Hello, Four Five Twofers.
I haven’t written anything in, oh, I don’t know, maybe 2 years, but I was inspired; nay, I was compelled by forces beyond my control to write this piece.
That’s right, it is Better Know a Traore time.
Now, I did not originate this piece. I admired it from a distance. But after Djimi Traore made a stunning return to everyone’s minds after his golazo in the Sounders/Tigres match tonight, I thought it was time. Time to get to know, Djimi Traore. Again. For the second (or possibly third) time.
Djimi Traore (pronounced Jimmy Smith) was born in France in 1980. After living for about 19 years, and learning how to make it appear as though he had no actual control over his limbs, he convinced fellow Frenchman Gerard Houllier to spend an unseemly amount of money (read: Any) on bringing him to the team Houllier was then managing, Liverpool. And this, this is where the legend begins.
First, like all great players throughout history, Djimi inspired Liverpool supporters to create many songs for him. The song played upon Traore’s amazing skills, such as being tall and scoring one of the greatest own-goals of all time. After 6 seasons, somehow winning a Champion’s League medal, and losing playing time to Stephen Warnock of all people, Traore somehow fetched an absurd fee from Charlton (read: Over $3 million!! Drunk Allen Pardew!!), and headed out to continue his legacy in red.
Fortunately for all concerned, Traore picked up right where he left off, getting sent off in his debut for the Addicks. Later in the year, he showed how much he loved his time at Liverpool by handing them a cheap penalty, helping Charlton down their path of club destruction.
Djimi spent the next few years bouncing around between Crap and French Crap (Portsmouth, Rennes, Marseille). In February of this year, Djimi knew it was time. Time to bring the glory of Traore to America. He signed with the Sounders, who passed on Mikel Silvestre to sign Djimi instead. This turned out to be a wise move for the Sounders, and proved Djimi right for coming to America.
He had, after years of searching, finally found a French defender worse at football than he.