I need to admit it; I have an unusual interest. It’s nothing too creepy, I like to look at and admire things that are just a little bit wrong or not terribly good. Simple things like enjoying the images of a carefree Carl Vorderman emerging from the ITV studios in a bodycon dress that’s just a teeny bit too tight or the way Paul Scholes tackled. Possibly the greatest midfielder England has ever produced with the ball at his feet, but a complete lummox when it came to trying to take the ball from the feet of others. If he could have tackled like Booby Moore he would be regarded as better than Pele. Unfortunately his tackling prowess was closer to Brian Moore’s. But to watch him scythe down an opponent a good two minutes after the guy had passed the ball to a team-mate was a source of sheer joy to me. He turned contact clumsiness into an art form and he’d cap it with a show of utter disbelief whenever he was pulled up by some short-sighted referee and shown a very rare yellow card. Ah priceless.
….to go out of the Australian Open at the first round stage. It’s all so depressingly familiar isn’t it? The latest great white hope of ‘British’ tennis cruises in to this tournament with an ATP tour win under his belt, seeded no 9 in the world and in great shape to stake a massive claim for his first Grand Slam win. Oh yeh? Well he was soundly beaten in 4 sets by Jo-Wilfried Tsonga ranked 38th – a tough opponent, by all accounts, but he’s not Federer is he? And so it goes for British tennis hopes.