A man from the Daily Telegraph once told me an interesting story about John Terry, Fabio Capello and one of those informal chit-chats England managers like to have with journalists. This one took place a few years back, when Terry was having one of those off periods when he seems to be slightly falling to pieces, panels flapping, hinges rusting, grabbing at the passing shirts like a man groping for the light switch in the dark.
Someone asked why Capello kept picking Terry when his form was poor. The answer was simple. Yes, there were quicker, fitter players. But when Capello and his men looked around the dressing room before kick-off they usually found Terry was the only England player not frozen into silence, bowed with angst or – in the colloquialism used – “shitting it” under the weight of the England shirt.
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