Some of the best writing about sport in recent years has been done by journalists who tend their soil, so to speak, in another parish.
The annual Ferrari junket to Madonna di Campiglio in the Italian Alps last week is, understandably, regarded by motor-racing journalists as the king of freebies.
It seems churlish to be having a bitch just when two enthralling Test series are being played out in Australia and South Africa.
It’s time for the traditional, much-coveted Spectator Sports Awards, and this year your judges have been busier than Mitchell Johnson’s tattooist as we look back over a memorable 12 months.
Quite how much tawdrier the plotting and deal-making for the 2018 football World Cup could become it is hard to imagine, and how appropriate that not just Sepp Blatter but officials at England’s campaign are so keen to denounce the devastating Sunday Times investigation into Fifa corruption.
Andy Anson and Simon Greenberg are two splendid, clubbable chaps. Their current gig is running England’s bid to host the 2018 World Cup, and forgive me for sounding disloyal but I hope these two delightful fellows find themselves disappointed when Fifa votes on the 2018 and 2022 bids in early December.
Roger Alton reviews the week in Sport
On Snooker (2001) by Mordecai Richler
Cricket writing, in the age of professionalism, affords less room to dreamy scribes.
There are those of us who, asked if we play golf, reply: ‘No, I like women.’ A relaxing game in pleasant surroundings it may be.
The first game played by the Allahakbarries Cricket Club at Albury in Surrey in September 1887 did not bode well for the club’s future.
Sport, say those who write about it, is only the toy department of daily journalism.
The Last Game: Love, Death and Football, by Jason Cowley