Nothing dreamy about this team, my friend...

I have not had a fantasy football team since I was at school, I maintain that there are two good reasons for this.  Firstly, upon leaving secondary school (well, all right, before leaving secondary school), I discovered alcohol and boys.  Now, I can categorically confirm that these two activities alone are far more time consuming than one might think.  Secondly, and more to the point, I feared that having a dream team would affect my hopes/superstitions/opinions on what went on daily in the league.

I was right.

I am officially an underdog

How the mighty fall...

If you've read my blog before, you'll know that when England and India face each other, I have quite a dilemma and can therefore be somewhat of a fence sitter.  This time though, things would be different.  I would choose a team at the start of the series and I would support them heart and soul.  I chose... India.  And then England decided to get their shit together.

Regarding this last test, in fairness, we were pretty evenly matched during the first innings.  Broad's hat-trick was a significant turning point and gave a glimpse of the coating that we would receive on Monday.  His destruction of our lower batting order was something that India just never recovered from.  Then in the second innings, England were actually magic.  An impressively skilful batting display (even with Bell's cock up, by the way aren't India nice?) set an almost impossible target.  Balls.

Best of British

I swear that once I've seen the first round of a fight, I can tell you who is going to win. Jammy as I may sound, I was right on both occasions this weekend, so you know, that's basically science right there. Saturday night was everything I wanted it to be; entertaining, dramatic and full of surprises. The winners of both fights (Khan v Judah and Chisora v Fury) were hungry for victory as soon as the bell rang. It was awesome stuff.

Cool, Khan, collected...

  

The second I saw Zab Judah with his top off, I panicked. Not because I swooned or owt, but because he was cut like a mother trucker. He'd clearly taken the prep for this fight very seriously and despite my confidence in the Khan + Roach + Ariza formula, part of me wondered if Zab's experience just might prevail. Then I saw the first round and like I say, I knew differently.

From the off Khan brought the fight to Judah. The bell sounded and a second later Khan was lunging in, letting Judah know that he'd come to play with the big boys. Round 1 - Khan. No contest.

Less BS, more boxing please

Cook gets Burn-ed

This weekend saw Ricky Burns (WBO Super Featherweight Champion) face Nicky Cook at the Liverpool Echo Arena; if you happened to blink in the first round then you'll have been unlucky enough to miss the whole thing. With a clean right hand shot to the body, Burns managed to completely annihilate his evidently injured opponent. 90 seconds later and Cook's corner threw in the towel.

This kind of bollocks really annoys me. Cook has a degenerative spinal conditional, which (whilst obviously awful) in my book renders him unsuitable as an opponent in a title fight. Now that may not be fair, but life, and more specifically boxing, is not fair folks. Of course I admire Cook and his dogged determination, but the reality is that this fight should never have happened.

Thinks aint look too shabby where I'm sat.

In the wake of Haye's defeat, there has been some concern over the future of British boxing. To those casting the damning prognosis, my response is simply this: just you wait for July 23rd. Amir Khan (and his newly reinforced chin) will be kicking off Vegas style against Zab Judah; plus the heavyweight fight of the year (yes, I actually mean that) will be taking place at Wembley between Dereck Chisora and Tyson Fury (his name is Fury!).

It would appear therefore, that the Haye / Klitschko 'panto' was merely a prologue for the main acts of the boxing summer. So, let's have a look at what we can expect from these two epic battles...

All mouth, no Hayemaker...

Anyone who knows anything about boxing will tell you that balance is crucial.  Good connection with the floor and steadiness are the bedrock of proper technique.  So yes, a broken toe is going to bugger things up a bit, if you happen to be boxing in the biggest heavyweight fight of the year.

Going into this bout, I really wanted Haye to win (I thought Klitschko would clinch it though, hence my reluctance to put my moola where my mouth was).  His instinct to blame his injury immediately after losing, shocked me a little and smacked of poor sportsmanship.  Don't get me wrong, I love the guy, in fact I'd quite happily have his babies (I'm a sucker for the guns, what can I say?!).  I just wanted more from someone I respect as much as him.  Haye's since acknowledged that Wladimir was just the better boxer, but he kind of has to say that really, since it's the truth.

Pass me a bucket...

Now, as I write this, Murray is bringing his A game to Nadal and every other sports related tweet I read is about the fight tomorrow.  It is a good weekend for sport.  That said, there's one thing which irks me a little, so I thought I'd share it with you lovely lot.

It's all getting a bit bromanitc for my liking.  McIlroy loves Murray, who loves Haye, who loves him as well etc.  All this patting on the back makes me want to vom.  I think it's great when sports people support one another, but there's a line, and flying back from Hamburg to watch a Wimbledon final, in my book crosses it a bit.

Camaraderie, yes.  Bromance, no.