At the same time, in my house full of young monomaniacs, Harry Maguire was much admired for a perceptive remark while at Leicester City about how he’d been football-mad as a boy and reluctant to try other sports until realising they all helped with the one he loved the best. A smart, footballing centre-half, he secured a big move and a prosperous future seemed likely.
But look at these two now. Macguire’s switch to Manchester United looks to be have been too big and his game has collapsed. He’s the guy always quoted when there’s a localised debate about a player’s value - “If Harry Maguire costs £70 million, what’s so-and-so worth?” - or a general one about the game’s excesses.
Meanwhile, Considine at 33, when he probably thought his chance had gone, answers his country’s call, turns in a nice and steady performance, which he then tops with a lovely post-match interview in which he talks humbly and from the heart about what the occasion of his first Scotland cap meant to him.
Then a few days later he gets another opportunity. The Czech Republic striker threatens, but Andy puts the shackles on him - his signature speciality move, the one we all know so well - like a bouncer grappling with a jeans-and-trainers clubber before showing him the cold, hard pavement. Big Considine, always liked him.