Cod Almighty | Diary

I am angry I am ill and I'm as ugly as sin

17 February 2015

Middle-Aged Diary does not know what he is talking about. No change there, except that today I am admitting it.

I didn't watch the Preston-Man United game last night, and I didn't hear the punditry. I've watched the penalty incident over a couple of times on my laptop and it is, obviously, a dive. Even the BBC seems to have conceded that, having gone into a kind of 'don't pundits say the funniest things' mode over its match coverage.

A few weeks ago, I watched Room 101, not something I recommend. The actor and comedian Fay Ripley tried to get rid of football pundits, a position she was no doubt encouraged to adopt by the fact that Gary Lineker was sitting next to her. When asked why there were no plans to broaden the diversity of voices allowed to opine about football, Lineker's reply was along the lines that ex-footballers are the only people who know anything about the game.

Middle-Aged Diary likes to think he is the non-sweary member of the CA team. Nevertheless: bollocks, Lineker, you washed-up, has-been, Mariners reject. You really, really need to know that where 20 years ago it was a cause for mild concern if the BBC was in danger of losing its broadcasting rights to ITV, it would today be a huge relief. People still like watching football, and will just about put up with the inane, bland, smuggery that fills the gaps between games. But do not for one moment imagine that anyone likes it.

Take Lineker's 'argument' to its conclusion and we are forced to an incredible conclusion. That notoriously quiet atmosphere at Arsenal games? That's because the only people there are ex-pros murmuring to themselves: 'He had every right to go down in that situation'. You see, ordinary people don't know anything about football, so why the hell would they be paying to watch it? Like the people who wrecked the world economy trying to deny the Greeks the right to run their own country, Lineker is trying to deny you the right to have an interest in a game which you pay for.

Please do not mention radio phone-ins at this point. They are (Danny Baker an honourable exception) just airtime for people who have learnt to speak fluent pundit or are happy with the role of licensed fool. I long for the day when, having asked a coach full of people to 'give us a cheer', the host is told 'certainly not, young man. Just because we are happy does not mean we are idiots.' 

With no apologies whatsoever, I am going to paraphrase CLR James again, one of the greatest ever writers about sport precisely because cricket was just one facet of his multi-dimensional interests. 'What do they know of football who only football know?' Match of the Day desperately needs someone with a broad enough outlook to ask questions like 'Is the game better for players stubbing their toe in the grass after they have been tackled?' and 'Is it seemly that five or six players should shower a ref with spittle when he gives a decision that they don't like?'

One person I will happily see in a suit in a TV studio, unless it's while Town are playing, is Carl Magnay. Not only is he streaking away with this year's player of the year awards, his comments in today's Telegraph are refreshingly forthright.

Go read him. I'm going back to bed.