KEANO!!! This one's for you.
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"There was a club who had four strikers. The Irish one said to his manager, 'Manager, give me my share of the estate.' So he divided his gate receipts between them.
"Not long after that, the Irish striker got together all he had, set off for a distant part of the country and there squandered his wealth of talent in rotational living. After he had spent all his energy, there was a severe goal famine in that distant part of the country, and he began to be in need. So he went and pleaded himself out to his manager of that town, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the goals that the pigs were getting, but no one gave him anything.
"When he came to his senses, he said, 'How many of my old team's hired men have minutes to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to the current manager and say to him: Manager, I have sinned against the club and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your striker; make me like one of your mish-mashed men.' So he got up and went to the new manager.
"But while he was still a long way off, the manager saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his striker, threw his arms around him and kissed him. The striker said to the manager, 'Manager, I have sinned against the club and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your striker.'
"But the manager said to his servant Bent, 'Quick! Bring the best kit and put it on him. Put the captain's ring on his arm and boots on his feet. Bring the fattened calf Huddlestone and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. For this striker of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' So they began to celebrate.
"Meanwhile, the injured, English striker was walking on the field. When he came near the clubhouse, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the ball boys and asked him what was going on. 'Your teammate has come,' he replied, 'and your manager has killed the fattened calf Huddlestone because he has him back safe and sound.'
"The injured, English striker became angry and refused to go in. So his manager went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his manager, 'Look! All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a pint so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this striker of yours who has squandered your tactics with scousers comes home, you kill the fattened calf Huddlestone for him!'
'My striker,' the manager said, 'you are always with me, and everything on the bench I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this former teammate of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' "