That Sporting Week. A weekly review of the big stories in the past Seven days of Sport. Complete with the appropriate level of bafflement, panic, and references to things that should not be allowed to happen in a civilised society.

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Ladies and gentlemen, gather round, because the last seven days in sport have been so utterly unhinged that even the VAR officials are looking at each other like, “Nope, not touching that.”

Let’s begin with the seismic news from Wales, where greyhound racing is to be banned. This is a historic moment, because greyhound racing is one of those sports that has always felt like it escaped from a 1950s time capsule labelled “Things We Thought Were Fine But Actually Aren’t.” The Welsh government has now decided that perhaps dogs should not be encouraged to sprint around a track chasing a mechanical rabbit like they’re auditioning for Fast & Furious: Canine Drift. 

Predictably, some people are furious, mostly the ones who enjoy shouting “GO ON, LASSIE!” while holding a pint of something that smells like petrol. But the dogs themselves are reportedly delighted, with one greyhound saying (I’m paraphrasing): “I can finally retire and pursue my true passion: sleeping on a sofa that costs more than your car.”

Meanwhile, rugby has been having what experts are calling “the greatest Six Nations in history.” This is a bold claim, because rugby fans will call anything the greatest in history if it involves at least one of the following:  
- A last‑minute try  
- A man the size of a wardrobe running at 30 mph  
- Someone’s ear coming off but the player insisting he’s “fine to continue”

This year’s tournament has had everything: drama, passion, and at least three moments where commentators screamed so loudly that nearby wildlife migrated. If the Six Nations gets any more intense, they’ll have to issue defibrillators with the match programmes.

Over in football, we had the extraordinary sight of a referee caught in a pre‑kick‑off huddle with Chelsea players. This is not normal. Referees are supposed to be neutral, aloof, and slightly annoyed at everyone. They are not supposed to join the team talk like an enthusiastic supply teacher who’s been invited to the staff pub quiz.

Naturally, social media exploded, with fans analysing the footage like it was the Zapruder film. Was he giving tactical advice? Was he asking for directions to the toilets? Was he simply lonely? We may never know.

What we do know is that it has been a terrible week for English clubs in the Champions League, with results so bleak that even the Europa Conference League sent a sympathy card. English teams have been knocked out, humiliated, and in one case played so badly that the match ball reportedly asked to be transferred.

Across the sporting landscape, Wimbledon has received a major boost for its expansion plans after a High Court judgment. This means the All England Club can now proceed with its dream of adding more courts, more seating, and presumably more strawberries that cost roughly the same as a small hatchback. Local residents are divided, with some welcoming the development and others saying, “Do we really need more people in white shorts wandering around looking lost?”

And finally, in horse racing, Gaelic Warrior has won the Cheltenham Gold Cup, proving once again that horses are the only athletes who can win a major sporting event and then immediately go back to eating hay like nothing happened. Trainers described the victory as “magnificent,” while Gaelic Warrior himself celebrated by rolling in some mud and staring into the middle distance like a philosopher contemplating the void.



So there you have it: dogs liberated, rugby elevated, referees infiltrated, English clubs obliterated, Wimbledon validated, and a horse celebrated.

Frankly, I need a sit‑down and possibly a biscuit.

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