Sport comes back to earth and carries on
At the twin risks of ignoring the advice “If you cannot say something positive, say nothing” and straying from subjects I know anything about, today I have chosen to post today upon sporting matters.
AMERICAN FOOTBALL (SUPER BOWL 55)
I’m afraid that – in keeping with its other major sports (baseball, ice hockey and basketball) – American football leaves me relatively cold.
As far as I can remember, I first took an interest in it when the quarterback Joe Namath – a high profile, glamorous maverick character and “Good Time Charlie” whose heyday was the late 1960s to mid-1970s – was interviewed in Playboy magazine, a publication in those days I bought occasionally for non-sporting reasons.
Over the decades since I’ve watched maybe four Super Bowls “live” right through and by chance rather than positive action have had radio coverage of maybe another six or seven on in the background during overnight sessions on my computer (as I did on Sunday evening).
One thing I will grant Americans is that – whenever mounting coverage of their major sports – they do it well. Even though I have little clue what’s going on, the commentators and pundits are good, well-informed and enthusiastic enough to give the impression that something important, exciting and even historic is happening.
With due respect to Tom Brady and all American footballers, the Super Bowl videos that I have most often watched are of those of the half-time entertainment, simply because – in line with American traditional liking of “occasion and spectacle” – over the years just about every A-list pop performer/group that has ever existed has taken their turn to do the gig.
This year, however – for the first time ever – I had never previously heard of the headline act the Grammy-award winning The Weeknd.
They turned out to be a “he” from Canada, described as a singer, song-writer and producer in his Wikipedia entry.
As I tap this out I still have not heard a single note of his music and doubt I ever shall.
FORMULA ONE
Yesterday the news that sports fans around the world had been waiting for – and indeed biting their nails about (not) – finally hit the wires.
Reigning world champion Lewis Hamilton has signed a new one year contract with Mercedes by the end of which he will have driven for them for nine consecutive seasons.
I also learned yesterday that the 2021 Formula One season will begin with the Bahrain Grand Prix on 26th March.
Inevitably, not being a petrol head, I’m afraid the prospect barely caused the needle of my adrenalin quotient level to flicker because I shall not be tuning in – I’d rather watch paint dry.
