Carlito's Way

In what is quite possibly the least surprising twist of the summer, Carlos Tevez has decided that he is in fact happy to remain at Manchester City after all. This latest development is in no way linked to the complete absence of potential suitors, no sir. Perhaps his recent discovery of the Greggs store in the Arndale, thus bolstering the number of eateries in the city known to Tevez to three, has swayed his opinion. You get the impression he's partial to a Steak Bake.

Tevez hasn’t so much done an about turn as a 720 degree double pirouette that Wayne Sleep would be proud of. It was back in December 2010 when Tevez first announced his intention to leave Eastlands, citing personal differences with certain members of the board. As Noel Gallagher wryly observed at the time, he would be the first player to leave "because he didn't like someone in the office". Garry Cook, for his part, refuted the allegations and has seemingly refused to get his hair cut since in protest. Sort it out, brother.

Tevez subsequently withdrew his request, and went on to lead City to the FA Cup and Champions League qualification, before once again reiterating his desire to leave a couple of months ago. He claimed to be disenchanted with life in Manchester which, coming from someone born in a shanty town, is some criticism. Thank god he doesn’t live in Stockport.

In Tevez’s defence, it is fair to say that he isn’t the brightest individual. To live in a country for five years and still not be able to speak a word of the native language is some achievement. One suspects that somewhere in Buenos Aires there is a village missing its idiot.

However, it would be unfair to mock Tevez, especially in the light of his recent Alan Partridge-esque bout of depression and binge eating. Reports that he attempted to drive barefoot to Dundee are, as yet, unconfirmed but his delusional comments about still being the captain and symbol of the team hint at a man not in full control of his faculties.

The real bête noir in this story is, of course, Tevez’s agent who is clearly instigating the whole charade. Kia Joorabchian has the aura of a typical Bond villain, with his greased back black hair, murky background, and three nipples. Probably.

It seems particularly sinister that Joorabchian actually owned Tevez prior to his joining City, in the literal sense too, not the infuriating modern definition. Presumably during the off season Tevez was made to mow his lawns and carry out odd jobs around the Joorabchian household.

To his credit, Joorabchian has negotiated a quite incredible contract for his client, as his earnings seemingly rise exponentially, according to the press at least. The latest figure plucked out of thin-, sorry exposed by journalists, is apparently £286,000 a week. At this rate it’s only a matter of time before he overtakes Yaya Toure’s reported £875,000 weekly wage.

I can scarcely wait for Tevez’s next transfer request, which will presumably arrive in January 2012. And be retracted a few months later. Repeat ad nauseum. The only interesting aspect is trying to predict what ludicrous justification he will give for his decision next time. I’m going to gamble and say he’ll play the existential card, questioning the futility of mortality, and threatening to quit football altogether. Shortly before joining Paris St-Germain for a knockdown fee.