David de Gea was cracking his invisible whip against the Alamo-siege of Arsenal’s attack on Manchester United’s goalpost. This is the start of his legend.
At night the chimney fire shed the only light in the log cabin in the middle of nowhere.
They gathered around the fire once a year on the night of the winter solstice and told each other the most unbelievable stories. Despite what they would later tell their gallows priests, they were in this line of business for those stories. The loot and lay were bonuses. Every year the bounty on their head grew larger and the vigils for absent friends longer.
On one of those nights Haskay-bay-nay-ntay, Native Indian for the tall man destined to come to a mysterious end, known to us better as the Apache Kid, Butch Cassidy and Jesse James, hard men all, had collective chills running up their spines when each of them realised they were telling different parts of the same story. The protagonist was the man simply called Látigo – Spanish for ‘whip’.