michael olise. boy oh boy, where do i even begin. my glorious king. my beautiful superstar. my generational talent. the love of my life. every time i watch you play football i genuinely forget how to function. the way you touch the ball, the way you move, the way you see passes that nobody else on the pitch could even comprehend. i have seen enough. i have watched the games. i have studied the footage. i have witnessed greatness with my own two eyes. there are footballers, and then there is you. you don’t play football, you simply bless us with your presence on a pitch. i would defend you in every argument, every debate, every group chat, every court of law. if loving you is wrong, i do not want to be right. you are the greatest player in the world, and you don’t need PR to show that, unlike a certain someone.