I find in fact that I can't get excited about the start of the football season. Not just because I can't get on board with Arsène Wenger's grand plan to become champions by fielding a team of players who have only very recently taken up the game, but because the game has become too absurd for me to relate to on even a basic level.
I view football these days as a caveman might look upon a gay pride parade. I simply do not know what to make of it. I'm even scared of it in many ways.
It's no wonder even the people who are supposed to be experts can't get anything right. Footballers are so completely detached from reality now that the actual sport, the game, the competition as we knew it has now evolved into some 90 minutes of appalling oily street theatre. Plus injury time.
It used to be that a footballer needed stamina, technique, balance and strength to play at the highest level. Now the ingredients are three parts thespian to two parts homo-erotic sexual deviancy laced with cuntery.
When a 6ft 2 Geordie can wear a pony tail without anyone being even remotely alarmed, depressed or surprised and even the referees are sporting fake tans, muscle tops and investing heavily in cosmetic dentistry I think it's time to accept that times are changing too swiftly for one to catch up and it's best just to let it go.
Of course, there's nothing to stop us having a wee bet once in a while. And today's wager is a crafty Premier League Yankee. I've gone for four draws as it goes; Fulham v Aston Villa, Newcastle v Arsenal, QPR v Bolton and Stoke v Chelsea. If this comes in I'll be wild beyond my richest dreams. In the meantime, I think I'm going to have an apple.
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