The Norwich transfer storm

With the Timm Klose news cheering everyone up, Norwich fans now await news of a mega-bucks striker signing. But, Jon Rogers says, you have to learn to be patient in the transfer window

Look at Klose there. Just look at him. Magnificent.

Look at Klose there. Just look at him. Magnificent.

Can you recall those little fake tattoos that were wrapped up in five-pence bubble gums? Maybe a skull that had blood oozing out of its eyes with a dagger plunged through it? Or maybe a superhero, doing that generic superhero thing?

Remember those? Unwrap it. Get Spiderman’s face and you’d excitedly gob on it, stick it on your arm, wait 20 minutes and carefully slide the backing to reveal a cracked messy blob that resembles Mona Lisa after a stroke. Then, you’d spend the rest of the day in a huff as you tried to moodily rub it off – leaving what resembled a significant bruise – as grown-ups asked, “Is everything OK at home?”

So, naturally, I came to the conclusion at an early age that transfers will never meet your expectations.  

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not immune to an announcement. Love an official announcement. It’s exciting to bring a good new player in. It is also mightily thrilling when – as the hairy shitchest Richard Keys might say – the transfer fee’s back door is smashed in. I’ve seen grown men more emotional at the words ‘club record fee’ than the ending of Marley & Me.

The dog dies by the way. Painfully probably.

It’s just the preamble I don’t like. The sort of reaction at a piece of thrown away news which sends certain avenues of the Norwich faithful into such a froth that they end up looking like a slug in salt.

Surely we must have learned not to take every piece of news that plonks on Twitter or NewsNow as fact? That Reading midfielder, Aaron Tshibola, is a good example. Hadn’t even heard of him until the newspapers announced we were signing him for £2m. A day later, Jaap Stam announces there was more chance of him leaving Reading than a fat man who resembles a used-car salesman becoming England manager.

Week later, Tshibola signs for Aston Villa and Sam Allardyce is going to upset the same amount of countries Boris Johnson does in one sentence. With a tad less Latin.

What did we learn? Don’t trust Jaap Stam for starters.

I can remember ‘phone bait’ from Clubcall in the ’90s with headlines such as ‘NORWICH TO SIGN INTERNATIONAL SUPERSTAR’. So you dialled the number, imagining Romario was coming to live in Stoke Holy Cross

I’m not one for conspiracy theories but it’s almost if these news reports are announcing it for the rest of the world to say ‘something IS happening football people so get in quick’, in a way your Mum used to ‘leave’ you in a supermarket if you were in full tantrum mode.

That article had all the hallmarks of agent reverse-psychology, it might as well as have read:

Aaron’s leaving. He is! Unless someone puts a bid in. He’s going? No-one? Ok then. Aaron is off for £2million. To Norwich. Off he goes. He’s leaving. He’s in the car. Shame no-one wants to buy him. Oh well. Never mind. Off he goes then. Off he goes to Norwich. Unless someone…does want him?

Then @CanaryKnobster61 and @NorfolkNGoodLOL, who couldn’t name our assistant managers if their lives depended on it, lose their shit over a player they’ve never ever heard of, someone does a #McNallyOut hashtag as a gag, (probably me) and around we go.

And it’s not a new phenomenon. I can remember ‘phone bait’ from Clubcall in the ’90s with headlines such as ‘NORWICH TO SIGN INTERNATIONAL SUPERSTAR – ring this 0898 number’. So you dialled the number, imagining Romario was coming to live in Stoke Holy Cross. Yet it ended up being a 34-year-old striker from Malta we had no intention of buying and his fee would have cost less than what the premium number had just done to your phone bill

Just like Richard Jeffery’s piece on The Little Yellow Bird Project about George Santayana last season, people just aren’t learning. It’s a game. Where agents can inflate their crotches with the impression they have power over clubs. And until there are 45 different angled pictures of a new player holding the shirt, holding the back of the shirt, kissing the shirt, wearing the shirt, holding a ball, kissing the ball, holding a shirt and ball, wearing a ball and holding a shirt, all while leaning against a goal frame, we shouldn’t judge or criticise the club on what should have been.

A new signing means fresh ideas, another option, someone who can do what Dazzo Huckingberry and Granty Holts did. Hit the ground sprinting at the same time as grabbing the rest of the club by the scruff of the neck and dragging them along for the ride. I understand new signings are important, especially after the failures of last season, but, with the quality of our squad, we don’t need too much more.

We have about two weeks until the season starts and around six weeks until the window shuts. And as the entire country and our governments were brought to their bleeding knees in 48 hours, I think six weeks is plenty of time to sign someone from Nottingham Forest or Fulham. We can get players through the door quicker than you can say ‘Oh, Bye Then Dieumerci’

So relax. Enjoy the weather. Enjoy the rest. You’ll need it this season.

Hopefully, this time next year, Norwich City transfers won’t be an annoying messy blob that won’t go away, and instead you’ll be sat in a chair having an actual Timm Klose tattoo on your arm.

Topless.

Riding a lion.

On fire.

Holding a shirt by a goal frame.

You can follow Jon Rogers on Twitter at @BigGrantHolt