I hadn’t even arrived back home yesterday when Spurs had a player sent off. Personally, I think taking Wilfred Zaha round the throat is not merely acceptable but should be considered a good thing for the benefit of all. But the referee saw things differently and sent Tanganga off. And then Crystal Palace scored. The fact that their manager is (for the moment, in between relegations) Patrick Vieira, the ex-Arsenal captain, only increased my sense that another week in Greece would have been a far superior option to traffic jams on the M40 and conceding our first goal of the season to South London scummy upstart wide-boys and low-lifes, Crystal Palace. I needn’t have worried. By the time I was home we’d conceded our second and indeed third too. Making the whole trip worthwhile. (?)

However, I’m not a football fan any longer. I only ‘sing when we’re winning’ and as we stopped winnin, I’ve stopped singin. I’m a tennis fan. Not just a tennis fan but an Emma Raducanu fan. Possibly her biggest fan in the whole country, if not the whole world. I’m prepared to back up this seemingly vacuous statement with an intense program of stalking, obsession and unhealthy attempts at unwanted communication.

I’d like to put Emma’s victory into perspective. Unfortunately, I’m not very good at that kind of thing, often being prone to mild exaggeration verging on the hyperbolically ridiculous. But the nature of her victory in the US Open championship is like climbing Everest whilst you’re still wearing nappies. It’s like writing a best-selling book before you can speak. It’s like my 96 year-old dad sailing round the world. (He doesn’t know how to sail but I might stick him in a boat anyway, just for fun).

But really, there are no parallels in the world of sport. I won’t bore you with the superlatives and records because they’re all over everything today. And tomorrow, and in fact every day until Tim Henman comes back on court at Wimbledon again. If you missed the match then I feel sorry for you. Not because it was totally brilliant from start to finish but because you’ll have even less to add to any conversation today than you normally do. Everyone remembers exactly where they were when Emma Raducanu won the NY Open.

If you did miss it, you can get the replay on BBC radio. That’s the best catch-up. It goes like this: “forehand drive down the line-taken early on the backhand two-handed cross court met at the net but only parried awayforasuperbbackhandovertoavolleybackdownthelineforthewinner!!!!“

And its only about 2 hours long.

Happy Victory Sunday

A xxxx