The inspired bargain signing Aston Villa must take a bold transfer risk on this summer

It would appear that Wolves might have applied too much baby oil to Adama Traore’s rippling biceps. The peroxide cannonball is slippin’ and a-slidin’ out of their grasping paws like a greased up piglet, and it is only a matter of time before he wriggles beneath the sty gate and out into the rolling pastures where all of the other free (range) agents roam.

Traore’s contract at Molineux, like a sickly Victorian urchin in an unseasonable heatwave, is close to expiring. And, like aforementioned sickly Victorian urchin’s back alley doctor, there doesn’t appear to be a great deal that Wanderers can do about it. The winger will leave - that much is apparent - although where he goes next is not so clear. Presumably, wherever it is, he will get there by charging in a series of perpendicular lines, like a Nokia snake on amphetamines.

There has been talk of Saudi Arabia, such is the avaricious vogue, but reports suggest that interest is also mounting in Spain, with Real Betis in particular casting glances of an admiring nature. Either way, nothing is concrete and everything remains possible. Possibly.

Traore’s appeal is an intriguing, almost morbidly curious, one. It’s similar to the enduring fascination with which we regard demolition derbies or unusually large marrows at county fairs. Adama’s existence as a professional footballer asks the question as to what exactly happens if we allow the brutish to mingle with the ordinary. The answer is a veritable steamrolling. Or at least, it should be in theory. Quite often in practice, the attacker flatters to deceive. He’s like a low slung supercar that’s unable to enter a multi-storey car park because the speed bumps might put a dent in his front spoiler.

In 194 Premier League games he has scored just 14 goals, and assisted 20 more. He has less end product than an exploded meth lab. And yet, there is no denying that there is a player in there somewhere. When all of the requisite parts come together and the juggernaut that houses them begins to purr and hum, nobody can touch Traore in terms of his irresistible pace or his combustible power. Trying to defend against him, when he is at his most daunting, must feel like trying to catch an asteroid with a butterfly net.

Nobody as yet has been able to coax that monstrous side out of him anywhere near enough, though. But I bet Unai Emery could.

I, like so many others, have been blown away by the job that the Spaniard is doing with Aston Villa at the moment. In just a few short months, the Villans have been transformed from relegation candidates to continental participants, and I am beginning to work on the tentative hypothesis that Emery might be capable of saving and rejuvenating just about anything. He is - to my mind - a restorer, a redeemer, a healer. Put him in charge of that sole surviving Blockbuster in Oregon and everyone will be watching VHS tapes by Christmas. Install him on the bridge of the sunken Titanic and that puppy will be doing luxury cruises around the Norwegian fjords before the clocks go back. This the kind of reinvigoration that Traore needs - a restorative reset that allows him to properly realise the full extent of his freakish potential.

Not that this is some kind of plea for an intervention in the name of pure philanthropy, mind you. It is a poorly kept secret that Villa are in the market for a winger this summer. In recent days alone, they have been linked with the likes of Harvey Barnes, Luis Henrique, and even *checks notes* Jadon Sancho. You have to admire their gumption, really.

Traore in his current guise will do little to quicken pulses more than any single member that speculative trio, but Traore at his rampant best has the potential to be more devastating than any of them. Then again, Traore at his rampant best has the potential to be more devastating than most minor natural disasters.

And all he needs is for a manager to figure how to accentuate his blindingly obvious strengths so that he can perform at that kind of level on a weekly basis. Hell, even fortnightly would be a good start. In his brief, effervescent stint with Villa, Emery has shown that he knows how to refine the individual for the benefit of the collective, and with his emphasis on quality in wide areas, Traore feels like a natural fit for the Spaniard’s squad.

When I say squad, I mean squad too. For the first time in far too long, Villa will be playing Europe next season. They need depth and they need players who can be impactful when introduced in the latter stages of matches. Properly utilised, Traore can offer both in swathes and swathes.

And then there is the matter of cost, or in this case, a lack thereof. When Traore’s contract eventually runs out and he’s thrown all of his empty Johnson’s bottles in a bin liner before trudging out of the Molineux dressing room, he will be a free agent; free to go wherever he pleases, free to a good home, but most significantly, free for whichever club next signs him. Not too long ago, Barcelona agreed a loan deal for the winger with Wolves that included an option-to-buy worth around £29 million. Of course, the Catalan giants decided against exercising it, but regardless, this is the kind of valuation that Adama would ordinarily command. To then have the opportunity to sign him for free and not even be tempted by it would be absurd.

In the end, the likelihood is that Traore will end up abroad - whether it be the Middle East or the Iberian peninsula. It is also worth reiterating that at this present moment in time, there is zero indication that Villa are even remotely interested in the winger. But I’ll say it again, one final time; there are the makings of a wonderful, dread-inducing attacking force in there somewhere, and if anyone can unearth them, it is surely Unai the Redeemer.