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 My Olympic effort in a summer of discontent
FIXTURE lists, transfer rumours, new signings, “wantaway” stars – I’ve left it all behind.
This is an Olympic year and I’ve already played an integral part in inspiring Team GB to glory in China.
Last week I took part in the British 10K, raising a few hundred quid for charity along the way.
As I predicted in the pub a couple of nights earlier (I impose a total booze ban on myself the night before the big race), it was a close finish. I may not have won, but I was certainly in the medals – as were about 25,000 others who completed the route. I also got a free pen, but I’m just boasting now.
Paula Radcliffe and co can’t have failed to notice my athletic endeavour.
A few days later the beautiful game’s TV schedules were released.
My team, Everton, will appear in such global television events as Stoke City away and Middlesbrough at home.
Unless Sky bung me a few quid to gush about how much I “genuinely” love technology that, like something from a mythical sci-fi future, actually allows me to record a TV programme and watch it later, I won’t be rushing out to snap up a satellite subscription.
My Gooner colleagues have fully bought into being merry members of the Sky 4 and salivate at the prospect of a ticker tape-soaked “Grand Slam Sunday” – yes, doesn't it make for a magical Sabbath when fate, possibly God himself, pitches the freak show playthings of a bunch of international businessmen together?
As one of those not invited to the party, I’m in search of something new.
I’m not sure I’m cut out for anything more than a
tri-annual distance running effort, so I’ve turned to a different sport altogether to fill the don’t-they-get-lighter-every-year-football-shaped gap.
From now on, it’s Ultimate Fighting. Or possibly chess... yes, chess.
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