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SIR Alex can throw as many tea cups and hairdryers as he likes.
He can scream “tap-up” and cry foul until he goes blue in the face.... again. It wont make any difference in the long run.
Because, if Cristiano Ronaldo has made up his mind to join Real Madrid - and it seems that he has - then he will go. Full stop.
Forget that he is still on a four-year contract worth £120,000 a week. That wont be worth the paper it’s written on.
Forget that United insist he’s not for sale at any price.
And don’t believe for a minute the empty threat that United will let the show pony rot in the reserve for a year rather than let him move to Spain.
There is a limit to how much you can fine a player; how much “gardening leave” an employer can give an employee. And Ronaldo could argue, quite rightly, that playing the stiffs would devalue him and harm his international career.And, if push comes to shove, he can always do a ‘van Hooijdonk’ and go on strike.
It’s not often that a player gets the better of Sir Alex. Just ask Ruud van Nistelrooy.
But Ronaldo has been crafty. He’s been playing some neat one-twos with the world’s press since leaving for Euro 2008. He’s dropped a hint here, a whisper there - without ever really saying he wants a transfer. And this adds up to the fact that the dirty deal with Real is already done and dusted.
It must be driving Sir Alex mad. Because, for once, there is absolutely nothing he can do about it.
But I, for one, will not shed any tears when Ronaldo departs for Spain.
Yes, he’s just had a phenomenal season. Yes, he’s scored some incredible goals. But I wont miss his blatant diving; his arm-waving and bleating at decisions; in fact any of his show-pony antics.
Not for one minute. I just hope he takes Tim Henman and Joey Barton with him.
Saturday, 21 June 2008
Wednesday, 18 June 2008
Les miserables
FRANCE must go back to the drawing board after a miserable Euro 2008 campaign.
‘Teary’ Henry looked a forlorn figure, during and after the 2-0 defeat by Italy. Why did he ever leave Arsenal?
A penalty and an own goal, typical Italy as they came back from the brink in the group of death.
Talk of Holland fielding a reserve side and stitching Donadoni’s men up was irrelevant. Let’s face it. France were a miserable shambles and so was the team selection. What was Raymond Domenech thinking?
Talking of miserable, apparently Tiger Woods wasn't faking it at the Battle of Wounded Knee?
It now looks like sour grapes when Retief Goosen questioned whether the limping, grimacing Woods was faking it and just playing to the crowd for sympathy in the US Open.
Woods - who now needs another operation on his troublesome knee - appeared to wince with pain when he hit a bad shot. But he somehow staged a miraculous recovery when he hit a good ‘un.
OK, playing 91 holes is demanding enough with two good legs, never mind a handicap. And everyone knows that a wounded tiger is infinitely more dangerous.
But I don’t really care either way. Tiger Woods (legend that he is) is a pain. Full stop.
Crying with pain! Laughing all the way to the bank more like.
Talking of sour grapes, surprisingly there weren’t any from New Zealand following Kevin Pieterson’s "unsporting" switch-hitting tactics.
Even Scott Syris, victim of the two massive sixes, admired Pieterson’s audacity.
Of course, there were the immediate calls to have the shot outlawed. After all, it’s just not cricket, is it old boy?
How can a captain set a field for a bowler when the batsman suddenly changes his stance and hits the ball to the opposite side of the ground?
Let’s face it. The reverse sweep shot has been around for 50 years, Pietersen has merely taken it to another level.
It’s a great Twenty20 shot which can produce runs. But it can also be your downfall (remember Mike Gatting in the 1987 World Cup?)
Bowlers - like Muttiah Muralitharan - use every means possible to get batsmen out. Isn’t it only right that the willow wielders have the chance to get their own back?
‘Teary’ Henry looked a forlorn figure, during and after the 2-0 defeat by Italy. Why did he ever leave Arsenal?
A penalty and an own goal, typical Italy as they came back from the brink in the group of death.
Talk of Holland fielding a reserve side and stitching Donadoni’s men up was irrelevant. Let’s face it. France were a miserable shambles and so was the team selection. What was Raymond Domenech thinking?
Talking of miserable, apparently Tiger Woods wasn't faking it at the Battle of Wounded Knee?
It now looks like sour grapes when Retief Goosen questioned whether the limping, grimacing Woods was faking it and just playing to the crowd for sympathy in the US Open.
Woods - who now needs another operation on his troublesome knee - appeared to wince with pain when he hit a bad shot. But he somehow staged a miraculous recovery when he hit a good ‘un.
OK, playing 91 holes is demanding enough with two good legs, never mind a handicap. And everyone knows that a wounded tiger is infinitely more dangerous.
But I don’t really care either way. Tiger Woods (legend that he is) is a pain. Full stop.
Crying with pain! Laughing all the way to the bank more like.
Talking of sour grapes, surprisingly there weren’t any from New Zealand following Kevin Pieterson’s "unsporting" switch-hitting tactics.
Even Scott Syris, victim of the two massive sixes, admired Pieterson’s audacity.
Of course, there were the immediate calls to have the shot outlawed. After all, it’s just not cricket, is it old boy?
How can a captain set a field for a bowler when the batsman suddenly changes his stance and hits the ball to the opposite side of the ground?
Let’s face it. The reverse sweep shot has been around for 50 years, Pietersen has merely taken it to another level.
It’s a great Twenty20 shot which can produce runs. But it can also be your downfall (remember Mike Gatting in the 1987 World Cup?)
Bowlers - like Muttiah Muralitharan - use every means possible to get batsmen out. Isn’t it only right that the willow wielders have the chance to get their own back?
Saturday, 31 May 2008
Fatal attraction
ONE of the scariest things I’ve ever done in sport is hurtling round the TT course at the Isle of Man. It was a pure adrenaline-rush, white-knuckle ride.
And I was ‘safe’ on four wheels - as opposed to two (well most of the time) - in the back of an old mini driven by a local lad.
The roads aren’t that great; there are sheep lurking on every bend and there is also the odd stone wall, fog and rain to contend with.
So anyone who does it for fun on two wheels - at average speeds of up 130pmh - has to have a wheel nut or two missing.
Mad or what?
A few years later I returned to the island with my two young sons - both brought up on a diet of speedway at Long Eaton - and they loved it. Standing on a bend, inches away from the action, they literally lapped it up....until a rider misjudged a bend and piled into the corner of a house.
For the TT comes at a heavy price. The sad fact is, that since the race started in 1911, over 200 riders and spectators have been killed. Talk about health and safety!
It’s carnage. It's also a fatal attraction and this year over 60,000 petrol heads will again line the 37.73-mile course.
And what draws them year after year? Speed.
In 1907 one Charlie Collier won the TT at an average speed of 36.21mph. Technology has now advanced so much that defending champion John McGuiness will hit 200mph on some stretches.
McGuiness, with 13 race wins to his credit, can overtake Mike Hailwood if he wins this year and will roar into second place on the all-time list behind the legendary Joey Dunlop.
McGuiness - married with a seven-year-old - says there is no better feeling in the world than standing on the winner’s rostrum.
But is it really worth the risk?
And I was ‘safe’ on four wheels - as opposed to two (well most of the time) - in the back of an old mini driven by a local lad.
The roads aren’t that great; there are sheep lurking on every bend and there is also the odd stone wall, fog and rain to contend with.
So anyone who does it for fun on two wheels - at average speeds of up 130pmh - has to have a wheel nut or two missing.
Mad or what?
A few years later I returned to the island with my two young sons - both brought up on a diet of speedway at Long Eaton - and they loved it. Standing on a bend, inches away from the action, they literally lapped it up....until a rider misjudged a bend and piled into the corner of a house.
For the TT comes at a heavy price. The sad fact is, that since the race started in 1911, over 200 riders and spectators have been killed. Talk about health and safety!
It’s carnage. It's also a fatal attraction and this year over 60,000 petrol heads will again line the 37.73-mile course.
And what draws them year after year? Speed.
In 1907 one Charlie Collier won the TT at an average speed of 36.21mph. Technology has now advanced so much that defending champion John McGuiness will hit 200mph on some stretches.
McGuiness, with 13 race wins to his credit, can overtake Mike Hailwood if he wins this year and will roar into second place on the all-time list behind the legendary Joey Dunlop.
McGuiness - married with a seven-year-old - says there is no better feeling in the world than standing on the winner’s rostrum.
But is it really worth the risk?
Wednesday, 28 May 2008
The Puppet Master
WHERE were you the moment Anelka missed the last penalty and handed the Champions League final to Man United?
Chances are you weren’t in the Olympic Luzhniki Stadium in Russia.
With so few tickets going to the real fans (the rest were shared between world string pullers like Michel Platini and Sepp Blatter, corporate sponsors and ‘friends’ of the organisers) I consoled myself with watching the drama unfold in the Fastnet bar in old Albufeira in Portugal (that's the nice bit that isn't a cross between Skeggy and the Golden Mile at Blackpool).
The barman, by the way, was a dead ringer for Cristiano Ronaldo. Can't remember his name, I think it began with an F.
My better half had treated me to a week in the Algarve to celebrate our wedding anniversary. So she wasn’t too thrilled that our last night was spent watching football perched on an uncomfortably-high stool in a packed bar.
I appeased her with a large Sex on the Beach ........ that's a cocktail that consists of a vodka (a lot), peach brandy, pineapple and orange juice and a dash of something red. Can't remember it's name, I think it began with a G.
It also contains a fair chunk of fruit salad and a sparkler - which actually produced more sparks than the first half of the big match.
How could Chelsea, with their vast resources, play Essien at full-back? with so many talented individuals in their side, the Blues just didn't look like a team.
It was actually a relief when the annoying Drogba, who spends more time on the floor than on his feet, was sent off. And how much did the Blues waste on that equally annoying Malouda? Rooney was also anonymous apart from a couple of brief flashes. Surely he wasn't fit?
Every bar and cafe seemed to have installed a flat screen for the big occasion.
But long before the match dragged into extra time, the fans had become as tired and tearful as the players. Many had drifted away and found something better to occupy their time - like eating sardines.
Outside in the main square, a man dangling a couple of puppets on strings was drawing a bigger crowd than two of England’s finest as they headed for that dramatic penalty shoot-out.
Can't remember his name. I think it began with a B!
Chances are you weren’t in the Olympic Luzhniki Stadium in Russia.
With so few tickets going to the real fans (the rest were shared between world string pullers like Michel Platini and Sepp Blatter, corporate sponsors and ‘friends’ of the organisers) I consoled myself with watching the drama unfold in the Fastnet bar in old Albufeira in Portugal (that's the nice bit that isn't a cross between Skeggy and the Golden Mile at Blackpool).
The barman, by the way, was a dead ringer for Cristiano Ronaldo. Can't remember his name, I think it began with an F.
My better half had treated me to a week in the Algarve to celebrate our wedding anniversary. So she wasn’t too thrilled that our last night was spent watching football perched on an uncomfortably-high stool in a packed bar.
I appeased her with a large Sex on the Beach ........ that's a cocktail that consists of a vodka (a lot), peach brandy, pineapple and orange juice and a dash of something red. Can't remember it's name, I think it began with a G.
It also contains a fair chunk of fruit salad and a sparkler - which actually produced more sparks than the first half of the big match.
How could Chelsea, with their vast resources, play Essien at full-back? with so many talented individuals in their side, the Blues just didn't look like a team.
It was actually a relief when the annoying Drogba, who spends more time on the floor than on his feet, was sent off. And how much did the Blues waste on that equally annoying Malouda? Rooney was also anonymous apart from a couple of brief flashes. Surely he wasn't fit?
Every bar and cafe seemed to have installed a flat screen for the big occasion.
But long before the match dragged into extra time, the fans had become as tired and tearful as the players. Many had drifted away and found something better to occupy their time - like eating sardines.
Outside in the main square, a man dangling a couple of puppets on strings was drawing a bigger crowd than two of England’s finest as they headed for that dramatic penalty shoot-out.
Can't remember his name. I think it began with a B!
Monday, 21 April 2008
Not like the telly
I got my first taste of live Cage Fighting in Bilborough on Saturday night.
It’s not like the telly.
And it’s certainly a far cry from Georges St. Pierre v Matt Serra, who were performing in front of 21,390 screaming fans in Montreal’s Bell Centre.
Nevertheless, with names like Ian ‘M-16’ Butlin, Matt ‘12 Gauge’ Thorpe and Mark ‘Manslaughter’ O’Toole you expect some fireworks.
But there was nearly as much action in the long queue to get into Harvey Hadden, which resulted in the show starting almost an hour late.
When the real action did finally get underway, it was all a bit of an anti-climax.
Sean Folan and Brent Crawley did a lot of hugging - granted it was manly hugging - and there was a lot of rolling about on the floor.
Blink and you missed Butlin v the German mosquito. It was all over in 25 seconds.
Because of the late start, many fans had gone home and missed top-of-the-bill Dan Hardy demolish ex-Marine Chad Reiner at around 11pm. That was brutal. So was Pete McGurk, while I liked the look of Dean Amasinger and Lee Livingstone. These lads from Team Rough House ain't half bad mum.
The fans were a mixed bunch - young and old. Blue inked as well as blue rinsed, which was good to see. Bit like the old wrestling days (but look what happened to wrestling).
The atmos was ok. The sound system was a bit scrambled, but re-playing the action on the big screens was a good idea.
But £5 for a programme?
It’s not like the telly.
And it’s certainly a far cry from Georges St. Pierre v Matt Serra, who were performing in front of 21,390 screaming fans in Montreal’s Bell Centre.
Nevertheless, with names like Ian ‘M-16’ Butlin, Matt ‘12 Gauge’ Thorpe and Mark ‘Manslaughter’ O’Toole you expect some fireworks.
But there was nearly as much action in the long queue to get into Harvey Hadden, which resulted in the show starting almost an hour late.
When the real action did finally get underway, it was all a bit of an anti-climax.
Sean Folan and Brent Crawley did a lot of hugging - granted it was manly hugging - and there was a lot of rolling about on the floor.
Blink and you missed Butlin v the German mosquito. It was all over in 25 seconds.
Because of the late start, many fans had gone home and missed top-of-the-bill Dan Hardy demolish ex-Marine Chad Reiner at around 11pm. That was brutal. So was Pete McGurk, while I liked the look of Dean Amasinger and Lee Livingstone. These lads from Team Rough House ain't half bad mum.
The fans were a mixed bunch - young and old. Blue inked as well as blue rinsed, which was good to see. Bit like the old wrestling days (but look what happened to wrestling).
The atmos was ok. The sound system was a bit scrambled, but re-playing the action on the big screens was a good idea.
But £5 for a programme?
Wednesday, 16 April 2008
Rest in Peace
April 15, 1989 is a date I will never forget. I want to forget ....but I can’t.
It is hard to believe that 19 years have elapsed since the Hillsborough disaster which claimed the lives of 96 Liverpool fans, many of them youngsters.
Because the memories of that day, and the images, are as fresh in my mind as if it were yesterday.
I’d taken a day off to go to the ill-fated FA Cup semi-final against Forest with three neighbours, Martin, Jim and Chris. We’d manage to get tickets for the must-see game via a contact at the City Ground.
We were all in high spirits - after a few pints in a nearby pub - as we strolled along in the sun. We laughed and joked and soaked up the atmosphere as we took our places on the terraces. Chants of You’ll Never Walk Alone echoed around the ground as we laughed at the Liverpool fans trying to climb out of the Leppings Lane end opposite us.
We thought they were trying to get into the seats for free. Little did we know they were desperately fighting for their lives.
Six minutes later the bodies of fans, blue in the face, were being laid out on the pitch just yards from us as the fans sang on.
The body of a small boy lay under a blanket.
Life ebbed away from a middle-aged fan as a paramedic thumped his chest in an effort to keep his heart pumping.
A few feet away two fans were fighting on the terraces. Didn’t they know people were dying out there?
We left. We phoned our wives to tell them we were safe. But they were the only words spoken on the way home.
We were all numb; in a state of shock, I suppose.
We never spoke of Hillsborough again.
No-one has even been held accountable for the tragedy, which is a tragedy in itself.
Lord Justice Taylor, in his report on the disaster, ruled that the ground was unsafe and criticised the way the police handled things.
Even today, 19 years on, parents who lost children and still light candles for them, feel a massive sense of injustice. And I, for one, don’t blame them.
There are plans to mark the 20th anniversary of the tragedy with a charity match between Celtic and Liverpool. Why?
RIP.
It is hard to believe that 19 years have elapsed since the Hillsborough disaster which claimed the lives of 96 Liverpool fans, many of them youngsters.
Because the memories of that day, and the images, are as fresh in my mind as if it were yesterday.
I’d taken a day off to go to the ill-fated FA Cup semi-final against Forest with three neighbours, Martin, Jim and Chris. We’d manage to get tickets for the must-see game via a contact at the City Ground.
We were all in high spirits - after a few pints in a nearby pub - as we strolled along in the sun. We laughed and joked and soaked up the atmosphere as we took our places on the terraces. Chants of You’ll Never Walk Alone echoed around the ground as we laughed at the Liverpool fans trying to climb out of the Leppings Lane end opposite us.
We thought they were trying to get into the seats for free. Little did we know they were desperately fighting for their lives.
Six minutes later the bodies of fans, blue in the face, were being laid out on the pitch just yards from us as the fans sang on.
The body of a small boy lay under a blanket.
Life ebbed away from a middle-aged fan as a paramedic thumped his chest in an effort to keep his heart pumping.
A few feet away two fans were fighting on the terraces. Didn’t they know people were dying out there?
We left. We phoned our wives to tell them we were safe. But they were the only words spoken on the way home.
We were all numb; in a state of shock, I suppose.
We never spoke of Hillsborough again.
No-one has even been held accountable for the tragedy, which is a tragedy in itself.
Lord Justice Taylor, in his report on the disaster, ruled that the ground was unsafe and criticised the way the police handled things.
Even today, 19 years on, parents who lost children and still light candles for them, feel a massive sense of injustice. And I, for one, don’t blame them.
There are plans to mark the 20th anniversary of the tragedy with a charity match between Celtic and Liverpool. Why?
RIP.
Tuesday, 15 April 2008
Radical changes needed
Friday is a landmark day in the history of cricket.
Because, which ever way you look at it, professional cricket will never be the same after the Royal Challengers take on Knight Riders in the Indian Premier League in Bangalore.
It’s been billed as Rahul Dravid v Sourav Ganguly. But it is much more than that. It’s a challenge to world order, because the global ‘game’ of cricket is never going to be the same again.
The top earners in the IPL, like Mahendra Singh Dhoni and Andrew Symonds, will earn more than £500,000 for just six weeks ‘work’. Crazy, isn’t it?
England players on contract - like Kevin Pietersen and Ryan Sidebottom - are currently the only international stars not allowed to sign up. Only one current England player, Hampshire all-rounder Dimitri Mascarenhas, has opted to take the Indian rupee so far.
But it would be a mistake to dismiss the IPL as a sideshow as English cricket lurches into another sleepy summer of ‘action’.
Many think the challenge from the two Indian competitions must be met head-on with radical counter-proposals, otherwise county cricket will start to unravel. Let’s face it. County cricket is not what it was, is it? Hardly anyone watches it for a start. It’s full of foreign players barring the way for up and coming English kids. And what’s that Kolpack all about?
Despite all the tinkering it’s the speeded up, fan-friendly Twenty20 that’s really caught the imagination.
The solution could be the multi-million pound English version of the IPL suggested by Texan billionaire Allen Stanford. Stanford, who has bankrolled Twenty20 cricket in the Caribbean, is currently having talks with the England and Wales Cricket Board.
Players are bound to be jealous when they see the amount of money their peers are earning. Last season Pietersen was complaining he had played too much cricket; that he was burnt out. Only a few weeks ago he said he wasn’t interested in the IPL, he wanted to concentrate on England. Now, shock, horror, he appears to have changed his stance. He now says it is “ridiculous” England stars are not allowed to play.
There are rumours that some could refuse to sign their contracts when they come up for renewal in September. Do that and we are in danger of killing the goose that laid the golden egg and going down the football route of player power. I doubt there will be another Kerry Packer-type breakaway tournament. But you never know!
Because, which ever way you look at it, professional cricket will never be the same after the Royal Challengers take on Knight Riders in the Indian Premier League in Bangalore.
It’s been billed as Rahul Dravid v Sourav Ganguly. But it is much more than that. It’s a challenge to world order, because the global ‘game’ of cricket is never going to be the same again.
The top earners in the IPL, like Mahendra Singh Dhoni and Andrew Symonds, will earn more than £500,000 for just six weeks ‘work’. Crazy, isn’t it?
England players on contract - like Kevin Pietersen and Ryan Sidebottom - are currently the only international stars not allowed to sign up. Only one current England player, Hampshire all-rounder Dimitri Mascarenhas, has opted to take the Indian rupee so far.
But it would be a mistake to dismiss the IPL as a sideshow as English cricket lurches into another sleepy summer of ‘action’.
Many think the challenge from the two Indian competitions must be met head-on with radical counter-proposals, otherwise county cricket will start to unravel. Let’s face it. County cricket is not what it was, is it? Hardly anyone watches it for a start. It’s full of foreign players barring the way for up and coming English kids. And what’s that Kolpack all about?
Despite all the tinkering it’s the speeded up, fan-friendly Twenty20 that’s really caught the imagination.
The solution could be the multi-million pound English version of the IPL suggested by Texan billionaire Allen Stanford. Stanford, who has bankrolled Twenty20 cricket in the Caribbean, is currently having talks with the England and Wales Cricket Board.
Players are bound to be jealous when they see the amount of money their peers are earning. Last season Pietersen was complaining he had played too much cricket; that he was burnt out. Only a few weeks ago he said he wasn’t interested in the IPL, he wanted to concentrate on England. Now, shock, horror, he appears to have changed his stance. He now says it is “ridiculous” England stars are not allowed to play.
There are rumours that some could refuse to sign their contracts when they come up for renewal in September. Do that and we are in danger of killing the goose that laid the golden egg and going down the football route of player power. I doubt there will be another Kerry Packer-type breakaway tournament. But you never know!
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