I waited at the airport

I waited at the airport

 

I waited at the airport, the lights were bright

and the sleet was wet but my spirits were high;

As high as the airplane heading my way.

 

This was it at last, our record signing was to make

Cardiff his home. He’d learn to love the Welsh way

of living with his heart on his sleeve and we’d learn

to say his name properly.

 

Emiliano was to be our saviour. From the outset

Cardiff had been written off as the worst team in premier

league history and whilst the Bluebirds had earned points,

no one thought it would last.

 

December came and the transfer window beckoned, rumours

of French fancies came our way but nothing certain. One

minute it was on, the next it was off.  Bluebirds learning

to take each bit of speculation with more than a pinch of salt.

 

Then one night it all came true.  A dismal showing in

Newcastle city centre only offset by the announcement that

Emiliano, was after all, a Bluebird.

 

The message boards lit up, “there’s a new Sala in town”

he proclaimed.  Suddenly amongst the January blues a

glint of hope and a French breeze brought hope anew.

Argentina’s first ever Cardiff player and the Bluebirds

expected goals at last.

 

Just one final goodbye was all that stood between Emi and

his Premier League dream.  Kennels sorted, instagram photos

posted and final visits to the town café done as Sala climbed aboard his

final vessel.

 

I spend nine to five daily grinds at Cardiff airport and I’m still waiting,

still waiting for Emi to arrive.  To see him walk through arrivals

with that big smile,to have him sign my top and post that selfie

exclusive on twitter.

 

He’s never arrived, a watery grave became his final resting place

but I can’t stop waiting at the airport.  Goodnight Emi, I hope

that the boys do you proud on the pitch and your family know

that we will never forget you.

 

Sleep well brother, once a Bluebird, always a Bluebird.

 

Paul Gronow 15.02.19

What do we do now?

So Friday has arrived and normally this would be the time to look forward to the weekend, predict the scores and speculate about what the weekend holds in store for the Bluebirds.


Not today.


I feel guilty about the fact that time is marching on and the search has ended.  A tear-stained press conference yesterday between Romina Sala (Emiliano's sister) and the press culminated in a heart wrenching appeal for the search to continue.


Who amongst us would be content to see our family member disappear into the night and to stop searching for them after just three days?


The sad reality is not many people truly expects them to be found alive now and perhaps this is the greatest tragedy of all.  At the very least I want the plane and passengers to be located so the friends and families can say goodbye.


The nearly nature of this whole story is what makes it so tragic, he nearly made it to the Premier League, he nearly fulfilled his dream.


I'm left with a constant stream of "what if?" questions running through my mind, inevitably followed by the reminder that fundamentally it changes nothing.


The football family has traversed many a tragedy and the sport will overcome this one too, sadly this is not something we can say for the friends and families involved.


May we never forget the best Bluebird to never play for our club.

Tell me what to do

It's 13:54 on Wednesday the 24.01 and it's been over two days since my first post and despite prayers and hope otherwise there is still no trace of either the airplane or passengers Emiliano Sala and David Ibbotson.


Can someone tell me what to do because right now I have no idea.




The sky outside my office is the dullest shade of grey and the general sick feeling in the pit of my stomach continues to murmur away like distant thunder.  Shock has turned to sadness and now abject sorrow.


The football has definitely taken the furthest seat away from me right now, honestly why do we care so much about a game when people's lives have probably been lost and families destroyed. 


The sad truth is, at some point the football will become important again and that sense of perspective will be gone all over again.


I sat here at my desk listening to a ten minute interview between Talksport's Jim White and the Cardiff City chief executive Ken Choo with tears in my eyes.  To hear the strain in his voice and appreciate the multi-faceted tragedy that he has been tasked with somehow steering Cardiff City makes one appreciate just how tough this has been on Cardiff City Football Club in general.


We stand and fall together as a family and right now we are down.  We will rise again one day but right now the punch has only just landed and it still feels like we're falling.


May we learn the news we are all desperate to learn sooner rather than later and may Mr Sala and Mr Ibbotson's families know that no matter what happens, we are for them and with them every step of the way.

Rescue turns to recovery

Cautionary note: I realise it has not been confirmed officially but it seems we are looking at a tragic end to this....I HOPE I AM WRONG OF COURSE.




So here we are some 25 hours on from my post yesterday and still no aircraft, still no sign of either passenger and hope begins to fade to sorrow.


It's the strangest sensation when you begin to mourn someone when you don't know for sure if they've even passed away.  They're also someone you've never met and whilst on one hand you know it makes little sense, what in this world does?


On a footballing level, Sala represented a new hope, Cardiff City have been up against it in recent weeks and he was to be our saviour.  He represented a renewed effort from the Bluebirds to prove the critics wrong and achieve mission impossible avoiding relegation.


On another altogether more important level he is a young man in the prime of his life and excited to make the next step into the world's spotlight.  Couple that with a family desperate for information and loved ones and friends incredulous at what's happened and frankly who cares about the football?


This one really hurts and it feels wrong to be saying it, almost as if I have no right to be in mourning for someone I never really knew let alone saw play for my team.


Nevertheless, I don't know what to do but write it all down and hope it all makes sense one day.


My prayer was that they were found alive and well but now it seems that isn't a realistic option.  It's got to the stage where I'm refreshing twitter just hoping they've located the aircraft and the families can finally know what's happened.


I'm not interested at the moment in who is to blame and whether it could have been stopped, all I care about now is  finding them and allowing their families to begin to move forward with the process.


Sala, you will always be the one that got away and it'll always be the greatest pain to everyone involved, I can only hope you're both at peace now and the worries of this world are long behind you.

What on earth has happened?

Don't shout at me for writing this, if you don't care what I think don't read on....

It’s 12:16 on Tuesday 22.01.2019 and I’m sat in my office at Cardiff airport trying to focus on a monitor that’s becoming increasingly blurry.  Emiliano Sala, Cardiff City’s club record signing has gone missing in a light aircraft incident and no one knows where he is.

 

As I type this the French authorities have confirmed Sala was on board the aircraft thereby destroying all hope that he was still in France awaiting a flight to South Wales.  The coastguard are continuing to search for the player and pilot last seen on radar just north west of Guernsey before all contact was lost.

 

Social media has become a hot bed of rumour, confusion and outrage at those who would choose to make light of such a tragedy or just as poorly, use the incident to generate revenue from clicks.  I am just numb and to be fair, completely in shock.

 

You feel guilty for even thinking about the football right now, who cares if he’d have been a great striker when two people might have lost their lives?  As much as this is true you can’t completely forget the hopes and dreams you had built with him in mind.

 

The winning goal he was going to score one day, the first time he did the ayatollah at the Cardiff City Stadium.  Hearing the stadium announcer read his name and the crowd respond with a welcoming roar.

 

All of this of course pales into insignificance when you remember he and the pilot MAY have lost their lives in a harrowing crash in the cold and dark sea and their family members will be bereft awaiting the news.

 

I don’t know why I’ve written this, maybe it’s self indulgent therapy I don’t know.  One thing I do know is, I can’t believe this happened and my thoughts and prayers are with everyone involved.

 

Once a Bluebird, always a Bluebird.