That Sporting Week. A Weekly review of top Sports stories. This week a week of Sport so baffling it makes EastEnders look like a Documentary

I’ll tell you what tipped me over the edge this week. In Brazil Flamengo only went and won 8–0, right? Eight! Nil! A scoreline so lopsided it should come with a health warning. And what happens? Their manager, former Chelsea left‑back and part‑time shampoo model Filipe Luís, gets sacked. Sacked! After an 8–0 win! I’ve seen some harsh dismissals in my time my Uncle Keith once got fired from Kwik Fit for “aggressive tyre‑rotation technique” but this is next level. Imagine walking into the boardroom thinking you’re getting a bonus and instead they hand you a cardboard box and a bus ticket. “Thanks for the historic victory, Filipe lad, but we’ve decided to go in a different direction. Preferably one where we don’t win by too many goals. It’s embarrassing for the other teams.”

And speaking of embarrassment, let’s hop across the pond to the U.S. Half Marathon Championships, where the guide vehicle whose only job, literally the only job was to show the runners where to go… and it took the top three the wrong way. Off they toddled like obedient ducklings following a satnav that’s had a nervous breakdown. You can picture the scene: elite athletes, peak physical condition, sprinting majestically into a cul‑de‑sac behind a Taco Bell. Meanwhile the rest of the field is thinking, “Hang on, why are we overtaking the favourites? Should we tell someone? Nah, keep running, free medal innit.”

Then there’s the Six Nations trophy, which has apparently been retired from ceremonial use after being damaged by fire during transit. Fire! What were they transporting it in, a Guy Fawkes display? I’m imagining some poor intern driving a van full of pyrotechnics, Red Bull in one hand, trophy in the other, muttering, “It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine,” as the whole thing goes up like a Catherine wheel. And now the trophy’s “retired”, which is a polite way of saying it looks like it’s been rescued from a skip behind a kebab shop. They’ll have to replace it with something modern and sleek, probably made of recycled vape cartridges.

But the week’s not done! Oh no. Because Jade Jones, two‑time Olympic taekwondo champion, has decided to switch to boxing. Boxing! She’s calling it “crazy”, which is refreshingly honest. Most athletes say things like “a new challenge” or “following my passion”, but Jade’s gone full Viz: “Yeah, it’s mental, but why not?” I respect that. It’s the same energy as my mate Darren deciding to become a magician at 42 because he found a deck of cards behind the sofa. Except Jade will probably succeed, whereas Darren once made a rabbit disappear by accidentally letting it escape into a Lidl car park.

Meanwhile, England’s women have kicked off their 2027 World Cup qualifying campaign with a 6–1 win, which is the kind of result that makes you think the opposition turned up wearing flip‑flops. Six goals! That’s not a match, that’s a clearance sale. You can imagine the manager afterwards: “Yeah, good performance, but we’re disappointed to concede the one. Defence will be doing laps until 2031.”

And finally, in America and Possibly Canada the NHL, where apparently this is the most unpredictable season in living memory. Every team’s beating every other team, underdogs are winning, favourites are collapsing, and the whole league has the chaotic energy of a pub quiz where the quizmaster’s drunk and keeps changing the rules. “Tonight’s winner is… the Detroit Red Wings! No wait, sorry, I misread that, it’s actually the Arizona Coyotes. Or maybe the ref’s dog. Hard to say.”

So that’s the week: managers sacked for winning too much, runners led astray by a rogue vehicle, trophies catching fire, martial artists changing sports like they’re swapping broadband providers, England scoring goals for fun, and ice hockey descending into beautiful anarchy.

Honestly, I’m starting to think sport isn’t real. It’s just a written by someone who’s three pints deep and improvising.