TV VIEW: IT WAS the Manchester Guardianeditor Charles Prestwich Scott who rather famously said of the newly-invented telly, "no good will come of it".
Granted, some would argue he wasn't entirely wrong, maybe pointing in the direction of Telly Bingo, Fox News, The Jeremy Kyle Showand coverage of Formula One, but days like yesterday make you think it was, indeed, a half-decent invention.
By the conclusion of Novak Djokovic v Rafa Nadal all you could say, really, was “John Logie Baird? Bless your cotton socks”. If it wasn’t for his box-to-box tenacity, we might have been shopping for hedge trimmers and the like yesterday morning, instead of tuning in to the mother of all sporting epics, live from Melbourne.
“In what other sport do you play six hours of tennis?” asked Greg Rusedski on Eurosport at the conclusion of this blockbuster marathon slice of magnificence. You knew what he meant, but still. Virginia Wade seemed a little discombobulated by his observation, but she let it go, pretty much echoing the viewers’ thoughts when she suggested the only sporting way after this was down.
Over on the BBC, Sue Barker felt much the same, although she had the tricky enough task of trying to maintain our sporting frenzy when she told us about the next programme in the BBC2 schedule, the World Bowls Championship final from the Potters Leisure Resort in Norfolk. John Lloyd and Andrew Castle chuckled, quite audibly, but Sue soldiered on, as did Rishi Persad when he enthusiastically welcomed us to Norfolk.
“It’s High Noon, it’s a shoot-out between Andy Thomson and Jason Greenslade, which of these two has the true grit needed to win,” he asked us, while donning a cowboy hat with diddly-do wild west music playing in the background. The audience applauded excitedly, none more so than the youngest, 76-year-old Mavis from Macclesfield.
Andy went on to triumph, collecting his third title 17 years after his second, but by then we’d left Mavis and Co to switch over to the clash of Arsenal and the Republic of Aston Ireland Villa on ESPN.
“Tippy-tappy football, toothless and defensively a shambles – same old, same old,” said Craig Burley at half-time, after Shay Given, Richard Dunne, Robbie Keane, Stephen Ireland, Ciarán Clark and six others hammered Arsenal 2-0 in the first half.
Arsene Wenger? Done and dusted? Not quite. Arsenal scored just the three in the second half, an approving Thierry Henry waving a celebratory hand in the air on the touchline, Shay, Richard and Robbie demonstrating remarkable restraint by not approaching him and shoving his . . . Roy: “Let it go, move on.”
The day before, as it happens, David De Gea waved his hands in the air at Anfield, the Manchester United goalkeeper thereby securing Liverpool a fifth round home draw against Brighton. “Roy had to make a contribution to our swear box when Kuyt got the winner,” Adrian Chiles told us at full-time, the muscles in the Keane man’s cheeks flexing so violently they almost decked Paul Ince beside him.
De Gea? “Make your presence felt, go nail someone,” Roy simmered. Patrice Evra? “He gets caught out in a lot of the big games,” he said, just about keeping a lid on his personal volcano.
“Sickening,” a gracious Alex Ferguson told ITV after the game, “I cannae believe it.”
Mercifully, events at Anfield didn’t dampen Ted Walsh’s mood. Although, it could be he was so busy at Leopardstown he hadn’t heard the news. “The lads who own him are the Gunners syndicate, I needn’t tell you they’re Arsenal fans, and how much for your sins would you be an Arsenal fan – I’m a Man United fan myself, but anyway,” he said after the Gunners’ Walsh-trained Seabass won the Handicap Chase.
Better still, Seabass was jockeyed by, of all people, Katie Walsh. “She’s a great little one, she’s 25 or 26 now‚ a big day for Katie,” said Ted of his daughter, whose next card from her Da will read: “Happy 25th (or 26th) birthday, love.”
A testing triumph it was too, not least because of the behaviour of Organisedconfusion who mislaid his driver, Nina Carberry, at the first fence. But gallop on he did, craftily running around all the remaining obstacles, at one point almost upscuttling Katie and Seabass. “She’s probably saying ‘where the hell is this bastard going to go’,” said Ted, examining the replay, which showed his daughter having to apply the breaks just in time to avoid a collision.
It should be said, though, Organisedconfusion actually won, if you deem the-first-past-the-post to be the winner, but horsie people still object to the notion a riderless and weight-free beast should be crowned the victor.
Unemployment is, in fairness, grim enough, without jockeys adding to the queues. “No good will come of it,” they argue. Fair enough, no point flapping your hands in the air, a la Mr De Gea and Henry.
