Sven the grey pretender

Sven-Goran Eriksson is either naive, foolish or doesn't really care about his job as England manager any more. To be photographed visiting the house of Roman Abramovich for a private meeting (any pretence that it was a social visit was negated by his dull grey suit, which screamed "business") was worse than careless. It was downright stupid.

Abramovich has generated more column inches in the last week than David Beckham, so to visit his house without being noticed is as likely as having an affair with a highprofile, publicity-seeking, beautiful celebrity and getting away with it. Ho-hum, have we been here before?

Eriksson reaffirmed, or at least the Football Association did on his behalf, his "total commitment to my role as England head coach".

He maintained he was " thoroughly enjoying the current European Championship qualifying campaign and ... looking forward to leading England to success in the future."

The wording is interesting because he did not reaffirm his total commitment to his contract, which runs until after the World Cup in 2006, nor did he mention the World Cup by name. I may have been critical of Arsene Wenger in the past but I admire his honesty as regards his contract. Had he issued such a statement, it would have been an unequivocal confirmation of his intent to stay at Arsenal, leaving the fans and the board of directors in no doubt of his loyalty. With Eriksson, there is always an area as grey as his suit.

There are three million reasons a year for Eriksson to stay in the England job, all of them starting with a £ sign, but he must be aware that the FA is unlikely to be able to meet his wage demands indefinitely, whether or not England perform well at Euro 2004.

Eriksson's reasons for planning ahead are clear and it makes sense to go to the man with the biggest cheque book before his own currency as a coach is devalued by a potentially disappointing campaign in Portugal.

Some may have questioned the team selection or tactics of previous England managers such as Kevin Keegan, Graham Taylor or Bobby Robson, but no one could ever doubt their commitment or their belief that to be asked to coach their country was the pinnacle of their careers. Can we say the same of Eriksson?

No shock to see Bruno on the floor

The news that Frank Bruno has reportedly checked into a Chelmsford clinic is sad but not surprising.

I went to interview Bruno in his Essex home a few years ago and worried then what he would do to fill his time. He was still married to Laura, working out daily in the gym and devoted to his three children, who were all living at home. Yet it was obvious that he had not even begun to come to terms with the loss of his sporting career.

He talked about working as a DJ, managing young boxers and watching his kids grow up, but there was an aimlessness about his musings.

Bruno is a showman, a natural entertainer who hankers after attention as much as he does the adrenalin rush of competition. Deprived of a stage on which to perform he has shrunk, both physically and emotionally.

I can only hope that the Priory can help him find satisfaction from a life without boxing and without Laura.

Tour of pain

A broken hip and a fractured cheek-bone are among the injuries to have caused premature retirements in the Tour de France but utterly incredible is the number of cyclists who are riding on through the pain.

Tyler Hamilton ( fractured collarbone), Fabio Baldato ( finger operation), Jimmy Casper (neck brace) and Danilo Di Luca (cystitis - not comfortable for a cyclist) have all continued to ride. Rene Haselbacher was the main casualty of a sprint finish on Tuesday, being thrown headlong into the barriers and suffering a bone-deep cut to his elbow, skinned fingers and lacerated shorts.

He still finished the stage.

Roger's a Romeo with Juliette

As a sign of appreciation for winning Wimbledon, the grateful Swiss nation presented Roger Federer with a gift. Not just any old trinket, though, but a gift that will keep on giving.

The Wimbledon champion looked a little surprised when Juliette was led on to the court in Gstaad, where he is currently playing in the Swiss Open.

She's a big girl, is Juliette, at around 130 stone.

She was bedecked with a garland of flowers, her long eyelashes blinking in the sun and she looked almost as confused as Roger himself as they were introduced to each other.

"I was afraid she might bite me, but I think she liked it when I stroked her," said the king of the Centre Court.

Juliette, in case you were wondering, is a dairy cow. A fine, big example of a dairy cow, in fact, who will happily provide the Federer family with milk for the rest of her life.

"I'm not often in the company of cows," Federer commented. Nor, given his new-found status as a sex symbol, will he have to be, but Juliette can be proud to know that she is the exception to the rule.

It does make you wonder what the British people would present to Tim Henman should the unthinkable ever happen at Wimbledon. A pig? Or perhaps the traditional symbol of national valour: a wrinkled, rather overweight, slightly smelly and completely disobedient bulldog.

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