I’m not a believer in curses. And I don’t get down with luck. But something is going on with Daniel Sturridge. There is an unexplainable thing happening that seems to be keeping the Liverpool striker from ever really getting two steps forward. What am I going on about?
A virus. An attack on the nervous system and also a perfect metaphor for the invisible agent of bleh that so afflicts the England international’s plight to regain form, confidence, relevance. And today, that bleh deals out another vibe-killing blow to Sturridge’s struggle for consistency with the team.
Daniel Sturridge left Merseyside feeling ill but was hopeful of a recovery in La Manga. There were to be important training sessions taking place and also karaoke. But, a recovery hasn’t happened and today Sturridge will be returning home to Liverpool to convalesce.
It isn’t a decision that reflects poorly on the striker and the circumstances are completely out of his control, but what the almighty bonkers is happening with this man? Only the coldest soul could look upon Daniel Sturridge and not feel some sympathy for the player. A string of unpredictables have plagued his career of late that will eventually begin to erode even the most steadfast confidence.
Am I making too much out of a bout of sickness? The short answer is: No. The long answer is: Maybe.
But for a player who will be working hard for both positive team and game time to rebuild his whole I’m-Daniel-Sturridge-what aura of clinical finisher-ness, another setback, no matter how small, is still another bleh in a long string of them.
Get well soon. Love, Matt.