I’m glad this World Cup thing is going to end soon. I’m not going to go into any kind of rant here about the quality of football (or lack thereof), the terrible refereeing decisions, the blatant cheating or anything so negative. No, I’m happy it’s going to end soon as I’m coming down with Stockholm Syndrome.
I have made no bones about my disdain for commentators and pundits, whining and complaining about them a few times on here and many, many times everywhere else. But this consistent contact I’m having with this bunch of reprobates is making me… not hate them so much.
I smirked a few times just now during the BBCs post-match coverage of the second semi-final. I chuckled when Gary Lineker said “Hollish”. I even thought Alan Shearer showed a bit of character when he was talking about Pedro’s chance. I’ve clearly gone crazy. But this is nothing – nothing- compared to yesterday.
See, yesterday ITV co-commentator Jim Beglin was unable to carry out his banal chatting duties during the first semi-final. As a result of this, and as a result of ITV’s inability to provide more than one member of staff for any given role, main commentator Clive Tyldesley was left to carry out the job on his own. At any other time I would laugh at his stupid voice and fat, red face. But because of my constant exposure to all of these morons I’ve been left in such a state that I actually felt a little bit sorry for the man.
I felt sorry for Clive Tyldesley. I felt sympathy for the man. I didn’t over-analyse every comment he made in the match, and in fact went so far as to not mind some comments. I… have succumbed to Stockholm Syndrome. The worst of all the syndromes. The worst.
This is why the end of the World Cup on Sunday can’t come fast enough for me. Then I can go back to some old fashioned Dransfield hate.