Archive for the ‘Sport’ Category

Mural artist Richard Wilson working on his giant mural to celebrate Leicester City winning the 2015/16 Premier League title.
© Copyright Mat Fascione and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.



Yesterday my dream died.”

Last Thursday brought the news that many people were expecting but probably just as many hoped would never come. Leicester City Football Club sacked Claudio Ranieri, the manager that helped them win the Premier League title last season and took them to the Champion’s League.


I don’t think there is anyone that expected Leicester to repeat their success this season, but it’s fair to say they’ve not been doing very well. In football, when teams fail to produce good results with alarming regularity it’s only a matter of time until the manager gets sacked. I’m not going to discuss whether this is right or wrong – everyone has an opinion.


All I want to say is that Leicester will be a poorer place without Claudio. He was a true gent who loved us just us much as we loved him; a man who would shake the hand of every person present, from journalist to cameraman, at press conferences, and the manager who rewarded his players with pizza for a clean sheet.


I told them, if you keep a clean sheet, I’ll buy pizza for everybody. I think they’re waiting for me to offer a hot dog too.”

He bought the players bells for Christmas as a reminder not to slip up in training.


From the beginning when something was wrong I’ve been saying: ‘Dilly-ding, dilly-dong, wake up, wake up!’ So on Christmas Day I bought for all the players and all the staff a little bell. It was just a joke.”

His interesting use of English was an endless joy. He described Jamie Vardy thus:


This is not a footballer. This is a fantastic horse.”

He was the Italian who introduced the Leicester supporters to opera by bringing Andrea Bocelli to the King Power Stadium to sing Nessun Dorma in celebration of the Premiership win. The fans, always extremely vocal, were still chanting, so Claudio held his hand up in the universal sign for “keep it down a bit, guys” and they did.


And so we say a very sad goodbye to a man who captured the imagination of a whole city. He made our dreams come true and in return we took him into our hearts and loved him for it. If his gentlemanliness was ever in doubt this is the statement he released after being sacked:


Yesterday my dream died.

After the euphoria of last season and being crowned Premier League champions, all I dreamt of was staying with Leicester City, the club I love, for always.

Sadly this was not to be. I wish to thank my wife Rosanna and all my family for their never-ending support during my time at Leicester.

My thanks go to Paolo and Andrea, who accompanied me on this wonderful journey. To Steve Kutner [Ranieri’s agent] and Franco Granello [his Italian agent] for bringing me the opportunity to become a champion.

Mostly I have to thank Leicester City Football Club. The adventure was amazing and will live with me forever.

Thank you to all the journalists and the media who came with us and enjoyed reporting on the greatest story in football.

My heartfelt thanks to everybody at the club, all the players, the staff, everybody who was there and was part of what we achieved. But mostly to the supporters. You took me into your hearts from day one and loved me. I love you too.

No-one can ever take away what we together have achieved, and I hope you think about it and smile every day the way I always will.

It was a time of wonderfulness and happiness that I will never forget. It’s been a pleasure and an honour to be a champion with all of you.

Claudio Ranieri


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Two weeks ago we had a blizzard in Leicester, hail storms and lots of rain. Yesterday the city was sizzling in the long-awaited heat of a late spring and early summer. But it wasn’t just the May sunshine that was raising temperatures in the heart of the East Midlands, our local football team, the Blues, the Foxes, Leicester City, was going to be presented with the Premier League trophy after the evening’s match against Everton at their home ground, the King Power stadium.


In some cities the presenting of a big football trophy is not that remarkable. Some football clubs in this country have won trophies more times than I can be bothered to research. For many, it is an almost inevitable conclusion to the football season.


I don’t claim to be a football fan; however, I am a huge supporter of my home town and will always root for its sporting teams whenever the opportunity arises. Leicester City supporters are used to disappointment – I’ve only ever been to see them play three times and they lost each time – so it will have been no surprise that at the beginning of this season there seemed little hope of glory.


Despite a late resurgence in form at the end of last season and somewhat surprisingly avoiding relegation, Leicester City started this season as rank outsiders. The bookmakers were offering odds of 5000-1 that they would go on to win the league such was the lack of expectation. You could get the same or better odds if you wanted to bet on Elvis being found alive this year!


There are many theories about how a team made up of rejects, has-beens and complete unknowns led by a manager, Claudio Ranieri, who had never won a major title, came to win the most coveted trophy in English football for the first time in their 132-year history. The more sensible of these theories talk about incredible teamwork, camaraderie and work ethic coupled with time to relax and the promise of pizza for a clean sheet. Some suggest that Buddhist monks have had some influence through prayer – the club is owned by the Thai businessman, Vichai Srivaddhanaprabha, founder and CEO of King Power Duty Free. The more romantic like to think that Leicester’s success may have something to do with the reinterment of Richard III. As outlandish as it may seem it is true that the team’s fortune took a turn for the better after the city excelled itself and reburied the much maligned King with dignity and honour.




With the events surrounding the discovery of Richard III and his subsequent reinterment, Leicester showed the world what its inhabitants have known for much longer: we are warm and welcoming; we are tolerant, truly multi-cultural and cosmopolitan; and most of all we are fiercely proud. In a world that is increasingly intolerant and bigoted, Leicester stands out as an example of how to do it right. With this global recognition came a new-found self-confidence and we all know what a boost self-confidence can be.




Leicester City’s meteoric rise to the top of the Premier League is not the only sporting success we have to boast about this year. Mark Selby, the Jester from Leicester, won his second  World Snooker Championship; Leicester Riders became British Basketball League Champions, BBL trophy winners and play today in the hope of winning the BBL play-off final and claiming the treble; Leicester City Women won Women’s Premier League Midlands Division One title – football again – with a 100% record; and Leicester Tigers are in the Premiership Rugby Union play-offs hoping for an 11th English title, having finished in the top four for a 12th successive season! Our cricket team has had less success but even they won their first County Championship game in almost three years just a couple of months after the reinterment of Richard III.


As I wandered around the city yesterday afternoon there was the beginnings of a carnival atmosphere. There were blue shirts everywhere, people were blowing horns and carrying Leicester City flags, and random groups of people wearing football shirts kept suddenly bursting into football chants. There are banners hanging from the streetlights on the high street depicting all the Leicester City players, in the depths of Marks and Spencer hangs a Leicester City flag, and they are selling blue sausages in the market. As I made my way back to the car, supporters were starting to fill out the city’s pubs, spilling out onto the streets and raising their voices in song. I turned a corner, away from the drinking establishments and wandered down towards the restaurants. A big blue light installation has taken pride of place in St Peter’s Square and surrounding it are all the usual restaurant chains associated with a cosmopolitan city, many with tables outside continental-style. They all looked pretty full and while the atmosphere was a little more sedate than elsewhere there were still blue shirts everywhere.

This little gem is a hip hop track written by local musicians. If you can make out the lyrics they are full of little Leicester-isms, local references and just so much stuff that makes me smile from ear to ear. “We ‘soar’ like the river that flows through the city” is just one such example.



I love my city. I love its optimism, I love its pride and most of all I love its people. They come from all cultures, all ethnicities, all backgrounds but together we are all Leicesterians, all “chisits“. I could not be more proud of Leicester City Football Club. I could not be more proud of Leicester. We have shown the world that with grit and determination, a fearless attitude, more than a little hope and maybe the support of the last Plantagenet King it is possible to achieve your dreams.




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As a nation we are generally very scathing of many of our sporting stars, the England football team being a prime example. But when they do their absolute best, exceed our expectations and inspire us with their dedication to being the best we embrace them, take them to our hearts and shout loud enough for the whole world to hear how very proud of them we are.


Never was this more true than in the 2012 Olympics and Paralympics and I thought nothing could exceed the euphoria I felt upon witnessing so many amazing athletes achieve their ambitions and win so many medals in front of their home crowd but, while I’ll never forget 2012, I was wrong.


I’m not a lover of sport. I don’t take much interest in football (soccer for those of you across the pond), have little understanding of cricket and none of rugby. I watch the occasional F1 Grand Prix because they’re fast cars and I do love a fast car but the one sport I do understand is tennis.


I hadn’t thought much about Wimbledon in the run up to the tournament but then on the first day I happened to sit down and watch Steve Darcis beat Rafa Nadal in straight sets. I love an underdog and after that bombshell of a match, the seeded players just kept falling, Venus Williams, Roger Federer, Maria Sharapova to name but a few, and my interest was piqued.


There was a lot of hype around Andy Murray this year. There always is but it felt different, he was different. This year was his year they said. I watched a programme about him the night before the tournament started and was surprised to find that this seemingly dour and slightly gruff individual who lost in the Wimbledon final last year to Federer but then went on to beat him and win an Olympic Gold medal on the same court a few weeks later was actually fascinating and had so much more about him than I realised.


I found that he is dedicated to being the best he can possibly be, willing to put his body through things that to me seem like torture, and I found him to be quiet, modest and inspirational. I hadn’t known that he was from Dunblane nor had I realised the significance of this until I watched him try to talk about what happened there on camera. It was heartbreaking and I admit it made me cry. I found myself crying again when they showed him accepting the Wimbledon runner-up trophy last year where he broke down on court. I finally understood what winning Wimbledon meant to him.


So, with seeded players dropping like flies, I put all my energy into watching Andy Murray play his way to the final. There were a few dicey moments but he never really looked like he was prepared to lose. He looked like a machine, highly tuned, and prepared to fight until the death for his place in the final. Just watching him play is exhausting so I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like for him. He’s a hard-hitting powerhouse, relentless and doggedly determined and his matches made moving from my position in front of the TV impossible.


On Sunday I sat down in front of the TV on the hottest summer day so far this year to watch Andy Murray and Novak Djokovic in the Wimbledon final. I couldn’t allow myself to assume that Murray would win or lose but I was absolutely sure of one thing: while it mattered to him, it didn’t matter to me. I love him for his dedication and willpower alone – winning would simply be a happy bonus.


I screamed, whooped and yelled at the TV. I sweated and sweltered in the heat. I drank 4 pints of water! I sat on the edge of my seat and physically shook when Andy Murray served for the Championship and then nearly passed out when Djokovic fought back and Murray failed to convert his 3 championship points. But he never gave up even though it began to look like he might collapse from the heat. It was over 40C on Centre Court. When he finally won I burst into tears. The Centre Court crowd, which had been loud and completely behind Murray all the way, exploded. I think the entire nation exploded with joy and burst with pride. It took me ages to calm down. Even on Monday I was still a bit weepy when I read the news articles or saw the pictures.


For the first time in 77 years we have a British Wimbledon Men’s Singles Champion. He beat the best player in the world to achieve his dreams and he captured the hearts of a nation. A sporting hero to be proud of … my sporting hero.



Andy Murray’s dogs Maggie & Rusty show complete disdain for the Wimbledon trophy, possibly because it’s only a replica. Yes, Maggie’s on Twitter and yes it’s a genuine account (albeit not actually maintained by a dog!):


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