I sort of watched the second half of yesterday's FA Cup final in a bar yesterday evening. It will tell you the esteem in which I hold Jose Mourinho that I wanted Chelsea to win. I didn't just want them to win, I really wanted them to win because I knew this would make him sad. I'm not saying I'm some kind of long-distance spiritual succubus, gaining happiness from his unhappiness, but I am happy when he's not. That desire overrides all other things, but there's a bonus in that his dismay is shared by Ashley Young who, as far as I could see, spent most of the game flying through the air like an ostrich who absolutely refuses to countenance the idea that he's a bird that can't fly....
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