Right. Simon Mignolet is retiring. That's it. That's the end of an era I didn't even realise was still going.

The former Liverpool and Belgium keeper has announced he's hanging up his gloves at the end of the season with Club Brugge. And look, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Mignolet was still playing?" Yes. He was. While the rest of us have been arguing about VAR lines and whether goalkeepers should be sweeper-keepers or false nines or whatever nonsense they're calling it now, Simon Mignolet has been quietly getting on with his job in Belgium like a proper professional.

In my day, that's what goalkeepers did. They got on with it. They caught crosses. They kicked it long. They didn't try to play like Pirlo every time the ball came to their feet. They didn't have coaches screaming at them to "play out from the back" while a 6ft 3 striker is pressing them like his mortgage depends on it.

That's the problem with modern football. We've turned goalkeeping into performance art. Every keeper now has to be comfortable on the ball. Comfortable? In my day, the only thing a goalkeeper needed to be comfortable with was getting clattered by a centre forward and getting up without moaning about it.

But let's talk about Mignolet. Because I think he deserves more respect than he ever got. Did he have a nightmare at Anfield sometimes? Yes. Course he did. That punch against Manchester City. Some of those near post efforts that slipped through. I'm not going to pretend the man was Peter Shilton. But he stood between those posts during some of Liverpool's most chaotic years, and he kept going. Seven seasons at Anfield, mind. Seven. Most modern keepers would have had a social media meltdown and demanded a transfer after seven months.

Don't get me started on how Liverpool treated him towards the end. Brought in Alisson, fair enough, he's world class. But Mignolet just sat there on the bench, barely a word of complaint, training every day, being a proper professional. Then he went to Brugge, won titles, played Champions League football, and got on with his life like an adult. Imagine that in 2026. A footballer behaving like a grown man.

And here's what really gets me. When I read that headline, "Former Liverpool goalkeeper Simon Mignolet will retire at the end of the season," my first thought wasn't about Mignolet. It was about time. Because if Mignolet is retiring, that means the years when he was diving around at Anfield were a decade ago. A full decade. I remember watching him save a penalty on his debut against Stoke like it was last Tuesday. It wasn't. It was 2013. Thirteen years ago. I've aged in dog years since then.

The man won three Belgian league titles with Brugge. Three. Did you know that? Course you didn't. Because nobody cares about what happens outside the Premier League bubble anymore. If it's not a supercomputer stat or a dramatic Instagram story, it doesn't exist. Mignolet went and rebuilt his entire career in Belgium and most people forgot he was alive.

In my day, we respected a goalkeeper who gave honest service. You didn't need to be the best in the world. You needed to be reliable, brave, and willing to put your face where boots were flying. Mignolet did that for years. At Sunderland, at Liverpool, at Brugge, for Belgium.

So here's to you, Simon. You weren't flashy. You weren't a brand. You were a goalkeeper. And in this ridiculous circus that football has become, that's worth more than people realise.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go lie down. Finding out Mignolet is retirement age has done something terrible to my sense of mortality.