Articles from When Saturday Comes. All 27 years of WSC are in the process of being added. This may take a while.
How is the League of Wales losing out on television coverage to Welsh rugby? Paul Ashley-Jones finds out
If you were to believe all you hear, there is far too much football on TV. Even the most dedicated of fans is in danger of overexposure, apparently. But not in Wales. Yes, we get ITV’s Premiership and Champions League coverage and, if you’re prepared to subscribe, you can access the football overload weighing down most of the rest of the country.
October's friendly between France and Algeria ended up providing the opposite of the symbolism its organisers had hoped for, writes Alan Duncan
October 6 was supposed to herald a new era in the complex world of Franco-Algerian relations with the first ever football friendly between the two nations. Yet it may now be better remembered as the day France was confronted with a deeper social unease that will not simply disappear with the blow of a whistle.
Harry Pearson casts an agnostic eye over some recent additions to the bulging pile of religious tracts on England's World Cup triumph and its aftermath
If the BBC commentator Kenneth Wolstenholme had been a clairvoyant, he might have altered his most famous line to: “They think it’s all over… but it’s only just begun.” Because if a Hollywood movie were ever made about the 1966 World Cup final the tagline on the poster would surely read: “One team, one trophy, 100,000 books.” As a letter in last month’s WSC observed, the further away that Gilded Saturday Afternoon In Late July gets, the greater the significance it seems to assume. If the number of volumes devoted to 1966 in the past few years increases exponentially by the end of this century, our descendants may indeed begin talking of it as The Greatest Story Ever Told.
Craig Brown's reign was a pretty joyless one, but the blame for Scotland's plight lies elsewhere, says Ken Gall. And bidding for Euro 2008 will make things worse
The strangely high-pitched booing at the end of Scotland’s wretched World Cup tie against Latvia (courtesy of thousands of primary school children fortunate enough to receive free tickets) marked a slightly surreal end to Craig Brown’s term as national manager. Yet the manner of Brown’s departure was symptomatic of much of his eight years in charge. Once again we had the passionless Hampden occasion, the tie against a Baltic state (entire stretches of his reign appear to have taken place against these countries) and the unmerited victory somehow ground out against palpably more gifted opponents.
The recent wrangle ove coverage of the World Cup is only one symptom of the fear that the TV rights boom is over. Alan Tomlinson looks at the ramifications for FIFA
Sepp Blatter, president of FIFA, is the quintessential marketing man, a salesman for sport’s biggest event, the World Cup. You’d think it would be the easiest selling job in the world. Guido Tognoni, FIFA’s top media man for ten years until 1994, once told me: “In FIFA you don’t have to sell the product, it’s a self-seller. FIFA lives from one event, the World Cup, and this event lives from marketing and television receipts.”