Sunday, 3 May 2015

Some days, the gods of sport just decide to wee on your head

I woke up yesterday morning with four preferred sporting outcomes in my head:
(1) Manchester United to beat West Bromwich Albion, in order to guarantee Champions League action next season.
(2) England to get into a winning position in the third and final test against the West Indies, thereby ensuring a series win.
(3) Judd Trump to win his semi-final against Stuart Bingham in the World Snooker Championship semi-final, just because it's fun to watch him play.
(4) Manny Pacquiao to beat Floyd Mayweather, because the latter has a habit of trying out his punching technique on women - sometimes in front of their children.

Well, United lost their third Premier League match in a row, making themselves vulnerable to both Liverpool and Spurs when it comes to a top four finish.

England's batsmen threw away the advantage given them by an utterly brilliant display of bowling by James Anderson by ending the day with their second innings standing at 39 for 5 on a demonless pitch. FFS.

Stuart Bingham beat Judd Trump in the final frame of their best-of-33-frame contest by winning frame 33 (it was a fantastic match, and Bingham deserved to win, but still...)

And Mayweather beat Pacquiao on points.

Quadruple bummer!

To top it all, those deeply unloveable, whining, referee-blaming, sulky park-the-bus specialists, Chelsea, became Premier League champions.

I now have to think of a way of propitiating the gods of sport so that they'll at least allow England to beat the West Indies. Maybe Root and Moeen Ali will spin them out 50. Maybe pigs will fly.

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