You know you want it. You say you don’t but you do. You’re trying to be good.
You’re trying to cut down on that kind of thing. You’ve been on a detox. You need to look after yourself.
You’re not getting any younger. It’s no use, the Premier League is back. What is it about the Premier League that makes people feel like it’s bad for them? It feels like it’s in same category as social media and junk food, things we find irresistible despite what they might be doing to us.
Is the Premier League like a savoury platter at an office drinks party, piles of deep fried beige that you can’t stop eating until you feel bloated and woozy? No, it’s not that. The Premier League is good. There is too much of it, it never ends, even when it ends, and it barges everything else out of the way.
But you can’t question the quality, not anymore, not when all the best coaches in the world are there and many of the best players. If football leagues are your thing, this is a quality product. The very sight of it should not be bringing on a bout of indigestion.
It’s because of the Olympics, isn’t it? It happens every time. How many times have you had that conversation this week, implicitly or explicitly comparing what happened in Paris – what was accomplished, how it made us feel, what it represented – with what is rolling in on Friday night at Old Trafford like a tropical storm, powerful and destructive and impossible to avoid. It’s because we think the Olympics represe.