2012 here I come...

I love football. And not in an 'I love lamp' kind of way. I really do love it. Which makes my current predicament all the more unbearable. I've got a badly sprained ankle you see, which is effectively ruining my life. OK, so I can still do pretty much anything, so long as it doesn't involve running or kicking. But if you remember back to the beginning of this post, I love football, and that involves repeated running and kicking scenarios. As a result, I've been forced to dabble in other forms of entertainment. And it just so happens that I might have found the greatest sport on Earth.

Ping pong. Grace, mild athleticism, gurning, passion, a competitive edge, honour, mind-blowing rallies, checkside and buttocks; it's got them all in spades. I can guarantee it's the best fun you'll ever have in your friend's garage. Unless, that is, he has a dancing bear and some meat on the end of a pulley. But surprisingly, not too many people have that arrangement.

I'm absolutely serious. It's easy to pick up, but difficult to master. It's fun, it makes you sweat without actually moving very much and, most importantly of all, the ball makes a lovely noise when you hit it. Could ping pong be the only sport with an onomatopoeia for a name?! Beautiful. With a bit of training and some ill-fitting shorts, I reckon my friends and I could get a team out for the London Olympics. Are you listening Seb Coe? It's that bloody amazing! IT'S AMAZING!!

I'd still rather be playing football though.