sport strop

Well it’s already been one heck of a weekend for sport; Adebayor’s got his dream move to Manchester City as Mark Hughes continues to build a team around the talents of a galaxy of exceptionally sulky strikers. He might have just the 10 (!) at his disposal but surely it’s only a matter of time before Thierry Henry  joins the sour puss Gorton gang. Meanwhile down at Lord’s the England cricket team are terrorising the mighty Australians at the tourists’ spiritual home and banker fixture. And for the second Test in a row they’ve managed to really piss off spikey Aussie captain Ricky Ponting, providing a delicious added bonus. And finally at the Open in Turnberry Tom Watson defies the years to lead the field going into the final day. Can he become the oldest winner ever of the old claret jug… well we shall see but his demeanour and performance on the first 3 days – particularly some of those outrageous long range putts – has been a joy to watch. But not nearly as much as seeing Woods, Poulter and Montgomerie all miss the cut and storm off in a triple salko strop.  Ah the sporting hissy fit. I thought we’d lost it when the pouty master signed for Real pain in the arse Madrid but the sporting gods have been kind to us. Sulky days are back again. Whose bottom lip quiver makes your day?

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poulter; the unfathomable Ryder Cup selection

Well they all said that Nick Faldo’s appointment as The European Ryder Cup team captain would prove controversial. He’s never been liked by many of his peers and last night he demonstrated even more capacity to upset the golfing fraternity by selecting his one close mate on the circuit, Ian Poulter, to be one of his two wild card picks for the Ryder Cup team. Whilst most people would applaud his selection of Paul Casey for the other wild card, there has been almost universal disbelief at Poulter’s selection over the claims of Darren Clarke and Colin Montgomerie.

ian poulter ties with tiger?

Er.. not quite. After all that pre-Dubai Desert Classic stuff about him becoming a rival (indeed the only one!) to Tiger, what happened?

Well Tiger won the event and a really awful Aladdin’s lamp of a trophy, hauntingly overtaking ‘the big easy’ Ernie Els at the final 18th. That was his 7th victory in 8 starts this season. The guy’s just phenomenal and proves it week in week out. So where did our Ian come? I make it joint 39th. Way to go E! Here’s the deal: Tiger has a points lead over the world’s no2 Phil Mickelson as big as Mickelson has over the guy ranked 1000th in the world. He is that far ahead of everybody in the world, including IP – in fact, a bit further of course.

ian poulter, eh

I did a posting about Ian (Poulter; pretty in pink) back in the summer. He wore an outfit that even Katie Price might have been embarrassed to wear, at the Scottish Open, to promote his new clothing range. He spent so much time doing promotional stuff that week he forgot about winning the tournament that was so within his grasp. I have a thing about that kind of footballer’s attitude – I earn £100k a week who gives a sh*t about the frigging FA Cup – that I have to react against it a little. Like they care what I think. It doesn’t matter; I still feel it.

Poulter; pretty in pink?

Is it just me or is Ian Poulter becoming the sporting Karl Lagerfeld? In case you don’t know Poulter is one of England’s best golfers. He has a penchant, a bit like Lagerfeld, for sporting blonde-enhanced hair and regulation clothes of the trade, but significantly exaggerated. So we see couturier Lagerfeld wearing those trademark sunglasses and odd ‘Goodfellahs’ shirts with narrow collars and big showing cuffs. Poulter’s almost as well known for his pretty sensational golfing gear which has included Union Jack trousers, Stars and Stripes trousers (both hideous), Ryder Cup images on his kecks, highly co-ordinated plus four combos and a lot more. He’s a golfing dandy from Milton Keynes and a gooner fan. He’s even sported the redcurrant (is that a colour?) celebration Arsenal shirt on the tour. But today I saw something pretty wild on my tv screen worn by the Poultmeister.