The noise on the terraces is to be applauded, if little else this season
I somehow thought after watching the Olympics that watching football this season would be somehow, you know, a similar experience. I'd got used to wildly excited crowds, competitors giving their all, the winners sobbing: "It's [gulp] a dream come true." Then the flag and national anthem, and more tears and gulps on the podium. Studio experts jumping up and down. Joy all round.
Instead, all we've had so far is Fabio Capello sitting emotionless as England scored a dead jammy draw against the Czech Republic. Surely that was the dream come true, rather than getting stuffed like we deserved.
For two weeks I had cheered on every Briton, even the useless, in activities whose rules I didn't understand, yet during that football match I found myself willing England to lose and the crowd to start booing. I felt ashamed of myself for being so vindictive. And it does no good: the booing just makes the team worse, and Capello is with us for the long, dreary haul.
Everything, alas, has turned out to be the same: Spurs rubbish, Arsenal weedy, Liverpool lumpy, Man United moody, Chelsea grinding away. And still no sign of any exciting new English talent coming through. It's true that 19-year-old Theo Walcott is getting some starts for Arsenal, but I can't see it lasting. Anyway, he's hardly new - it feels like he's been around since he was in nappies.
It used to be that every season a Chelsea, Man United, Arsenal, Liverpool or a Newcastle would unveil at least one great home-grown talent we'd never heard of (though, of course, home fans would have watched them come through the ranks). I recall being amazed when Steve McManaman and Robbie Fowler appeared in Liverpool's first team - wow, where had they come from? Or Gazza at Newcastle, or in more recent times Wayne Rooney at Everton?
But I can't think of one new English, or even Irish or Scottish, player who has emerged lately and looks like he'll establish himself in the first team. If they exist, then they just can't get a run of games. All the new talent this season is foreign. Once again.
Deco is my pick of the new Premiership players - unshowy, small, phlegmatic, expressionless, yet so deadly - but we knew all about him. I like the two Argentines at Newcastle, and the Norwegian Brede Hangeland at Fulham looks useful. It seems easy to unearth talent elsewhere in the world, but not here.
During the Olympics, much was made of the Lottery money spent on velodromes, megapools and batteries of coaches and psychologists, and how this has helped win all those golds. Why hasn't it worked in football? A fortune spent on academies and new training complexes, and bugger all to show for it.
But let's not moan: there are some nice new arrivals this season. Such as Hull City. No longer are they the answer to the question: "Which is the biggest city in England never to have had a top-flight football team?" Now "Hull City" is the answer to another question: "What's the name of the English club, none of whose letters you can colour in?"
I do like Spurs's new stripy socks, and I can't wait to go to Craven Cottage to examine the new clapper - if that's the name - the crowd were using during Fulham's victory over Arsenal on Saturday. It appears to be made of thick cardboard, or plastic, and shaped like a fan. You hold it in one hand and bang it against the other. Brilliant noise. Exciting innovation. Who needs the Olympics? All is not doom and gloom for the new season . . .
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