Sport is a year round thing.
Not a day goes by where some sweaty man in shorts isn’t thwacking a ball around a field somewhere, and there’ll always be people there to cheer him on, or at the very least watch him on telly, slack-jawed from their couch.
2015 was a particularly eventful year for sport. Probably.
I have no real point of reference because in previous years I’ve been wilfully oblivious of the whole debacle.
The year started, as it often does, in January.
The Premiership Football clubs (the good ones that make it onto the cover of the FIFA games) had their Mid-Season transfer window.
The Mid-Season transfers are where middle-aged millionaires shell out staggering amounts of money for athletic young men with lithe, strong thighs.
This year’s most expensive transfer was Wilfried Bony who was bought by Manchester City ( The Lidl brand Man Utd) for £28 million.
A sum of money so large that my brain doesn’t process it as real, so they may as well have said that they bartered unicorn teeth for him.
February followed January, as was foretold.
The Super Bowl happened, which is an event I’ve heard of because it was referenced in The Simpsons.
The Super Bowl is the big event of American Football, which is like regular football except not at all.
It looks a bit like rugby, but plays more like a battle at the Somme, that is to say, a lot of setting up, a lot of standing around, and a few short traumatic minutes of action in a violent attempt to creep a few yards forward.
The Super Bowl was between The New England Patriots, named after the Mel Gibson film, and the Seattle Seahawks, named after majestic hawks of the sea.
The Patriots emerged victorious, shaming the Seahawks much like how their namesake Mel Gibson did the Redcoats.
March’s major sporting event was the Cricket World Cup.
Cricket is utterly indecipherable to anyone but a devoted fan, and I’m fairly sure to be a fan you have to be born into it.
Essentially one team is tasked with chucking a ball at a stack of sticks called a ‘Wicket’ (yes, it does sound like a professor at Hogwarts) in an attempt to knock it over.
The opposing team tries to keep the wicket safe by using a paddle to sort of thwap the ball away.
There is also running about, but I cannot figure out why.
Cricket is the epitome of britishness, so naturally the final was between a modern British hallmark; former colonies who harbour a mild resentment towards their former governing state.
The game was between Australia, home of box jellyfish and road warriors, and New Zealand, home of hobbits and successor to Old Zealand.
Australia dominated the game and claimed the trophy.
April galloped in with the Grand National (did you notice my clever word play?).
The Grand National is where tiny men sit on horses and make them go fast.
The tiny man who can make his horse go the fastest wins and gets a stack of money.
The horse on the other hand probably just gets some hay, because horses aren’t materialistic.
This year’s tiny man-champion was Leighton Aspell and the horse he made go fast was Many Clouds, because horses evidently languish under the same esoteric naming practices as Kanye West’s children.
May was shook by the news that the FIFA ’16 video game would feature women’s football teams.
This upset some people on the internet because we are living through the decline of modern civilisation.
In years to come historians will look back at this explosion of pointless outrage and whining and christen it, ‘The Twattening’.
June undulated in with the shocking news that evil super-corporation FIFA was corrupt.
A raid on a luxury hotel in Zurich by Swiss authorities resulted in the arrest of several FIFA officials.
A total of 14 officials were indicted by the US on charges of rampant corruption, which is more vigorous and strapping than regular corruption.
I had the sports event for July written on a post-it but I lost it. So as far as this article is concerned, nothing happened in July.
August was dominated by the wild controversy of the English High Court’s refusal to recognise the card game of bridge as an official sport.
The English Bridge Union was shaken to its very core by the court’s refusal to see that bridge for what it is; a true warrior’s sport.
‘We shall riot, we shall fight this, and the courts shall themselves be judged for this affront, judged by Madame Guillotine!’, the president of the EBU definitely didn’t say.
September displayed a complete lack of originality and plopped in after August, just like every other year…
FIFA was the gift that kept on giving… By taking massive heaps of money.
FIFA president Sepp Blatter, a man cursed with a name that sounds like a type of urinary tract infection, was accused of criminal mismanagement of FIFA funds.
The 79 year old Swiss national, has recieved an 8 year suspension from FIFA, which means he’ll have to miss out on FIFA ‘16 through FIFA ‘23, rendering his Xbox useless.
October was a month of triumph for Ireland as we beat Germany at the football. Which is a big deal because Germany is pretty good at football.
The star of the match was Shane Long, who kicked the ball into the net despite the fact the German team were trying to stop him doing just that.
I looked up Shane Long on Wikipedia and was shocked to see that he has a habit of holding his head at a funny angle, like he’s afraid of his brain dribbling out his ears.
I assumed that he only has a single giant vertebrae in his neck. This must mean that when he wants to look around he has to swivel his entire torso like Michael Keaton’s Batman.
November, and another controversy plopped in as 2015 approached its season finale.
The Russian federation were found to have sneaked drugged-up super athletes into the 2012 London Olympic games.
Russia stands accused of destroying samples, bribing officials, and intimidation in their smack-fuelled quest to run good and win some medals.
I don’t know why anyone is surprised, Dolph Lundgren was clearly shown taking performance enhancing drugs in his training montage in Rocky IV, the one where Stallone wins the Cold War.
As a result of the scandal Russia has received an indefinite ban from all international athletic events.
Just say no, kids.
Finally, December, was the scene for the highly anticipated fight between Irish MMA star Conor McGregor and Brazilian punchmaster Jose Aldo.
There was months of build up to this fight, with McGregor taunting Aldo with gibbon-like fervor.
The fight itself was over faster than a Tekken match between be and my mate who’s memorised all of Yoshimitsu’s combos.
McGregor let Aldo fall over and then kind of mashed his face like an Irish mammy taking out her frustration with her feckless husband on the Sunday spuds.
For his trouble McGregor was given a massive belt and named the featherweight champion of the world, Irish people everywhere cheered for a bit.
That was the year in sports, it is my official prediction that there will be more sports in 2016.