When viewed at four in the morning, Jim Rosenthal is a strange and ultra-vivid creature. The ITV tan, as patented by Ron Atkinson, takes on an almost luminous hue and, no more than with the eclipse, to look directly at the epicentre of his smile is to risk serious eye damage. (which is no less than you'd deserve for setting your alarm for Jim at such an unconscionable hour).

Still, given that this was Formula One, his shiningly lurid countenance provided the occasion with an appropriate mis-en-scene.

Although the race was ostensibly about Eddie Irvine, ITV were determined to pay due genuflection to Damon Hill, who was about to embark on his last ever Formula one tour. On a nostalgic walkabout with a misty eyed Murray Walker, Hill mysteriously hinted that the race game would play some part in his life after retirement.

Any thoughts he may have of going into TV work could be scuppered if he ever sits down to study Martin Brundle's current existence. The former driver is now the Marty Morrissey of the pit-lane, scurrying around the various encampments to extract comments from the chief players. Brundle's history as one of the guys affords him a licence not normally afforded to TV types but the tension at Suzuka was such that of the big three, only the ever-polite Mika Hakkinen was up for a chat. So instead of Eddie Irvine, we were given an insight into Ferrari tactics by his sister Sonia, who could be found standing beside Irv's car in regulation jump suit and shades. Cutting to the chase, Brundle wondered if Eddie was up to the task of winning.

"Jesus, I hope so," replied Sonia emphatically.

"That, er, sums it up beautifully," stammered Brundle before rushing off elsewhere.

And, in fairness, we all hoped so, even if we weren't entirely sure why. On to the race and as always, the most thrilling part was awaiting to hear which of Murray's trade mark shrieks would fill in the split second void between the five red lights turning blank and the cars actually starting. Disappointingly, he settled for a manic "Action" and only Hakkinen responded, ghosting past Schumacher and pretty much destroying all the intrigue.

It was all downhill from there and midway through the race, we were being drawn to ancillary attractions, with Brundle paying tribute to "a lovely picture of Ralf Schumacher's tyres at 700 degrees."

It was a bewildering moment of television.

It gradually became clear that the real stars of this show were the lads in the pits and that if Irv was to win this, the Ferrari team would have to pull off something fairly spectacular. Rumours that McLaren's fuel plan for Mika Hakkinen had been picked up by a roving TV camera sent Murray into overdrive and he excitedly assured us that Ferrari would work wonders with this information (the plan involved pumping his car with 60 kilos of fuel, which didn't seem all that crucial on the face of it). Murray, though, was convinced that the issue was of significance.

"Ferrari will have spotted it, Ferrari are just as good at watching TV as the rest of us."

It was scant consolation. The race purred uneventfully on and by the final section, the general disillusionment seemed to have tainted even Brundle who, perhaps smarting from the pre-race snub by Schumacher, hinted that the German wasn't doing his best to aid Irvine. This snippet of human pettiness at least glossed the proceedings with real life and the prospect of a podium punch-up between Irv and Schumy made the end even more appealing.

But no. Instead, Irvine paid handsome tribute to his team-mate and Schumacher accused David Coulthard of employing blatant spoiling tactics.

"This is unfortunate because David doesn't have this reputation," he said, before deciding to get the ball rolling by adding, "but if you think about it, this is the third time he did this to me this year."

And on that vaguely churlish note, this silly money high energised spectacle which is neither quite business nor sport ended for another season. Off went the shades and out went the lights. Until yesterday's exhilarating show by the French, it seemed that the Southern Hemisphere big two were progressing to the World Cup final with the same moroseless inevitability as fuelled McLaren's Formula One championship. The semi-final between Australia and South Africa underlined the suspicion that tries in rugby would soon be the sole preserve of Jonah Lomah - that is until Christophe Dominici, notably, demonstrated otherwise yesterday.

Again, the public on Saturday were treated to a shoot-out between Matt Burke of Oz and Jannie De Beer. On Eurosport, they described the atmosphere at Twickenham as "mind numbingly tense." Not the sort of description that brings to mind free running and riotous imagination, as was to be seen 24 hours later from the French. But at a sporting fixture where it was noted that "the rain has come a little bit later than advertised," it was clear that absolutely nothing was left to chance.

The elements were also in fashion during the BBC's sadistic decision to televise all 53 goals of the FA Cup first round, featuring the mythical minnows of the tournament.

"Was that a bit of magic?" wondered Gerald Davies during one game . . . "or was it a gust of wind?"