Oxbridge over troubled water

This weekend the crowds will be packed on the banks of the Thames, suitably loaded up on booze waiting for the one minute where two boats are in visible sight to pass so that they can go back to their normal Saturday routine. And then it is over for another year.

Call me an old fogy, but the Boat Race has perhaps the least amount of appeal than any sporting event that will be televised this year.

This is a race, remember, popular only due to its history. In this day and age, is there really that much public interest in Varsity sport? Perusers of digital sports channels during off-peak times, such as students like me, will have seen the Oxford-Cambridge Rugby League match on Sky Sports only a few weeks ago. Rugby League, that is the sport scarcely popular below the Midland belt, just to reiterate. So why even the most hardened rugby fan would want to watch two teams from the suburbs of London playing such a geographically misplaced sport is well beyond me.

Moreover, surely one of the fundamentals of sport is that there should be the opportunity to support one side over another. I have no national or personal persuasion to support either side in a tennis match between Nadal and Federer, yet I can find a reason to support either one. The Spaniard due to his age and physique, and the World Number One for his sheer class and elegance. Why would anyone from outside the two universities, unless they have a link somewhere in their life, give two hoots about which side wins?

It blows my mind to think that broadcasters are having a tug of war for the rights to the annual event. Perhaps the reason for this is that the cost is loose change compared to the Champions League or English Test Cricket, rather than it being THE event of the year for the UK’s sports viewers.

Perhaps there is a deep-rooted antagonism in my inner psyche that I am unaware of caused by Oxbridge rejection, yet which side one would cheer to victory is a non-sensical choice to have to make. So when the two teams cruise under Barnes Bridge with a quarter of a million people watching from the banks, 7 to 9 million people on TV in the UK, and an estimated 120 million globally, am I the only one who really could not care less?

Price of Fernando's loyalty card

It looks like Formula One’s biggest rogue ego is at it again after only two races with his new employers. Fernando Alonso revealed to a Spanish newspaper that although he returned to Renault to get back to his winning ways, he has “an option to leave so I can be in the best possible car, and it is clear Ferrari is one of the best.” Alonso's comments have come after his and the cars disappointing start to the season.

This made me think: in the globally engulfing, money-mad world of sport that we live in, is there such thing as loyalty and a challenge anymore? Certainly not in this case; it seems that the words ‘loyalty’ and ‘challenge’ are completely absent from Alonso’s dictionary. Unless Fernando’s Spanish-Italian dictionary has never been open at the words fidelización and desafier for him to become sufficiently familiar with the translations.

Indeed, pundits had speculated before Alonso even signed a two-year contract at Renault that he would join rivals Ferrari after this season. It is obvious that the length of contract is completely nominal to the man if he is already discussing his future so early on in his return to the Italian team. But then I suppose contracts themselves are nominal when one is filthy rich enough for the money required to buy them out being the simple matter of delving one’s hand into one’s back pocket. Alonso’s lawyer must have been laughing all the way to the bank the day he bagged the chance to be the Spaniard’s representative.

In business the comparison of this attitude seems equally as preposterous. Two weeks into a new job after moving from a rival company, you suddenly realise that you are performing substandardly compared to a third rival, so it’s time to thrown in the towel and pack up your desk again. Or if you see someone slightly better looking than your girlfriend, dump your current one and when the even sexier version comes along, dump her too. Life really seems to be that simple.

Plenty of examples spring to mind of top professionals whose loyal allegiances eclipsed the prospect of greater glory elsewhere. Look at not-so-good pundit but dynamite on the pitch former Southampton midfielder Matt Le Tissier. 16 years the England international spent on the south coast, consistently using his talent to keep the relegation strugglers adrift when he could have plied his trade at a far more successful club. His autobiography indicated that he rejected big-money moves to both AC Milan and Chelsea, places where he also could have achieved far more than the 8 international caps which his talent heralded.

Everyone thinks how greener the grass is on the other side, but is sport not about bringing the best out of yourself in the face of challenging circumstances? The true test of a sporting great is using ability to beat your rivals when the going is not perfect. Someone translate that into Spanish for Fernando because I am sure there are plenty of Italians thinking exactly the same thing.

Jamie using his Gray matter

Grand Slam Sunday is always hyped to the extreme and earlier evidence would suggest that there is a great chance of it being a complete let-down. December 16th’s reverse fixtures saw only two goals, no red cards and no real scandal. As loyal fee-paying customers, all fingers and toes were crossed for some better viewing. Thankfully for Sky Sports did the four sides fulfil their duties and give two three-goal thrillers and one of the most talked about sendings off of the season.

Yet for me the most enjoyable segment of the Sky coverage was not something that could be seen on the pitch. Forget Nani’s smartly taken finish and Drogba’s brace to snatch the match from Arsène Wenger’s grasp, the blood-boilingly obnoxious attitude of Andy Gray and his heated argument with fellow pundit Jamie Redknapp was the highlight of the day’s coverage. Instigated by Javier Mascherano’s idiocracy, the closely-avoided bust-up on the pitch was quickly followed by similar scenes in the studio after Gray empathised with the Argentine. Cue a heated studio with Richard Keys sitting pretty like a rose between two thorns. It would never happen on the BBC.

Critical of Steve Bennett’s handling of the situation, Gray entrenched himself firmly at the other side of the battle line drawn by the commentary team and supported by Redknapp, all who believed that Mascherano was firmly in the wrong and the referee should be commended in his actions. Gray took the stance that players are unable to ‘talk’ to the referees in the current climate, particularly after Ashley Cole’s petulant treatment of Mike Riley in midweek. I am no qualified lip-reader, but the filthy verbal tirade that the Liverpool midfielder had been consistently giving Bennett ever since he was rightfully booked for a late challenge on 11 minutes is a different definition of ‘talking’ to what I am familiar with.

Nevertheless Redknapp, a former Liverpool midfielder himself and a novice in the Sky broadcasting hierarchy, put club allegiance and Sky pecking order aside to fervently criticise Mascherano’s actions and Gray’s substantial point of view. Something that did not go down too well at all with the Scotsman.

“Can’t you talk to a referee and ask what’s happening anymore? Is that what you want Jamie?”

Indeed, Gray must be a worse lip-reader than I; either that or we were watching different matches. Whether I would have had the self-assurance to stand up to an Aston Villa-legend certainly makes me an inferior man compared to Jamie. If the verbal disagreement in the studio had deteriorated into a fist-fight (with Richard Keys acting as guest referee), it would have been a mismatch akin to Henry Cooper throttling his badly-behaved eldest son for speaking out of turn. But an entertaining mismatch nonetheless.

Gray will have lost the respect of many views of Sky Sports coverage after becoming part of the ideal and untouchable commentary package alongside Martin “And it’s live” Tyler. But all the same, if there is a rematch between the broadcasting titans anytime soon, Sky will be foolish not to get it on a pay-per-view, one night only boxing match and show it in its own right.

Ryan's Easter surprise

If there is one thing to say about the rollercoaster of emotion that comes with being an English sports fan, life is never dull. Once one reaches that exhilarating peak of short-term triumph, or the prospect of the next big-born-and-bred Englishman who has just hit the scene, it is always going to do downhill. So put on your safety strap because this is going to be one hell of a bumpy ride.

On Saturday night, a celebratory day of anomaly sandwiched between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, I probably should have had something better to do that flicking through the channels to decide upon a crumbling England first innings as the source of my late evening entertainment. The first thing I saw was Stuart Broad, hyped for this all-round ability that is so desperately needed in a batting tail these days, depressingly prodding at the first ball of the day to precipitate another quick-fire batting collapse that followers of the Barmy Army are only too keen to expect.

Yet it would not be an English Easter without a sporting resurrection of Christ’s own proportions. Apt perhaps that at the forefront of this was a man all too familiar with the red-petalous flower in sport, was ready to wear it on his heart for county and give all the ticker of an English Rose. Just as Jesus rose from the dead, so too did a long-haired man praised in his vicinity unexpectedly give onlookers what they least expected. Cue the fightback that makes life as an English fan worth living.

All of a sudden, two England collapses in one innings looked favourable compared to the one-man demolition job Ryan Sidebottom was about to do to New Zealand. The Nottinghamshire man gave a bowling display that took the home side from 103-1 to 168 all-out. His performance, rather like a mentally-unstable workman given free-reign on a JCB for a few hours, returned figures of 7-47. He’s no Messiah, but seemed to have the miraculous touch only heard of in folk law.

What began as a depressingly familiar downward spiral of English characteristic, without warning I was as content as the Easter Bunny planning his relaxation schedule for the rest of the year. The feeling of satisfaction felt in the face of adversity is perhaps the greatest of all.

But perspective is needed. Tonight’s performance will probably leave us gorging on chocolate eggs in an act of self-loathing initiated by the next twist in the story of the ever-unknowing English fan.