Six weeks after the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Centre, President George W Bush flew to New York to throw out the ceremonial first pitch in the World Series baseball game between the New York Yankees and the Arizona Diamondbacks. It seemed like the perfect location for this week’s Republican convention, but now the city that never sleeps is preparing a noisy reception for Bush.
There are two kinds of people in this world, according to the hit movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding: there are Greeks and those who wish they were Greek. The bad news is neither kind is queuing up to watch the Olympics in the Greek capital.
Perhaps the main reason for the lack of local support for the games is the embarrassment caused by successive drug stories.
Special Report: Olympics 2004
While Jake White busies himself growing back some hair, he has earned the right to carve this motto above his dressing room mirror: “I told you so”. The Springbok coach has earned instant celebrity status by guiding his team to the Tri-Nations trophy merely by keeping his own counsel and backing his own judgement.
You’ve got to love this guy Jose Mourinho. The new Chelsea boss, who guided Porto to supremacy in Portugal, just doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. With Roman Abramovich’s open chequebook at Chelsea, he has no choice but to achieve European dominance by next May.
For once the Premiership is not going to be the be-all and end-all of the weekend headlines. England’s record-breaking cricketers won’t take the glory. Neither will the Olympians in their final weekend of manic medalling in Athens. As for the Michael Schumacher-dominated Formula One Grand Prix in Belgium, forget it.
The past week has seen a flurry of feminist presidential activity. President Thabo Mbeki is emerging as a leading new man — the term to describe that individual who has seen the light, found his feminine side and can walk the talk as well as change the nappies. It’s never too late for a brother to find his inner woman and not too early to anoint his chosen woman.
Once upon a time grand prix racing stood for glamour, risk and thrills. Its heroes were men of courage and style who drove into the mouth of danger without flinching. No one knew or cared how much they were paid. Their fans were happy to sit in long queues on their way to the circuit. That is no longer the case.
The Vereeniging Kart Club played host to the third round of the Firestone/Bridgestone National Karting Championships on August 21 and 22. Those who trekked out there were treated to a red-hot display of racing. A full programme provided for non-stop action.
Imagine that you juxtaposed photographs taken in the late Eighties, one of Ronald Reagan, the other of Frank Williams, one showing an intense scowling figure, the other a light-hearted joker. Eminent historian Frank Mclynn indicts the dour and ruthless head of the Williams team.
While a breakneck Arsenal overtake rivals in the record books, let’s hear it for the slowcoach. Even in his youth Dennis Bergkamp did not specialise in outstripping opponents and now that he is 35 the Dutchman is more suited than ever to being the still point in a side of incorrigible sprinters.