Sad news, everyone. Possibly tragic news in fact.
Even though Romelu Lukaku has slain thousands of Philistines (read: scored many goals) over the last few years, he has decided to tempt fate. Sure, the source of his power may not be his dreads, but what if they are? What if, Romelu, what if, huh?
"It was time :-) .... #ByeDreads," reads the caption. Why, why, why, why.
And no, he didn't just cut them a bit shorter. Oh no. He went the whole nine yards.
Suddenly, it's all sorts of boring. No more dreadlocks flying a comet trail behind him as he streaks towards goal. No more crown of glorious hair to frame his massive leaps on headers and goal celebrations. No more, no more.
When Lukaku first joined Chelsea, I was not all that familiar with him. But combining his goal-scoring record in Belgium with his physical attributes, it was easy to get excited for his future. And then I saw the hair and knew there could be greatness.
Goodbye, sweet Alien-Predator. No tears, no tears.