How sport ruined my life (well, a day or two)

For football fans all over the UK, Europe and indeed, the world, it’s the theme that sends a shiver down the spine. It’s that majestic piece of music – with its brass instruments and the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields chorus – that heralds the greatest players onto the hallowed turf of the planet’s biggest club competition. It is the theme for the UEFA European Champions League, and here it is. There’s really nothing like it, apart from maybe Fleetwood Mac’s The Chain (F1), or the Pavarotti’s Nessum Dorma (BBC’s World Cup theme 1990).

As we prepare to watch what should be a classic final; a Madrid derby – Real v Atletico, let’s not think too much about the time when Arsenal came within touching distance of winning the thing. Back in 2006, even with a player sent off, they held onto their lead until the last 15 minutes, when Barcelona scored two quick goals to win it. That night, I really didn’t storm of to bed at the final whistle. A grown man wouldn’t do a thing like that, would they? Er, no. To this day, I’m not bitter. No, really.

So much for not thinking about it, and that’s reminded me of some of the other times when sport has ruined my day, maybe the week, and sometimes even longer. There will be others, but these are the ones that spring to mind.

This first one is the most recent, and it didn’t spoil the day, but just the couple of hours that the game was on. It was last Saturday’s FA Cup final, with Arsenal, chasing their first title in nine years (can we please dispense with that stat now?), going up against Hull City. “Easy,” said the pundits. “Arsenal have struggled all season against the big boys, but against the likes of Hull, they’ll have no trouble.” Two down in ten minutes later, not quite so easy. In fact, what followed was one of the tense two hours of football I’ve seen. The stress as Arsenal tried to claw back those two goals continued until they finally drew level in the 71st minute. Only in the 109th minute, when Arsenal went ahead, did things seem a little more comfortable, and then what ecstasy at the final whistle, more than making up for every missed chance, and penalty denied (we should have had four). The ups and downs of football in one afternoon. Clichéd but true.

That had a happy ending, the other examples do not.

The last day of the 2014 Six Nations rugby was finely poised, and for England to end the day victorious, they’d have to beat Italy, and home France could beat Ireland at the Stade de France. Well, England did their bit, by beating Italy 52-11, running in seven tries in the process. If they’d scored a few more, they’d have won the championship on points difference. But it was left to the French to do England a favour, which they were doing until the last minute, when Ireland scored with seconds to spare. Gutted. I was watching with my dad and it ruined both our weekends.

Let’s turn next to the last World Cup. South Africa 2010, and a second round match for England against the much fancied Germany. England arrived after a 1-1 draws with the USA, a glorious goalless draw against Algeria and a spectacular win – 1-0 – over Slovenia. So hardly a great amount of hope going into the Germany game. At 2-1 down, five minutes from half time, Frank Lampard hit an absolute beauty from 20 yards out that went straight over the head of Manuel Neuer, before wheeling away to celebrate. But the ref never gave it, and we went on to lose 4-1. Well, at least it wasn’t penalties. Still, I wonder what would have happened if that goal had counted. Sepp Blatter apologised, which means a lot. Cheers Sepp (P.S. we’re all looking forward to Qatar).

Sticking with football, it’s Euro 2004, and this one against Portugal did go the distance. All the way to penalties, which, invariably, we lost. It wouldn’t have come to that had big Sol’s ‘goal’ counted. Yes, it’s another phantom goal, but this one came in the last minute of the ninety, and would have sent us through to the semis. Another night of heartbreak, and another night ruined. It was John Terry’s fault – apparently he was the one impeded the goalkeeper – I’ll go along with that.

The last entry goes to Tim Henman. Take your pick out of all the nerve-jangling matches he put us through in the 90s (this continued in the late 2000s and into the 2010s with Andy Murray). Many, many hours spent watching him battle to hard and long fought victories (1999 v Jim Courier, Henman won 9-7 in the fifth; 1997 v Paul Haarhuis, Henman won 14-12 in the fifth). But the one I’m going to pick as the one that really ruined my day spanned three days in early July. This was the semi that Henman would finally win, and would take him to the final that he and the country craved. He faced wildcard Goran Ivanisevic. Ageing Goran Ivanisevic. It felt like it would be now or never. Never, as it transpired. Henman lost the first set, but took the second, before waltzing through the third 6-0. Ivanisevic took a rain affected fourth set, and as the players came off for rain again in the fifth, it was anybody’s game as they went back out to complete the match. Henman just wasn’t at the races, losing in 18 minutes. Henman’s last chance had gone, and we had wasted all that time watching it.

Sport. Rubbish isn’t it. It gives you hope then lets you down. I love it, and await the next let down. Saturday 14 June, 23:00. England v Italy at the World Cup. Put it in your diary.