Hotel Inspector

IT HAS been billed as the biggest English game of all time.

But I didn't watch Manchester United v Chelsea.

Nope. Despite the fact I was at home infront of the TV, I was glued to 'Hotel Inspector' on Channel 5, although I did flick over to watch the penalties.

Does that say everything about my falling out of love with football- or more accurately what TV and the big four have done to the game?

I could not bear the coverage of the victorious Manchester United team leaving their hotel, getting on the bus, arriving at the airport, leaving the airport.

Ronaldo is staying, Ronaldo is going, Ronaldo says he did it: "For Sir Bobby".

The cover-to-cover newspaper coverage is appalling. Why should any paper outside of Manchester print posters of Manchester United?

It's even seeped into the cricket coverage of the Second Test: "England aim to take advantage of the old Trafford feelgood factor in the Test. We bring you the toss....next", said the broadcaster with all the confidence of a man who appeared to believe he was going to be delivering us the scoop of the century.

It wasn't the 'biggest' game involving English clubs at all. I have put that one down to Liverpool against Arsenal in 1989 at Anfield when the league title switched hands, not just on the final day, but in injury time.

We were told time and time again that the Champions League was the first final EVER between two English clubs.

For crikey's sake, it has been going since 1992 not 1892. Just like with the Premier League it is like every statistic did not exist beforehand.

Such is the current wealth of the big four that you won't get a big price on it happening next season, or the season after.

I used to watch every game on TV, from the 1976 FA Cup Final between Southampton and Manchester United.

But I have not got Sky TV and apart from a 12 month stint at the end of the 1990s never have.

Don't get me wrong. I want to watch every meaningful England game. (Not the friendly rubbish on display next week). And I want to see Villa, Albion, Blues and Wolves (for differing reasons) whenever they are on the box. That means a walk round the corner of the block to the cricket club to their big screen.

But I could only watch perhaps half of Portsmouth against Cardiff despite it being on the BBC. It was the English FA Cup no less- and yet only three players sang the anthem. And I am not talking about Cardiff City signing the Welsh one.

My love of football is not dead. It was a great, great season for so many reasons: Villa were a joy to cover- 69 goals and 60 points turned back the clock a decade or more to the days when Brian Little's side were right up there; Albion were swashbuckling brilliant in the second tier, reaching the FA Cup semis and winning the Championship; Blues kept me gripped with their antics on and off the pitch right to the final day and Wolves were out of the promotion hunt, then in it, then out of it... they were in love with McCarthy, then out of love...all up to the last minutes of the season.

But the top of the Premier League? There was no last day drama in my book. Okay I was at West Ham at the time, but we all knew Steve Bennett was going to give them that spot-kick.

Now, back to Hotel Inspector.

Tara Howard, managing director of the Langtry Manor Hotel in Bournemouth, allowed television crews to show her feuding relationship with mother Pamela.

Gripping stuff.

With apologies that I cannot remember who won the toss at the cricket.