Hamilton Scrapes By, and Bolton Move on Up
Time to jump on the bandwagon methinks. Yesterday was a good day, as not only did Hamilton finally win the Fomula one world championship, Bolton gave Man City a resounding thumping. Get in!
The Formula One was great too watch, probably the most exhilarating of the year, and no on would’ve expected to go don to the second last corner of the last lap – Shakespeare couldn’t have written a better fairytale ending than that.
Now I know that Glock’s unexpected slowdown will be grumbled about for quite some time, and myself and the missus both agree that their must have been a frantic call from McClaren to the Toyata garage of Glock, quite simply asking “how much will it cost us for you to tell your driver to slow down a bit mate?”
It was a great end though, added to by the pre-emptive reaction of the Ferrari team - someone should’ve told them that “it’s not over ‘till the fat lady sings”. Also, special mention should go to the camera man in the McClaren pit lane for his continued focus on Hamilton’s ludicrously good looking girlfriend throughout the race.
To top off a great afternoon was the football, more precisely the Bolton thrashing of Man City. Ok so it maybe wasn’t as one-sided as I’m suggesting, but the fact is that Bolton needed that win so badly and it’s lifted the team from the foot of the table. Sweet.
I have to feel sorry for my dad, who got to watch about an hour of the race before heading to a 12 hour nightshift – and what will have no doubt been an impossible task to avoid the result. I know that feeling every Saturday night, because I try to avoid the football scores all day so that I can watch Match of the Day on TV and be genuinely excited about goals. Am I a sad case? Who knows, but I reckon I’m not the only one.
As it stands, I won’t be calling my dad until he calls me, I don’t want to be the one to give away the result if he has managed to avoid it, which if he has would warrant some kind of medal.
On a side note, I’ve heard a lot of folk moan about the fact the Lewis Hamilton’s dad must have spent loads of money to get him where he is, and perhaps he has, but its surely his right as a father to pour money into something his son wanted so badly. If anyone can remember, an 8-year-old Lewis was on Blue Peter racing John Leslie with radio controlled carts, the determination on his face even doing that would be enough to make any father want to give him the backing if he could, even if it meant taking extra jobs, and loans.