I NO LONGER watch a lot of televised football. With both CR7 and Messi now, sadly, on the downward slope of fantastic careers, there are not a lot of individual players I want to watch.
Also, much of what passes for top-line football today is boring, three diagonal passes forward, two square passes sideway, one backwards pass, repeat ad nauseum.
That said, I did, on Sunday, take the time to watch and enjoy the
Manchester United v Liverpool FA Cup tie. That game deserved to have the missing 75,000 fans, because here were two teams whose managers have remembered what their clubs stand for. Both teams were sent out to try to win by entertaining, and in the end, United won it by the odd goal in five.
Up here, we did see a superb team goal from Ryan Jack, in Rangers' hammering of Ross County, but, without fans, Scottish fitba is very much a case of cauld kale, or re-heated purritch.
Still, that will not worry the fans of St Johnstone and Livingston, who reached the League Cup final with semi-final wins at the week-end. The Perth Saints' 3-0 defeat of Hibernians has maybe saved more wear and tear on the Hampden copy of Sunshine on Leith, come finals day, but, it was something of a surprise, and a serious blow to Hibs' morale.
picture courtesy of Jeff Holmes
Meanwhile, the David Martindale (above) dream continues, after Livi's win over the Paisley Saints. There is a line in Jilly Coopers' 'Riders,' (I think) the first and best of her “Rutshire Chronicles” series; which has anti-hero Rupert Campbell-Black (the part Hugh Grant was born to play, but never got ther chance), reflecting on retiring from top-level sport, how difficult it is, and how it's all about the timing of the departure. If Livi go on to win the trophy, I think on the field at Hampden, clutching the trophy, would be the perfect time for Martindale to announce his retirement from managing – I seriously doubt if it could get any better than that. But, that will not happen. Still, live the dream David, live the dream.
Speaking of keeping the dream alive. What about a legend from another brand of football – the American, grid iron variety. At the weekend, Tom Brady led the Tampa Bay Buccaneers to victory over the Green Bay Packers, to win the NFC pennant and clinch their place in what will be his tenth NFL Superbowl, and hopefully on his way to a seventh championship-winning ring.
That's the equivalent of a tenth Champions League final as a player. It came in his 44th year – at that age, he should be playing golf with Donald Trump, not out there as a target for big, mean linemen almost half his age, determined to knock his head off.
The Buccs are part of the Glazer Family's sports organisation, along with Manchester United. Mind you, I don't see Paul Pogba being out there orchestrating things on the park when he is 43.
BLESSED as I am with: “A wonderful voice for silent movies,” I was never going to have a career in sports broadcasting. I did one Kilmarnock game for BBC Shortbread back last century – and pulled a classic midweek evening “draw nae fitba” at Rugby Park. I was never asked back and have no regrets – it wasn't for me – I prefer writing about to talking on-air about the game.
Commentating is a whole different ball game; as is the role of “The colour commentator.” The colour commentator is usually a former player, employed to use his or her experience to enhance the viewer's game experience.
In many ways, it's a harder role than that of being the main talking head, and for that reason, there are not too-many good one around. I have always felt the best commentators, most of whom are sadly dead: Kenneth Wolstenholme, David Coleman, Brian Moore I, Peter Allis, Dan Maskell, Bill McLaren, didn't need a colour commentator, they were vocalising Van Goughs.
Indeed, today, there are only two colour commentators for whom I have much time – Brian Moore II and Peter Wright, (pictured above), two former British Lions who have seamlessly transferred their roars from the front row of the scrum to the front row of broadcasting.
But, I did have a wee twinge of sympathy for Alex Scott, the former Arsenal Women and England full back, now bringing her 140 caps plus on-field experience to the TV gantry and studio. Covering the Chelsea v Luton Town cup tie at the weekend, she said, at the end, that Blues boss Frank Lampard would doubtless be happy with the three points – totally forgetting this was a cup tie, rather than a league game.
You see, that's the thing about writing rather talking about a game. The writer has the chance, before pressing send on his or her lap top, to go over the piece and make late changes. Then, if they are lucky, the piece lands on the screen of that endangered species of journalist – the competent sub-editor – who will catch any boobs the hard-pressed scribe missed.
In live commentary, once you've spouted pish, there's no safety net, it's out there and you can be ready for an appearance in 'Colemanballs.' So, grin and bear it Alex, grin and bear it.
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