A blip to report, though not an unexpected one. (Side question: can you schedule a blip, or must it always be unpredictable?)
A sort of compulsory-but-voluntary work get-together last night in a posh Knightsbridge hotel, where we were encouraged to ingest good food in quantity, blew a hole in my good intentions this week. Biggish, yes, but not too ragged for stitching. Recoverable. And at least I resisted the temptation to drink alcohol. Well, no more than just a couple of beers.
So this morning I woke, not with a hangover but a kind of bloated feeling that didn’t really shout “Yes! Run time! Hurrah!” at me. But eventually I did get up, pull on my long-sleeved Datchet Dash shirt for the first time, and go off for a short plod around the block. Probably no more than 2 miles but I’m very pleased I did it. The notable thing about this jog was that I left my watch at home, and just tried to tune into the act of running for the sake of it. If I’m honest, it didn’t feel much different, but I’m going to do it again and again, and see where it leads me.
On the way back I stopped off at the newsagent to take a look at how the press had judged yesterday’s revolt by the England footballers as they prepare for the vital Turkey match on Saturday. I was pleased to see that in the main, they get a roasting. It may seem a good thing for athletes to make a stand in support of a team-mate, but when the root of his trouble is the failure to take a drug test, you can’t help feeling they’ve made a slight misjudgement. The moral of the story seems to be: if you’re going to put your collective shirt on a certain loser like Ferdinand, make sure first it isn’t the England one.
The entire business stinks. In football terms, Manchester United is a gargantuan corporation, and their recent behaviour seems aimed at protecting not just a prize asset but a public image adored by armies of kids the world over. I suspect we’ll never uncover the whole truth here, but from where I’m standing it looks like a cocktail of collusion, damage limitation, deceit, greed and media manipulation. Thoroughly unpleasant people, behaving with a cynicism that would leave even New Labour’s press office open-mouthed with admiration.
Thank God for karma. The certain knowledge that they’ll get their eventual come-uppance is some comfort.
Meanwhile, I’ve had to put money on Turkey to win on Saturday. Despite the brave faces at this afternoon’s press conference, the England spirit has already been defeated by the folly and cowardice of their good mate, Rio.
