Barclay Talks Sport

Now this is funny. Well it would be if Brian Mawhinney didn't actually believe it might be a good idea. Ending all drawn league games in penalty shoot outs. I'm almost lost for words. Where to begin on this utter stupidity? I actually did check the date to make sure it wasn't April 1st.

Apparently, because people find shoot-outs exciting, there should be millions of them because that would make every draw end in high tension. No, no and thrice no. Here's why in a few ways that spring immediately to mind.

1) Shoot outs are only exciting for neutrals. For those supporters of the clubs involved, they are terrifying, gut-wrenching ordeals that we would not wish on Osama Bin Laden.
2) They are only exciting if there is something to lose. A semi-final is something to lose. Or a final. Here is drama, theatre and terror. Not getting your one point for a draw is not drama. it is barely a shrug of the shoulders.
3) If my team goes out of a cup competition on penalties, I am gutted. I have been there too many times and the hurt never lessens. Similarly if my team wins in such a way, the cascade of relief is one in which I gladly drown. It just about balances the appalling squeeze on my heart that has just preceded it. If, on the other hand, my team is denied a point and therefore stays 12th rather than reaching the heady heights of 11th, there is always next week. If my team is relegated as a result, then I predict a riot...
4) I can never understand this desperation to make something genuinely exciting into something that is not by making it all-pervading. Hang on, let's have Christmas every day as Roy Wood suggested. Or maybe have a world cup every year (actually, it was once mooted that it should be every two years if I remember rightly). Please, Lord Mawhinney, try to comprehend that anticipation breeds excitement and mundanity kills it.
5) Shoot outs would not increase excitement in any case, merely give another bullet to those poorer sides who reckon they might be able to hang out for 90 minutes and then win on pens.

Next he'll be wanting to cut out the middleman and ditch the preceding 90 mins entirely. Just think, you could have a whole league season in one afternoon at a big stadium filled with lots of nets, huddles of players and capering goalies. What fun.

I am already sick and tired of the pious bleating accompanying the far-too-public shaming of Andrew Flintoff. OK, he had a few too many and did something daft. But not 'got into a scrap and broke his bowling hand daft'. No. he fell off a pedalo. All sounds pretty funny to me. Thing is this. Yes, he broke team rules and he probably should have known better. He's a senior member of the team and all that. But I've heard calls for him to be sent home. WHAT? And while we're at it, why don't we have Panesar shot for that misfield in the warm up, have Pietersen garroted for dropping a catch and perhaps bring home Collingwood for being too damn consistent. We do want to progress in this tournament don't we? Flintoff hasn't shamed his nation. Such talk is bollocks, frankly. He's been a bit of a burke is all. Hands up who hasn't been in their lives? Thought not.

Why do we insist that our sports stars wear concrete cloaks following a defeat, the better to bear their loss? What I want is for them to get over a bad game the best way they can so they're up for slaughtering the next oppo. If that means getting pissed and falling off pedalos, so be it. So long as whatever they do doesn't affect their performance, I couldn't care less.

Leave Freddie alone, he's already blushing. Give him back the vice-captaincy and let's try and win this tournament if we possibly can.

FOOTNOTE: Cricket lost a great man yesterday. Bob Woolmer's death was untimely and premature. Every fan of cricket knows what he brought to the game as player and then coach. the sport will feel his loss.

Want to know why the FA Cup is losing its magic? Quarter final weekend has just gone. But you might have missed it. After all, not one of the matches managed to start at 3pm on Saturday. Instead, all were played at odd times of the day to satiate the monster that is the TV viewer.

The games weren't bad, they were all just played at the wrong time of day. And while Home Park, Plymouth, was full to bursting, that wasn't the case everywhere. You can blame ticket prices if you like but don't forget that playing matches at a time just right for sitting about with a cup of tea or a beer at home might just hav a bearing.

Hurrumph

So, there I was, writing to my old pal Ian and saying with great confidence how England would take a pasting from France. Too many changes, I said. He's good this Ashton fella, but chuck in people who've hardly even met and what will happen? Mike Catt as captain? Interesting but risky.

Tell you what happened. I sat and ate my large slice of humble pie and washed it down with sweet, sweet tasting victory. OK, France were flat and never looked like they wanted to play. But England, at times, were superb. Never giving the French space to play. Tackles were hard and hardly one was missed. Catt was fantastic, his run for the first try was a break of genius. Lees might have won man of the match (and he was immense in performance as well as stature and presence) but Catt was the man around which the England performance flowed. Strettle had another fine game and Geraghty, when he appeared, looked an impact player of the type we desperately need. Congratulations to Ashton for working some magic and maintaining total realism after the match. It does give us hope, but it is only one game.

So, Ian, sorry to be a gloom merchant in my letter. I trust you burned it on the pyre of victory leaving the powerful echoes of Sweet Chariot as the abiding memory of a fine day at Twickenham.