Feb. 2nd, 2006

peterbirks: (Default)
Now, as you know, I don't write about football much. This doesn't mean that I dislike it; it just doesn't hold the fascination for me that it seems to hold for many other people. Just about the only sport I can get halfway emotional about is cricket. And, anyway, many other bloggers write about it far better and at much greater length.

But even I was interested in the events of last night. First, we see Chelsea achieving the mastery of the technique that Arsenal managed for years — that being, whenever you drop a couple of points, your rivals drop three.

Secondly, we see West Ham beating Arsenal, at Highbury. I hadn't expected that to happen again in my lifetime.

Thirdly, we have the joy of an Arsenal reject scoring a hat-trick and, not just scoring a hat-trick, but doing so against Manchester United. If the irony of this was lost on anyone then, well, they must have been ironyless at heart.

But all of this, yes, all of this, was beaten by the supreme moment, when we saw a player, who, after being substituted, could have watched the second half of a match for free from a fine viewing position (one which fans would have paid many hundreds of pounds for), deciding instead that he wanted to go home. Yes, as far as Sol Campbell is concerned, he wouldn't watch Arsenal if you paid him (which, indeed, Arsenal do).

Apparently it was all part of a cunning plan. Sol had a dinner date and he got the days mixed up. So he cunningly played like a twat, got himself substituted at half-time, and just had time to change into the Hugo Boss and hot-foot it in his BMW 645CSi to Belitha Villas, Islington, in time for the first course of velouté of salmon in a lemon and rock salt jus.

++++

poker witterings )

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