Now it’s worth pointing out that my footballing emotions have never been entirely rational. For example, my long standing distrust for any footballer that wears a polo neck under his shirt. Or my unhealthy respect for James Beattie. And now Klose.
It bothers me that he is dangerously close to breaking Ronaldo’s World Cup goal-scoring record and that he is level on World Cup goals with Gerd Müller – a man who plundered an astonishing 68 goals in 62 internationals.
It frustrates me that over the last decade during major tournaments he has been mentioned in the same breath as David Villa, Thierry Henry, and Hernan Crespo. And he has, because he consistently scores goals, and plenty of them, at major international tournaments. Even if three of those came against Saudi Arabia in 2002.
And that’s the problem. Or at least my problem. He displays all the attributes that highly desirable strikers are rightly lauded for. Reliable, clinical, always in the right place at the right time, with a fantastic goals to games ratio. A rich man’s Franny Jeffers if you will. Unlike many around him, he’s neither cynical, theatrical or petulant. So why is it that I refuse to acknowledge him for what he seemingly is, a great striker?