Rejoice, damsels in distress of women’s football! Here he comes, your knight in shining white trainers!

I almost wish I cared enough about something that I would glue myself to a snooker table for it.

Once upon a time, the whistle and flag conferred a sense of moral absolutism. Those who held them were always right, even when they were wrong. There was a dignity about it, even when they got a decision blatantly arse ways.

Maybe Greece will be the war to end all wars. But probably not.

That Carr is gone before a championship ball has been kicked would reflect badly on those who appointed him, were they not already dealing with the fallout from the departure of Karl Lacey.

The timing of Haaland’s Tuesday night feast is not without significance.

No greater love hath any commentator than to lay down his microphone for his fellow man. The ultimate sacrifice.

Watching Barcelona and United play each other in the Europa League last week put one in mind of late-career Laurel and Hardy, reduced to playing provincial music halls to half full houses

How can rugby be both on the brink of transcendent glory and, at the same time, existential collapse?

Is this new policy the Blues are considering a betrayal of the club's rich history?