till the game’s bones break. All brave teams eat
at the same table. Their contest sated,
there will be more, if not more to meet
before time’s great door bequeaths the departed.
Tough luck, Tom Watson, at the Turnberry Open, but if you wanted real-deal sporting thrills and spills this weekend you should have been at Congham, Norfolk for the World Snail Racing Championships (The French are also-rans: they eat their competitors.) It’s bright and breezy July morning, and instead of taking the 13 or 82 bus I’m going to walk to Lord’s; a final pilgrimage of a five day test.
