Derek McGovern watched his first-ever Grand Prix in full and – shock, horror – he liked it! But he’s still no fan of Jenson Button….
David Coulthard, wash your mouth out. There are few countries less offensive than Canada and few sports stars more clean-cut than Coulthard, but the two combined to produce the most startling piece of TV sport all year.
Asked by ITV reporter Louise Goodman minutes before the start of the Canadian Grand Prix if he’d been working on his pit-lane speedometer following a transgression in an earlier race, the square-headed Jock said: ‘I’m just imagining it’s your nipple and I’m going to be a bit more gentle with it.’
For goodness sake, David, this was Sunday at 6pm – for centuries the God slot on telly! In his prime, Coulthard, who wears the permanent look of someone who has swallowed a set-square, rarely said anything worth listening to in interviews, but now that his star has fallen he’s Mr Rent-A-Quote.
Wasn’t it Coulthard who, on hearing of an injury sustained while playing tennis by Grand Prix rival Juan Pablo Montoya, said bitchily: ‘That’s what happens when fat people try to get fit’?
Incident-packed though the Canadian Grand Prix was – and an ‘incident’ in this environment is someone overtaking – it was the pre-race interviews that lifted ITV’s coverage above the mediocre.
Martin Brundle coaxed a few words out of Hollywood superstar Michael Douglas, discovering that he was in Canada working on a film with Kiefer Sutherland, Kim Basinger and Eva Longoria, of Desperate Housewives fame. ‘I don’t know if you have Desperate Housewives in England,’ smarmed Douglas. ‘Oh yes, we’ve loads of them,’ responded Brundle. The genuine laugh he drew from Douglas perhaps gave Brundle the confidence to give the movie legend the kind of brush-off you normally reserve for fat birds who won’t put out.
The role of pole
Where ITV fell down badly – not counting the numerous ad breaks that meant they missed the demise of race and championship leader Fernando Alonso – was their preoccupation with Jenson Button.
‘He was on pole,’ they will argue, ‘we had to do so.’ But even the thickest punter knew that laying Button in Canada was a no-risk prospect – even more than David Beckham, he’s a triumph of hype over substance.
I’ve been trying to work out what it is about Button that’s so annoying. The billion-babes-a-week he seems to be banging rubs me up the wrong way, naturally. Those Shergar teeth, too. But above all I think it’s the name.
Emerson Fittipaldi, Nelson Piquet, Ayrton Senna, even Juan Pablo Montoya – those names reek of speed. Jenson Button speaks of bouncy castles – it’s more formula milk than Formula One. When team orders from pit lane to car were broadcast, I half-expected Button’s mum to interrupt and tell him to get home for his tea.
Given how he started in Canada, perhaps he was strapped to a bouncy castle. Within two seconds, first place became third. It looked for all the world like he’d phoned Renault pair Alonso and Giancarlo Fisichella from his car and said: ‘Look, I’m not sure of the way. You two go on ahead and I’ll follow.’
But perhaps the biggest sin of ITV’s coverage from Canada was failing to spot the reason for Montoya’s disqualification. He went through a red light in the pit lane. Now I know more about the mating habits of Serengeti wildebeest than I do about F1, but I’m pretty confident I’d have spotted this was contrary to Grand Prix rules.
Fair play
The Canadian Grand Prix was the first F1 race I’ve ever watched in its entirety. And, by Christ, it went on longer than Last Night Of The Proms. While it’s true that I’ve expressed similar concerns about other sporting events, how can ITV justify devoting a full hour to the build-up when the European Cup Final involving Liverpool received only 30 minutes?
Meanwhile, here’s a result just in from the women’s Euro 2005 final: Knit 1, Pearl 1. Forgive my flippancy, but why in God’s name were we subjected to goodness knows how many hours of coverage on BBC of this ridiculous tournament? If I wanted to see 11 silly tarts chasing a ball I’d go watch Spurs.
No one’s saying the fairer sex shouldn’t play football – they’ve happily butted in to every other male pursuit so why should they stop now? What I am saying is that I don’t want my TV screen clogged up by it.
I watched England’s final group game against Sweden – how amazing that the only 11 ugly birds in Sweden could all play football. I can honestly say not one would get a place in my local Sunday League pub side. Struggling to cancel out an early Sweden goal, I silently implored England coach Hope Powell to switch to the diamond formation – after all, diamonds are a girl’s best friend.
The Swedish left-back – a more masculine version of Jaap Stam – was the oldest player in the tournament and looked the kind of predator tennis mums warn their nubile 15-year-olds about. She was substituted ten minutes from time, clutching her bollocks. I switched off, clutching my sides.
