Birmingham Post

"Sven-Goran Eriksson could be named Manchester City’s new manager within the next 24 hours. It is understood the former England coach is poised to sign a lucrative contract at Eastlands."
So reported the Press Association at 6.25pm yesterday evening.

A long, long time ago, when I finally realised that my interest in sport massively outweighed my ability to play it in any form, I briefly considered becoming a cricket umpire.
I quite fancied the idea of standing in a green field on a sunkissed summer's afternoon, magisterially raising my right index finger on occasions and explaining the intricacies of the lbw law to friends and family.

Another year, another dismal FA Cup Final. Was anyone surprised?
Ever since the Champions League became the money-spinning Holy Grail of European football, the Cup Final has meant less and less to those who can't remember when the television coverage used to start at 10am with Cup Final It's A Knockout.

Sport - an activity involving physical exertion or skill in which an individual or team competes against another or others for entertainment - Concise Oxford English Dictionary, eleventh edition, 2006.
So snooker's not sport, then? Sitting down for long periods, occasionally getting up to walk around a 6'x12' table, bending over to play a few shots, then sitting down again. No serious physical exertion there.

What's the best way to find out that the club you support has been relegated?
Would you prefer to be at the ground as they sink to another defeat?
Would you prefer to be there while they win, but fall through the trapdoor thanks to results elsewhere?

Before abandoning the blogosphere for a fortnight while taking a well-deserved holiday, I was musing on some great sporting venues - in particular, the Recreation Ground, city centre home of Bath Rugby Club.
While I've been away I've taken in another one, which certainly isn't as picturesque but whose history is just as fascinating and whose rebirth in recent years has brought it to the attention of millions of new admirers.

As an official of the Lichfield, Sutton and Tamworth branch of the Campaign for Real Ale, I consider it one of the truths of the 21st century that the bigger the television screen, the worse the pub.
Fortunes spent on plasma screens, Sky subscriptions and bad keg beer/lager invariably mean less interest taken in the quality of what's on offer; pack 'em in, get 'em legless and take their money - that seems to be the motto.

The killer stat of my sporting weeK? 10,000 hours. No, that's not the time since Tamworth FC or Worcester Warriors won a match. It's not even the time Jonny Wilkinson has spent in the treatment room over the last four years.
Ten thousand hours, spread over ten years, is by common consent, the amount of time needed to be devoted to training in order to reach Olympic Games medal-winning standard.
That's 2.73 hours per day, every day of the week for ten years.

Knockout tournaments - what's the point?
Both rugby union and football seem to be falling over themselves to rubbish the cup competition.
The reputation of the latter stages of the FA Cup is falling ever further in the minds of those big clubs forced to take part (Manchester United 3rd XI v Reading reserves as primetime viewing, anyone?), while the Football League Cup has long since ceased to be anything other than a cheap way into an equally devalued UEFA Cup.

When I started this blog, I made a conscious decision to try to avoid the mainstream. The last thing you need is yet another smart-arsed sofa expert offering their views on why Aston Villa aren't world-beaters yet, or why England can't put 50 points past Italy at rugby, or what went wrong (then right) for England's cricketers Down Under.
But blogs, so the Trinity Mirror guide to best blogging practice tells me, should engage the reader....and I can think of nothing more likely to engage the reader this week than David Sullivan's remarkable observations on Birmingham City supporters.

In six weeks' time, Birmingham will welcome back a sport that hasn't been seen in the second city for over 20 years.
A former colleague of mine on the Post sports desk used to decry it as 'motorised lawnmower racing'; it is the kind of thing Sky Sports uses to fill the schedules during the three weeks of summer when it can't wildly overhype football or rugby union.
Its' national media profile is lower than ice hockey or basketball, yet you could argue (and, yes, I'm about to) that it's grassroots sport at its' finest.

Farewell then, Grandstand; Laid low by the combined forces of Sky Sports and the expansion of the sporting weekend into Friday, Sunday and Monday night, it was given a quiet burial at 6pm last Sunday, with the wake taking place at Potters Leisure Resort, spiritual home of indoor carpet bowls. Only the very closest family and friends were present.

The EDF Energy Trophy. The Carling (known to anyone with a sense of humour and a sensible taste for real ale as the C*** Fizzy Lager) Cup. The Johnstone Paints Trophy. The Pro 40 League.
The first two have infested our sports pages and demanded supporters' money this week. The latter two will do so at suitably inconvenient points of 2007. And I would like to present all of them as examples of the proposition that we play too much sport in this country.

It seems the hot topic of the moment - Manchester United sell out a 75,000-capacity stadium every other week and have a waiting list for season-tickets which stretches from here to China and back. Chelsea? Sold out. Liverpool? Sold out. Arsenal? Sold out.
Meanwhile, here in the West Midlands, it seems we can't give away tickets to football matches. Aston Villa's slide down the Premiership is taking place before acres of empty seats. David Sullivan bemoans fickle Birmingham City fans who he says have lost interest because it's not the Premiership.
Even the mighty Walsall, six points clear in League Two and playing some fine football by all accounts, can't pull in the crowds.