1. “But perhaps there’s a bigger reason yet for the lead-up having been somewhat muted. It’s hard to overstate (though some have tried) how big a deal the exploits of the Charlton team were in Ireland. The nation had never been brought together and taken on such a trip before. It was a profound and welcome shock, and immediately became a part of our national myth. When England won the 1966 World Cup, it took a generation for it to become fully nostalgiafied. When we did pretty well at the 1990 World Cup, we nostalgiafied it instantly. The way we watched the games of that era, the way we celebrated and felt, has become the template for how we’ve done so subsequently. But there’s the problem. Twenty years ago, it was spontaneous. No one knew what the hell to do, but they knew they had permission to go crazy, so they did that. There was an innocence to it. Today, those who were there, man, are the grizzled veterans, and those who experienced the whole thing as giddy kiddywinks are now grown-ups who spend the hours and days before big games on YouTube watching Ronnie Whelan’s shinnerand Tony Cascarino’s more-turf-than-ball penalty, and listening to “Put ‘Em Under Pressure” while trying to pretend that it’s just a very hot cup of coffee that’s making them well up.”
2. “In Roald Dahl’s famous short story ‘Lamb to the Slaughter‘, the police turn up to interview the murder suspect with a view to finding the murder weapon. Said item was a frozen leg of lamb which she currently has cooking and feeds to the police officers. Upon leaving, one of the officers comments that the ‘murder weapon was probably right under our very noses’. It’s not dissimilar to the standard of sleuthing being demonstrated by much of the Irish rugby media at the moment.”
3. “Venky’s have treated those supporters in much the same way that they treat their chickens. They’ve kept them in the dark, ignored their clucking protestations and doomed them to a messy end. Let me count the ways they failed. Their first error was employing an agent, Jerome Anderson, to advise on football matters. Experienced manager Sam Allardyce was quickly sacked, allegedly for not being enthusiastic enough about Anderson’s clients. He was replaced by a rookie, someone who was far more enthusiastic about Anderson’s clients, mainly because he himself was one of them. And Steve Kean wasn’t the only horse from the Anderson stable to get a run-out. John Jensen arrived to take up the assistant manager job. On merit, I’m sure.”
They were right the whole time! Ian Macintosh explains that those who shouted stop from the Ewood Park stands were barking up the right tree.
4. “Spofforth is 24 but has had more than enough despair in her life already. She does not want to invite more in. In 2007 her mother, Lesley, died of stomach cancer. In 2011 she lost both her father’s girlfriend, June, and June’s daughter Vicky, both to cancer. There have been times, Spofforth admits in her autobiography, due to be published after the Olympics, when she contemplated committing suicide. “Is the concrete hard enough?” Spofforth writes in Dealing With It: Five Years of Mourning, Medals and Men. “I could jump right now. I could escape. I would not have to deal with it, wouldn’t have to think, wouldn’t have to worry.” That was when she was standing on a hotel balcony, during a training camp on the Gold Coast in Australia.”
5. “When the massive and massively pissed off Brock Lesnar stepped into the ring last Sunday night, for the main event of World Wresting Entertainment’s (W.W.E.) Extreme Rules fight card, an unsmiling spectator sitting at ringside stood up and unfurled a sign saying “LEGITIMACY HAS RETURNED.” To the mostly male fans across the wrestling world—a corporate kingdom spanning a hundred and forty-five countries and whose flagship show, “Monday Night Raw,” attracts a regular U.S. audience more than four times greater than that of Mad Men—the meaning of this sign was perfectly clear.”
The Sunday Papers: some of the week’s best sportswriting
1. “But perhaps there’s a bigger reason yet for the lead-up having been somewhat muted. It’s hard to overstate (though some have tried) how big a deal the exploits of the Charlton team were in Ireland. The nation had never been brought together and taken on such a trip before. It was a profound and welcome shock, and immediately became a part of our national myth. When England won the 1966 World Cup, it took a generation for it to become fully nostalgiafied. When we did pretty well at the 1990 World Cup, we nostalgiafied it instantly. The way we watched the games of that era, the way we celebrated and felt, has become the template for how we’ve done so subsequently. But there’s the problem. Twenty years ago, it was spontaneous. No one knew what the hell to do, but they knew they had permission to go crazy, so they did that. There was an innocence to it. Today, those who were there, man, are the grizzled veterans, and those who experienced the whole thing as giddy kiddywinks are now grown-ups who spend the hours and days before big games on YouTube watching Ronnie Whelan’s shinnerand Tony Cascarino’s more-turf-than-ball penalty, and listening to “Put ‘Em Under Pressure” while trying to pretend that it’s just a very hot cup of coffee that’s making them well up.”
Fredorrarci – at The Classical — explains that it’s time for some new nostalgia this summer for Irish soccer fans. It’s worth the click-through for the picture of a youthful Trap, alone.
2. “In Roald Dahl’s famous short story ‘Lamb to the Slaughter‘, the police turn up to interview the murder suspect with a view to finding the murder weapon. Said item was a frozen leg of lamb which she currently has cooking and feeds to the police officers. Upon leaving, one of the officers comments that the ‘murder weapon was probably right under our very noses’. It’s not dissimilar to the standard of sleuthing being demonstrated by much of the Irish rugby media at the moment.”
The lads at Whiff of Cordite pull no punches when assessing the level of journalistic comment in Irish rugby recently. Ouchies.
3. “Venky’s have treated those supporters in much the same way that they treat their chickens. They’ve kept them in the dark, ignored their clucking protestations and doomed them to a messy end. Let me count the ways they failed. Their first error was employing an agent, Jerome Anderson, to advise on football matters. Experienced manager Sam Allardyce was quickly sacked, allegedly for not being enthusiastic enough about Anderson’s clients. He was replaced by a rookie, someone who was far more enthusiastic about Anderson’s clients, mainly because he himself was one of them. And Steve Kean wasn’t the only horse from the Anderson stable to get a run-out. John Jensen arrived to take up the assistant manager job. On merit, I’m sure.”
They were right the whole time! Ian Macintosh explains that those who shouted stop from the Ewood Park stands were barking up the right tree.
4. “Spofforth is 24 but has had more than enough despair in her life already. She does not want to invite more in. In 2007 her mother, Lesley, died of stomach cancer. In 2011 she lost both her father’s girlfriend, June, and June’s daughter Vicky, both to cancer. There have been times, Spofforth admits in her autobiography, due to be published after the Olympics, when she contemplated committing suicide. “Is the concrete hard enough?” Spofforth writes in Dealing With It: Five Years of Mourning, Medals and Men. “I could jump right now. I could escape. I would not have to deal with it, wouldn’t have to think, wouldn’t have to worry.” That was when she was standing on a hotel balcony, during a training camp on the Gold Coast in Australia.”
Andy Bull, in the Guardian, meets the 100m world record holder for an honest conversation about winning, loss and mental health.
5. “When the massive and massively pissed off Brock Lesnar stepped into the ring last Sunday night, for the main event of World Wresting Entertainment’s (W.W.E.) Extreme Rules fight card, an unsmiling spectator sitting at ringside stood up and unfurled a sign saying “LEGITIMACY HAS RETURNED.” To the mostly male fans across the wrestling world—a corporate kingdom spanning a hundred and forty-five countries and whose flagship show, “Monday Night Raw,” attracts a regular U.S. audience more than four times greater than that of Mad Men—the meaning of this sign was perfectly clear.”
Does this count as sport? Don’t care; here’s the New Yorker on Broke Lesnar’s return to the greatest show in sports entertainment.
This is the most awkward first date we’ve ever seen…
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