Apologies if this has been shared before. Remembered this bit of writing from
Mundial after Conor was loaned to Everton last season. It’s a lovely tribute to his influence and personality, and why whatever views we have on the cost of this transfer will hopefully seem insignificant in May.
“You could hear him. Above the punch of the ball and the murmur of the crowd and the yap of the other players moaning at the ref. Honestly. You could hear him. Home, away, wherever. Conor Coady’s voice was the MC, the conductor, and your friend’s dad telling you to get rid of the ball quicker and to stop hanging around the shops all rolled into one. He took you for your first pint, too. It was a voice that punctuated and questioned and demanded. A voice that you got used to; it sounded like home.
Football is a results business, a game of two halves, and all about positioning, runners, and duels. Above everything, though, and like everything ever, football is about love. Because love is what stops things falling apart. Because things do fall apart. Loving your job, your partner, your environment. At a football club, a captain has to make everyone fall in love with all of that.
At sea, a captain ensures that the ship complies with local and international laws and company and flag state policies. The captain is ultimately responsible, under the law, for aspects of operation such as the safe navigation of the ship, its cleanliness and seaworthiness, safe handling of all cargo, management of all personnel, inventory of ship's cash and stores, and maintaining the ship's certificates and documentation.
The transfer to Everton last week might have made sense for results, positioning, and duels. If Wolves are moving to a back four, and if Wolves have decided that Conor Coady can’t play as one of two centre-halves in a back four, then they’re not going to think that Conor Coady can return the results, positioning, and duels that they think they need. But what about safe handling of the cargo? The flag state policies? The seaworthiness?
At the centre of a project that involved loads of new people and new faces and new ideas, Conor Coady was an arm around everything. Everything that changed, everything that stayed the same, everything that would never be the same again. Sure, it’s easy to romanticise people you don’t know from afar, but I like to think that Rúben Neves would say the same as Willy Boly would say the same as the chef and the cleaner and the journalists and the groundskeepers. He is what made things get along. Things not fall apart. There’s a reason that Steve Holland, England’s assistant manager, said that at EURO 2020, "My player of the tournament so far is Conor Coady. He's not got on the pitch yet, but on the training pitch, he gives everything; in the dressing room before the game, he speaks like he's captain."
Coady scored his first Premier League goal at Molineux last January against Southampton. Headed in a rebound, and the ball squirmed over the line. He went ballistic in front of the South Bank. Arms pumping, eyes wide, mobbed by his teammates. But after the game, he said he was happier about Adama Traoré, who’d been really struggling, scoring his first of the season. Any team in the world needs a player who cares more about others than himself, and as romantic as it might sound, I’ll miss the idea of him in the changing room after games, hugging players who’d missed sitters, bigging up the ones who’d had good games, challenging authority when it needed to be, leaving the changing room and speaking honestly about things to the media. It felt reassuring, for all of football’s deep-rooted problems, to know that Conor Coady was the person that represented your club to the outside world.
Football is a results business, but it’s also about falling in love with what people represent. Three at the back or two at the back, there’s a big hole to fill when the sea captain moves on“