"Dead Dreams in the Rain"

Ah, how I love the writing of Times columnist Simon Barnes. Opens his latest column about the recent (and massive) gambling exploits of wunderkid Wayne Rooney with three lines from the Pogues, proceeds to mention the riotous pleasure that accompanied an ancient 60 quid victory of his in backing a horse named "Swing Alone" back in 1982, and drops in a bit of Shakespeare to finish up. Lovely bit of truth captured here:

Gambling supplies the crushing disappointment and soaring elation that lie at the heart of sport, and it can supply them (without telling which you will get) at any time you want. All you need is money. Preferably lots and lots of money, but any sum of money that you will miss will give you a buzz.

My kind of sporting columnist, as I (Federer as Van Gogh and Hamlet) have noted (Wuthering Heights and fan obsession). Classic, and one of the legacies of last year that lingers on courtesy of the world wide web. Pity I canna beam myself as easily over the wires to this. Next time, perchance.