Tragic days, right enough. Old Manchester United sold to that callous brute Murdoch. There'll be fisticuffs between the faithful in the pubs around Ireland over the next few weeks.

There will be rows over the implications of the texture and the colour of the shirts (most Irish fans seem to have a peculiar gra for the bluish strip), hot debates on the likelihood of a new United quilt and the unspeakable prospect of United games broadcast to clash with Coronation Street.

Oh, hellish days. The repercussions stretch way beyond Ireland. Chances are that the Japanese are hurling themselves (or at least their Cruyff tops) into volcanoes by the dozen.

French businessmen are most likely resigning en masse and retiring to Provence to smoke Gitanes and contemplate all those magnificent 1-0 feats of artistry over the likes of Southampton and Coventry.

At this very moment, there are Eskimos busy chiselling epic tributes of Nicky Butt in the ice. Damn it, the deal probably even ruffled a few feathers around Manchester, where a few of the older locals can distantly recall gaining admission to Old Trafford.

It was a week for grieving, and doubtless all the Manchester United fans, that devoted red army, waited to hear soothing words from the Messiah himself, old gum-chomping Alex. "Te be honest, I'm just 'apeee te be playin' footba'. We are footba' people," Alex told the BBC on Match of the Day. Just happy? Say it ain't so, chomp.

Well, at least the players would stick their chests out and speak valiantly of tradition, Matt Busby and the people's club. Enter the brothers Neville, who have just left the literary world swooning with a new diary, already hailed as a breathtakingly audacious addition to a canon already elevated by Hoddle and Adams.

Surely this pair of young visionaries would bring on the enlightenment. "Our job is to play football," revealed Philip in a moment of wonderful epiphany. Brother Gary elaborated on this gem of cryptic insight.

"Like Philip said, our job is to play football," he said. Surprisingly, such explanations did not satisfy the fans, and the Beeb dispatched a crew to Old Trafford to give the diehards a chance to videotape their indignation for posterity.

All sorts of doomsday scenarios got a half-hearted airing, with one lad visualising continuing pitch protests. (Now, there could be a definite niche market here in terms of a step-by-step guide, if any Offaly hurling fan is interested.)

Suddenly, snapping up clubs like cattle was all in vogue. Arsenal were mentioned in the same breath as Carlton (relax, the TV company, not Palmer).

Des Lynam declared that if the BBC allowed him, he'd buy Wimbledon. Joe Kinnear popped up to inform Des that if he was serious about the offer, he could put his hand is his pocket and probably afford the club himself.

"Hard enough getting him to buy a drink," quipped Gary Lineker, flashing a smile only equalled in terms of width by Kenneth Starr this week. Mick McCarthy joined Gary in studio, there to reflect on a marvellous week for the Republic of Ireland. "He was in the ring for your job, wasn't he," asked Gary, referring to Joe. Nice little ice-breaker.

Meanwhile, Paul Merson was merrily elucidating on the exact reason behind his departure from Middlesbrough. "If you go into the hairdressers seven days a week, well, by the end of the week, you're gonna have a hair cut." It was at once a theory likely to gain instant approval from Beckham and Posh and contained a philosophical edge worthy of Cantona's sea-faring phase.

These bloody soccer lads. Getting too clever by half. Still, a slow hair salon seems an odd reason to change clubs. John Gergory chirpily informed the Beeb that the only thing Merson would have to fear at his new club, Aston Villa, was "one or two perverts, one or two lads dressing up in women's clothes".

Suddenly, the ghostly presence of Frank Bough swept through the studio and you longed for another sport. Refreshing then, to get away from sponsorship and filthy lucre with another dollop of Formula One.

Eddie Jordan appeared on ITV and Network 2 to reflect once more on his incredible triumph at Spa and the loyalty of Ralf Schumacher.

Eddie, though, was happier talking about next season, when Heinz-Harald Frentzen joins the team in place of Schumacher. Frentzen displaced Damon Hill from his Williams car and might as well have spun about on a mo-ped for all the impact he has had.

Damon Hill welcomed his new team-mate through gritted teeth, noting that he hadn't done a whole pile at Williams and hoping he would do better now.

Finally, Sonia O'Sullivan concluded her season in Johannesburg in fitting form. For the first few laps of the 5,000 metres World Cup, the athletes crawled around the track at pensioner's pace, prompting the Eurosport man to note that "it gets dark at six o'clock".

But Sonia was just biding her time, poised on the shoulder of American Regina Jacobs, and on the final bend she eased brilliantly away, sprinting home to what was described as "the easiest $50,000 she has ever earned".