By Stewart Weir
Saturday
Were we not all subjected to horror stories as kids (and maybe even in later life) of what would happen to us if we misbehaved?
How we wouldn’t get anything from Santa, or the Tooth Fairy, nor would we get to play with our friends, go on holiday or taste our favourite sweeties ever again.
And worst of all (although there was always a bit of me fancied finding out, just to see what it would really be like) being handed over or taken away from your loved ones by some shady spectre who preyed on boisterous weans who wouldn’t take a telling.
So just imagine how naughty, undisciplined and downright bad some kids must have been lately, to have been made a spectacle of in from of millions on TV.
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Ahead of the Champions League final at Wembley we had the introduction of the teams, when kids – boys and girls, adorned in the colours of Manchester United (an away kit of necessity, not greed) and Barcelona – got involved in the now ritual parade of peace and friendship in football. Weans kitted out like Messi, Villa and Pedro, taking the hands of Rooney, Giggs, Ferdinand and co. What a highlight for these youngsters, and a nice touch, if all rather cluttered. But for every few of the lucky ones, there were those kids who had obviously just missed going to "the bad fire". No walk-on parts with them, taking the hand of a football legend. No, for them it was much worse. What have they done? Taken a marker pen to grandma’s only surviving wedding photo? Or buried the only set of keys for dad’s car in the toy box, or in the garden, or in the dog? Or told the playgroup or nursery of their mother’s hair removal techniques? One can only speculate. But there is no doubt these brats have been bad, if not downright evil. Just image having to be led on to the Wembley pitch, not by an instantly recognised footballer, but by a referee, or a referee’s assistant, or – worst of all – by a fourth, fifth or sixth official. It's the UEFA equivalent of missing out on meeting Santa, but getting to meet one of his helpers. Wow! And if you can’t imagine the trauma or ridicule some of those kids will have faced over the last week, try walking in to work on Monday morning and asking “Does anyone want to see this photo of me in the pub with a Grade One referee?” Poor kids… As for the game itself, what a masterclass from Barcelona. The best team ever? Who knows. Trying to compare Barça with, say, the famous Real Madrid team of the late 50s and 60s is a waste of time. Remember, those who witnessed and understood what Puskas, Di Stefano and Gento were all about would now be of pensionable age and their memory might not be what it once was. Sir Alex Ferguson could pass comment, but then that would have to be tempered by the fact he forgot to put Dimitar Berbatov on the bus. Of course, there will be those who will point to the fitness levels and tactics of the modern game being far superior, and maybe so. But 50 years ago all there was to play in were modified pit boots, and some of those were worn by men who could happily kick you into submission. What was without question was how far Barcelona were ahead of United. However, while the Catalans may be the best team in Europe, they don’t have the benefit of playing in the best league in the world. How many times did you hear that on TV or radio on Saturday night as those with acute tunnel vision desperately sought some solace, even from their own misguided beliefs. Like the clown on Radio 5 Live 606 phone-in who reckoned Barcelona would struggle in England because they would need to play the likes of Wolves. Yes, I can see why humans may toil when faced with a pack of rabid, starving wolves. But those that just missed relegation on goal difference? I think not. No, United were just a distant second, and made to look as much. Rooney and Park tried hardest, while Fergie’s defenders got plenty of honourable mentions for being so busy. But others were conspicuous by their absence. They should have had Anon on the front of their shirts, instead of AON, and at least one looked as if the gagging and non-reporting injunction was firmly back in place just for those 90 minutes. Still, there is always next year. Sunday After the Lord Mayor’s Show and all that. And there was plenty of it – although, as Mr Spock might have said, "It’s football, captain, but not as we know it." For starters, we had the Cuairt dheireannach Cupa Emirates, or Emirates Junior Cup Final, live from that hotbed of the Gaelic: Rugby Park, Kilmarnock. This assumption is of course based on the fact that having watched The Scheme and only ever understood every fourth word they say, English is not the local language in those parts. Auchinleck Talbot beat Musselburgh Athletic 2–1 after extra-time, in front of just over 6,000 mad-keen supporters. With attendances like that, they could book the Aviva Stadium for next year. Victory doesn’t qualify you for Europe (unless the sponsors throw in some cheap flights), but does get you one of the most ornate and decorative prizes in Scottish sport, a trophy I first came into contact with as far back as 1970 when Blantyre Vics won it. Not that I knew anything of Blantyre Vics. But one day my dad arrived home in a work’s Mini van and whisked me away to have a look at this impressive trophy as it took pride of place on the middle of a six-foot snooker table that had seen better days. I would not have been any more impressed as a ten-year-old had it been the World Cup. But enough nostalgia. Fair play to BBC Alba for covering the final live, a game that was once almost religiously broadcast by STV until they concentrated only on the Champions League. While the ITV network had shown the nation (unless you were on Sky) Lionel Messi at his very best the previous evening, the Scottish Junior Cup Final had a few protagonists who were twice the player Messi was, if only because they appeared at least twice the size… Moving on – and just a word for Darren Ferguson leading Peterborough to promotion and becoming the most successful manager in that footballing family for that weekend at least – and we arrived at the Carling Nations Cup Final, and slightly busy Aviva Stadium in Dublin for Republic of Ireland against Scotland. The hosts wore black with green flashes, whilst – in keeping with the trend of trying desperately not to be identified as Scotland – their opponents wore gold, yellow, or custard depending on what corresponding shade you fancied from the Dulux paint chart. Robbie Keane beat Allan McGregor, for once, to claim and Irish victory and the spoils that were on offer, namely that Carling Nations Cup trophy. Not your traditional cup or pot in the style of the Scottish Junior Cup or European Cup, but, well, something different. Was it a work in silver and steel to mirror that Aviva backdrop, or did it symbolise and contours and contortions of a goal net as the ball is smashed high in to the rigging? Or did you see the resemblances between it and a hooded cobra? Yes, I can see all of those. Or was it a cheese grater, probably purchased by the FAI using the GAA Dunelm Mill storecard (see last week’s offering for details)? Talking of iconic awards, the Indy 500 trophy takes a bit of beating, as do cars and drivers in what can be a brutal and cruel race. Just ask JR Hildebrand. If you haven’t seen it, watch this. Such was his momentum into that final wall, I mean corner, that he still managed to cross the line even on two wheels and in half a car. Unfortunately, England’s Dan Wheldon overtook the wreckage to take his second Indy victory. If only the Californian rookie had entered the Indy 499 and a half, he’d be celebrating today. Still, sponsors National Guard gained some great exposure. And coincidentally, got the same again in NASCAR’s big race from the weekend, the Coca Cola 600, when Dale Earnhardt Jnr – again sporting the National Guard sponsorship – ran out of gas on the final corner. Now, it was only coincidence, wasn’t it? Monday Unlike the bus I needed to be on, I didn’t miss it. Luke Donald won the PGA Championship at Wentworth to become the new world no.1. He replaces Martin Kaymer, who in February took over from Lee Westwood, who at the tail-end of last year took top spot after Tiger Woods had gone off the road. Like buses, you wait on a no.1 coming along and suddenly you get three in quick succession… Swansea City (I remember when they were only a Town) become the first Welsh club to achieve Premier League status. Their success comes a few hours after Dave Jones was sacked. So no reunion tour for with The Monkees, then… Tuesday As I Tweeted, I’ve always been an admirer of FIFA president Sepp Blatter ever since he started his speech to the assembled ranks and friends at the annual Scottish Football Writers' dinner a dozen years ago with the line “Most people think Switzerland is only famous for cuckoo clocks.” A dozen years on, they don’t just think that Sepp… Wednesday And through Twitter, basketball star Shaquille O'Neal says he’s quitting. Now that came of something of a surprise to his current team, the Boston Celtics, who said the player had not notified them of his plans. A 7’1’’ ex-Celt? There is no word on whether Neil Lennon is monitoring the situation… Thursday First minister Alex Salmond will meet representatives of the Old Firm to make sure he has their support in the battle against sectarianism. Salmond will conduct meeting with new Gers owner Craig Whyte, and with Celtic chief executive Peter Lawwell. Nice to see him being even-handed when it comes identifying the main players. So we can expect word of a meeting with Hearts owner Vladimir Romanov soon, Mr Salmond? Friday Normally I wouldn’t pass comment on Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin. But they make it in to my sporting week because I spotted they were looking for a tutor for their kids Moses and Apple. But not just any old tutor. For they must be able to teach Ancient Greek, Latin, French and Spanish, and be able to give lessons in sailing and tennis. I can think of one or two tennis players who could probably pass as French or Spanish teachers. But when it comes to sailing and Ancient Greek, the only person I could think of was that bloke Jason, who palled about with those Argonauts… – Tweet Stewart Weir with thoughts and comments, @sweirzDonate to us: support independent, intelligent, in-depth Scottish journalism from just 3p a day
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