TM has been pretty busy recently. In fact we won a Commonwealth Games Gold medal yesterday in Lawn Bowls but nobody noticed. Getting back on the plane, we were surprised to see that the plane was not only not British Airways but also that the cone had not been altered to celebrate our gold medal achievement.
We didn’t worry too much; we figured the hero’s welcome we were bound to receive upon arriving at Heathrow would make up for it. Imagine our shock when our plane from Delhi actually landed in Luton. We arrived to no reception at all and weren’t even able to watch our winning moment on TV the family had chosen to record Autumnwatch instead.
The Commonwealth Games eh? What a load of rubbish, might as well have a competition for countries beginning with G.
Gary Lineker has it all. He’s remembered as the finest poacher since Bambi’s mother’s murderer. He gets to sit and spout banalities about the Premier League for money on a Saturday night and has a lucrative sideline in potato based snacks for no discernible reason. Not only that but recently he went around the world, courtesy of the license fee, to find out what we already knew for a documentary entitled “Can England win the next World Cup?”.
As much as TM loves dear Gary – his conspiratorial method of presenting and salt and pepper barnet are divine – we need a medical expert, not an ex-footballer to answer that question. I say a medical expert because a serious neurological study is needed to find out why the best English footballers suddenly seize up in the face of national expectation, a stern Italian or a pack of sprightly Germans. It’s certainly not because we just produce players who are technically inferior to their continental counterparts.
Perhaps they could take a lesson or two from the University rugby team. They take their pre-game tension out on York’s myriad of night spots. Why don’t the England team go out attired in a variety of overpriced brand names, fight with people in sweaty clubs and indulge in rabid promiscuity. Oh wait…
TM would like to make some predictions for the coming year. Not predictions about the wider world of sport, that would be boring, but predictions about sport at York. Don’t worry, TM isn’t about to make some serious predictions;
1. Langwith will turn up short of players – People will laugh, but they’ll still put in a half-decent performance and Bruce Starkey will score.
2. Halifax will crack under pressure – Nobody is doubting they have the best players. They have a midfield that even TM couldn’t break into and a line-up that is oozing with quality and yet, like the New Zealand rugby team, they will invariably fail when the pressure is on.
3. Roses will be amazing – It’s the time when everyone comes together; old, young, male, female, sportsman, journalist. OK, so TM exaggerates, but you get the picture. TM feels like Baz Luhrmann when he does the Sunscreen song. York will be fantastic, and you will enjoy sport but TRUST ME on Roses, it’s incredible.
4. There will be a controversy – Whether it is a questionable initiation or a promotion that does not happen because someone forgets to make a crucial phonecall, something will go awry. Don’t criticise York Sport too harshly though, at least they didn’t organise the travesty that is the Commonwealth Games.