Baby talk vs ‘liquid football’

I SPEND a lot of time speaking to my daughter at the moment.

She’s only 10 weeks old, so the conversations are still fairly one-sided, and mainly along the lines of “look how big you are”, “wow, that nappy smells bad” and “how on Earth are you still awake?”.

She seems to enjoy it most of the time, making gurgling noises and little grunts in response and occasionally grinning away as I rabbit on about her baby grow, the weather or the price of fish.

I mean, I could be reciting the works of Tolstoy for all she knows, or reading from a Haynes Ford Fiesta manual from 1983 – it’s just unintelligible words to her.

We were chatting away the other day while the football was on in the background.

It was some inconsequential match where some Balkan no-hopers were being roundly thrashed by one of the good teams.

The interest from my sleepdeprived brain was waning, until I came to a sudden realisation.

Just as I had been talking absolute nonsense to my daughter while she was on the changing mat, the pundits on TV were now doing exactly the same to me.

Don’t get me wrong – there are some pundits on TV who are articulate, and make informative and interesting points about the team they’re watching, or the country that team is representing.

But, like talent in the Balkan team, the good pundits are thin on the ground.

The majority seem to earn their living by pointing out the most blindingly obvious things imaginable.

One of my personal highlights was “both teams will go into this match wanting a win”.

Well, thank you for bringing that to my attention, I thought.

Up until you made that clear I’d always thought the object of sport was to lose, but it all makes sense now, I grumbled to myself.

Most of the players are no better, but in their defence being able to speak well on TV is hardly in their job description. I imagine their CVS are more focussed on the kicking of footballs.

But my ultimate favourite mindless punditry comment – which you hear hilariously often – is: “He knows exactly where the goal is.”

I’m fairly sure I could train my cat to learn where the goal is.

So I’ve decided my next career will be in punditry, because it seems like the easiest job in the world, and I currently have the perfect audience to practice on.

Rather than being read a Haynes manual, my poor daughter will now be told she has a foot like a traction engine, and radar in her boots.