Saturday, May 06, 2006


I must confess that I did watch the Leeds v Preston game on Friday night, I can only liken it to seeing a bird you used to go out with and were really into. She walks into the bar and you want to have a look at who she's with, how she looks etc. If she looks great you'll chance your arm, if she's blimped you're glad she dumped you. I didn't chance my arm.

So today this 40 year old got to see his first ever full Irish league game, I say league but it was actually the Cup Final. And, as if orchestrated purely for me, the protagonists were the top two sides from the Premier League. From here on in any stupid mistakes are down to my naivety regarding the league, I am a newcomer who's only previous experience has been to see Linfield in the Setanta Cup matches and usually painful Glentoran highlights involving lots of shabby defending.

It wasn't a game for the purists was it, lots of honest endeavour and two sides cancelling each other out.But Cup Finals can be like that. The Glens always seemed to be at a stretch to keep up with the Blues. The wind appeared to make it difficult to play good football and there wasn't a lot of creativity on show. Things certainly improved in the second half, though this is not intended to be a review of the match and who needs another one.

I was delighted to see everything go off so well, it looked like a showpiece and the day was probably only two pound coins away from perfection. What about Jackie and Andi? It was all the aged commentator could do to stop himself from whipping his kit off and making a run for her; I'm sure she would've pulled him for being offside. Then there was Jackie and Marty. They were like two old codgers reminiscing about their salad days, then every so often one of them would notice that there was an Irish Cup Final between the Big Two happening right under their noses.

But the best was yet to come. Have you seen the Simpsons episode where Homer gets to be the mascot for his favourite team? David Jeffrey has. His was the move of the day, more creative than anything that had gone before. It oozed skill, balance imagination; the execution was perfect, the game plan unpredictable as he looked one way but moved the other. There were echoes of the genius of Johan Cruyff - total football, total domination; Congratulations Linfield.

Anyway, I watched the closing credits really carefully, but I didn't catch the name of the choreographer, can anyone help?

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