With 57 minutes on the clock at the London Stadium on Saturday, West Ham were in desperate need of divine intervention from Dimitri Payet. That’s a statement which could apply to pretty much all of their games so far this season, which is perhaps one of the reasons they are third-bottom of the league. With the Hammers currently in dire form, Payet looks increasingly like a man bemused, a footballer several tiers above everyone else’s league. He is the shining light in their gloomy start to the season, a gleaming sunbeam through the clouds of ineptitude, a sparkling talent in a team which otherwise appears to have gone emphatically flat and, in footballing terms, the conceptual opposite of James Collins.
While West Ham were floundering on Saturday, trailing to Middlesbrough and looking like they might lose their sixth match of the season, Payet came up with the sort of heavenly contribution which has been sending supporters into raptures over the past year or so. Picking up the ball on the left wing, he dribbled through almost the entire Boro side before slotting away a timely equaliser, hence salvaging a consolation point at home. Considering the standard of the Hammers’ performance up until then, this was the equivalent of Jesus appearing to the disciples, visiting them in the form of the Holy Spirit and saying: “LADS, CAN YOU PLEASE STOP MISPLACING EVERY OTHER PASS, FOR FUCK’S SAKE.”
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Payet has already achieved something close to sainthood in East London but – with his goals, galloping runs and rabona assists seemingly all that stands between West Ham and oblivion at the moment – he has cultivated the air of a delivering angel, especially when he tries to initiate an attack alongside comparative antichrist Simone Zaza. Payet is the good priest of football, a paragon amongst men, a holy presence in a team which also includes that most fleshly of sinners, Andy Carroll. He is doing his best to redeem West Ham singlehandedly, a task which is proving increasingly difficult in the face of godless performances and the sharp decline of the ‘love they neighbour’ attitude amongst the fans. Everyone else has lost the plot at this point, and so he is having to do the lord’s work himself.
No man can become truly saintly without suffering, and so this season is perhaps a form of penance for Payet. Only through playing for a team which has undergone a miraculous decline in the past few months can he discover the miracle-worker within himself, and so ascend to a higher spiritual plane. Payet is willing to sacrifice everything for his club, and die so that West Ham’s sins might be washed clean. Either that, or he’s playing with one eye on the transfer window, and praying that PSG, or someone, will deliver him from the clutches of the London Stadium in a few months time.