I can see where Barry Glendenning is coming from:
"I don't buy this stuff about players being tired. When I was a kid I used to play football from after breakfast in the morning until it got dark at night every day during the school holidays, taking occasional breaks only to eat, or play tennis and/or golf. What's more, the standard of football we were playing was a lot higher than that of most SPL games." [From his minute-by-minute report of Celtic's victory against R*ngers in today's Guardian.]
It's an old joke and it's fitting that he got it out of the mothballs for this special occasion.
Tennis, golf and breakfast. I think Mr Glendenning was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
Still too dazed, heady and in a dreamlike state to cough up a few comments about the game - now would be the perfect time for me to try and get my head around dialectical materialism - but I thought I would post a link to the Guardian's minute-by-minute report as part of my ongoing blog project of constructing a shrine to my once fading memory. No I don't know what that means either, and I just transferred the words from my head to the keyboard to the screen.