DAMIEN DUFF will this morning unpack a suitcase in his London pad after leaving the Ireland camp, on the back of a 10-day stint away from home, to rejoin his new team-mates at Fulham.

AT THIS time of year, American football teams are tasting the white heat of intense pre-season training. Gridiron giants take part in a violent annual ballet as a hulking, heaving mass of athletic hardware crashes into each other in a frantic bid to forge a team ready for the NFL season.

It was with a very real sense of journalistic integrity then, reader, that I too undertook my task, shackled to a very sick head

Eurosport commentary, Milan San Remo, 1992: “And it’s Kelly in there as well! A previous winner of the race; what a finish we’re going to have. The firemen are behind pumping in the coals to try to catch Argentin, anybody with anything left in their legs is trying to get in position before the descent of the Poggio.”

FROM high in the south terrace or Curva Sud of the Stadio San Paulo, Napoli’s ultras hang a bespoke banner at every game. Stitched carefully into the sky-blue fabric is the poetic epithet: “I have seen him, now I can die”. The tifosi need not say who they mean.

HELLO, sports fans! Do you feel unrefreshed while attending a big match? Want to party like it’s 1999, but not pay Celtic Tiger prices for a pint?

THE neglected, rabbit-eared television set flickers high on the wall in the corner of the bar. Though ignored, Galway’s Joe Canning nervelessly taps over another free on a night in Semple Stadium that would ultimately see Cork slip quietly from the All-Ireland hurling championship.

A FORMER rider in standard-issue team colours with neat red hair pinned down under designer shades, Kurt Bogaerts doesn’t really look it – but he drives like Evel Knievel late for Mass.

Sports apparel giants carefully planning what elite golf stars wear at the Open this week is par for the course, writes Adrian Russell, as Turnberry acts as catwalk for a €6 billion business.