Round 7: Canadian capers

A lot has happened in Formula One while I've been away.

I did a little piece about the Bahrain Grand Prix a while back, a post that got a hell of a lot of views...by my standards. Sebastian Vettel's win in the Gulf brought back ominous memories of last season, when the German swept aside all before him. That day, I had that strange feeling akin to when your regular teacher returns after a week off, bringing an end to the dossing and frivolity in the presence of the supply teacher. I did use the words dossing and frivolity there, but don't worry, I haven't suddenly gone Jubilee crazy and turned really posh, I'm still the same guy.

But a lot has changed.

Pastor Maldonado won the Spanish Grand Prix in a race I honestly can't remember much of. I know the BBC showed the whole race, but they may as well have clumsily edited it to save time. But, this being the BBC, they were very professional and showed all the best bits. Next was Monaco, a race which was nearly brilliant but, despite the opinions of other, wasn't. It is not often that the top six cars finish within five seconds of each other and Felipe Massa doesn't spin off in wettish conditions, but it was still a pedestrian race on the public streets. Mark Webber became the sixth different driver to win this season and claimed his second win in the principality. And next up is Canada.

The race in Montreal - or a weird island just outside it - is one of my favourite Grand Prix of the year. The combination of long straights and fast chicanes give it an almost Monza feel. In fact, they are almost the same circuit, but I'm sure it is just a coincidence; after all, none of F1's newer tracks are suspiciously similar.

Anyone with at least a passing interest in F1 will remember last year's race, where Jenson Button collided with Lewis Hamilton and Fernando Alonso, was often at the back, but came through to win on the final lap. All this was achieved in addition to a drive-thru penalty for speeding under the safety car. After clashing with his team-mate and Alonso, this punishment must have felt like a mafia leader being given a prison sentence for littering. As he so often does, Button excelled in unpredictable conditions and he was helped by numerous safety cars which contributed to making the race about three days long.

But what does this weekend have in store for us? A seventh different winner is a very real possibility, with Lewis Hamilton yet to claim a victory this year and often imperious around the Gilles Villeneuve circuit. His pole lap and lights-to-flag victory in 2007 outlined his talent. A stunning lap followed by a mindless error in 2008 showed us his inconsistency. Two years later, he broke Red Bull's monopolistic hold over pole position, before running out of fuel on the way back to the pits, an offence he was punished for in Spain, but not back then, when McLaren were slightly less incompetent. What followed the next day was the best race of 2010, when high tyre wear and five contenders for victory battled for most of the race, with Hamilton eventually emerging victorious after thrilling battles with Alonso and Vettel.

As mentioned already, the 2011 race was even better. You'll be seeing enough highlights of those over the next few days if, like me, you spend a worryingly high proportion of your days flicking through the BBC Sport website.

Other contenders for victory are the two Lotus drivers. Kimi Raikkonen and Romain Grosjean are handily placed in the World Championship standings after consistent performances this year. I know, the words "Raikkonen" and "consistent" don't often go hand-in-hand, but he has been impressive in 2012, while his team-mate has often been a victim of misfortune and being near Michael Schumacher, which means he only has 35 points when he could have easily had at least 50. The Swiss/French/German/Austrian/Belgian driver is a contender in Canada as the Lotus has good straight-line speed. That said, he'll probably qualify sixth again and run into...

Michael Schumacher. In all six races, the 53 year-old has qualified well, including last time around in Monaco WHEN HE DID NOT QUALIFY ON POLE. Yes, he was fastest, but he qualified sixth, so I wish everyone would stop getting a stiffy over it. For some reason, I sympathise with Michael and want him to do well...ish. He has been unlucky in nearly all the races this season and has picked up just two points, which is the same as both the Toro Rosso drivers, who I don't think have even competed in a race yet.

I personally think this weekend's race will be a great one, but the later start time (who invented time zones anyway?) and Sky coverage will make things a little annoying. I love the Canadian Grand Prix and can't remember a boring one, so I hope this weekend is no different. If it is, I'll just moan at the BBC, Sky, Martin Whitmarsh and maybe Michel Platini for some reason. So, boring or not, I'll have a blog on Sunday for you guys to enjoy/despair at grammatical errors.

It's good to be back.

Guess who's back, back again

Hello comrades!

Yes, it's been a long time, but I am finally back to test the murky waters of useless, banal, apathetic sports analysis. Fasten your seatbelts and get a brolly ready, coz there's a sporting storm a-coming and you don't want to get wet.

After a tiny investment into my future for the opportunity to write this shit for a living, it was suggested that I give up blogging for a while.
"But my fans! Where will they go?!" I said.
"Phil McNulty or Andrew Benson's blog" they said.

But, you'll be delighted to hear that my final exams went really well and I even managed to secure an internship with the good people at Total Football Magazine. The wheels are turning.

So, stop fawning over my picture and put the Kleenex away. Seriously, stop it, it's a bit gross. Coming up today is a preview of Euro 2012 and perhaps the Canadian Grand Prix. I will be writing a little blog about Euro 2012 games every other day, so get ready!

Let's do this.

'Playing for pride'

Sorry, this is perhaps unfairly lifted from an article I did for Total Football magazine. Yes, I've started to make as much of a splash as a fart in the bath, but it's a start. I have loooots to do, so about 97% of you will be delighted while I take a break for a while, in the meantime, enjoy the below!

We are fast approaching the last weekend of the Premier League season, which means all the clichés are coming out in force: “For all intents and purposes”, “must-win game” and “like a cup final.”

But while the last weeks of the season often equate to "the business end", for others it has long since finished, resigned to a fate of mid-table security as teams either fall well short or far exceed pre-season expectations. For these teams, the final few games usually mean that only pride is at stake.

Games against these sides are said to be the easiest of all, another cliché being that “the teams at the bottom are fighting for their lives” and ought to be avoided. All reasonable logic dictates that a team in twelfth is a more likely cause for concern than a team in eighteenth. But apparently not.

This weekend, Manchester City know that a win against struggling Queens Park Rangers will “for all intents and purposes” seal a first title since 1968. There is just one catch; QPR are “fighting for their lives”. Should City slip up, local rivals Manchester United will win the title with a win against a Sunderland side who have been safe from relegation for weeks. Victory for United is seen by many as a foregone conclusion, simply because Sunderland have “nothing to play for.”

Other teams with different agendas face a similar conundrum. QPR, as mentioned before, know that a draw would suffice against City to ensure survival but have been largely written off due to City’s own objective. As for fellow strugglers Bolton, they face an away trip to Stoke, themselves wedged in a tightly-packed but largely apathetic struggle for mid-table positions.

Stoke at the Britannia – as with Sunderland at the Stadium of Light – is often seen as one of the most daunting away trips for any Premier League side, but the edge has been taken away by the circumstances of both sides.

Is there any evidence for the theory of mid-table sides being the best to play against? Last night, Liverpool trounced a Chelsea side still harbouring a very slight ambition to finish in the top four. Liverpool knew that their season was all but over, but seemed desperate to please their long-suffering home support and duly hammered their visitors.

Who is to say that Stoke and Sunderland don’t turn in their performance of the season, motivated by the desperation of their opponents and the fervent support of their home crowds for the last time in a largely successful (if relatively comfortable) season?

We often hear that “the pressure may just get to them” in reference to sides who need a certain result to fulfil their ambitions. But can’t the sides with “nothing to play for” realise that the pressure is off and play with a care-free abandon, which in many cases can inspire them to new heights?

Take Manchester City as an example, after months of wearily holding off United’s attempts to usurp them at the top of the league this season, they eventually folded under the weight of expectation and fell eight points behind their rivals.

Suddenly shorn of pressure and expectation, City re-discovered the attacking flair which had made them such a potent force earlier in the season. The momentum gathered from this run of form eventually saw them beat (and subsequently overtake) a United side who had stuttered under the pressure which was suddenly handed to them.

Other examples are Arsenal and Fulham. For much of the season, Arsenal were playing catch-up to their rivals Tottenham and – with low expectations – were able to go on a stunning run which reeled in a Tottenham side who suddenly began to panic. Since taking over third place, Arsenal have stuttered themselves and are without a win since beating Wolves, four games ago.

As for Fulham, they have been all but safe since the turn of the year. Suddenly liberated by their freedom, they have shown brilliant form in the last couple of months to rise to ninth in the table.

So you see, nothing in football is a given. Just because you have to win doesn’t make you more likely to. If Bolton and Manchester United expect to simply turn up and achieve their required wins next weekend, they may well get an unpleasant surprise. Pressure, it has been said, can “form diamonds” but also “crack pipes”. Beware the liberated teams, just because their season is “over” doesn’t mean they can’t wreck yours.

No jokes, no funny pictures, just me keeping you occupied for a while! Hope you enjoyed it :)

Agony vs apathy

That's right, do I want to write about the Manchester derby or the England manager job?

"I thought it was a fart"

I have decided to write about Monday night, simply because I have a weird theory that writing about my angst will exorcise my demons.

I wanted to watch the match, but I still don't have Sky and because I am deluded, I often think that how I watch a match will determine the outcome. With that in mind, I was left with a few choices:

Watch the match at my Students Union and chew my nails off while quaffing pint after pint of warm cider. The problem with that is that I would have to watch the match with Manchester United fans from Surrey who, of course, we all hate. Yes, I am a Manchester United fan from Surrey.

Follow the match on the radio/internet at home. And have to break the news of a conceded goal to my manopausal father? No thanks. His huffing about during the tough times makes trying to be positive very difficult (he's Scottish), so I abandoned this option.

Go to the other half’s house (we'd won at Spurs and Arsenal when I was there this year), put my fingers in my ears, curl into the foetal position and sob meekly for two hours, waiting for the highlights on Match of the Day.

This was me on Monday, well, this has been
 me for every United game since 194

Of course, I picked the third option.

Like the subject of that Stevie Wonder song, I am very superstitious and from one minute past eight, the writing was on the wall for Manchester United.

Time ticked by slower than United's midfield as I counted down to ten thirty-five. And I really wish I hadn't bothered with my "tactic". Had I chosen a different method, United would have not only showed up, they may have even have had a shot, they may have even scored.

I've gone through the five stages of grief regarding our approach of defend, defend, defend. It can work from time to time; Chelsea's heroics in Barcelona are testament to this, but United don't really have any good defenders, which made things tricky. Still, only a draw was required, so playing a 4-5-1 formation was an understandable - if stupid - decision. If I have reached "acceptance" with the approach, I am still somewhere around "anger" when I think about the personnel. Against a team as dynamic as Manchester City, you need a midfield which will match their energy, drive and, above all, talent. So why on earth did United pick Scholes, Giggs and Park? The combined age of the three men is around one hundred and five and it showed as from the first minute to last, United were run ragged.

We're playing who in midfield?!

Watching the highlights just made United's inferiority all the more apparent. Not once was there a twenty second snippet of a chance for the visitors or a near-missed through ball or a shot of Antonio  Valencia laughing like he always does. Despite enduring a 6-1 defeat to their rivals earlier in the season, United were arguably more inferior on Monday night than they were in October. They had no shots on target for the first time in a game for three years. In all honesty, the visitors were lucky to have that many. A lack of ambition and threat meant that City could play with greater freedom and commit more numbers to attack and eventually the pressure told at the end of the first half.

David Silva, after looking knackered a month ago, has been transformed in the last few weeks.  And it was his corner in first-half stoppage time which was headed in by Vincent Kompany for the goal that proved to be the winner (or in United’s case, the “goal which meant we couldn't play for a draw”). I don't want to moan about David De Gea, he gets enough crap from other "experts" and although he was at fault for the goal, his generally brilliant performances have dragged this mediocre team to within a few results of an undeserved twentieth title win.

So lay off him!

So, the second-half came around after a poor first forty-five minutes. United usually come out of the dressing room after half-time with very dry hair, very red faces and very sore backsides, which often sparks a comeback, but there was to be none. Despite being faced with the possibility of conceding the Premier League lead to their local rivals, the lack of tempo or flair remained blindingly (I'm not continuing the Stevie Wonder theme here) obvious.

City had a few chances to double their lead through Gael Clichy and the excellent Yaya Toure but ultimately, one goal was enough as the full-time whistle drew cheers from the home crowd. When the game was over (on the highlights) I wasn't even too sad. United are simply not at City's level at the moment and, over the course of the season, they have been largely second-best. And anyway, the title wasn't lost against City, it was last last weekend against Everton, a result I took with typical realism and grace.

"I just ruined your title hopes, now do a gay pose"

So what happens now?

For City, they have their hands on the wheel of a very unpredictable car. Weeks of being the "hunters" have helped lift the pressure and a continuation of their form through the final two games of the season will see them crowned as champions for the first time since 1726. Up next is a tricky away trip to Newcastle. Fortunately for City, Newcastle may be tired off the back of ninety minutes with a Chelsea side who have suddenly remembered how to play football.

For United, the pressure is off but questions need to be answered: How did they let an eight point lead slip in just two weeks? Why did they play Park-Ji-Sung? Why did David de Gea shave his beard? Since their keeper's trim, United have come across form as barren as De Gea's chin at the most unfortunate time. Their remaining games are against Swansea and Sunderland, who have nothing to play for. That said, seeing how United and City have played this season - with something to play for - tells us that pressure is bad, reckless abandon is good.

For about twenty years, many have claimed that United are in decline. It must be said that these claims have often come from fans of Liverpool, who have of course been destined to win each of the last fifteen league titles. But I won't say too much about Liverpool, as they have won a trophy this season, while United will probably fall short. And anyway, these people are probably right for once; United are slipping.

Changes need to be made in the summer if fans from the red side of Manchester can bear going to work on Monday mornings again. Patrice Evra has totally lost form over the past two seasons and may need to be replaced. As for Giggs and Scholes, despite their ageless performances and their experience - an attribute which is twice as over-rated and twice as dull as the Arctic Monkeys -  this season, they cannot be relied upon forever. I've had a good run, I’ve been alive for twenty one years, and been solely responsible for twelve Premier League titles.

However, as much as it pains me to say it, a City title win will probably signal a new era, at least until the owners get bored or take advice from Roman Abramovich. United must rebuild either this year, or wait one more season before making tough decisions. I am not in any way saying "Fergie out" here, but he has busted a gut presiding over a good, but not great, team for three years now, and he looks like he needs a break, but then again, he always does. Did you see him during the game? He looked like a giant cherry as he battled fruitlessly with Roberto Mancini on the touchline.

Ominously, that battle looks like being a metaphor for this season.

Roy Hodgson is England manager by the way.

NOTE: I acknowledge that many of you have been directed here from the BBC Sport website as I often parasite the blogs of other, more talented journalists. I appreciate your click! However, some people may have been offended by my - quite frankly - appalling lack of values. I am deeply apologetic for my awful, awful sins and rest assured I will burn in hell for them. Although it is my best chance of entering my desired profession, it is no excuse for such a heinous, evil act. On the other hand you could just ignore the link.

Comments and vitriol welcomed.

Chelsea 2012 vs Liverpool 2005

So, the stage is set. On Saturday the 19th of May, two of the biggest clubs in the world will go head-to-head for the honour, for the glory, for the ecstasy of being crowned champions of Europe. Words will be said and swords will be sharpened as twenty-two of the finest players in the world do battle. One game to rule them all. That's right, in just over three weeks time, Barcelona* will play against Real Madrid* in the Champions League final.

Oops.

*Chelsea                                  
*Bayern Munich

What the fuck.



Yes, I may have written this article a little bit in advance, but, like the BBC Formula One editing team, I think I salvaged the situation and ensured a sense of continuity and cohesion. No?

So, what this means is that instead of fawning over two teams I actually see only once a year, relying on the words of that one friend who watches La Liga religiously, or the guy who checks out BBC stats to see who is doing well, I am forced to write about something else. Luckily, I think it is far funnier to slate Liverpool and Chelsea anyway.

Against all odds, in May, bald, tattooed men will parade around Munich, all dressed in the same uniform, spouting nonsense about the ideals of their heroes, discussing generally right-wing views, whilst chanting the name of a leader many believe to be racist. If you get that joke, you're very clever, and I'm very sorry.

Sorry for using this picture twice, it just
summed up my point well is all!

For Chelsea, in spite of a crowded fixture list, a relative novice as manager and suffering one of their worst seasons in recent memory, they will be in the final in Munich. How on earth did that happen? As I have said, all due respect to Chelsea for holding out against Barcelona; a team with twice the talent but crucially, half the body weight. However, this Chelsea side are a team who have come through time and time again against teams who should have given them a pasting. They drew with Genk for goodness sake. Even Manchester United could beat Genk and they have as much knowledge of how to succeed in Europe as a blind, fat Texan with a world map of Texas...or David Cameron.

Liverpool in 2005 hadn't fared much better. Like Chelsea, they were locked in a cross-city battle for fourth place. This was the year when fourth place became sexy, when fourth-place really started meaning something, which is why for Arsene Wenger, it means more than a trophy. Despite boasting world-class players Josemi, Steve Finnan, Djimi Traore and Igor Biscan, Liverpool stuggled throughout the year, even getting beaten twice against Manchester United, a team they (and Everton) insist on doubling their efforts for year after year. This was the year when Rafael "fact" Benitez took over the job and, looking at Youtube videos of that season, looks remarkably young...but still fat.

"Sinama-Pongolle IS a good player you prick"

In their final group match, they faced a must-win game, for them against Olympiakos, but having to succeed by two goals. Outplayed for most of the match, Liverpool found a way back into the game due to those superstars of attacking football: Neil Mellor and Florent Sinama-Pongolle, before Steven Gerrard scored that goal which that fat, sexist bloke yelled about for a while.

Back to the present, Chelsea just about survived their group themselves, courtesy of a last-game win over Valencia to somehow top their group. As a result, they were drawn against Napoli, a team who have enjoyed a reasonable degree of success in Italy in the past few seasons. "Chelsea will get battered" said those aforementioned people who pretend to know everything about European football, much like those who watched the KONY 2012 video pretend to know everything about African politics. "They'll sneak through somehow" I said. This is because Chelsea have always had a knack for beating teams they have no right to beat. This is why they have been England's second (wink) most successful club in the last ten years, because they can play like shit and still win.

Yep. Andre Villas Boas taking a shit on
Chelsea before they shat on him.

The game against Napoli was a shambles. The first leg was a microcosm for Andre Villas-Boas' reign as Chelsea boss. Attacking threat yes, but as much chance of keeping a clean sheet as a fourteen year-old boy with a lads mag and a locked door. Somehow, Chelsea escaped with just a 3-1 deficit as Villas-Boas escaped with a job deficit and a few million quid.

Replacing the Portuguese manager was former player and former crap manager Roberto Di Matteo. Di Matteo has been praised for his performances as Chelsea boss since taking over and, although impressive, they should be taken with not so much a pinch, but an ocean of salt. Remember Di Matteo can't lose here; he has no expectations and can afford to exclusively play the older players, in other words, sacrificing a long-term plan for a short-term goal in order to add to his C.V. Nevertheless, after taking over, he "inspired" Chelsea to a 4-1 win in the second-leg. Of course, this victory was more to do with Chelsea's senior players turning up for once after their anonymous displays under the previous manager, reminiscent of a spoilt kid trying to get rid of their Maths tutor (which explains Villas-Boas' nonsensical tactical ramblings).

In the last sixteen in 2005, Liverpool played Bayer Leverkusen. I think. I'm not very good at this...







In their quarter-final, Chelsea played Benfica, where an impressive defensive display saw them leave Lisbon with a 1-0 lead. However, in the second leg they were awful. Despite playing against ten men for an hour, Chelsea laboured to a victory which was so nearly snatched from them on a number of occasions. Again, you have to be in it to win it and I'm a United fan. And we're not in it. Innit.

Flying back to the past with as much accuracy as an Anthony Le Tallec shot (remember him as well?!), Liverpool played a quarter-final which served as a poignant reminder of the Heysel disaster in the 1980's. Remember, in 2005, Italian teams were actually good, not like their crap teams of today. In those days, I often wondered how Juventus kept winning Serie A year after year despite a not so great team, I guess we now know don't we...

Liverpool cheering on David Brent

Anyway, nobody gave Liverpool a chance against Juve but down to a combination of dogged defence and a great goal by Luis Garcia (what the hell happened to him?), Liverpool took a 2-1 lead to Turin. What happened next was like a match between Tuesday night's Chelsea and Tuesday night's Chelsea.




Despite needing a goal, Juventus couldn't shake their Italian-ness as their eagerness to keep a clean sheet prevented them from playing with the sort of adventure required to break down such a terrible, terrible team. Liverpool had somehow reached the semi-final.

Back to the present, next for Chelsea came the tie against Barcelona, a game I don't really want to talk about, because you've probably read more than enough about that game. Chelsea's effort, although commendable, owed as much to good fortune as it did to skill. That said, how crap were Barcelona? Playing the same way over and over again, they were met with an almost "computer says no" sense of apathy and as much stubborness as a Catholic donkey from a Chelsea team who had to survive for an hour without their captain John Terry, who had been sent off for...well, I don't know what he was trying to do.

Talking of donkey's, Rafael Benitez was now (not now as in now, but now as it was then) seen as a God. His tactics of "play five defensive midfielders and knick a goal" was taking Europe by storm. In a neat twist which I probably didn't intend, Liverpool played Chelsea in the semi-final that year. In another neat twist, back in 2005, Chelsea were pretty frigging awesome, far removed from their team of today. That team won the league with 95 points, coupling an almost invincible defence with a genuinely potent attack, back when Damien Duff was good and Petr Cech wasn't a scrum half.

There seemed no way that Liverpool could break Chelsea down and, in many ways, they didn't. After somehow surviving the first leg through a combination of luck and lots of defending, Liverpool took the tie back to Anfield locked at 0-0. Due to a goal that didn't go in, Liverpool won a game which was so dull, I still have nightmares about it. You know that fourteen year old boy I referred to earlier? Well, that was my age at the time and, such was the lack of excitement in that game, I definitely kept a clean sheet that night.

But what I want to know is this. Which team was worse? Of course, comments are more than welcome. There is no doubt how big an achievement it is and was for both sides, but I'm not after that, that would be too sensible to talk about. In all honesty, being as neutral as you can, which team was worse, Liverpool of 2005 or Chelsea of today? Bear in mind, Chelsea of today has Kalou and Mikel.

While you furiously battle with your own thoughts about that one, here is something to consider: England have had a team in the final for seven of the last eight Champions League seasons. I still don't know how, but they do. For all those* who say the Premier League is not the best league in the world, you must feel pretty crap!

* - umm, I do and it still isn't the best league in the world.

Chelsea will start the final as underdogs but seven years ago, no-one gave Liverpool a chance against AC Milan, especially after they went three-nil down at half-time to a far superior side. Liverpool somehow came back to win that game to become champions of Europe on the edge of Asia. What price on Chelsea emerging from the ashes in the Bavarian capital?

Defence vs Attack

A few weeks ago, I did an incredibly boring article about the evolution of football formations. Yes, I am capable of producing samey, over-technical, incredibly dull football pieces without making jokes about Gareth Barry or bumming. I should have provided some kind of link so you can witness my supreme tediousness.

A bit of this could come in handy.

So why did I start talking about formations and shit? It's because tonight, Chelsea travel to the Nou Camp to play Barcelona and "a clash of styles" doesn't quite cover it. Pro-Chelsea people will say "winning is all that matters" while football purists, annoying as they are, will insist that playing football the right way should be the primary goal of any decent team. After defeating Barca at home last week, Chelsea's performance has divided more opinion than Mario Balotelli eating marmite in the middle of a euthanasia case. 

Any excuse to put this picture in really.

Some say that Chelsea were the perfect foil for a hitherto supposedly invincible Barcelona team. Others claim that if Jose Mourinho was still Chelsea manager, his teams performance would have been lauded to have high heaven, but that is thanks in part to the fact that, like Balotelli, the media eat out of Mourinho's perfectly moisturised hands. Yes, Chelsea rode their luck, but they played to their strengths: tiny pitch, massive Afrian bloke up front, players who aren't afraid to beat the crap out of more skillful players. You know what I think? Fair play to Chelsea.

Did they deserve to beat Barcelona? Not a chance, they should have been beaten heavily, but they rode their luck and they played the only way that could have given them a shock victory.

Others say that Chelsea are at best one-dimensional and at worst a disgrace to the English game. And they're not even talking about John Terry and Ashley Cole. Those in this bitter camp would probably rather have had Chelsea try and play Barcelona at their own game. Even at their peak in 2005 and 2006, Chelsea would not have played like this, they have always been a side built on efficiency rather than effervescence. Is it "pretty" to watch? No, but are Bernie Ecclestone or Angela Merkel  "pretty?". They are ugly as sin but my God they get (very controversial) results.

Of course Chelsea should have been battered, their fans acknowledge that as quickly as they acknowledge their technical inferiority. The arrogance and confidence amongst their fans and staff of five years ago has given way to a more lucid and realistic approach, which is serving them well. I'll be honest, I don't like Chelsea much and no amount of persuading (even the below picture) can help me change that, but football is at it's most interesting when there is a clash of styles and although I'll stop short of being partisan in wanting them to win tonight, I will be congratulatory rather than bitter should they succeed. Which I don't think they will.

Needed more of an excuse to put this picture in.

But how could they win?

As I said, rigid and turgid analysis is not my thing, whereas puns and putting little jokes in brackets is. However, putting my boring hat on, I would have to say that to go through tonight, Chelsea have to do more of what they did last week. The Nou Camp is about three times the size of Stamford Bridge and with almost one hundred thousand fans cheering on Barcelona (none of them with mass-produced plastic flags), the task will be difficult. Last week, Ashley Cole was amazing in defence, as were all his team-mates in playing a compact system that made life difficult for Barca. Chelsea have to accept they will see very little of the ball and will have to survive more than a few scares. In fact, Chelsea have to accept that they will concede at some point.

With that in mind, despite having to display the same rigidity and teamwork of last week, there needs to be more of a threat from Chelsea tonight. They have more chance of achieving a 0-0 draw by attacking. That makes more sense than it seems. But trust me, I'm a journalist...kinda. Chelsea have to play on the counter-attack and play with more energy than Park Ji Sung on speed. And speed will be key tonight. As in foot speed. Not drugs. Don't do drugs.

When Barcelona take the lead in games, teams have to attack them, which plays into their hands. By keeping possession of the ball, oppositions teams have to win it back as fast as they can and often commit too many numbers to stopping them, while Barca do the traditional "hold the midget at arms length" trick/ "pass it to Messi and let him destroy people" tactic as Barca hit teams on the break. Trust me, I'm a United fan, I've seen this all before.

A whack to this guy's face may change
my mind about Chelsea.

But Chelsea have a lead to take with them, so Chelsea can be patient. As well as this, a Chelsea away goal would make life very difficult for the Catalans, and thus the home side can't play with their usual abandon from the start. As we saw in the Europa League - Europe's best club competition - despite being totally superior, Man City were knocked out by a decent but average Sporting Lisbon side. How? Lisbon took a 1-0 lead to the Etihad stadium and scored twice on the break, leaving City needing four goals...of which they scored three.

Something similar has to be the goal for Chelsea tonight. Whether their players - tired after a hectic few weeks - can raise their game sufficiently will be tough. This match situation showcases why I feel it is an advantage to play at home first in Europe. If you win and don't concede, or even draw 0-0 at home, you have a great chance of going through, regardless of the opposition. In the first leg, you can almost kill the tie off while, such is the tension involved in first-leg knockout games, a 0-0 draw suits the home team far more than the away team...in my opinion.

This could come in handy as well.

In other words, if Chelsea want to win, they need to do it in a way which will piss off the most people the next day:
Play as ugly as you want, defend with your lives, kick it long (but accurately...somehow) if you can, and hope Drogba has a great game. Play with width, win corners, win throw-ins. Do that, and Chelsea have a chance. Not that I can see it, but good luck to them.

As for ugly success? How can success be ugly? What is beautiful about defeat? Most of the people slating Chelsea are England fans, who play awful, awful football with some (ish) success. Remember the 1-0 friendly win over Spain? Yeah, there we go. I don't like Chelsea, but a win over Barcelona would be a hell of an achievement, one we should all respect. The purists, like Cesc bloody Fabregas, will moan about it, because they feel they have the God given right to play football the "right" way, and all other teams should subscribe to this "right" way, whatever that is.

So, you want an opinion? Here is my recommended Chelsea XI:

 Cech
Ivanovic    Terry     Cahill    Cole

Essien

Lampard Ramires

Mata                                                                                   (anyone but) Kalou

Drogba

I know, no surprises there, except maybe Essien over Mikel, but I think Mikel is useless. As usual, I have added no new information in an attempt at being analytical. I just can't do it. As he was last week, Ramires will need to be excellent. Yes, those wingers are wide, but they have to be, set-pieces will be crucial.

Crap, I forgot to take change the alignment of my text.

Umm, OK.

Anyway, I can't believe I am saying this. But good luck Chelsea.

The race, the whole race and nothing but the race.

It's Monday morning, but thank God the week is over.

After a long, tense and unpredictable few days, we finally got a race yesterday at the Bahrain Grand Prix. For four hours, I avoided as much Formula One information as I could as I (im)patiently waited for the highlights show to start on the BBC. As things turned out, I should have avoided all sports for the day, due to my football team (Manchester United)'s inability to beat bloody Everton. But this is a Formula One piece, so I will try to keep my grieving on the low. Anyway, after a successful wait, the highlights began and I was hoping a great race with a British winner would lift my spirits.

Felipe Massa had another successful race

I'm still trying to work out just how good yesterday's race was. While not as good as the preceding Malaysian and Chinese Grand Prix, it was better than the opening race in Australia and certainly better than the 2010 Bahrain Grand Prix, a race so bad I want to find and burn every copy of it, a race so bad it would turn Medusa to stone.

Was the race worth all the hoo-ha that had gone on in the week leading up to it? Of course not. Should the race have gone on at all? I still think the race should have been postponed, not just because Lewis Hamilton and Jenson Button picked up just four points between them, but because of politics and shit.

In a country where so much pain and suffering is going on as the fight to secure democracy continues, a sport as elitist and powerful as Formula One was probably as welcome a house guest as Mel Gibson in a synagogue. As I said in my last piece, I don't like making serious points, so I'll stop. As the title says, let's just cover the race, the whole race and nothing but the race.

Which is more than can be said for the BBC.

Screw you Bernie Ecclestone.

I know that there's contract stuff to sort out, but was I the only one who found the highlights very short?

Maybe the race was worse than we were made to believe, but every now and then, five or so laps would just be cut from the race and I found it extremely frustrating. Was I the also one who didn't see Grosjean pass Webber for third place early in the race? In mitigation, I may have missed that due to a combination of an inability to pay attention and my own myopia.

I don't want to always moan at the BBC. Their coverage is pretty good and is apparently better than Sky's, according to Lao from China (Youtube it). By the way, Lao has now been given an executive position in the BBC's marketing team. The BBC didn't have much choice in jettisoning much of the live races; when Rupert Murdoch comes knocking, there isn't much you can do except turn your phone off and pray. After all, the BBC also needs to satisfy their partisan Songs of Praise fanatics, and the Formula One was getting in the way. Oh well, at least the beeb have the rights to show the whole European Grand Prix from Valencia live. Oh goody.

Anyway, the race!

Vettel once again had a race of his own.
Apparently anyway.
I wasn't able to see it all

The race was like a throwback to last year as Sebastian Vettel led almost the entire Grand Prix. It was just like 2011 and merely served to confirm the worst of my most paranoid of fears: That Sebastian Vettel is faster than time.





Despite a rally (no pun intended...OK, it was intended) from Kimi Raikkonen midway through the race, Das Finger looked comfortable throughout and he took the win to give himself the chance to showcase the second worst hand gesture to come out of Germany.

And just like that, he leads the championship. How on earth did that happen?! This is precisely what wasn't meant to happen! Although only ten points separate the top five drivers, the sight of Vettel at the top of the championship makes me shiver just a little bit. As I may have said before, despite everything, I really like Vettel, which is a real shame.

As for the aforementioned Raikkonen, his Lotus team had a very good weekend, with Raikkonen second and team-mate Grosjean third. Both drivers had pretty quiet races in the end, which will be a relief to Lotus after Raikkonen's finish to the Chinese Grand Prix. Kimi has settled right back into Formula One, which is great because I really like him too...I think I just like everyone...except Maldonado, due to his freakishly small head. I don't know why I like Kimi because he is incredibly bland, but also a bit extrovert at the same time, two things that I am not...

Vettel's famous "finger" celebration

How it should be done

Further back, Mark Webber finished fourth. Again.

Right behind Webber was last week's race winner Nico Rosberg. Webber must have been breathing a sigh of relief as he finished ahead of Rosberg. This is because after getting his first taste of victory champagne the week before, Rosberg must have convinced himself he was his compatriot Michael Schumacher. Now only ninety race wins behind Michael, Nico took it upon himself to drive like him. First Hamilton and then Fernando Alonso were forced off the track to try and overtake him. The race stewards saw nothing untoward with Rosberg's racing, which leads me to believe that I must have been stewarding the race, due to their blindness. How on earth you can simply shove a car off the track and then complain they went off the track when overtaking is almost admirable. It isn't, but at least Rosberg has finally grown a pair, what do you think Nico?

Next was Paul Di Resta. That's right. Paul Di Resta. Paul drove a great race on a two-stop strategy he somehow made work. While the tyres of his rivals fell apart, he kept his together to secure a well-deserved sixth place. He fended off Rosberg for a few laps before, in true Scottish style, he was heroically defeated.
Later, still in true Scottish style, when Englishman Jenson Button was closing in, Di Resta held position long enough to force Button to have a problem. My theory is that Di Resta employed Dick Dastardly tactics and launched something sharp from the back of his car or just some good old-fashioned anti-Anglo feeling. On the day before St Georges day too. Brilliant!

Speaking of Button and the McLarens, they had a terrible race. Starting their cars second and fourth, there were high hopes for strong finishes, owing to an apparent focus on race-pace over qualifying performance. As it turned out, the McLarens burned out their rear tyres so quickly, any chance of a victory had long gone, even before the man operating the left rear tyre twice forced Hamilton into slow stops. It was also the left rear tyre man who scuppered Button's chances of victory last week. So who is left rear gun-man? Three options:

Any option from the right

Martin Whitmarsh: Seems determined to ruin McLaren after taking over from Ron Dennis
Fernando Alonso: Because it would be kind of funny
Paul Di Resta: The Scottish thing





McLaren, for the first time in years, have started the season with a car quick enough to challenge for race victories, yet find themselves behind the Red Bull - whose car is at it's most uncompetitive since 2008 - when David Coulthard drove it - in the constructors championship. One win from four races with arguably the fastest car is not the start the Woking team had in mind, but luckily, there are still 67 or so races to turn it around.

So, Formula One approaches another boredom-inducing break of three weeks. What are we going to do with our Sundays?! As Formula One fans, we are often a bit of a lonely bunch, and I don't want to have to follow Manchester United for the next few weeks due to the reasons mentioned in this - and other - pieces.


The next race is in Spain in Barcelona. Usually, this is a really, really boring race as no-one can overtake, but I have high hopes for it next time, mainly because I always have high hopes for races, hopes that are rarely justified. In the meantime, we face a wait more awkward than Coulthard and Jake Humphrey running into Martin Brundle on the F1 Forum...a meeting made more awkward by Humphrey's clear depression at not being invited to dinner with the big boys. Yeah, sorry Jake.



Anyway, the race that maybe shouldn't have gone ahead is finished, and I barely spoke about the bad stuff, I'd rather leave that to the people who pretend they know what is going on in Bahrain and the middle-east. As usual, I have done the bare minimum in terms of research and don't intend to change now.

With fifteen races to go, it's all to play for still.

Citius, Altius, Fortius

^That's the Olympic motto by the way^

...not sure if "fastest, highest, strongest" applies to the archery or gymnastics teams, but it did give me a chance to write in Latin.

Proof that I'm not talking
out of my Altius.

Yes, that time is getting nearer isn't it. Am I the only one who does just a little pee when the Olympics get nearer? The fact that this year's Olympics are in London makes my bladder feel that much weaker.


How many Olympic blogs will have urine references? Only a wee number.




I wouldn't be much of a sports geek if I didn't hold a great affection for the Olympics, after all, when else would you get people from all over the world coming to London, taking a chance to see all this city has to offer, while testing the limits of our nation's finest? If you're xenophobic, don't answer that question.

I remember the announcement that London would be hosting the Olympics like it was yesterday. That is a lie because I don't remember it well. I was in France on a school trip at the time and the words "we beat those smug Parisians" didn't exactly go down well with the locals, or with me, as I thought "Parisian" was a type of smelly cheese. Again, if you're xenophobic, don't comment. Of course, the very next day, euphoria was replaced with agony as Britain was hit by the worst terrorist attacks in its history. That two day period served as a reminder that although sport is paramount to so many of us, it is simply a small part of life, life which can be snatched away at any point.

Many saw the disastrous events of 7/7 as an omen that our Olympics would be a poor one, even a dangerous one. However, as time has gone on, as a nation, our natural sense of pessimism has slowly faded and general feelings of hope and anticipation have come to the fore. As a city, as a country, we have the opportunity to showcase what we have to the world. Of course, as there will be British athletes in front of a home crowd, we should expect a hell of a lot of fourth places if Euro 1996 and every Wimbledon since 1997 are anything to go by.

Will Murray perform better than in Beijing?
Can he do any worse?

The state of anticipation hasn't been present throughout this Olympiad though. Being a London-organised event, something was always going to go wrong. Anyone's experiences of The Emirates and Wembley stadiums, as well as The Wimbledon Championships - where people are known to visibly age whilst in "the queue" - mean we should have expected some kind of ticket trouble.


Even prestigious sports journalists like myself have struggled to get decent tickets, I will only be able to see the women's beach volleyball. What a shame.

You've probably read more than enough about the ticket "farce", "fiasco" or another phrase beginning with "f" and ending in "uck up", so I will not comment too much more. However, when one considers how few of the Olympic stadium's 90,000 seats are taken by actual spectators, it makes you wonder why so many average Londoners - many of whom have essentially paid for the event, often against their wishes - have been priced out. It also makes you (me) wonder why so many seats are afforded to the "Olympic family". Mr and Mrs Olympic clearly didn't use contraception did they?

The last Olympics made me feel a couple of things. The first feeling was, oh my God the Olympics is amazing, Beijing did such a good job. The second was, oh crap, how the hell are we going to follow that? Then I took a deep breath and thought "as long as it's better than Atlanta and Athens, it'll be OK". But that got me thinking about the last few Olympic games, and the pattern does not look good:

Seoul 1988: Pretty rubbish. Can't remember much. Probably because I hadn't been born.
Barcelona 1992: Great games, said by many to be the benchmark for most modern Olympics.
Atlanta 1996: Pretty rubbish, WWF wrestling was a sport.
Sydney 2000: Arguably the best games of all time. Enough said.
Athens 2004: Stadiums half-built, faces of the games go missing on the eve of the competition and Great Britain won a sprint gold medal. Tells you everything you need to know.
Beijing 2008: Very good games, records, stories, very little controversy. Better mascots than our ones.
London 2012: ?

Olympic WWF, and reeeeally camp Olympic kit

The 2004 Olympic stadium at time of completion

I'm sure Beijingers or Beijingites, or whatever the collective name for a group of people from Beijing is, had the same worries I do. However, despite feeling a certain apathy towards the games around a week before it started, out of nowhere I got hit. In the country where the SARS virus affected so many, I had caught Olympic fever. For two weeks, I sat glued to a TV set while the world outside did outside world stuff.

Waking up at 3 a.m and sleeping at 9 p.m felt like a great decision at the time, and although I felt an almost hangover-sense of fatigue, lost in the middle of Cornwall, I'd do it all again. The Olympic-induced insomnia that is, not going to Cornwall. If you live in Cornwall, good for you, you don't have to drive seven hours to get to Cornwall, unlike the rest of civilisation.

But what an Olympics! The highlights remain Usain Bolt's incredible 100 and 200 metre wins, the first of which still lives in the memory. The games also represented unprecedented success for Team GB. 19 golds helped us to fourth in medal table, ahead of Australia. Now, I know a country with a quarter of our population, a country which used to be in our empire should not be the subject of our gloating or be seen as our benchmark but it is. Although most of our gold medals were won in "sit-down" sports, they all count.

Who came second in the end?!

My moment of the games came in the 100 metre butterfly final. Michael Phelps, in his quest for eight gold medals, had won six, all in world record times.

So, at around 5 o'clock local time, I woke up in a Devon hotel to watch him try to equal Mark Spitz's seven golds, won in Munich in 1972. In his way was Milorad Cavic. After staring down the American at the start, Serbian swimmer Cavic was meters ahead at the turn, with Phelps out of contention. However, Phelps suddenly started catching Cavic with such menace and speed that I nearly hummed the Jaws theme tune. Despite Phelps turning into a shark, he seemed destined to fall just short, but in the last centimetre, he pipped his rival to beat the Serbian and beat Spitz. Of course, Spitz won his golds with a massive moustache, so that aerodynamic disadvantage must be held as a credit to his legacy.

"You look sexy"
"I know"

So what will 2012 hold? Feared by many to mean the end of the world, it may yet bring a new birth to many, including British sprinter Dwain Chambers. Much to the dismay of the British Olympic Association, there is every chance Chambers will be allowed to run at the Olympics, despite being banned from the games for life after failing a drugs test in 2003. I would be apoplectic about this usually, as drug cheats should be punished in the strongest way, in order to deter potential abusers. However, such is Chambers' and British mediocrity at sprinting, it doesn't really matter. No-one can replace Chambers and even he won't reach the final. So no harm done.

Mmmm, anabolic goodness

With under one hundred days to go, the excitement is building. But this week's awful weather does have me suddenly fearing a grey, dreary games. It is pissing down as I write this, so I hope it does not represent some crazy form of pathetic fallacy. If you're reading this from overseas, thanks for reading and well done for not having our climate. That said, I do think there would be something terribly British about having the beach volleyball played in constant drizzle, and it would also give me an added incentive to watch the event I have tickets for. I hope the girls playing in white win.

But despite the signs and despite the omens, wind, rain or shine, I think we are going to have a great games. It may not have the high-tech wizardry of Beijing, but it will have cleaner air. It may not have the history of Athens, but it will have stadiums with seats. It will be better than Atlanta. And in true British style, just not being the worst would be a decent result.

Citius, Altius, Fortius? We may not be the fastest, highest or strongest, but we're gonna give it a ruddy good go.

Close finishes, awful fielding and some Gayle force winds. And the IPL is still dull

It would say little for my sporting analysis if I essentially wrote off two colossal sporting events in a month and had to backtrack on both of them. After reading the last rites for Formula One - and in particular, the BBC's coverage (or lack thereof) of it - in March, I called the Indian Premier League just a little dull. I'm still working out whether I need to back-track or not.

Of course, my most ardent followers (thanks Mum, dinner was delicious on Monday) will know that I may have been a little hasty in writing off Formula One and those titans of epic broadcasting: Jake Humphrey (not totally sarcastic), Eddie Jordan (not totally sarcastic) and Gary Anderson. After a Chinese Grand Prix, which, aside from some weird man who kept shouting throughout the race, was brilliant, I admitted my mistake.

A few weeks ago, I decided to test the waters of the most volatile ocean of them all - how much can you annoy a cricket-mad Indian. I don't know why I tried it, because Indian fans have suffered enough and their support for their teams is very impressive. But after criticising Sachin Tendulkar about a month previously, I had gotten away with it to the extent that I wanted to try my luck against India's next best sporting institution. No, not Wasim Jaffer or Amit Mishra, but the IPL. Neither of those posts got much criticism, mainly due to the fact only 8 people from India have read this piece of crap so far. But my opinion could be changing. But it isn't.

Boring picture. Boring caption.

Yesterday, I made the brave decision to "treat" myself to two Indian Premier League games. Erm, by the way, I'm referring to twenty20 cricket here, so if you thought I'd gone utterly insane and, in my desperation for approval and a niche market, had taken to analysing obscure football leagues like India's premier football competition (or the I-league, thanks Wikipedia), think again. That was a long sentence. Anyway, before the Royal Challengers of Bangalore took on the Pune Warriors, the Deccan Chargers visited the Rajasthan Royals. Try saying that sentence five times in a row!

Since winning the IPL in 2009 and reaching the semi-final the year after, the Deccan Chargers have been pretty hopeless. This year looks to be no exception as, prior to yesterday's game; the Chargers had two losses from two games. Well what did they expect?! They have no decent Indian players and have acquired some pretty poor overseas players too, with the exception of Kumar Sangakarra and Dale Steyn. Other than that, it's essentially JP Duminy and some unknown Indian blokes. Despite this, they managed to score 197 runs from their twenty overs, helped mainly by Duminy, Sangakarra and some awful fielding.

Who wants it?!

Seriously, the fielding was so laughably poor. With the exception of Virat Kohli and in particular Suresh Raina, Indian players and teams are often criticised for being poor in the field and I'm afraid that trend continued, with dropped catches and misfields occurring regularly.




The Rajasthan Royals set about their chase well, with Rahul Dravid (yes, Rahul Dravid) scoring quickly, aided by Ajinkya Rahane, the man who had scored more runs than anyone so far in this year's tournament.

However, after losing wickets at regular intervals, the chase looked impossible as the match approached the end. With Dale Steyn yet to bowl two overs and the required run-rate around fourteen an over, it seemed the Royals impressive start to the campaign was about to falter. And somehow, Deccan contrived to cock it up, showing almost South African levels of choking. Steyn got smashed around the park as Brad Hodge - the all-time leading run-scorer in twenty20 cricket - took control to see his team home.

The fielding by Deccan was even worse than it was by Rajasthan. It was like eleven Douglas Elder's in the field, which I and my grotesquely shaped fingers can tell you is not a very good proposition. The game summed up what many see is wrong with the IPL and indeed modern cricket. Too many games, too much money, jaded players and poor quality. Tight finishes and lots of TV money yes, but an overall decline in the standards the viewer should expect.

Deccan celebrating. God knows why.

Next up was the Royal Challengers of Bangalore (hereafter, RCB, because I can't be bothered to write that all again) against the Pune Warriors. If I cared enough to follow a team, RCB would be my favourite team. But I don't really care, I just like sixes and wickets because I want bish-bash cricket because I'm a bloody moron. RCB had lost three of their opening four games of the tournament, including a brilliant game against Chennai Super Kings. Do IPL teams not think of aspiring journalists when coming up with team names?! I actually intended to write about that game but I couldn't be bothered and the thought of writing the Royal Challengers of Bangalore versus the Chennai Super Kings was very scary.

By contrast, Pune had shocked a number of teams so far, winning three of their opening four games. With Robin Uthappa, Jesse Ryder and Sourav Ganguly - one of the few genuinely scary Indians when angry - at the top of the order, you can see why they have been successful. And they wasted no time in setting a decent score here, with Uthappa and Ryder scoring at over ten-an-over before they were dismissed. For all his critics and his general uselessness at cricket, Steve Smith is one of the highest run-scorers in this year's IPL. I know. However, despite Smith coming in at number four, Pune could not take advantage of their strong start and, despite boasting big-hitters Angelo Matthews and Marlon Samuels, they only made 182 from their twenty overs.

Want to know how Pune have so many good batsmen? No? Well, I'll tell you anyway. Because they forgot about bowlers, that's why. After making a reasonable start with the new ball, Pune were well on top of the game, but still had work to do. RCB's batting line up includes Tillakaratne Dilshan, Chris Gayle, Virat Kohli and AB De Villiers, so you can see why I like them. However, despite the odd Chris-Gayle-destroying-some-poor-bowler* moment, RCB could not get a rhythm going and when Kohli fell, RCB needed 111 runs from 49 balls. Which is a lot.

*no hashtag, realise how hashtag rhymes with douchebag?

Don't know why I picked this picture.

Not for Chris f*cking Gayle it isn't! "Where's the next bowler, I'm going to destroy him and make him cry tears of blood" he (certainly never) said. It was almost like he started trying and when Rahul Sharma came on to bowl, Gayle's eyes would have lit up if he could be arsed to show any emotion. Six, six, six, six, six went Sharma's over, and the tide had turned. Despite getting bowled (how rude) a few overs later, Gayle had given RCB hope, hope (and more dreadful fielding) which De Villiers capitalised upon to see the home side through.

So, Bangalore snuck (that's not a word) home and may be ready to...sigh...challenge again. But one thing that struck me - except for my fist as I wondered why I wasn't doing proper work - about yesterday's games was the ever-decreasing turn out for these games.

It is no surprise that crowds are getting smaller and, at the risk of sounding like Jonathan Agnew (much as I love him), there is too much cricket being played. Look at this year's County Championship, seriously, f*cking look at it. It is only the somethingth of April, and we are already into the third round of fixtures and we won't finish until late September. Bigger is not better, the more cricket that gets played, the less the fans will afford, the lower the quality will be, despite the odd "Citi moment of success".

Apart from providing lowlifes like me with the opportunity to ramble about silly team-names or get a little too excited about Chris Gayle's biceps, modern cricket, and by association, the IPL, is taking our game on a slow - albeit fun - downward spiral. At first glance it is fun when Chris Gayle is in full-flow or Dale Steyn is knocking over some slogging batsmen, but, scratch beneath the surface and the standard is declining. This is to the detriment of the players, while the super-rich line their pockets.

Low crowds, this ground was actually full five
minutes before, but then Tendulkar got out
and everyone disappeared.

In a moment of painful symbolism, during Gayle's onslaught on Sharma, we got a glimpse of what the IPL is all about. This huge batsman, who has turned his back on Test Cricket and, to a lesser extent his country, was in the middle of a passage of play that will be remembered for years to come. Yet, it was not the sixes he was hitting that may come to represent this tournament. After Gayle hit Sharma high over long-off, one of the fans, a young girl, was struck in the face by the ball. That's right, it is the fans being bitten on the nose. As Gayle gets richer, it is the fans who are getting hurt.