just as 15th Century Florence was a hotbed of artistic, intellectual and philosophical intrigue, the same can be said of the tippytappysports commentary team. We are Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo all rolled into one resplendent renaissance self. Splinter is our patron and mildly aristocratic vermin overlord. We can see the Uffizi from our sewer. We generally mix metaphors and take things a simile too far. Let the Renaissance (re)commence.
You might be wondering what we’ve been doing during our brief hiatus. Well, so have we. The time wasn’t spent in a daze. In fact, we needed that time out to let our minds rest and recuperate. After all, sports commentary is hard, alternative sports commentary even harder. Our renaissance is more of a rupture. A redoubling if you will of all that is good, bad and indifferent about sports and sports commentary.
Since we’ve been off air, we’ve seen the passing of Muhammed Ali. He was the greatest. At what precisely remains a mystery. There is nevertheless so much to look forward to. We have the world championship Zika virus about to take place in Rio de Janiero. Our Olympic coverage will consist of duels between Bob Costas and some other dude. We may look to re-enact the Juan Antonio Samaranch highlights reel consisting of receiving brown paper bags and downing bottles of Chateau Petrus before elevenses.
Apart from the Olympics, at some point over the next little while, we will seesomebody write an article about whether it’s time for Arsene Wenger to retire, whether Leo Messi is better than Cristiano Ronaldo, does Australia have any idea how to play the Duke ball and is Novak Djokovic’s true destiny to play Travis Bickle in the inevitable remake of Taxi Driver. Tennis Player directed by Michael Bay and produced by Jerry Bruckheimer. Of course, some professional sportsman will disgrace himself and then apologise for any offence “he may have committed”.
In that respect, plus ca change, plus c’est la meme chose. We don’t even know what that means. But just as Steve Waugh’s insistent mantra was “no regrets”, we would say in response, “non, je ne regrette rien” which just sounds like French for “no worries m8 sik kunt”.
So apologies to you all for leaving you just like that. But let’s not look backward. Let’s look to the Renaissance. Let’s don some tights and a jerkin and mince around like we’re extras in Game of Thrones. Sure, that might be taking things a bit too far but when has excessive restraint ever been in the tippytappysports playbook?
Keep an eye on our broadcast schedule for upcoming live calls, appearances – likely to be every day somewhere – and general silliness. Embrace the Renaissance and live stream hilarity will ensue. Guaranteed.
So mute the tv and turn up the tippytappy. Your ears will thank you.