second and eight from the 24 yard line

Rather terrifingly, it is fourteen years since I saw U2 at Wembley at the height of their powers. The central conceit was a huge bank of video screens which, apart from playing rather obviously with the whole Leni Reifenstahl element of the very large pop concert in a post-modern ironic kind of a way (TM), also allowed Bono to flick through television channels in the moments when he wasn't phoning Bill Clinton or dressing up as Noel Coward playing an Irish Mephisopheles . All jolly clever and entertaining.

The first bit of channel hopping eventually alighted on some American Football which was left on with the terse summation, "oh, that'll do". I must confess that such was about my reaction to the game prior to my arrival here. I will leave, however, a convert. There is a tactical complexity and skill to the game that I hadn't appreciated, and more than any sport, even Rugby, there is that sense of the team as a body with at least half the side having roles which are essential but in the words of St Paul "unpresentable" and thus treated with "special honour" (defensive linemen know who they are).

This weekend the Seahawks managed to get themselves knocked out at the equivalent of the quarterfinal of the SuperBowl, playing away against a Chicago Bears side which was much stronger on paper. After being tonked there earlier in the season, the Seahawks took the game into extra time and had two very good chances to win the game before finally succumbing to a field goal. Towards the end found myself shouting the same sorts of abuse at Matt Hasselbeck, the Seahawks QB, for frankly inexplicable passing decisions that I used to shout at Andy Cole for his propensity to miss sitters from two yards out. At this point I realised I was a fan...