Thomas Gravesen quits football. He was a true one-off. Time to reprise my blog of four years ago when the man was in a rich vein of form at Goodison, and inspired by the observation that 'the phenomenal Thomas Gravesen looks - and plays - like Michael Stipe on steroids...'
"What's the frequency, Tommy?" you're this season's dream, uh-huh You were brain-dead, worn out, numb, like Gary Speed I thought I'd pegged you an idiot's dream Bog-eyed vision on the Sky TV screen I never understood the frequency, uh-huh You blew our expectations out of the air, uh-huh
I'd studied your free-kicks, fouls and stares in footy magazines Moyesey said, "Withdrawal in disgust is not the same as apathy" You smile while giving rivals tooth for a tooth You're 28 but moving with the freedom of youth You wear a shirt of royal blue, uh-huh I never understood the frequency, uh-huh
"What's the frequency, Tommy?" you're this season's dream, uh-huh Butterfly stitches, midfield general, hogging the scene You smile while giving rivals tooth for a tooth You're suddenly moving with the freedom of youth You wear a shirt of royal blue, uh-huh I never understood the frequency, uh-huh You blew our expectations out of the air, uh-huh
I couldn't understand You're suddenly moving with the freedom of youth, uh-huh I couldn't understand You wear a shirt of royal blue, uh-huh I couldn't understand I never understood you're fine with me, uh-huh