A mild Friday evening in mid-February and had things taken the course we always imagined, Ryan Giggs would have been planning a weekend assessing players for his Wales squad or perhaps preparing a side to play in some Championship, even Premier League, game. It didn’t turn out that way, of course.
It was in the depths of Chester’s bland and unprepossessing Crowne Plaza hotel that he was to be found, last week. Reduced at the age of only 50 to an outing on the speakers’ circuit, relating all his yesterdays to a not-quite-full banqueting suite.
The hotel was turning it into a nice little earner, flogging low-grade hotdogs and cheeseburgers for £6.