There were a couple of sporting events in Lancashire over the weekend which appeared to herald a new era. The old was ushered out and the new ushered in, or so it seemed.
Whether the results, have any long term significance only time will tell us, but it did feel watching them that something major was happening.
Unfortunately I didn’t see either live. I was at another football match when the text with the result came: Manchester United 1 Manchester City 6. In the old days, on the vidiprinter when I was a kid that would have been followed up with the letters and brackets that read (S I X) so you knew it wasn’t a mistake, but I didn’t get that, so didn’t know whether to believe what I had read or not.
And watching the highlights later that night didn’t make it any less fanciful. City seemingly murdered United, scoring at will as the Reds imploded towards the end. Sir Alex looked dumbstruck at the end, as if overnight, his “noisy neighbours” had won the lottery and moved into a much bigger house in a posher part of town that even he couldn’t afford.
The other seismic shift happened in a different sport, the day before, and my love of obscure rock ‘n’ roll meant I was in cold room watching a cult Canadian band instead of watching Scott Quigg fight Jason Booth for the British Super Bantamweight title.
I have written on these blogs before about my interest in – and admiration for – boxing and boxers and Quigg is one I have had my eye on for a while. Booth, by contrast, is a “veteran” who at nearly 33 has been a pro boxer for over 15 years. He has overcome alcoholism and last year put up a brave attempt for the World Title, losing to Canadian Steve Molitor on points.
I had studiously avoided the score for two days and watched the bout last night. It was a fight that was supposed to be difficult for Quigg, he was going the old dog that was going to teach the new pup some tricks. At least that was the theory. In practice it was anything but, Booth was dismantled over the course of seven rounds, always bravely trying even though the younger man was faster, stronger, fitter and shaper, before his corner pulled him out. It was all they could do.
As a Booth fan it was tough to watch, but Quigg is worthy champ.
As I say, it is too early to actually be sure if those results at the weekend represent the “changing of the guard.” But I will confidently predict right now that whoever finishes above Manchester City
Mark my words.
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