Stephen Ireland got married to his long-term partner Jessica Lawlor yesterday. The pair tied the knot at the 500-acre Stapleford Park resort in Leicestershire where the bridesmaids included Chantelle Heskey (wife of Emile) and Karla Kompany (wife of Vincent). It seemed an altogether classy, even traditional affair.
That's the disappointment of it though. This is a man who has graced us with a personalised pool table embroidered with his own name.
This is a man who wanted to rip up his kitchen floor and install a shark tank underneath it.
If there is one thing we were certain about – it was that Stephen Ireland loved pink. His Range Rover was tinged with pink.
He had a pink room in his house.
He even wore pink underwear when out and out with his friend Leon Best.
That's why yesterday would break your heart. Stephen limped up the aisle (he is recovering from a broken foot suffered in training with Stoke City last month)... and it was monochrome. Black and white.
It was understated, elegant and perfect.
Except it wasn't. You don't want understated elegance from Stephen Ireland. He is Ireland's Kardashian. He does not have a single shit to give. Despite the invented stories about the multiple demises of his grandmothers - his Instagram profile features someone who Steve Staunton would be shocked to see doing so well.
He is either a master of irony or doesn't even know the concept exists. Either way, there's a certain type of genius at work.
Even his father is called Coochie. In Sonia O'Sullivan's book she describes meeting him in a local Cobh pub when she was a teenager...
"Coochie is better known as the father of Stephen Ireland, the (occasional) Ireland footballer... Coochie got beaten up down town and was recovering. He was not allowed drink during this time. He was bored."
Coochie sired a man who scored 13 goals and 13 assists in the same season (2008/9) for Manchester City and then gave us this...
Coochie's son's wedding should have been the crowning glory of a magnificently belligerent career. Earlier this year, Ireland went to court to unsuccessfully protect the floodlights he illegally installed at his Cheshire mansion for five-a-side games while in the Premier League games he was paid to play in, he mustered a magnificent total of three shots for the entire season.
He should have peacocked down the aisle in a one-off pink-hued monstrosity. Not limped down it wearing a suit like any of us mere mortals could have walked into Black Tie and rented. He's better than that.
Or at least he used to be.
