It would only be fair that the Iago Aspas transfer deal gave us one last twist or turn before wrapping up, and apparently today we've been provided that, with problems reported either with the clubs, the documentation, Twitter's lack of self-awareness, Ian Ayre's incompetence, or some disastrous combination of those four things and more. Everybody is panicking, and I'm not really sure why that is. Which, in turn, is making me panic more, because I like knowing what's going on and stuff.
The newest problem arose because of Ayre's continued contact with unauthorized agents even after it was discovered they were unauthorized. That's not a good idea if you're hoping to keep everything on the up and up, and the Spanish Football Federation wasn't too happy, leading to a little bit of what people in the know are calling a row between the club and those who have the power to stall or halt the deal completely.
So that's probably not a great way to start the weekend, but it wouldn't be Liverpool if there wasn't some measure of incompetence combining with an overly reactive base of supporters to push problems from mildly annoying to full-on Threat Level: Midnight. Odds are the deal gets done anyway, though we should enjoy the chance to vent our anger towards anyone and everyone just because that's what transfer season does to us. It's mid-June, and pretty soon someone somewhere is going to explode. That's not a metaphor. It might be me--I'm attributing most of this story to The Mirror. THE MIRROR, PEOPLE!!!
The transfer window is eating itself already, and that should not be a surprise to any of us. Nothing will be straightforward; Kolo Toure will probably be rumored to block his own transfer and demand that Manchester City be paid even though it's a free deal, Kyriakos Papadopoulos will require his own private dressing room and a uniquely-created foot jacuzzi, and Henrikh Mkhitaryan won't move to Merseyside because he doesn't like the look in the liver bird's eye on the club crest.
We'll lap it up, because during transfer season we are all fools. And, in a story involving a character named Iago, we can't even claim to be the Shakespearean kind.