Real Drama

The Champions league is brilliant. It's also an overbloated, money sucking maelstrom that isn't what it claims to be and that should be returned to it's original format- but mainly it's brilliant. Week nights usually mean repeats of New Tricks and too much time spent on the internet, but every couple of months my evenings schedule is punctuated by watching two of europe's top teams slug it out.

In terms of romantic connotations there are is no better tie to watch than Liverpool vs. Real Madrid, such is the affinity of each club with the competition. Couple that with the Anfield atmosphere under lights and Steve Rider's hair and you have a match of high promise. Last nights entertainment was set to be especially enjoyable given the tight nature of the tie; Liverpool a goal ahead but wildly inconsistent against a Madrid team stung by criticism and eager to atone for their previous performance.

In the end it was none of these things. It was however an utter mauling of one of Europes footballing giants by a team that lost to Middlesborough the Sunday before last. Liverpool fans would have obviously been overjoyed by the verve and spirit with which their team played but I was just a bit gutted. I had prepared myself for an evening of high drama and instead got the equivalent of a boxing match between Rocky Marciano and Frank Spencer. There was brilliance in Fernando Torres' imperious 90 minute rebuke of Pepe as human not fit to lace his boots, after being kicked so unceremoniously by him for 45 minutes 2 weeks ago in Madrid, but I wanted a close game, decided by a moment of brilliance or a catastrophic error.

I ended up turning over to the Test match that I derided on here recently. England looked beat and in the end they were, but for a moment it looked like I would be watching at the time of a momentous victory. When James Anderson sent Darren Powell's middle stump catapulting from the Trinidadian turf ,with a yorker that had more swing than a frisbee, there was a glimmer of a beautiful, famous victory; a triumph of offensive over negative cricket. But as the overs that followed trickled away with Denesh Ramdin and Fidel Edwards blocking as the West Indians had done all day it was clear it would be a case of so close, but yet so far regardless of how many times Monty Panesar clapped his hands and screamed interminable pleas to the umpires. In the end Andrew Strauss will probably wish that it had never come so close. The West Indies never endangered the cautious total of some 250 runs and the lunchtime declaration yesterday looks terribly mistimed. It calls Strauss' judgment as captain into question and confirms him as pin cushion for Ian Botham's barbed jibes my favourite of which yesterday went something like "One over left here. England need two wickets for the win. Perhaps more excitingly lets see if the West Indies can get the 137 that they need "

Although its certain I prefer tight finishes I think Beefy would prefer it if England gave themselves a little more time in the future.