Archive for the ‘Athletics’ Category
Wake Up and Smell the Deep Heat: It’s the London Marathon
I’ve put down some words of advice for nervous London Marathon runners. It’s so indispensable it will probably be read out over a loudspeaker on the start line on Sunday. Regular readers will recognize it as a amalgamated revival of some posts I wrote a year ago. I would say about 50% of the text is new so you may just want to read every other word. Here it is.

Still haven't found Wally.
Goodbye Ortis Deley
I wrote a piece on Monday which contained some denigrating comments about Ortis Deley, the anchorman for Channel 4′s coverage of the World Athletics Championships. Yesterday there was no Ortis, relieved of his responsibilities. Today there was no athletics at all, although the internet says that it is a scheduled rest day.
In my own very optimistic understanding of cause and effect, my post effected the removal of the stricken presenter. An example of how public protest can peacefully bring about regime change.
With this in mind, my friend Wutton has uncovered another crime against humanity: Match of the Day 3. If watching this oddly smug shambles of a programme isn’t persuasive enough then read this article from the Surreal Football website, a far more coruscating polemic than I could manage.
Colin Murray, your day is numbered.
Emmanuel Mutai: The Vomit Comet
Fawning congratulations to all those participants who broke the finishing tape at the London Marathon today. I can only hope that none of you emulated runner-up Martin Lel, who sank to his knees and kissed the tarmac on the very spot Emmanuel Mutai did this just seconds before:
Tasty nice.
Running
I became a runner about six weeks ago. My little sister threw down the gauntlet and in an act of misplaced bravado I picked it up and slapped her in the face with it. Now I’m racing in the Barcelona marathon in March.
To train I’m running home from work most nights along the Grand Union canal. I might have to plot another route though. As the nights get longer the towpath is beginning to resemble a location from Crimewatch. I’m definitely going to get raped down there. There’s even a grubby tent pitched among the undergrowth on the canalside. A badger lives in a sett. A fox lives in an earth. A rapist lives in a tent by the canal.
Currently my right leg hurts. It’s like Joe Pesci put it in a vice and is screaming at it to find out where the loot is. I feel bad that I dragged my legs into this sorry escapade, but I don’t think I can do this without them. To make it easier for them, I went to a special trainer shop where the helpful staff put you on a treadmill and film you at it. They make most of their profits from submissions to You’ve Been Framed.
The video was enlightening. The shoe operative discovered that I am overpronating onto my right foot which is putting my knee and hip out of alignment. I discovered that my slender ankles and enormous feet together make a bizarre-looking combination when committed to film.
I now have new trainers to help me run properly. It’s always a good start when attempting to run a marathon.
P.S. I know it’s a cliche to write a blog about this sort of thing. But the Ashes is a month away and I refuse to talk about Wayne Rooney. So sorry.
A Quick Bowler
I think the below clip answers a lot of questions asked by most cricket fans that have a passing interest in athletics. Whenever I watch Usain Bolt break another world record I can’t help wonder what would happen if he had a ball in his hand and he was heading very rapidly towards Asad Rauf. I have the same thoughts about most people from the Caribbean. I reckon Rihanna might be a rangy opening batsman.
And now I’ve got confirmation about Bolt’s cricketing prowess. He’s awesome. Obviously. Perhaps my favourite part of this footage is the sight of Bolt and Gayle walking off smiling like the two West Indian legends that they are. With a small man holding a polysterene cup.
Something Other Than Cricket
So the dust begins to settle on the Ashes. Which not only creates an awful powdery mess but also gives the opportunity to reflect elsewhere in sporting globe. This summer I have treated cricket like the favoured child of the family, ruffling its hair and generally showering it with attention. But other stuff has happened too.
The World Athletics Championship in Berlin seemed like a jolly lark. I only caught about 30 seconds of it but that was time enough to watch Usain Bolt sprint off with a couple of world titles and crack both his records in the process. He may have gone even faster had he not been watching Andrew Flintoff at mid-on while he was on his starting blocks. The massive talking point of the meet was Caster Semenya. It won the ladies’ 800m final at a Jonathon Trott but then found itself at the centre of an as yet unresolved gender controversy. I feel sympathy for it. Maria Mutola competed at the top level for over a decade without so much as a suspicious glance at the upper lip, despite the fact she could quite easily have been Devon Malcolm’s more rugged younger brother.
Something tells me I haven’t got over the cricket yet. Pesky kid.









