Sport

Kevin Pietersen’s autobiography is the saddest book of its type I’ve ever read. By its end you begin to think that KP and the ECB deserved each other and realise that, a) no-one deserves that and, b) there’s no way this marriage of convenience – for such it was – could ever have ended happily or with each side fondly wishing the other all the best in their future endeavours. And it was a contractual arrangement from the very start. Pietersen’s book is clear about that: KP “tried too hard” to fit in with England and Englishness. He now realises South Africa is his “real home” and he should never

The Spectator, 22 August 1914: WHEN so great a business as war comes upon England, the sports and games of the country fall into their proper places. Cricket has been packed into an obscure corner of the daily newspaper. Golf clubs have expended their activities largely in trenching vacant ground, and in forwarding subscription lists to the Prince of Wales’s Fund. The Scottish Football Union, sending its contribution to the Fund, exhorts its members to prove what they may owe to the discipline and self-control given by the game. But these games—just because they are merely games—are less seriously affected than other country activities. The sports of hunting and shooting

Simon Barnes has written the diary in this week’s issue of The Spectator. Here are his opening two paragraphs: ‘Sport is like love: it can only really hurt you if you care. Or for that matter, bring joy. You can’t explain sport, any more than you can explain the Goldberg Variations: you either get it or you don’t. So it can be hard to justify a life spent among bats and balls and leaping horses. I spent 32 years writing about sport for the Times, the last 12 as chief sportswriter, all of which comes to an close at the end of this month when I become News International’s latest economy,

Sport is like love: it can only really hurt you if you care. Or for that matter, bring joy. You can’t explain sport, any more than you can explain the Goldberg Variations: you either get it or you don’t. So it can be hard to justify a life spent among bats and balls and leaping horses. I spent 32 years writing about sport for the Times, the last 12 as chief sportswriter, all of which comes to an close at the end of this month when I become News International’s latest economy, doomed to wander Fleet Street (is it still there?) wearing a luggage label that reads ‘Please look after

If you’re walking through any built-up area in England between 8 and 10pm this Sunday and you hear a cheer you can be pretty sure it means one thing – Germany have scored yet again. One of the great myths we were fed as children in the 1980s and ‘90s was that the English don’t like the Germans, and in particular the living representatives of all things Teutonic on earth, the German national football team. We love ‘em, and I imagine most English people will be supporting Germany on Sunday. I remember being stuck in the countryside in 2006 and watching the Argentina-Germany quarter-final in a pub; the place went

Public benefit Public sector unions held a strike over pay. How well are public-sector workers paid compared with their counterparts in the private sector? — Comparing jobs like for like, public sector workers earn between 2.2% and 3.1% more than private sector workers in April last year. — In the lowest-earning 5% of workers, public sector workers earned 13% more than private sector workers. — In the highest-earning 5%, public-sector workers earned 6% less than private sector ones. Source: ONS Fine, fine, fine Network Rail was fined £53 million for running late trains. We are used to public authorities fining us, but how much do they fine each other? £2.5m:

What a fabulously boring England performance. I watched it only because I had this to write and now feel resentful towards you, which is unfair. Because I don’t suppose you want to hear anything about it, really. The inquest into our national team’s appalling performance at this World Cup (“I couldn’t have asked for any more from the players” – ©Roy Hodgson, every game. Well in which case, mate, you’re the wrong bloke for the job.) has of course already begun. It is being said that Woy has been given an easy ride – which is a way, I suppose, of not giving him one. But when we look for

Another fairly unpleasant evening spent watching England playing football. Ah well. It used to be that England were renowned for two things: we could score from set pieces, and we knew how to defend set pieces. In fact we rarely scored from open play – but give us a corner, or a free kick, and suddenly we became dangerous. Similarly, we rarely conceded from set pieces. This was a consequence of the English game, I suppose. Against Italy we conceded from a set piece in fairly lamentable fashion. Worse, though, was the endless parade of wasted corners and free kicks. I don’t know how many corners we had in the

Suspicions that FIFA is an organisation given, occasionally, to a bit of corruption will not have been allayed by the first match of the 2014 World Cup. Brazil won with two goals from a player who should have been sent off, including a penalty which clearly wasn’t a penalty, while Croatia had a perfectly good goal disallowed and were denied a rather more clear cut penalty themselves. Incidentally, I say “Brazil” – and so do ITV. So do FIFA. And so does the OED, Wikipedia and Google. But not the BBC. The BBC says “Brasil”. Of course it does.

Mr S attended the international rugby union 7s tournament at Twickenham on Saturday, which was graced by some 76,000 people – mostly yuppies on the razzle by the look of things. I regret to report that this crowd of genteel, if beery, English people loudly and roundly booed the Scottish team. The Scots ran in several tries against the hapless Portuguese, and each score was met with open resentment, while every Scottish handling error, missed tackle or infringement was cheered with glee. The noise was shattering, the atmosphere hostile. No other team received a barracking (as is right: booing is abhorrent). Even the Australians, who are the default villains at Twickenham, were given a measure of respect. When

Osborne protégé Matt Hancock has climbed rapidly up the government ranks; leaving plenty of enemies in his wake. The ruthlessly ambitious Education and BIS minister is always in a hurry; but that does not look like it has done him much good for an actual race: ‘When Haverhill decided to host its first ever half marathon I thought it only right, as the local MP, to sign up to it myself. Now only 4 weeks away it’s certainly crept up on me. I am running for St. Nicholas’ hospice in Bury – a fantastic hospice that helps so many families in Suffolk.’ Jokes aside, you can sponsor Hancock here.