UEFA's final fiasco

So that's it, then. It's confirmed - 42,000 English fans will each have to fly 1,500 miles from England to Moscow to watch a Champions League final between two English teams.

Madness! At a time when the civilised world is finally switching on to the reality of global warming, UEFA has managed to pre-plan an event so badly it could single-handedly raise the planet's temperature by half a degree - we are talking about a minimum of 126 million air miles here.

Of course, Michel Platini and his team of planners - assuming they are not busy spraying aerosols into the sky or chopping down trees - will argue Chelsea and Manchester United making it through to the final is just a quirk of fate.

I would argue that not seeing it coming is a quirk of stupidity. Even if, as UEFA obviously has done, you discard the environmental concerns, what about the poor old fans? Catching a shuttle to France to watch a match is one thing. Flying all the way to Moscow is an entirely different ball game, both in terms of time and money.

And then there are the visa issues which officials from the clubs, UEFA, the FA and Moscow have spent the last few days desperately trying to sort out.

Why on earth was this not sorted out before? I mean, it's not as if everyone didn't know visas were required to get into Russia. It should hardly have come as a surprise.

In fact, being able to sort out this sort of problem early is one of the advantages, if not the only advantage, of allocating the final so many months in advance. So why wasn't it done?

The truth is all these problems - environmental, financial, logistical and administrative - are direct consequences of UEFA's supremely flawed policy of awarding their showpiece event to a particular stadium months in advance.

As I write this there are still three weeks to go before the event and that is plenty of time to organise a football match. It's not as if we are talking about an event here which is going to need much advertising. Tickets would sell out even if they went on sale an hour before the match.

So the need to promote the final is no excuse. And it's not as if the early decision on venue has helped with planning as the visas fiasco clearly indicates.

I suppose UEFA could argue it is to do with safety and security and that they need the extra time to make sure the stadium itself is up to scratch. That too would be an excuse that even Bill Clinton would have found flimsy.

All of Europe's major venues are fully certified and hold events just as big as this regularly. They could organise an event for 80,000 people in their sleep. (The organisers, that is, not the 80,000 people. That would just be weird).

To be honest since I wrote that last paragraph I have sat here for nearly an hour trying to think of any other reasons UEFA may have for their seriously stupid policy. But I have drawn a blank. If, however, I am missing something and there are legitimate reasons why three weeks is too short notice to decide on a venue, why not at least plan it when the semi-finalists are known?

At that point you could easily choose a venue which is accessible to fans of the four teams. The Stade de France, for example, would have been ideal this time round.

I mean it's not as if the people running any of Europe's major stadia are going to turn round to UEFA when they approach them and say sorry, we're booked. The sheer prestige of the event would ensure they could always pick and chose their venue.

I can only conclude there must be 'corporate' or 'sponsorship' reasons behind this particular policy and that appointing a venue so far in advance means UEFA rakes in more euros. Or, in this case, roubles.

What a sad way to run football.

Going for bloke

It's been a week to forget for Brazilian legend Ronaldo.

The three-times World Footballer of the Year is back in his home country with his girlfriend as he bids to recover from his latest career-threatening injury.

After spending an evening in a nightclub - presumably in the hope it would speed up the healing process - he left for a motel with three prostitutes in tow.

Unfortunately for him there was more to these particular women than met the eye. Considerably more. And in the sort of place most men prefer their women not to have anything at all.

Realising his strategic error, Ronaldo offered to pay the transvestites $600 dollars each for their time. Two accepted but one demanded hush money closer to $30,000.

To cut a long story short, Ronaldo ended up going to the police to complain he was being blackmailed and it was there he came out with an excuse of true bizarreness.

"I am having psychological problems because of my injury," he told investigators.

Well that's all right then. Cheating on your partner is OK provided you have an injury to blame it on.

"Sorry, dear. I didn't mean to sleep with your best friend. But I did stub my toe last week..."

The whole incident is made all the more strange by the fact that it was only after the three 'ladies' got their bits and pieces out that the penny dropped for the footballer.

I've seen footage of the three on the BBC and none of them would look out of place in the dressing rooms at the San Siro. Or on a building site, for that matter.

Obviously it's not just your sense of decency that gets affected by knee injuries. It's your eyesight too...

Words of wisdom

Sir Alex is a wise old man. Prior to their clash with Roma, the Manchester United manager promised Paul Scholes he would be in the starting line-up if they made the final. It was compensation for the lad missing out on the last one through suspension.

How did Scholes repay his boss? With a 30-yard screamer right into the top corner - a goal that turned out to be the winner. Forget Mourinho, that's top drawer man-management for you.

In with a shout

The battle for promotion to the Premier League comes to its conclusion today and, unbelievably, Sheffield United are still in with a shout of making the play-offs.

True, it would take a combination of results that are less likely than Heather Mills finding a new husband, but there is always a chance.

So spare a thought for me today as I settle down in front of the laptop to listen to the Blades take on Southampton while simultaneously trying to keep up with all the other games that need to go our way.

Knowing our luck we will probably end up missing out on goal difference shattering the Premiership dream for another year.

Unless, of course, we can get the final table recounted by Robert Mugabe. Might even be champions then...

Nice one, son

Rarely has a football player shown as much bravery and dignity as Frank Lampard did on Wednesday night.

The fact that he managed to return to action so soon after the death of his mother took an immense amount of courage. To then put in a performance of the highest standards, including scoring a penalty, was truly magnificent.

Some have expressed surprise that Frank played in the Champions League semi-final just days after losing his mother but, as much as it sounds like a cliché, it is what she would have wanted.

Pat Lampard, by all accounts, was football mad and she followed her son around the world to watch him play. She would have been the last person to want Frank to miss out on possibly the most important match of his career.

Over the years I have often knocked Frank, especially for his frequent inability to translate his club form to the international stage.

But, on Wednesday I found myself willing him to put the penalty away. And I have to admit there was the beginnings of a tear in my eye when he did.

Good luck to you mate, I'm sure your mum is proud as Punch.

sportscolumnist@timesofmalta.com