The misunderstood genius

A ballerina in football’s clothing, dancing and sprinkling magic across the pitch, flowing so evidently and elegantly like a swan gliding across calm waters, serene in appearance amidst the chaos left in its trail. For those not born naturally gifted, it is possible that their football may still become poetry; however, for him, the question of natural ability is no question at all. This is a talent that could only be bestowed by God Himself.

For Pogba, his feet were born poetic. They spoke in wonderful rhymes, weaving words and movements together in a way that no other ever had before. A creator, an artist, a painter in every sense. For creativity is not defined solely by a masterful painter stroking a brush across a blank canvas to produce a masterpiece, nor is it limited to a musical artist in a studio crafting rhythmic genius. Creativity is everything that strays from the conventional, that ability to astonish in unimaginable ways, without fear and with pure conviction, a belief in the difference you are able to create.

Paul Pogba was a creator, an artist in the same breath as Mozart or Leonardo da Vinci. He simply did so with a ball at his feet. He saw the game far quicker than his counterparts, enabling him to make the beautiful game look effortless. While those around him opted for rough and rugged playstyles, Pogba possessed the ability to do it all, and with incomparable physicality. He often seamlessly glided across the pitch, shrugging off opponents who looked in awe at what the inventor could produce. In the same vein, he displayed a range of passing that was second to none, left foot, right foot, ten yards or ninety, it was all poetry to Paul.

The tag of generational footballer is often misused and overused; however, there is no exaggeration when it is used to describe Pogba, a unicorn of a footballer who possessed the talent to leave match-goers in a trance. While we currently live in a time where it is difficult to find players who lift you off the edge of your seat, Pogba put bums on seats and filled stadiums. He was a player people would leave home just to watch. He played with an incredible joy, and that joy radiated to all onlookers.

However, the direction football has taken has meant that players such as Pogba were often disrespected or unappreciated by the masses. Yet Pogba is clearly a misunderstood genius, a brilliant maker with a polarising personality, but special nonetheless. Whether it was the relaxed, blonde-tipped Mohican at Juventus, the red Magistas, short sleeves, and black gloves of the dancing superstar in Manchester, or the short-haired, matured Paul in French blue, Pogba marvelled wherever he graced the pitch.

He often didn’t get the respect he deserved, but this is where football becomes poetry, where geniuses are appreciated for their genius. Football becomes poetry for many, but Paul was born poetic. His name is written, stamped, and confirmed into football history with the same rhythmic splendour with which he played the game.

Paul Pogba, the artist, the painter, the misunderstood genius, a true personification of poetry.