The Badger’s least favourite time of the year is coming, and since the Badger is an absolute playa, it isn’t Valentine’s Day; it’s Super Bowl Sunday.

It’s the day when half the population of Ireland pretends to be American, not by eating too much fast food or bombing the Middle East, but by sitting down to watch American football. The Badger’s main problem with American football used to be its ridiculous name. Calling a sport ‘football’ when the ball is so rarely kicked in a match used to irritate the Badger, but since watching the endless series of handpasses in Gaelic, it’s become apparent to the Badger that the use of feet is not a vital aspect in naming a sport ‘football’.

But there are so many reasons to dislike American football, not least the time it airs this side of the Atlantic. The Badger is nocturnal, yet still doesn’t bother to watch the NFL; is the Badger alone in thinking that that time of the night should be dedicated to hunting mice?

Not to badger on about time, but when more of a game is spent in studio analysing the plays, than on the field, you’re probably not watching the best sport.

The Badger will concede that the NFL has some of the best athletes in the world, but it remains less a sport, and more an anorak’s wet dream, since the sport’s platform is completely based on statistics. A player can’t be judged by anything but a number on a page, to the point where watching a match is more like watching an outdoor maths class.

American football is the basis for movies including Remember the Titans and Any Given Sunday, so it is also responsible for drunks and coaches of underage GAA teams poorly retelling the speeches, and attempting to recreate the dance, in a feeble attempt to replicate Al Pacino and Ryan Gosling. Surely this is a crime grave enough to ban the sport?

And then there’s Michael Vick. Is it unfair to judge an entire sport by the actions of one player? No, because the Badger says so. So, one of the NFL’s best players of the last decade gets bored and organises some dog fighting rings? Again, the Badger may be alone here, but he doesn’t agree with this.

So the Badger will not watch the Super Bowl XZII$Q. In all honesty, the Badger would rather see what’s going on in Michael Vick’s back garden than watch the Super Bowl. It’d probably be easier on the eye too.

The Badger, being both black and white, is race neutral. You’d think this would make him immune to racism, but in fact he has the worst of both worlds. Not only does the Badger have to put up with disgusting stereotypes and names born from hundreds of years of oppression, but he also has to accept that he has absolutely no rhythm. So the Badger knows all about dealing with discrimination, whether from angry farmers or in the world of sports journalism, where badgers are outcasts.

Now the Badger hates many things: any tries scored by Chris Ashton, Jamie Redknapp’s use of the word ‘literally’, Rafael Nadal’s t-shirt collection, but racism is right at the top of the list. Joining it are footballers with ridiculous public lives and average players who are considered world class simply because they’re English.

You may have guessed by now that the Badger doesn’t particularly like John Terry. It’s a hatred that has simmered for years, one which cooled during his banana skin moment in Moscow, only to boil over again in the last two years.

When the Badger heard about the extramarital affair with Wayne Bridge’s girlfriend, he finally had a reason to lambast the world’s slowest defender for something more than his blown-up head. Then the Badger heard about the gagging order; what he thought was just kinky foreplay with Bridge’s girlfriend turned out to be a court injunction to silence the media.

Thankfully for the Badger, £150,000 a week can’t buy you privacy anymore, and the story leaked through every facet of social networks and eventually through the mainstream media. After more accusations were hurdled against Terry, this time of racism, the Badger has found yet more reasons to hate JT.

The Badger is of the “guilty until proven innocent” mind, especially when it comes to Terry. His exchange with Anton Ferdinand is similar to an incident between Luis Suarez and Patrice Evra two weeks ago, but unlike the Suarez-Evra incident, there is video footage of the abuse, and unlike watching an episode of Gilmore Girls, it’s easy to read lips in this case.

So how can Terry wriggle his way out of this one? Would he follow in the paw prints of the Badger and be a man’s man? No, he’d deny it of course. Terry claims he only said these words in order to deny using such language. The Badger can’t help but think of OJ Simpson.

Despite everything, the Badger does have a small grain of respect for Terry, for never has a man with the footballing ability of a drunken rhinoceros risen so high. Despite the tomcatting, despite the alleged racism, despite the complete inability to do anything with a football apart from head it, the man who makes Paul McShane look like a superstar, is captain of England and Chelsea. So the Badger will give credit where it due; to John Terry – the man who’s risen higher than any sex-addicted purported racist could ever dream.

The Badger is confused. Once again he finds himself in a mental maze that no amount of digging or third-person references will help him get out of. Were the Badger not immortal, he would have a lot of questions for the God of Sport when he died. You see, the Badger has just discovered that darts is a sport.

Now the Badger may hate many things; wheelie-bin locks, Michael Longley’s poetry, any TV3 documentary, footballers who wear hairbands, but right at the top of the list is darts. The Badger always just thought it was an excuse to get men into a pub, so imagine the Badger’s shock when he found out that this hogwash of a pastime is a sport, and that one of their ‘sporting events’ was taking place in Dublin.

Is the Badger mad in thinking that a sport requires some sort of movement? The Badger was annoyed enough that snooker and bowling are sports, but darts really stepped on the Badger’s tail.

Is it so much to ask that a professional athlete have some form of physical fitness? That diabetes cannot be used as a legitimate excuse for an athlete not to compete? Yes, fat people need sport too (they need it more by definition), but is it too much to ask that they not be ushered into a sport where you burn as many calories drinking your pint as you do playing the game?  Surely Andy Reid can be their motivation, not Phil “The Ironic Nickname” Taylor.

Darts players cannot get past the Badger’s list of what it takes to be a sportsperson; if your body fat percentage is more than your age, you shouldn’t be a professional athlete. If hydration during training is a pint of lager and a whiskey chaser, you shouldn’t be a professional athlete. If you’re Robbie Savage, you shouldn’t be a professional athlete.

So when The Badger turned up to the Citywest Hotel, where the World Grand Prix Darts was being held, to laugh at the men dressed like Charlie Sheen, he wasn’t surprised to find others had joined him. What he was surprised about was that they turned up to cheer these men.

Among the Badger’s kind, these men would have been eaten long ago because of their inability to outrun predators, but among a race of drunken humans, they are hailed as gods, and good ones too, not those useless Mormon gods.

What is there to cheer for? The Adonis on stage mastering the incredible technique of throwing a piece of winged metal at a circle? The ability to multiply numbers by two or three really quickly?

Or is it endearing to see people who are clearly not athletic become athletes, for these people to punch above their weight (though the Badger doubts that there’s anyone above their particular weight) in the world of sport, and share the same generic title of “athlete” with Usain Bolt?

The Badger realises that all this discrimination will lead to more allegations of Nazism, so will finish with a compliment to darts. The Badger’s lack of opposable thumbs means that overweight drunk men can beat him in a “sport.” Kudos to them: theirs truly is a triumph of the will, in a sport that will (unfortunately) last a thousand years.

The Badger is annoyed, very annoyed. Why? Well the answer is very simple – Carlos Tevez.

There are so many reasons to absolutely detest this man. He gets paid more than any person with an IQ lower than their shoe size should, yet spends his time complaining. In fact, he complains more than the Badger, yet not quite so eloquently – probably because of the whole him being a petulant child thing.

The Argentine, although it would be safe to say Argentina would prefer to not be associated with him at this stage, has crossed the line with his gaffer, Roberto Mancini; ironically, by not crossing the sideline.

Tevez wouldn’t go on against Bayern Munich when called upon in the Champions League last week because he was upset at having been ignored after warming up a few minutes before. The Badger would like to remind you that this sorry excuse for a grown man earns over half of Barack Obama’s annual salary… every week.

The same guy tried his very best to move away from Manchester over the summer, after a failed attempt three years ago only got him a few miles down the road to another Manchester club. Unfortunately for poor old Tevez, no one wanted to pay the big bucks for him. How sad. So he stayed and now, for some reason, he feels the right to act as if Man City owes him something. Such behavior is unbecoming of someone who has so little else besides football going for him.

So bad, in fact, is this whole Tevez debacle, or ‘Tevezgate’ (because its not a real incident until someone puts “gate” on the end), that FIFA Vice-President Jim Boyce spoke out in favor of banning Tevez. As formidable as this idea sounded in Boyce’s potent Northern Irish accent, the Badger can’t help but feel that banning someone from playing because they refused to play is not a great punishment, and misses the point a bit.

But footballers aren’t all bad (well, most of them are, in fairness), like the great Lionel Messi. The Barcelona star is slowly transforming into a god-amongst-footballers, so we should start putting up a tree on his birthday and exchanging gifts. If it’s not already apparent, Messi is the “winning” part of the Badger’s very clever title.

The Badger loves nothing more than throwing on a miniature Barcelona jersey and watching Messi make fools out of his opposing defenders. The little winger is mesmerizing to watch, except when he plays for Argentina, but we can only assume that’s because he’s been hit in the face by another of Tevez’s mood swings. He’s started this season as he starts every season; sublimely.

Ok, that’s enough football talk. We’re not getting into GAA though, because Dublin won over a week ago and frankly who even cares anyway – the Badger would like to apologize to the forty loyal Dub fans who might have been offended by that comment and the 300,000 others who hopped on the bandwagon for the day.

In keeping with the topic of whining from those who really shouldn’t be, the Badger would like to hit out at the world of men’s professional tennis. Scotland’s Andy Murray has said that there may be a strike on its way from all the really good tennis players of this world if their schedule isn’t shortened.

The Scot, who’s usually such a bubbly and cheerful guy, feels he’s being made play too many tennis matches to earn the money he wants. Of course, the option of foregoing some money in order to get the rest he needs is always on the cards, but the Badger doubts the tennis pro will pursue that avenue. Basically, Murray needs to stop being so impressionable and copying his mates in the NBA. They’re a bad influence on him.

You’d think all this cynicism would turn the Badger off sport, but really it’s the best part.

Now, after hearing the news that Audley Harrison will participate in Strictly Come Dancing, the Badger can rejoice, as once again there will be a dancing muppet on television. The Badger will be forced to skip Saturday night La Liga to watch Harrison give a different definition to the word Messi.

Okay, the Badger knows Harrison wasn’t as bad as he’s made out to be. He got buried by the weight of expectation after an Olympic gold, one of many who couldn’t make the big jump from amateur to professional.

It’s the greed which annoys the Badger: challenging David Haye with no chance of winning just to get the million pound payout, then truly selling out by moving to reality TV. And ‘Strictly’ of all shows? Harrison is about as suited to dancing as a badger is to writing a sports column.

Meanwhile, in actual boxing, the fight that everyone wants to see, Pacquiao vs Mayweather, won’t go ahead because Pacquiao doesn’t want to take a drug test too soon before the fight. Now, the Badger won’t profess to knowing everything – how Wayne Rooney’s hair implants have made him look even worse still alludes him – but if the Badger learned anything from his good friend Michelle Smith, it’s that if you don’t want to submit to a drug test, it’s probably because you’re on drugs.

So, with Pacquiao-Mayweather slipping through the paws of the boxing world, attention turns to Haye, who says he’s willing to postpone his attempt to become the next Dwayne Johnson and fight Vitali Klitschko. The Badger enjoys a good heavyweight fight, and Haye has made the heavyweight division exciting again, but is it too much to ask for the Klitschko brothers to go twelve rounds?

The Badger realises that the match would consist of two lumbering Ukrainians jabbing continually at thin air, but surely the entertainment value of the build-up would be biblical, like a modern day Cain and Abel. Despite the Badger’s public protests, the brothers claim that the match will never happen, but not because of drug testing issues or financial disagreements. Oh no, much more serious than that: their mother won’t let them.

After years of decency and respect towards this fine institution, years of ignoring its inferiority to Trinity and years of shifting the abuse overseas to where sport is professional and most talented Irishmen make their living, the Badger let loose his opinions on UCD. But it would seem UCD just wasn’t ready for the Badger.

Two weeks ago, The University Observer (the paper you’re reading, just in case you were afraid you might be accidentally reading The College Tribune) printed an article, a very well written and completely accurate one, in which the Badger spoke of this university’s rugby boys. Actually, it was the club’s scout, John McClean, who took the brunt of it. As it turns out, it didn’t go down too well with the men’s club.

The Badger is annoyed, very annoyed, and rightfully so. After months of covering dull Division 2 rugby and making the golden boys out to be even greater than they already think they are, one utterance of negativity and UCD RFC gives the silent treatment. It’s so unfair.

Well, in case you were expecting an apology, the Badger has only this to say: Grow up and stop crying over what a small furry animal said about you, but thank you for reading the Badger’s column nonetheless.

Now, onto a real sport. The Badger is going to compliment someone for a change: José Mourinho is a cool guy. He epitomises what coolness really is, and that is being awesome and knowing it. For nine years, the handsome devil pleases his home fans across the continent by not losing in front of them – a simple but brilliant strategy.

His arrogant, and at times girly, mates in Madrid went a bit loco recently, however, and decided to pull a disastrous practical joke on their fans by losing to Sporting Gijon. It’s obvious, well at least it is to the Badger with all his superior intellect, that Mourinho simply sought to add ‘Most Stupid Loss’ to his growing list of records, because being unbeatable gets old fast – take it from a particularly impressive Badger who learnt this first hand.

Speaking of being great, the Badger can’t help but notice how lacking in this area English sport is at the moment. This may be a risky move by your favourite “short-legged, heavy-set omnivore” – that’s how Wikipedia describes badgers, a description this Badger finds rather insulting – given England’s inability to take criticism, but let’s give it a go anyway.

It’s a sad state of affairs when Ireland beat you in sport, but when they beat you at a sport they didn’t even realise they competed in, you know you’re in trouble. The Irish cricket team, comprised mainly of the worst players from the southern hemisphere, recently beat the inventors of the game at the World Cup.  Yes they have a World Cup, despite the fact that only a handful of people play the sport and even less know the actual rules. This was embarrassing for the English, because apparently there were a few people with too much time on their hands watching.

Incidentally, some powerful people on the cricket board decided to avoid this happening again by removing the Irish from the next World Cup, but keeping the English in it for some reason. Something about cutting down on the bad teams to avoid boring cricket matches. The Badger didn’t realise England were a good team and that good teams can make cricket interesting.

On that note, the Badger is sad to say, he must sign off one last time for this year. Twelve issues of world class sports reporting and some other stuff, mostly filler, is all she wrote – not in the case of sport, women never write sport – and your cuddly Badger wants to thank all of you who have followed him over the past few months. You have truly wasted your time.

For far too long the Badger has kept his mouth shut about UCD sports and how much of a mess they are. First up on the Badger’s list, UCD Rugby.

A system so up its own bum that getting onto the team is purely an arm width contest. Admittedly though, head honcho John McClean does go around Ireland watching the respective Schools Senior and Junior Cup rugby from the four provinces to scout for genuine talent (the Badger has never quite worked out why he watches the Junior Cup).

McClean stands back, looks at young boys throwing around an oval ball with their hands that are attached to sculpted arms due to protein supplements, and pulls the ones he feels have potential aside for a quick chat.

“Listen here son, you could play for Ireland Under 20s or Connacht A someday. I can help you achieve that goal. Come with me to UCD and I’ll get 150 points shaved off that Arts Omnibus entry requirement. I’ll even get you free accommodation in Crunch fitness and if you’re ever left failing an exam, you just let McClean know.”

If the excessive muscle growth due to steroids hasn’t stimulated the epithelial layers of tissue to close over their ears, they might just barely work out what the honcho has to say, and they usually follow him to UCD pastures.

On a whole, the recruiting methods of UCD Rugby are working. Top of Division 2 and unbeaten in the league this season, they must be doing something right at the Belfield Bowl. Then again, they can scrape a victory out of nowhere against Ballynahinch on a blustery afternoon at the Bowl, but can they pass an exam on a suffocating afternoon in the RDS Industries Hall?

The Badger’s main gripe is that it’s one rule for them and a kick in the face for the rest of us. Why should their excessive arm width mean they get a leg up? The Badger has personally witnessed former UCD golden boy Fergus McFadden leave a UCD Christmas exam after 40 minutes so he could pop over to Leinster training across the way on the RDS pitch.

After this rant, the Badger can expect his pitiful self to be turfed out of college for blasphemy (or something like that) against Hugh Brady’s favourite Belfield toy. Adoration beamed through his eyes when he saw his team of babies in blue spanked 24 -41 by a Combined Universities side in a match that honoured 100 years of rugby at UCD. Of course caviar and champagne imported from the most southern part of South France was served up before the showcase event at Chez Brady (all being funded by your reg fee).

Alright so, the Badger may not have blown the lid off UCD rugby and revealed all the series of back handed payments or tours abroad paid for by Colonel Gaddafi (that’s actually true), but he has set the ball rolling. The Badger’s watching you, John McClean.

Letters to the Badger

For all those sending enquiries as to why the Badger is referred to in the male form, you are very naïve. Did you really expect girls to write about sports? Even if the Badger was a girl, he would still make reference to himself in the male form so that his opinions remained respected and not maligned. Pfft, women in sport. And don’t use Karen Brady as an example, an abundance of facial hair means she doesn’t count.

Note: Jealously was a principle agent behind the writing of this article.

L’Arsenal’s new Bourne Identity

This is exactly what we don’t need. A four-year plan bearing fruit will only give Enda Kenny ideas. Arsène Wenger and those pesky young adults are finally coming to fruition and in the Badger’s opinion it’s about time.

French Frog in Chief, Wenger, has been promising for years that this bunch of “kids” would eventually form the basis for his Napoleon-esque all-conquering team. Since their last trophy, many of these “kids” have been discarded from the squad, but the crème de la crème have risen to the top.

Their convincing victory over Birmingham in the Carling Cup final is the end of a baron spell, trophy-wise, and the start of a new era for the North London club. A new dawn is upon the Gunners, they have the youngsters to maintain their second place position in the Premier League and maybe if Fabregas and Van Persie can stay fit, get together a run of form that could see them move into fourth or possibly even third.

First in sight for Arsenal should be their mouth-watering clash with Barcelona. That will be the true test of their intentions. Losing the ‘Arscelona’ tie will prove they are on course for that status-quo season where they cement their place amongst the other multiple runners up.

(At the time of going to print, the Carling Cup final between Arsenal and Wales was yet to kick off.)

The Badger’s supremacy

Oval ball discussion seemed to work a treat in the Badger’s last column, so why not keep the trend going? The Badger is going to rant again about the sport played by scumbags and watched by idiots by having a swipe at the very idiots that keep the oval ball rolling.

“Why are we idiots?” is the question that rugby fans everywhere are barking at the Badger like a pack of viscous dogs. Simple answer really. None of you actually know the rules to your own sport. So the Badger’s answer to your snarled question is ‘how can you watch a sport if you don’t know the basic mechanisms?’

In a way, it is a typically male thing to do. Men are generally assumed to be construction geniuses, but when was the last time a man used a set of instructions to make the IKEA chest of drawers? Never. So without having a clue how they actually assembled the piece of furniture, men have an end product.

Much like IKEA flat-packed goods, rugby teams usually triumph without actually having a notion of what they’re doing. Some will call the Badger ignorant for maligning rugby fans like this. They’ll say, “you don’t understand” and “you’re ignorant”, but as a very famous Badger once said:

“Ignorance is born out of a sense of self-righteousness and being 100 per cent correct about everything, all the time. So bugger off and shove your opinion, because I’m right.” – The Badger Snr.

Back to the topic at hand, rugby fans and players alike are idiots. They don’t know what happens in the scrum, they have no idea how what actually happens in a ruck and some can’t even fathom the notion of catching the ball.

So what’s the Badger’s summation? Switch to football. The concept is pretty simple to comprehend. Pass the ball to the non-English or British Isles player, let him run with the ball into the box, watch him dive and get another player to score the penalty. Simplez.

The Bourne Ultimatum…Cricket

Supposedly, somewhere in the world, a World Cup for cricket is taking place. Who knew? Even more surprising for the Badger is that Ireland are actually in it. What’s an even bigger surprise is that the Badger hates cricket.

Not like his reasoning for hating rugby, the Badger’s hate for cricket genuinely does stem from ignorance. It is a stupid sport that is so long-winded and exclusively stuck up its own rectum that even the players seem slightly embarrassed by what they’re doing. The Cricket World Cup is pretty much a gathering for all the Protestants that still reside in old Commonwealth countries to get together, laugh about famine and burn money while pretending to play a sport.

The exclusivity and mild racism of cricket is defined by the Irish team’s squad selection, which draws on players from the Irish province of South Africa. The Badger never knew that the Cape of Good Hope was actually in South Cork, but then again, most of our football players are from other countries – except Roy Keane, he actually is from South Cork.

Return of International football

International football has long been regarded as the place in football where the Jedi of the sport usually reside. Since how long? Since the Badger said so.

It had a mini revival this week as something seemed to be in the air when players ventured to all corners of the world to kick around a ball for their country, but there is still one lingering question on the Badger’s mind that he can’t work out.

Since when did International football become cool again? Not even cool, but fun? Did the English press and fans alike not promise everyone post-World Cup that they would never get excited about international football again? Now one win over Denmark and here they are, proclaimed favourites for Euro 2012.

But just as the rest of the world seemed to be enjoying high quality football with matches like Germany v Italy, France v Brazil and Argentina v Portugal, Ireland had to drag down the mood by hosting the most pathetic and hilariously disjointed football tournament.

The Nations Cup had its moments last week, but most of those moments came from Scotland, so what does that say about Ireland? Not much, but maybe Ireland can gather themselves, regroup and come back stronger in 100 days time when this tournament unfortunately resumes.

Adding up the attendances, it was another embarrassing show for the Aviva Stadium, with not even the combined attendances from both nights hitting full capacity for the stadium. Maybe the Badger is overreacting, because Ireland are hardly any worse off than Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland. Sure, we actually won 3-0.

The Badger’s only plea is to not be simply satisfied that we have the best-decorated house on the street at Christmas.

Return of the Six Nations

Annually the Badger has a swipe at rugby and its Neanderthal ways, and here is the 2011 edition. Considered the lesser, more retarded, brother of football that likes banging its head against the wall, rugby is a sport whose fans can barely pool together 46 chromosomes between them.

Unfortunately, the Badger can’t even drum up any excitement for this year’s tournament. Though the Badger does like that the sport, it’s difficult to accept some of the pretty boys into the ranks of the top teams. It’s nice to see that the likes of Ben Foden, Morgan Parra, Toby Flood and Martin Castrogiovanni are now preferred to stone-cold pieces of meat that lack motor functions from the shoulders up.

The Badger’s main gripe, however, is not with the rugby players, but mainly with the glory-hunting fans. Every year people get excited about the Six Nations because it is a tournament that Ireland has a genuine chance of winning.

Being Irish is about being a graceful loser and not a glory hunter. We are a country that should be accustomed to losing and be satisfied with just being involved. So all those pretend rugby fans that pop their heads up for this minute segment of the sporting calendar, switch to soccer and get in line with the rest of the true Irish sport fans.

Return of Kenny

Liverpool are a club covered in tradition and trace their roots back to the holy trinity of Jedi-like managers that gave scousers something to be proud of. So it is rather pathetic that Liverpool are forced to call on Kenny Dalglish to save their nosediving season.

This time, however, the buck will have to stop with him, unless they are intent on digging up the decomposed corpses of Bill Shankly and Bob Paisley. Though it looks like King Kenny has this all under control. Albeit their draw against Wigan may not have been on the plan, but stability has been restored and Liverpool have reverted back to being a “building for next season” team.

Opening Crawl

A short time ago, in a country not so far away…It is a good time for female activists everywhere. The powerful “dark forces” at work in the Rupert Murdoch empire have sacked Andy Gray and his life partner Richard Keys has gracefully followed him out the door.

It is a true shame for football that this dynamic duo have had their relationship with Ford Super Sunday football fans cut short just as the Premier League title race became a one-horse race. Manchester United have only started to build a points gap between themselves and the other top-20 sides in the league, and football fans are now expected to cope without analysis from Keys and Gray on this pulsating title race.

These two noble steeds have guided us through football since the sport was invented by Sky in 1992. Imagine, without Andy Gray we wouldn’t have the classic lines such as: “Take a bow son”, “oh you beauty”, “if you stand off this fella, he’ll kill you” and “there are a lot of tired legs wearing Tottenham shirts”.

Keys’ parting comments should resonate with all us football fans to get a grip. “The World has gone mad,” according to the former Sky Sports womaniser, and that it has. It is a mad world where these two pioneers of football are forced out of the sport, and the Badger is ashamed to be associated with football at this time. That’s not to say he hasn’t faxed his CV to BSkyB.

Fines

It appears to be the case that no one can put a foot wrong in this ball game anymore without being maligned, reprimanded or sacked. What has caught the Badger’s eye lately has been the flurry of ridiculous fines that have been dished out by authoritative bodies looking to oppress the man.

Recently it seems to be those that embody what the Badger loves about the game that have gotten the shitty end of the stick. Blackpool have been fined £25,000 for fielding a team of eleven Premier League-registered footballers against Aston Villa in November, while Lionel Messi received a yellow card and was ordered to pay €3,000 for saying happy birthday to his mother after he scored for Barcelona against Racing Santander.

Transfer Season

By the time you’ve scanning the Badger’s column, football will be just be over the hype of the frenzy that is the Winter transfer window. All of the procrastination from football clubs over the past month had accumulated into hysteria as everyone tried to force through that deadline day deal.

This madness that surrounds football is a pet favourite of the Badger. He loves to gossip and speculate, more so about his friends or enemies, but the careers of footballers will do.

As is the status quo, Sky Sports jumped on this bandwagon and milked it dry (yes, milked a bandwagon dry). They pulled out all the stops this year to make sure they have every aspect of it covered. No stone was left unturned and no Harry Redknapp phone call untapped.

Sky Sports’ biggest feat this year was actually finding the winter transfer window in its physical form. Bryan Swanson was entrusted to manage the transfer window for the last month and has done an outstanding job. Watching him touch the transfer window and drag Luis Suarez’s mug shot across the screen with flashing speculation bars was the insight we all needed into the turmoil that goes on behind the glass.

After seeing the madness associated with the transfer window personified, the Badger has suddenly realised what he wants for Christmas 2011.

Andy Gray and Richard Keys Gluais:

Banter together – Explaining the offside rule to a woman

Oh you beauty – I don’t respect you as a work colleague because you’re female

Dark Forces – Fem-Net Ireland

Take a bow son – You’d give Karen Brady a go

Can you tuck this down here for me? – Let’s have office sex