Going Green

Où est Monsieur Jacobson? Dans mon chenil! That's right--into the goddamn doghouse with you, wretch! When we first drafted the guy, I had tentative hopes that he might be a player that could fit in well with United. He gave us something we value (good in possession) in a package that is somewhat unusual for our roster (6-feet and counting).

But then things fell apart as Jacobson had his mysterious rendezvous with the Lorient Express. Far be it from me to criticize a kid for turning down McDonald's wages for a decent payday with great food, cheap health care, and fashionable, chain-smoking women, but the manner of his exit rankled a bit. There was that whole unsavory nastiness of the front office talking to his agent on draft day and being assured that he was going to be in MLS. "Overseas options? Who, us?"

Down to the day before his signing in France, Jacobson kept making assurances that he was happy to have been drafted by United and was ready to turn up for camp, even excited to do so. He claimed the Lorient thing was something that just came up. "Last minute thing--just going for the experience." Now it comes out that he was actually over there on trial with Caen--yet another French club. That one didn't work out so well (they didn't even know what position he played) so he made the transfer-deadline dash into Lorient's warm and welcoming arms.

I really don't mind the kid exploring his options. I don't even mind that he'd rather give it a go in the land of foie gras and escargot. It's the weasel factor that gets my kettle boiling. So much so that it nearly overcame my common sense today. You see, my scouts in Hattrick dug up a guy only this morning . . .



My scouts assured me that he was a promising midfield talent with a penchant for picking out a good pass. Sound familiar? Think I had some qualms about snapping the kid up, only to see him bolt for France? Well, not really. But who's to say that I won't bring him up through the youth system, get him into the senior squad with assurances of first team action, and then fire his ass? It's no Cask of Amontillado, but I have been known to hold unreasonable and lengthy grudges from time to time.

So if Mr. Jacobson's travels in Europe come to a sudden end this summer (he only signed a six-month contract), and he wants to weasel his way back into United's good graces, he'll have to perform some freakin' miracles before I forgive his devious behavior. Consider yourself warned--you wouldn't like me when I'm angry!