“It looks like he enjoys a good lunch, John”
Mark Lawrenson. Quite possibly the saviour of football punditry from its inevitable downhill slope. An absolute king of the microphone and a keen eye for observation. There’ll never be another one quite like our friend and neighbour, Lawro.
With his sharp, cynical punditry, I suppose we can forgive him for playing for Liverpool. We forgave Paul Ince didn’t we? But that’s because he just looks so slick and cool 365 days a year. It’s pretty clear some kind of secret handshake and a rap song (which John Barnes most fortunately had nothing to do with) is what earned MK Dons their league title this year. Blackburn Rovers are now in the hands of the Shaft of the Premier League. One love, indeed.
Lawro continues to raise the proverbial punditry bar season after season. He manages to relinquish his focus from the game in question for just a moment to give a brief analysis from an event from his past time and time again…
“When I lived in rural Oxfordshire, I was walking home across a field when I stroked a cow. The damn thing butted me in the orchestras”
This was of course followed by a signature-awkward change of subject by John Motson himself, and the game continued. First class. Lawro knew we were witnessing sub-par football, and he brought the event to life. David Pleat often has the same effect, but only because he is an uneducated, illiterate moron. Potato-Potahto.
I guess you have to feel a little sorry for John Motson, from the times Motty has made a supporting comment which sets Lawro up to offer his insight and on-the-field experience into the colour-commentary, which Lawro so frequently replies with a short sharp “No” or “Terrible”.
No sugar coating or bloating the truth. No favouritism or bias. Mark Lawrenson hates football. He hates every team and every player. He knows in the back of his mind that he could walk down the terraces; onto the field and play the game better himself. Everything involved with football, Mark Lawrenson cannot abide it. Mark Lawrenson just simply hates football, but obviously – He just needs the money. It makes sense doesn’t it? I hate my job. You probably hate your job. He’s like the rude, acne-ridden hormone-fest that completely ignores you at the deli counter in the supermarket because he’s thinking about video games and boobs. He hates cheese, deli sandwich fillers and sliced meat, almost as much as Lawro cannot fucking stand football.
Complete respect.
