Andy Murray won Sports Personality of the Year and then had the good grace to admit that his voice suggests he doesn't actually have a personality. You get more rise and fall in the monologues of Professor Stephen Hawking. Then again, who needs a lovely speaking voice when you racing back and forth like a Jack Russell on the lend of a length of rope?
Of course while Sports Personality was wringing tears from this sentimental old sports buff's eyes - and the tribute to Anne Williams was really top-notch - Liverpool fans were crooning out You'll Never Walk Alone on the terraces of White Hart Lane. Or Shite Fart Pain as my unamusing drinking colleague Tony Thompson insisted on calling it.
Villas-Boas tried to maintain his strangely scholarly dignity on the touchline but each goal to removed another finger from the only hand left clinging on to his North London window ledge until finally Sterling's effort saw him off into free-fall. So the Portuguese joins Steve Clarke in the managerial sin-bin.
Clarke's dismissal was really quite mysterious. Sometimes it's a worry if a manager gets his team to their highest league position ever. Over-achieve and you've had it the next season. The Baggies won at Old Trafford (admittedly not too tough a mission right now) and should've won at Stamford Bridge. They haven't had the rub of the green. No one's really trounced them. The players are in shock and there's no one waiting in the wings to change things. Well there's AVB of course.
The chairman Jeremy Peace - a surname tinged with irony if ever there was one - doesn't usually muck about so you'd expect to see someone in place pretty soon. And Malky Mackay must be itching to leave Cardiff City and its moustachioed dictator.
As for AVB, well he's a curious cove. I'm sure if you told him a joke he'd have a think about it and then push a note back across the table telling you it's funny. If football was played in a library he'd be the next Alex Ferguson. Last season Bale was Jesus to Spurs's Lazarus but with the Welsh wizard long departed, a cluster of replacements haven't papered over the cracks.
Nevertheless there are others who could take a little more flak than they do. Baldini - whose job is what exactly? - seems just as responsible for the purchases as the manager. Only Eriksson and on occasion Paulinho have looked any better than what was already in place. Lamela, Chadli, Soldado... there was a time when only Rafa Benitez could rack up a subs bench of such utter forgettability. Bale was a game-changer. These blokes are same-gamers. Bring them on - nothing changes.
As for Daniel Levy - well, the appointment of AVB reeked of chutzpah in the first place."So he didn't work out at Chelsea? Well that's cos of Chelsea, not cos of the man himself."
Yeah, well, 17 months is not a great statement of faith in your man, Danny boy. Spurs aren't in a terrible league position. Anyone can concede six at the Etihad. The Europa League opposition have been vanquished. And who's going to replace him anyway?
It's all a bit desperate. Glenn Hoddle seems to be everyone's tip for some sort of interim role. Except every manager appears to be on an interim contract at the moment, regardless of how many years they've actually signed up for.
Genuine football fans crave stability. As do the players. Despite Abramovich attempting to prove otherwise, sticking with a manager is a GOOD THING. Tottenham's flirtation with 4th position in the Premier League appears to have left Levy's nerves shredded and judgement impaired.
Or maybe, just maybe, we've got it wrong. In the modern pentathlon, the horse you ride during the equestrian section is allocated at random. The nag you get is down to luck. If figure it's time they did this at Premier League level. The managers and the clubs do a do-si-do and Man City end up with Ian Holloway, Arsenal get Sam Allardyce, and Stoke, bless 'em, get Wenger. Then we'd see who was any good at proper coaching.
Anyway I can't write A V B anymore as it reminds me of a Victorian Bitter, which is the official beer of Cricket Australia. And if it was up to me I'd be throwing nine of England's cricket team into a vat o the stuff n leaving em there. Utter utter shite. Be ashamed. Be very ashamed.