SPOTY

Sunday* sees us in reflective mood and enjoying a second consecutive win by our beloved Hornets which has propelled them alarmingly up the table, inducing a vertigo-like but pleasant sense of smugness as peer down on the unfortunates below. Perhaps it’s not too late to rescue something from this season after all?

But today’s main event is undoubtedly the Beeb’s Spurts Personality of the Year which has decamped to the grim north of Liverpool and in which punters (ie. you and I) are supposed to participate by voting for the erm best spurting personality of the year.

Bit of a shit name it has to be said, ‘personality’ what does that mean exactly? You can’t help feeling Britain’s Favourite Sportsman would be more accurate.

Still there’s a bumper crop to choose from this year and for our money it’s down to Lewis, Chris Hoy or Rebecca Adlington. Each is a worthy contender: a quite super double ‘Medal’ from Adlington in the pool, especially since we’d won bugger all for ages and of course our admiration for Lewis is well known. Has there ever been a more exciting climax to an Formula One season?

But it’s Hoy who has to edge it: three Golds is a stunning achievement and cheering him on in the keirin was a highlight of our spurting year. Wonder if the greater British spurting public will agree?


*No funny pictures today, it’s the day of rest and we can’t be arsed….

Fond farewells...

It’s Tuesday hooray! And Lewis’s victory still washes over us with a warm gentle glow of satisfaction despite the numerous Ferrari conspiracy theories currently spreading around the net like a dirty water swirling around the plughole.

Massa drove brilliantly and deserves credit for his dignity and magnanimity in defeat but Ferrari have had more than their fair crack o' the whip this season.

There’s just one thing left to say and that’s a resounding and wholehearted ‘thank fock for Glock... ‘

Elsewhere we’re saving our bile for a full and extended rant on Stanford’s sordid fest but well done the Windies boys (masquerading as the Superstars) and poor form from England to patronisingly say ‘they need it more than us’.

But Tuesday is reserved for a sad farewell to Aidy Boothroyd now ex-Watford manager, who parted company with the mighty Hornets yesterday. Watford are in a downward trot, 15 points from 15 games, parachute payments running out and any decent player sold the moment he looks like he’s worth a bob.

Even bent Elt has skipped down from the yellow brick road to say he’s concerned, but it’s difficult to know what our hometown club are thinking. Yup, we’re in a parlous state, but not even ‘arry Houdini could work his magic on the current Horns and Boothroyd is one of the best young managers in the country. Not long ago he was guiding us to the Premiership and the FA cup semis but at this stage can anyone seriously do any better?

Let’s hope this is one decision they don’t have cause to regret.

At the death

Holy shit that was close, closer than a close shave from Charles I’s headsman, but finally, triumphantly, Lewis Hamilton nipped his rain spattered McLaren past Timo Glock on the very last corner at Interlagos to pickpocket fifth place and become the youngest ever Formula One world champion.

This was not a day for faint hearts and it began with a heavy shower on the grid which had virtually the entire field (sans Kubica) scrabbling for intermediates and had the watching audience (ie us) muttering darkly about strange portents and bad omens.

A nerve jangling start eventually saw Hamilton settle comfortably into fourth and throughout the race he kept it there or thereabouts while Massa sped off at the front like a man possessed. All seemed to be running to script, but a Grand Prix is an unpredictable as a woman’s mood and the twist in the tail this time was the rain – normally Hamilton’s natural ally – which started to come down as the race reached its denouement.

The fat lady was just about warming up her pipes, when it was all back into the pits for a last set of intermediates as the few laps ticked down like the second hand at an execution. Pushed to within an inch by the impressive Vettel, Hamilton was forced to concede and dropped to sixth place and it looked it had all slipped away from him again.

Yet if there’s one thing sport in general and racing in particular teaches you, it’s to keep going to the end and as we sat there despairing, McLaren were more sanguine having spotted Glock’s dry-shod Toyota sliding around like a newborn lamb on a skating rink. They cut it fine, finer than a treble zero grade sandpaper, but on the last corner Lewis nipped past Glock and through to deserved Championship glory.

Ferrari’s garage erupted in premature triumph and then desolation as realisation dawned; Massa was a mass of tears underneath the helmet, but Lewis and Britain’s joy was unconfined at this narrowest of victories. Over the course of a long and rollercoaster-like season he deserved it.

It should be the first of many.

Pre-race tension

Okay last chance to post this workaday week since we’re off at an industry awards show. Don’t worry we’re not nominated (but organising bizarrely) and any interruptions to the all day drinking even for a quick spurt would be about as welcome as an answer machine message from Russell Brand and Jonathon Ross.

Just a quick one then to preview this weekend’s big event – nope not the latest episode of the Standford wives – but Sunday’s big race which we’re looking forward to more than we can say.


Anyway we speak of course of Lewis’s triumphant ascension to the F1 title. He can’t screw it up two years in a row can he? Course not. There’s been a lot of talk of tactical races, keeping his foot off the gas and playing it safe and driving a 'safe' race.

Pure tosh of course Lewis is a pure born racer and any attempt to do things even slightly differently will take the edge off his natural advantage.

So here’s our piece of shit advice for the tuppence fuck all it’s worth. Put your foot down, qualify first and win it from the front.

Oh and don’t blow it! We'll be watching...

Chinese Grand Prix: So boring it was exciting

And so to Sunday where we were up at the previously un-discovered hour of eight bells to catch the Chinese Grand Prix. Not ever really a natural environment for a sports hack (except to nab a couple of headache pills before going back to sleep), it’s a cold grey murky world at that time of the day, only enlivened by a warming cup of char with a decently sized snifter nestling in it.

Still, following last weekend’s dismal showing from Lewis in Japan, we felt we had to be there live to see the drama unfold and we weren’t disappointed.

We say drama, what we actually mean is procession and as a race, this was deeply deeply tedious stuff, with Master Hamilton making a perfect start, disappearing into the middle distance and giving the trailing Ferraris a huge metaphorical finger.

The victory was as tedious as it was inevitable, so boring it was perversely exciting, as Lewis simply ate up the laps and took the chequered flag by a distance.

Hamilton’s been (wrongly) criticised in the past (and even the past two weeks) for being too aggressive, too arrogant, too much of a risk taker, but they’re exactly the qualities which make him such a great racing driver.

However on this occasion he was just glad to be grey and we’re extremely happy he was made it that way.

Japanese Grand Prix – post-race analysis....

And so to Tuesday and our post-race analysis of Sunday’s Japanese Grand Prix and once again the headlines tell their own story...

“Impatience ....Lewis is chucking it away ...just like last season ...needs a calmer head ...wilts under pressure...”

What utter crap. There’s little doubt Lewis could do with a dose of Schumacher’s icy calm running through his veins but he could also do with an even handed approach from the sport itself.

Is F1 simply massively biased towards Ferrari? Well to our admittedly jaundiced eye it seems immensely so. So let’s have a look at those race incidents in order.

Hamilton made an awful start and panicking tried to undertake Raikkonen into the first corner losing a load of places. Not great, but par for the course on turn one of any Grand Prix and simply not worthy of a penalty. Lewis gets a Drive Through.

So onto lap two and Massa deliberately rams the McLaren and couldn’t have hit it more amidships if he’d been driving a U-boat. Massa effectively takes his championship rival out of the race and deserves a points deduction for such blatant gamesmanship. What does he get? A simple Drive Through.

Finally and most conclusively later in the race Massa comes haring down the start finish straight and rams into the hapless Bourdais who’s blamelessly holding the inside line as he exits the pits. A clear cut case or apparently so, but instead it’s Bourdais who’s punished and Massa who picks up a bonus point on top of the one he’s already purloined.

What further tricks can F1 conjure up to help tilt Ferrari over the line to another undeserved championship? We’ll see 08.00am Sunday we guess.

Legal Eagles

More legal news today (call us Rumpo of the Bailey’s coffee) as Sheffield United look to be quids in following an independent tribunal’s verdict that Carlos Tevez was worth three points to West Ham during the 2006-2007 season.

Surely the assassin-faced Argentinean hitman was worth a deal more than that? Well possibly, but Tevez also scored the goal that secured the vital three points that kept the Hammers up and condemned the Blades to walk the relegation plank.

His registration was highly suspect and it was harsh on Sheffield at the time, but surely claiming back £30 million in compensation now is equally harsh on the current West Ham?

Predictably Lewis Hamilton won’t be picking up any additional points after an appeal against his controversial penalty in the Belgian Grand Prix was not even heard.

Hamilton’s case is a lot better than Sheffield’s but it’s never an edifying spectacle when anyone attempts to settle sporting matters at the bar rather than on the pitch.

Post race recall

Out-rage-ous! You can colour us mightily pissed off today. We were originally going to go off on one with an extended rant on the iniquities of Setanta, who have unsportingly refused to share England highlights with a terrestrial audience.

But alas no that particular line of invective must wait for another time as our seething levels of bile have been sent surging by the Stewards Enquiry into yesterday’s Belgian Grand Prix.

Civilisation and possibly the entire world/omniverse as we know it may all be about to disappear into a black hole in Cern (and by the way did we miss a memo, which twat greenlighted that?) but some things are more important than the impending end of the world and civilisation as we know it.

At the end of one of the most exciting Grand Prixs in recent memory, which had us literally hopping and hollering on the sofa, the F1 stewards rescinded Lewis Hamilton’s win with a highly dubious penalty for cutting the chicane.

The story of the race? Capitalising on Hamilton’s early spin, Raikkonen dominated for nearly the entire race, but with just a few laps remaining, the rain began to fall and Lewis, back in the hunt, slowly began to reel in Kimi until he was right on his tail.

In the midst of a gripping old fashioned wheel-to-wheel duel in supremely sketchy conditions, Hamilton and Raikkonen go into the Bus Stop together and with Kimi holding his line. Rather than crash, Lewis is forced to run wide gaining a slight advantage, but crucially letting Kimi retake the lead as they cross the start-finish line.

Then it’s game on again and as Kimi tries to defend, Lewis makes a breathless pass on the inside before being rammed from behind at the next corner. Down the road Kimi overtakes again, before crashing out as both cars try to avoid a spinning backmarker and Hamilton using his supreme rainmaster skills, nursemaids the McLaren home, 14 seconds ahead of Massa for a superb win.

Or it should have been. The perfect rejoinder to a sport often accused of lacking excitement, this was nerve-shredding head-to-head racing at its finest and to sully the result with such a dubious recall does F1 absolutely no favours at all.

It also does nothing to dispel suspicions of an inherent Ferrari bias at its highest levels.

If the positions had been reversed and it was a Ferrari driver standing on the podium, say Michael Schumacher a few years ago, the suspicion lingers that the manoeuvre would have been applauded and the result would have been allowed to stand.

Such highly questionable decisions immensely damage F1’s credibility as the pinnacle of world motorsport.

The Right Stuff...

It’s Monday and while the days slowly tick down to our summer hols, we were heartily cheered by Lewis Hamilton’s win at Hockenheim yesterday.

Okay it’s just over half way to go in the championship now, but the MP4-23s are starting to look seriously quick (well Lewis's one anyway)and Hamilton was absolutely serene yesterday. Even the team’s rather naive tactical blunder in not pulling him in when the safety car was deployed, just gave Lewis a chance to show what a driver he is passing Massa and Picquet in supreme style.

But if Lewis has got the right stuff, quite clearly the England cricket team haven’t. The talent is there, but the selectors are failing to give Michael Vaughan the right side to lead into battle. Against South Africa selection has been appalling: Ambrose shouldn’t bat a six and arguably shouldn’t be in the side at all. His gloveworks fine, but he’s never going to average 30+ in test. It’s got to be Prior for our money.

The selection of Mark Pattinson is all kinds of wrong. Nothing against him personally but his bowling’s been innocuous and to leapfrog him above squad players like Chris Tremlett, Simon Jones, and even Steve Harmison is so foolish to the point of ridiculousness. We can’t even pick the good Australians.

At around 80mph and edging towards 30 he’s never going to be a long term prospect. Surely they can’t have picked him so he’ll slot right out when Ryan Sidebottom’s fit again?

At 130-4 on Monday lunchtime, England are not so much staring down the barrel as having it rammed into their collective eyeball.

Raising Their Game

And so to Monday and with the weekend rolling around faster than we have resolved once again to stop snorting the Drain Unblocker – the memory lapses are beginning to just ...well ...hmm ...sorry ...where was I again?

But even after some late Saturday night DJ-ing and partying in Brick Lane with Mrs Spurt, a belated return to the ‘Ding saw a full programme of Sunday spurting goodness to enjoy.

Lewis Hamilton cleaned up the British GP, proving he’s more effective in the rain than a one-piece Kagool and with half the GP season gone and a three way split at the head of the table, the Formula One title race promises to be closer than a brother and sister from the West Country.

But the main course was of course Nadal versus Federer at Wimbledon in a five setter which was seemingly destined to last all day. One of the truly great modern finals which Nadal deservedly won, Federer also proved what a great champion he was by conceding such a gracious defeat.

This has all the hallmarks of one of the great modern spurting rivalries which has undoubtedly revived our flagging interest in Tennis (equally possible is that we just needed a post-Euro 2008 spurting fix to keep our summer high going).

However if we’ve one complaint it’s that both Federer and Nadal are too bloody nice by half and we’re missing the sniping, bitching and dissing that normally accompanies this kind of sporting enmity.

Come on boys let’s see some proper needle: someone call someone’s else’s mother something unpleasant: Rafael: make some adverse suggestions about Roger’s clothing line; Roger: suggest to Rafa that it’s only girly men who sculpt that level of buff to play tennis or tell him his biceps are uneven.

In short gentlemen, let’s put some effort into making this a real contest. Both of you need to raise your game.

Playing Catch Up

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Monikers

Too. Much. Sport. Not three words we’d ever thought we’d ever write in succession but it’s been that sort of weekend with the Test series against the Kiwis to wrap up, the Canadian Grand Prix, Euro 2008 kicking off and half an ear to keep on the tennis too.

First up then good news for Poland in the F1 and an extremely happy Mrs Spurt who immensely enjoyed Kubica’s maiden win, which made up for the 2-0 spanking from Germany shortly afterward. Alas poor Lewis, easy mistake to make, I mean it’s not as if red’s the universal colour for stop... oh wait

However chief victim Kimi Raikkonen didn’t exactly cover himself in glory either in a startling display of petulance , "I'm not angry but what Hamilton did was inexplicable. More, it was stupid." He’s right of course inexplicably smashing into the back of someone for no good reason is inexcusable, stupid even, an opinion no doubt shared by Force India’s Adrian Sutil. He at least had the good grace to keep his gob firmly in neutral, when Raikkonen managed that feat just one short race a go.

To the Test victory next and a comprehensive caning for the Kiwis with James ‘modesty forbids’ Anderson coming over all shy when named man of the match. “I just managed to get the ball in the right areas and they missed it, which was nice," he said.

Not. Really. Good. Enough. Clearly Anderson has made some great progress, but to really take it to the next level he has to work on one more vital area, to whit his nickname, which is a worryingly underwhelming ‘The Burnley Express’.

Now that is just not going to terrify the world’s leading batsmen and clearly coach Ottis Gibson has some work to do. ‘Whispering death’, ‘Big Bird’, ‘White Lightning’ ‘The Rawalpindi Express’ those are the kind of names to aim for and let’s hope young Jimmy has something suitably forbidding in place in time for the South African series.

Suggestions welcome in the comments field below. We’ll kick you off with Jimmy ‘one bad mo’fo’ Anderson.

Perhaps he could take a leaf out of Manchester United defender Rio Ferdinand’s book, who’s in Nigeria to promote education through football and has been given the title of Chief Fiwagboola by King Akiolu.

Apparently it stands for 'character maketh wealth' rather than ‘attention deficit disorder’.

Handbags…

A weekend of old skool partying this weekend leaves little room for spurting endeavours and it’s a weary, wasted yet happy correspondent who eventually limps home to fall asleep during Sunday’s Barcelona GP, which, Heikki Kovalainen’s
big stack apart, is a Ferrari processional, although it’s good to see young Master Hamilton sneak back onto the podium.

But now spring has truly sprung, when “a young man’s fancy turns to thoughts of love”, or at least ‘I fancy a bit of that’, you’d imagine some of it might rub off and a spirit of comradeship or at least détente might pervade the sporting air.

But honestly, not a bit of it, we stop pounding the spurting beat for one short weekend and what happens? The whole sporting world decides it’s time to play handbags at ten paces.

First up: the battles of Stamford Bridge; now for the neutral it’s hard to decide what to despise more Man Utd’s arrogance or Chelsea’s tedious efficiency, but the 2-1 win was a good result meaning the race will go to the wire.

But onto the important bit the violence and England skipper wannabe Rio Ferdinand, who accidentally booted a female steward when he meant to kick a interview room door in frustration. Rio we thought you’d eliminated those annoying lapses of concentration, door = big, wooden, steward = female, human. Absorb, reflect, yeah?

Next up a classic spot of ‘afters’ where following the game Park Ji-Sung and Partrice Evra got stuck into Chelsea’s ground staff in a warm down spat of epic proportions and lusty blows. Disappointing, not least because they forgot the cardinal rule: let’s keep violence where it belongs: on the pitch and during the game where we can all enjoy it.

Finally, the continuing sorry saga of Indian spinner Harbhajan Singh who reportedly bitch-slapped fellow Indian team mate Sree Santh in the Mumbai Indians vs Kings XI Punjab IPL game. Sree Snath had opened with a vicious innocuous pleasantry on the lines of “bad luck on losing the game old fella” and for Singh that was enough for the red mist to descend. Is he related to Craig Bellamy by any chance?

Anyway TV failed to capture the incident but apparently Sree Santh subsequently wept on the outfield and had to be comforted by team-mates.

What a big girl.

Today’s Spurt was bought to you in a spirit of love and understanding by the United Weapons Manufacturing and Export Corporation, ‘a safer world through bigger guns’. If you’d like to sponsor a spurt, send us a mail at World of Spurt

Ron’s revenge! parts 1 & 2

Well it’s been a magnificent weekend of sporting spurt, encompassing not only the nag ride of the year, the Grand National (come on Red Rum! Oh bugger), two excellent FA cup semi-finals which saw Portsmouth and Cardiff triumph, but the Bahrain Grand Prix in which Lewis Hamilton proved he is human after all by engaging anti-stall on the grid and then shunting his ol' best mate Ferdinand Alonso.

Even our beloved and mighty Hornets shocked us by registering a 2-1 home win. Wonders will never cease.

Enough ripe material to author several spurting essays you might think, and indeed that would normally be the case if we hadn’t come across two stories this weekend that simply would not be denied. Both concerning men called Ron.

First up washed up,show pony erm outrageously skilled Brazilian playmaker Ronaldinho apparently fancies a move away from Barcelona this summer and one of his potential destinations? Manchester City. Laugh? We almost shat ourselves.

Stranger things have happened undoubtedly - Jay Jay Ochoca hearing the voice of god which directed him to join Hull City for one - but we’re hard pressed to think why Ronny might forsake the Catalan giants or indeed the old folks retirement home which Milan’s become for the dubious delights of Manc? Unlikely doesn’t quite seem to cover it.

Perhaps Sven ‘shagger’ Eirikson has a secret weapon up his sleeve to lure the buck toothed footballing genius and we can only think it’s his very own little black book replete with the mobile numbers of impressionable ladies which might be added to the deal as a sweetener. Even Ronny, who apparently lives with his ol’ mum (bless), might find such a of carnal knowledge difficult to resist.

Secondly Max is back! Back on the front page of the News of the World that is in more Nazi Orgy action as the F1 boss is done up like a kipper by one of the five girls who participated in his NAZI ORGY SHAME. This one looks set to run and run and hoorah for that too, it really is comedy gold. It's the story that just keeps on giving.

However a delicious theory was posited to us over the weekend by a fellow F1 fan that Max’s downfall and this scandalous - and we have to say in case the lawyers are watching - completely unsubstantiated rumour is actually the revenge of Ron... Ron Dennis. His theory? Max Mosely pissed the McLaren boss off one too many times and this is case of Ron’s revenge not so much served cold but at absolute zero.

Completely ahem false obviously, but sometimes you just wish these things were true.