our Gareth as ‘the one to watch’ and over the next couple of years the BIG boys of Europe queued up to sign the Welsh wonderboy.

Unfortunately (for Gareth) he went to Real Madrid as the world’s most expensive player. Because however brilliant he was, and he was, playing as Christiano Ronaldo’s side-kick was never going to be his best move. They like their superstars to act like superstars. Rampant Ronaldo, Beefy Benzema and… Golfing Gareth. Who preferred to lead a quiet life off the pitch, not in keeping with his teammates high life excesses which the arrogant Madridistas love. They never found a place for Gareth like we did at Spurs.

So he returned for a late-career loan season so we could show him what love means in north London. Otherwise there was always Wales to get love. Where he is a true God. Up there with Gareth Edwards, Phil Bennet, Ryan Giggs and Katherine Zeta-Jones. (There are no other famous Welsh people).

And now he’s retired from the game. The game which lost him for about 4 of the last 5 years after Zidane decided that paying someone 500 grand a week doesn’t mean you have to play them in the team. Zizu’s loss.

From Cardiff to London and occasionally in Madrid, he lit up our world. And now he’ll retire, play more golf and live as quietly and low-key as his massive fortune allows.

He was a true superstar.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx