Wrestling with sport’s financial future

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THE recession has hit sport so bad French pole vaulter Romain Mensil has turned to extreme measures to drum up cash.

The world silver medalist has run naked through the streets of Paris to raise funds.

Only his pole and a strategically placed black square hid his modesty.

Footage from his glorified streak has been a sensation on the internet.

Good luck to him, at least Mensil is doing something to keep his career going.

And a large chunk of the cash is going to a charity to help ill children.

Thankfully, there was plenty of money sloshing about when Fatima Whitbread was a top class athlete.

British sport is facing a funding crisis in light of the credit crunch.

Here are a few fund raising ideas ...

For swimming why not go the opposite of Mensil and wear as much clothes as possible. They could dive into the water with 10 jumpers, eight pairs of jeans and a set of moon-boots. Then we would really see who was the strongest swimmer, and bring in publicity and money.

For the 100m, get them to wear high heels, it will be just like the race for the taxi rank on Union Street at chucking out time on a Saturday night. Better still, instead of the starter’s pistol, use the bell for last orders. I have seen people in white high heels run faster than Usain Bolt when that bell starts ringing.

And there were last orders in Seattle, America where cash strapped drinkers have been staging their own mock-wrestling, in a WWE-style. The Seattle Semi-Pro League puts on bouts in bars, as ‘fight cabaret’.

But now officials are set to give it the smack-down – by red tape.

The SSPL would have to hire medical personnel and buy a regulation wrestling ring, in addition to posting a $10,000 bond.

Why splash out that money? If you want to see a fight just go to Belmont Street at the weekend.

I recently went to a WWE night, but it was a complete waste of money.

If I wanted to watch two pandas battling it out, I would have gone to Edinburgh Zoo.

When I was a kid, I regularly watched the wrestling at the Music Hall every second Tuesday.

All the greats were there, Mick McManus, Cat Weasel, Giant Haystacks and Big Daddy.

Beer bellies bulging out of leotards, with crazed old aged pensioners screaming for blood from the sides.

Now that’s entertainment, so much better than the fake American version now, too much fake tan, fake hair – and fake wrestling.

The wrestling at the Music Hall brings back memories of my second most embarrassing autograph-hunting memory as a kid.

I was a wee lad from Northfield, about 10 years old, and waited around to get Cat Weasel’s autograph. And as I handed over the paper to be signed, tripped and stood on his foot injuring him.

My most embarrassing – that was when I asked Jocky Wilson for his autograph and he told me in no uncertain terms ‘not now’.

Granted, he was using a urinal at the time.