íhaldskurfunum á Daily Telegraph er ekki alls varnað. Hér er fín úttekt á leik Luton og Hull á laugardaginn.
Whoever told you the Age of Romance is dead should go to Kenilworth Road, Luton. If he can find it. Let me give urban orienteers a few tips. It’s not signposted off the M1, the A5 or the A505, nor does it lead to a leafy Warwickshire town with a famous castle – so don’t be fooled. To add to the intrigue, there is no indication once you’ve arrived that this is, in fact, a football stadium. You’ll need your wits about you. Since 9,000 of us and a bus from Hull somehow managed to congregate in the same spot it seemed sensible to organise a kickabout. Hatters versus Tigers – or, as it turned out, Pussycats.
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Still, it concentrates the mind. At times, Luton played more entertaining stuff than I’ve seen from Chelsea this season. If Mike Newell wins automatic promotion on a football ticket, it will not only be a lesson to all those Neanderthals who insist that kicking lumps out of people is the only way to progress, but also a vindication of everything Luton Town stand for. Hull City, on the other hand, have to go into serious detox if their challenge is to be maintained.
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Apart from a change of biscuits, journalists have requested one thing of the board. When they finally build a new stadium, would they please install a steel pillar smack in front of the press box? It’ll be like home from home.
Tíhí!