Brick by disbelieving brick, Bale built the Red Wall and he relished in the passion of what constituted nothing less than a movement. He adored the support and understood the release of emotion, laughing along with the “Wales, Golf, Madrid” chants, knowing that it was a joke and a statement of the absurd.
Except Wales did mean more to Bale than anything else, as his statement announcing his farewell wonderfully encapsulated. A quiet, humble personality, he and his talent became ever more animated when he rolled on that red jersey. Seemingly possessed, time after time he pulled Wales out of trouble, with his instinct for the big moment verging on the eerie.
It is a shame that his final match was that rather pitiful performance against Iran, but that is football and that is sport. Anyone playing down his standing, should do so in the knowledge that in Wales the criticisms will not mean a jot.
He gave everything for his country, while the same could not be said about certain other Welsh greats. There should and will not be any regrets on that score.
Yet still his detractors will lament that Bale never got the most of his ridiculous skillset, despite his five European Cups, despite playing at Real Madrid, the best most famous team in the world, for nine years, despite so many great goals YouTube could ascribe his highlights reel his own web channel.
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