The Community Shield marks beginnings and ends. Here come nine months of Premier League hopes and fears. Even if the eventual fate awaiting a team can become crystal clear as early as the opening weekend, there can be no backward glances. This means more, as the modern cliche goes. Many are happy to live by those words.
Regrettably, club football’s return also means the sun setting on a brilliant summer of sport, the closing of an ever-narrower window. Only the truly afflicted are not glad of the respite. The close season, as it was previously termed, lowers the cortisol, regulates the serotonin levels until it’s time to go again. The Club World Cup was not too much of a diversion, despite Gianni Infantino’s best efforts and corralling of Donald Trump, a month of unlovable fare that desperately searched for authenticity via its blaring, high-contrast cocktail of celebrity and Saudi Arabian money.
