Barcelona, March 12th, 3pm. Its warm, sleepy, and the pace is easy going.
Barca's centre forward wants coverage. FourFourTwo want Samuel Eto'o for a cover.
Puma put us together, but the lad is not in the mood. He wants to go back to sleep.
For a few precious minutes I'm on my own, shaded on a narrow balcony by his security blinds, with one of football's biggest names and I'm not letting him go until he tries one of the AD's ideas.
It's half hearted, I'm feeling guilty and let him go.
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