Declan McBennett, RTE’s head of sport, spoke earlier this week about the national station’s coverage of last year’s Women World Cup and his sense that the tournament had proven to be a Rubicon moment for female sport around the globe.
Mamma mia! “Large public events might be cancelled,” Britain’s health secretary glumly admitted to a brow-furrowed interviewer on Sunday morning, as various worst-case coronavirus scenarios were put to him. Every United fan in the country will have immediately had the same thought: “What?"
Manchester United, Chelsea, and Tottenham were all left scrambling forforwards on what was a damp squib of a transfer deadline day as last-minute panic left United desperately trying to seal a deal for random target Odion Ighalo.
IT said it all about the predicament in which Manchester United find themselves that their 2-0 defeat to Burnley at Old Trafford on Wednesday night felt like a huge deal for the visitors but, in a very strange way, just more of the same for those home supporters who clogged the exits with ten minutes still to play.
Get your thinking cap on. Can you remember a more negative build-up to any United game in your life? I can’t. Try as I might, I couldn’t find anyone sensible who thought the result would be anything other than a defeat. Pressed for a further opinion, most of the lads I know offered various estimates of the size of the new bodily aperture we would be acquiring — “be it torn, punched, or drilled,” helpfully expanded a colleague.
Let’s face it, decades ain’t what they used to be. There was a time was when you knew where you stood with a decade. The sixties? Flower power and beards. The seventies? Sideburns and disco. The eighties? Everything was massive: shoulder pads, mobile phones, hair. You used to be able to tell a decade simply by looking at the trousers involved.