Day five. Granted, all the match schedules said the same, but frankly one was incredulous - no game yesterday afternoon?
Chuckle - the old jokes are the best, eh? What would one do with the post-getting-up and pre-7.45-match spell in one's day if UEFA had, indeed, organised Euro 2000 in such a cavalier fashion, with no regard whatsoever for those of us who'd watch two flies crawling up the screen, any time of day or night, so long as they'd a pair of football boots on their feet? ("Get a life?").
So, come 4.30, beer nuts and low-alcohol, low-fat and sugar-free lager in hand, it was time to turn on Network Two. Hmm. Wigglytuff? Geodude? Drowzee? Gloom? How long have Billo Herlihy, Johnny Gilesie, Chippy Brady and Eamo Dunphy been members of the cast of Pokemon? And where's the football?
Nowhere to be seen. Those match schedules were correct, after all - I feel a case in the European Court of Human Rights coming on. Nothing to do . . . except check one's email.
Right, click "send and receive". Well, whadaya know - Outlook Express says: "believe it or not, loser, someone has finally sent you an email - make the most of it, it maybe be your last for six months."
"Would you care to have a look at my phobia that George Hamilton is watching the match about two seconds before we are? I hate hearing that a forward has missed (or scored) a goal before he has even reached the ball. Is George prescient . . . or am I going doo-lally. (And is Philip Neville going to be as good a left back as his sister Tracey?).
Thanks for the email Brendan, love you lots. George Hamilton prescient? Well, I went to great lengths to check out your phobia, replaying 487 hours of video tape of games dating back to the days when Liverpool won things (cue "black and white" jokes) and, to be honest, I think you do have a doo-lally problem.
I just reckon George gets enormously excited when a forward is bearing down on goal and, ever the optimist, a bit like Kev Keeg, he assumes the lad is going to score, even if the lad in question is Viorel "I miss open goals for fun, me" Moldovan. (The alternative theory is that there is a two-second time delay between here and HollBelg, but I don't think there is).
Of course, in a goal-mouth incident-packed game that means George will spontaneously combust with excitement, on average, 49 times in the 90 minutes, but, as my Granny used to say, "wouldn't life be very dull without the odd spot of spontaneous combustion?".
Not everyone loves George and his spontaneity I've noticed, but to be honest I just can't get emotional about football commentators. I kind of view them like I view Revenue Commissioners and Dublin Bus inspectors - a necessary evil - but I try very hard not to hold them personally responsible for the evil they inflict on our lives.
But if Barry Davies asked me if I'd paid the correct fare I'd throw him out the emergency exit.
Italy v Belgium. Johann Cruyff makes his BBC punditry debut and I tell you what, any man who can wear brown and grey (with a petrol blue tint) and still look like he belongs on a catwalk in Milan is alright by me.
Martin O'Neill's a bit overwhelmed too. "I'm absolutely delighted to see a truly world class player here," he says (in the presence of long time pundit-partner Alan Hansen - miaow) to Joanne, as Jack Charlton used to call Cruyffie.
"I think you have a nice yob with Celtic," Joanne responded in kind to Marto, which was either a reference to Marc Viduka or Marto's recent managerial appointment.
The result? Italy won 2-0, but Pokemon was infinitely more exciting, especially the bit where Drowzee and Gloom beat the livin' daylights out of each other when they couldn't agree over the merits of Steve McManaman.
Roll on Day Six - there's bound to be an afternoon match, isn't there?
