This broadcast is brought to you by Mitre Size 5 footballs and I'm going to break a habit.

But for the moment, this is my broadcast and I make the rules.

Normally, as I've said, I'm not going to give you minute by minute, blow by blow, but I'm also going to assume that it's possible you didn't manage to see the Super Cup being brought to its finale last night.

Madrid facing Barcelona, difficult to watch.

I'm assuming the majority of you are in the UK and Ireland.

Not all of you, I know.

But if you are, it was hard to watch this.

So if I do one thing in this broadcast to you this morning,

is to try and convince you what an outrageous,

orgasmic spectacle of football we watched.

I think too often football becomes about issues, arguments.

Sometimes even the way in which the game has been opened up tactically and strategically

and better examined than it ever was when I was young, interesting but occasionally dry. I'm not from that school that says in the old

fashion journalistic lingo that I used to hear. It's all about mud on boots and players tackling one

another. Football is joy. Football is orgasmic. Sport, should pummel the senses.

You should be engaged, sucked in, felt like, feel like you're in,

some kind of tumble dryer being tossed around and

gusted with blasts of hot air.

And then when it's finished, you should should come away wanting needing to speak to the person

nearest you in a stadium in a bar sneaking view of it in your office when you should be working

the person nearest to you in the house it doesn't matter that's what sports should do to you all the

time you should be going around what the fuck did I just see?

...