Bale Opens His Legs And Neville Takes A Peek

GARY Neville waited until the seventy-sixth minute to deliver the killer blow.

“That’s Gareth Bale at his best," he said before dramatically pausing and adding, "When he opens his legs, it’s a fantastic sight.”

I couldn't help myself. I broke into a round of applause in my own living room. 

"What are you doing that for?" asked my puzzled son. 

"In appreciation," I said, "of the great times Gary Neville and I will be sharing over the coming months."

His body posture is more wooden than Pinnochio’s, his delivery is as formulaic as a pub bore’s and his humour is as non-existent as a lump of granite's that’s feeling depressed

Neville was co-commentating on the Tottenham Hotspur and Arsenal game on Sky’s Super Sunday football show.

For decades the latter was the domain of Big Fat Andy Gray and that other man with the really tight suit and a haircut stolen from a 1950s’ mannequin. Now there's a curious miscellany of presenters and co-presenters with the only constant, a lovable devotion to cliché.

Talking in clichés is unavoidable in football. It's a straightforward and simple game of endlessly repeating situations: kick-offs, corners, freekicks, penalties, goals and so on. Anybody can pick it up quickly unlike say the rules of Rugby Union. How does the referee decide on penalties in the latter game? By closing his eyes and randomly pointing? 

But of all Sky football's cliche-addled presenters and pundits my absolute fave pair are the winners of my own personal ‘Who’d-have-thought-they'd-get-the-job?’ awards; Gary Neville and Alan Smith.

Brummie Alan Smith is the least excited pundit in the history of punditry. This is a man working on a perfect definition of being MILD-MANNERED and never GETTING CARRIED AWAY.

You suspect if aliens had landed in the penalty box and laser-gunned Brad Friedel, the Spurs goalkeeper, in this week’s featured match, Smith would have drily said in his unsmiling fashion: “The flying saucer surprised the Tottenham defence. They need to work out a system that works for the players they have, the full backs have to get closer to the centre backs. These silly mistakes have cost them their ‘keeper. It doesn't surprise me.”

But it’s Gary Neville that really stands out.

I’ve been following his blossoming broadcasting career with bewildered fascination.

He genuinely seems as shocked as we are that he’s getting all this time on TV.

After all wasn’t he the player at Manchester United who had the misfortune to have a best mate as good looking as David Beckham?

Wasn’t he the one who had to suffer the indignity of having a father called Neville Neville?

Wasn’t he the one who killed a trend for goatee beards dead?

Weren’t he and his brother, Phil, nicknamed the Chuckle Brothers by City fans: a joke many United fans couldn’t help smirking at?

Gary seemed exactly the sort of ex-pro footy player who would disappear into lower league management and after turning fifty-five and a disastrous stint at Crewe Alexandra, find himself doing the sportsmans’ dinner circuit  - probably with his brother, and billed as one half of The Footballing Chuckle Brothers.

But, no. He suddenly retires from playing football just around the time Big Fat Andy Gray and that other man with the really tight suit and a haircut stolen from a 1950s’ mannequin, get ‘out-ed’ as ‘sexist pigs’.

Come the new season he's stolen their gig. He’s got himself a grey suit, some IT skills to operate Sky gadgetry, and is trying to be impartial while opining on Liverpool and Manchester City games. 

It seems so unlikely it almost sniffs of conspiracy because Neville is emphatically not a natural.

His voice makes Alan Smith’s nasal whine sound entertaining, his body posture is more wooden than Pinnochio’s, his delivery is as formulaic as a pub bore’s and his humour is as non-existent as a lump of granite's that’s feeling depressed, but somehow he’s got the perfect job.

He sits around (he occasionally stands up) and talks about football for money.

I find all this comforting.

In today’s air-brushed media Gary Neville, despite being the opposite of say Dermot O'Leary, can rise to giddy heights, and allow us to share his admiration for Gareth Bale opening his legs. 

He’s the unlikely hero made good, the little man who’s got the big job. Bless him and his sparse facial hair.

NEXT WEEK: Michael Carrick replaces Jimmy Carr as host of 8 Out Of 10 Cats