Operation Edgar is an out and out success

There aren’t many footballers I would wait around for in the driving rain for half an hour to get their autograph.
And there are even fewer in the Championship.
Apart from perhaps Craig Bellamy, the only other person I would get soaking wet trainers and soggy jeans for is one Edgar Steven Davids.
Davids was at Carrow Road tonight with his pay-as-you-play club Crystal Palace, surely his final stopping off point on a glittering career.
For a player that has played for an amazing array of teams – the biggest three clubs in Italy, Barcelona, Ajax and Tottenham, his arrival in Norwich was understated to say the least.
He didn’t play against Millwall last weekend and as his name was read out in the starting line up, there was hardly a whiff on anticipation about seeing one of the greatest players on the world stage for the last 20 years.
Although there was with Gordon and me.
Ten years ago this December we both saw Davids play for the first time – back then he was at his real peak. He was 27 and starring in midfield for Juventus along with Zinedine Zidane. We were at the San Siro to see Inter play Juventus and after a slight mix up with our seats we emerged into the smoke-filled cauldron with a couple of minutes on the clock.
The first thing I saw was Davids and Zidane in the all grey Juve kit running the midfield show. Zidane scored a cracker within a few seconds, the game finished 2-2 and Davids was awesome.
The day after that game Gordon and me had a tour of the San Siro. I’d just started a job as a trainee reporter and perched in the Press Box for a photo while on the tour. I imagined I’d be back in a few years covering big Champions League games, and possibly watching Edgar on a regular basis.
That never really happened, but I always maintained soft spot for the man nicknamed Pitbull.
He couldn’t really go wrong being a Dutchman, but to then join Inter and return to Ajax; well that ticks some serious boxes for me.
There can’t be many players that are so recognisable on the world stage as Edgar and for me it was just as big a deal as having Zidane or Ronaldo (the fat one with buck teeth) at Carrow Road – it doesn’t happen every week, put it that way.
Davids took to the field and played in left midfield right in front of me. He made for compelling viewing and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He didn’t touch the ball for the first few minutes, but when he chased the ball and turned towards the crowd, his unique look was picked up by a few casual Canary fans.
“Eeeezz got glathuth orn,” said one chap behind me, who’d clearly never seen Juventus, Inter, AC Milan or Holland play.
Davids was involved quite a lot in the first half, playing plenty of smart, neat passes without getting overly involved. A couple of times he was beaten by Russell Martin and Korey Smith, but you could tell he is still a class act.
City took the lead just before the break with a Grant Holt strike in a pretty uneventful first half. As the teams came out for the second half, Palace had only ten men. Davids was last out, scurrying down the tunnel just before kick off.
I’m not sure if he was injured or feeling unwell, but within five minutes of the restart, he was taken off and sat in the dugout for the rest of the game.
From that point on thoughts turned to the Ajax shirt I had stuffed in my coat pocket and getting it signed after the game. To my right, Gordon was sitting in the lower Barclay with the Juventus shirt he’d appropriately picked up on that same weekend we both saw Davids first play.
Norwich switched off in the second half, as Palace took a 2-1 lead with two scrappy goals that should have been prevented.
The rain started to howl down towards the end, and I didn’t really care that Norwich lost 2-1, I just cared about getting up close and personal with Edgar.
As I walked around the back of the Jarrold Stand, past the Barclay to meet up with Gordon, thoughts back to the last time I’d got an autograph outside Carrow Road. I was ten and Edgar was 12.
Just goes to show it’s not every day you feel compelled to ask a footballer for their autograph – and something I could only do now to a player that’s older than me.
I don’t think it feels right going up to the likes of Chris Martin or Korey Smith and requesting their signature – I’d feel like a right weirdo!
But at the age of 35, there aren’t many players left that are older than me still playing. I remember a time around 1993 when I first saw Bruce Dyer play for Watford and realising that he was actually younger than me. Now virtually every professional footballer is older than me – but at least Edgar is still that touch older!
Waiting for Edgar to come out was great. The Palace coach rolled up at about 10pm and we stood with a dozen or so others, mainly Eagles fans, waiting for the players. I leant against the bus with my Sharpie marker poised – I could have left some mean graffiti on the headlights while I waited!
And then he emerged.
Wheeling out a small suitcase he was courteous signing autographs and having his picture taken. Gordon got his Juve shirt signed, but as a steward was blocking my access, Edgar went over to four fans on the other side of a small yellow barrier.
Fearing he was getting on the coach, I squeezed my Ajax shirt under around the steward and Edgar paused and scribbled his signature next to the Ajax badge. It wasn’t the clearest of autographs but it meant a big deal to me.
He then got on the coach and smiled.
If he never comes back to Norwich again, it gives me a warm glow that the last person he had contact with outside the bus was a thirtysomething who really should have known better.