Sport, music, peace, love

So...cup winners

I've had three bites at the cherry, really. The first was Radio Five live cup final commentary:

A disastrous start:

Yes. Alan Green. Take any of those non-swearing insults (like numpty, for example) and raise it to the power of another (numpty^wonk, for example), add a 'self important, bombastic, ignorant' at the start, and a 'twat' at the end, and you've a small part of the million page description he merits. That he merits, along with a slow death sat in front of the X Factor with his eyelids removed being eaten alive by small ugly nibbly bugs from the Uglybug Cockroach Planet.

Things got worse:

Two-nil down, minutes after kick-off. Batting number three, I was trying to find pads, box, gloves, bat, etc. while trying to take in the situation. And not drop the radio.

Then better:

Two-one. Santi Cazorla got a goal back.

Then confusing:

Did I need a batting helmet? Not because the bowling was quick and the pitch bouncy, but to hide the earphones. I decided against. Most of my innings don't last that long, after all.

Then better still:

Drinks break. Still two-one down. Shortly after that, a signal from the boys waiting to bat. Two-all. At least, I think that's what they were indicating.

Then worse-ish:

Part time bowling. Time to speed up the scoring. Or, actually, time for one quick boundary then getting out leg before. Back to the radio for the extra time.

Then very, very good indeed:

No, of course we didn't win, we were chasing about thirty runs too many. However, Aaron Ramsey scored the winner. We'd won the cup.

The second bite of the cherry was pretty unsatisfactory. BLISS and DLL (collectively known as the Telly-Bullies) apparently had the equipment booked for one of their endless hospital dramas (I think SKY has a hospital drama channel, and a hospital reality channel, too). The ITV website promised a highlights package. I hit the link. Six minutes. Thanks. See: severed head / elastoplast.

What's the point of a six-minute 'highlights' package? Either the 120 minutes of game plus extra time was pretty much disposable, boring, rubbish, or I'm being short-changed (again) by terrestrial telly.

The third bite is the deepest: the full game today, after dropping BLISS and DLL off at the airport.

That was some game of football. A proper, exciting, action-packed cup final. Nothing like the Radio Five guys were describing (had they sub-contracted to radio Hull by any chance?). When Andy Townsend is providing the balance and sounding like a genius compared to the radio guys, well, Five Live, time for some personnel changes, starting with that self-important, ignorant, lardy, bombastic numpty^wonk ferret-faced twat Alan Green. Take all the worst bits of the Joe public cliché-machine mush who's never kicked a ball in his life, throw in some Jimmy Savile DNA and a pinch of Clarkson, and you're still only on the very early stages of creating the monster that is Green.

Hull started well, and never stopped working and playing some football here and there. As the game wore on, Arsenal looked more and more likely to equalise...etc...etc.

Then there they are, in front of the royal box or the dignitary hutch or whatever it's now called at Wembley, celebrating with a small (relatively small anyway) silver pot that means so much, at least to those that get it. The PA was blasting out 'Move On Up'. Curtis Mayfield. Beautiful Brother.

Sport. Music. Peace. Love.

The last time we won the cup, was also a Saturday cricket game, away to the same opponents. Then I'd sat in the car listening to the penalties, before setting off on a couple of laps of the pavilion to celebrate crushing the abomination that is United. I was more mobile nine years ago.

Yesterday I treated myself to removing the knee support on my right leg and restoring some blood circulation, punching the air a bit, and rummaging in the kitbag for some ibuprofen.