I still remember watching Danny Drinkwater lift the Premier League trophy with Leicester City in 2016, that incredible underdog story that captured the world's imagination. As someone who's followed English football for over two decades, I've rarely seen a career trajectory quite as dramatic - from title winner to virtual obscurity in just a few years. What fascinates me most about Drinkwater's story isn't just the decline itself, but how it reflects the broader challenges footballers face when their careers take unexpected turns.
When Chelsea paid £35 million for Drinkwater in 2017, I thought it was a smart move at the time. He was coming off that magnificent title-winning season where he formed that perfect partnership with N'Golo Kanté, making 35 appearances and contributing 3 goals and 8 assists. His passing accuracy that season was around 78%, and he averaged 2.3 key passes per game - numbers that genuinely impressed me for a central midfielder in a counter-attacking system. But looking back, the warning signs were already there. The transition from Leicester's direct, counter-attacking style to Chelsea's possession-based approach was always going to be challenging, and honestly, I never felt Drinkwater quite fit their system.
The real turning point, in my view, was that 2018-2019 season. After making just 12 appearances for Chelsea, he went on loan to Burnley, and this is where things really started to unravel. He managed only 2 appearances there, and I recall thinking how his confidence seemed completely shot. The drinking incident that led to his early return from Burnley was particularly concerning - it showed a player struggling not just with form, but with the mental aspect of his career decline. What many people don't realize is how quickly a footballer can go from being essential to expendable in modern football.
His subsequent loans to Aston Villa and Turkish side Kasımpaşa followed similar patterns - brief appearances, lack of impact, and growing frustration. I've spoken with several scouts who watched him during this period, and the consensus was that he'd lost that sharpness and reading of the game that made him so effective at Leicester. The injuries didn't help either - that ankle problem in 2018 seemed to rob him of the mobility he needed at the highest level.
Now, at 33, Drinkwater finds himself without a club after his contract with Chelsea finally expired last summer. From what I understand through contacts in the game, he's been training with Reading to maintain fitness while exploring options. It's a sad situation for a player who was once so crucial to one of football's greatest modern stories. Personally, I believe he could still do a job in the Championship or perhaps in the United States, but the reality is that his Premier League days are almost certainly over.
Interestingly, while researching this piece, I came across that reference to the Ynares Center in Antipolo and Philsports Arena schedule, which got me thinking about how different football careers can unfold globally. While Drinkwater's career was declining in England, players in other leagues and contexts continue their professional journeys in venues like these Philippine arenas. It's a reminder that football exists in many parallel universes - from the glamour of the Premier League to leagues and tournaments worldwide where careers take different shapes and trajectories.
What strikes me most about Drinkwater's situation is how it exemplifies the precarious nature of professional football. One moment you're celebrating the most unlikely title triumph in modern football history, the next you're struggling to find any club that wants you. I've seen this pattern with numerous players over the years, but Drinkwater's case feels particularly poignant because of how high he climbed before the fall. His story serves as a cautionary tale about the importance of career planning and adaptability in football.
The mental aspect of his decline cannot be overstated either. Having spoken with sports psychologists who've worked with footballers, the transition from star player to squad player to outcast can be psychologically devastating. Drinkwater's public incidents suggest he struggled with this transition more than most. In my experience covering football, players who can adapt their game and expectations often have longer careers, even if at lower levels than their peak.
Looking ahead, I wouldn't be surprised to see Drinkwater transition into coaching or punditry. He's always struck me as someone with good football intelligence, and his unique perspective - having experienced both the highest highs and challenging lows - could make him valuable in developing young players. Though if I'm being completely honest, I suspect we might see him pop up in a lower-level league somewhere, perhaps in Scandinavia or the Middle East, for one final professional chapter.
Ultimately, Drinkwater's career serves as a powerful reminder that football success is often fleeting, and that maintaining peak performance requires more than just talent - it demands mental resilience, adaptability, and sometimes, just plain luck. His legacy will always be tied to that magical Leicester season, and perhaps that's not such a bad thing. Most players go their entire careers without experiencing what he achieved in that single, glorious campaign.
