Fulham have had some brilliant players over the last 20 years. Saha, Dembele, Berbatov, Cairney. Players who’s flare made you glad you picked this club. This piece is not about those players.
This is about the others. The ones who arrived with a story, or left with one, or somehow managed both at the same time. The strange ones. The ones you bring up at the pub and get a look from someone who wasn’t paying close enough attention at the time.
1. Facundo Sava
There are many ways to celebrate a goal. A knee slide. A finger to the sky. A restrained fist pump if you’re that way inclined.
Facundo Sava had a different idea. The Argentine striker, who arrived at Craven Cottage in 2003, celebrated his goals by producing a Zorro mask from his sock and putting it on his face.
The remarkable thing is not that he did it once. He did it repeatedly for each of his six goals, with total commitment. Sava was not embarrassed. Sava was not having a laugh. Sava was Zorro.
Some players leave a legacy through trophies. Some through records. Facundo Sava left one through sheer, unapologetic eccentricity. Fair enough.
2. Aboubakar Kamara
Most footballers, when their team wins a penalty, stand back and let the designated taker do their job. It is a simple arrangement. Everyone knows the rules. Aboubakar Kamara did not feel bound by simple arrangements.
His defining Fulham moment came when he grabbed the ball and stepped up to take a penalty that was not his to take, with Aleksandar Mitrovic the designated taker and very much aware of this fact. Kamara scored, which somehow made everything worse. A goal is supposed to resolve tension. This one just redirected it.
The two of them would clash again, in rather different circumstances. During a team yoga session in January 2019, Kamara was reportedly joking around during the class. Mitrovic told him to be quiet. What followed was a full training ground brawl that apparently ended with Kamara being arrested, banned from the training ground, and eventually shipped out on loan to a Turkish club to see out the season.
He had a fight with his teammate. During yoga. Because he would not stop talking.
3. Zat Knight
The problem with being 6’6” and playing professional football is that when it goes wrong, everyone notices.
Knight was a player of genuine extremes. When he was good, he was imposing and commanding, and you wondered why he wasn’t a regular England centre-back for years. He did get England caps, which still surprises people when they remember it.
When he was bad, though, he was very bad in a way that felt physically amplified by all that extra limb. Every misjudgement covered more ground. Every slip had further to fall.
His Fulham career was a fair summary: flashes of quality, moments of chaos, and an overall impression of a player who was always slightly more entertaining than he probably wanted to be. Also never landed a single through ball anywhere other than the Hammy or Putney ends for a goal kick.
4. Collins John
Collins John arrived at Fulham’s academy as a teenager, which is the promising part of this story. He was the kind of raw, energetic striker clubs invest in early and hope will click. He represented the Netherlands at youth level, the talent was real.
He never quite clicked at Fulham as much as his (inverted) namesake, John Collins. What followed was a career of relentless movement. Club after club, loan after loan. The exact number of clubs he played for requires a Wikipedia tab and a moment to collect yourself.
A true highlight of his time in black and white - that overhead chest then volley vs Middlesborough. Still not convinced it was him.
5. David Elm
“If a tree falls in the woods, and nobody is there to hear it, does it make a sound?”
The giant Swedish forward signed in January 2013 under Roy Hodgson. That is a verifiable fact. He was registered. He had a shirt. Beyond that, things get hazy.
Elm made a handful of appearances, contributed nothing particularly memorable, and departed without fanfare. Proud to say I saw him on the pitch once (I think). He is the footballing equivalent of a name you recognise but cannot place. There is something quietly impressive about reaching the Premier League and leaving almost no trace. Most people fail loudly. Elm failed in a kind of serene, whisper-quiet way that deserves, in its own strange manner, a degree of respect.
He exists now primarily as a punchline or an answer on pointless. Possibly more than he bargained for.
Gabor Kiraly, anyone?