Sat on the table next to Morgs a few weeks ago at Ponti's Italian restaurant in the Fox Valley Shopping Centre at Stocksbridge.
And....
and nothing really.
He was there with his wife and kid - at least that's who I think they were. I don't know, I didn't speak to him. I don't know him. He doesn't know me. I've no more desire to introduce myself to him than any other complete stranger tbh. I mean, if there was some reason we got into a conversation then fine...but there wasn't.
I was in the Pointing Dog on Eccy Road about 3 years ago now, one saturday evening. It was jam packed in there and me and my trophy-wife missus were parked up next to a high table. Ex Blade, Stephen Quinn, was stood next to us. On this occasion we did get chatting. But that's only because some stupid bint spilled her drink right over the both of us! So, we had a bit of a laugh about it - my wife got out some tissues and offered them to him to wipe down his suit jacket - and that was that. Did I introduce myself? No. Did I start talking to him about football and Sheff Utd - no. Why should I?
To be perfectly honest, I think there is something very juvenile and not grown up at all about fans who are desperate to bump into, be seen with, or start up a conversation with a footballer. When I was 6 years old I wanted the Beatles to come to our house for tea. When I was 11 or 12 years old I used to go in Billy Dearden's chip shop on West Street hoping I might see him in there, so I could talk to him about Sheff Utd. I grew out of those things. I grew up. I became a man. An adult.
I'd be sociable to any footballer, but no more so than to any other human being. I see them as just being normal folks and not objects to admire and worship. But obviously that puts me in the minority of football fans - thank God!