Go on Villa, give us some fun

One of the great attractions of sport is witnessing the mighty humbled and, preferably, humiliated. When this involves Manchester United there is the bonus of seeing how Sir Alex Ferguson will react. Will he impress with his good grace or will he trot out his familiar conspiracy theories about Mike Riley and plots by the powers that be to dethrone his boys?

Like most football fans, I am relishing the unlikely prospect of the best team in Britain losing a third successive league match tomorrow, this time against ailing Aston Villa. There is not just sadism behind this. Many have a nostalgic yearning for Liverpool to be a genuine football force again, rather than a team who win the Champions League to make up for not being league champions.

It would also be nice for those Scousers who phone in their fandom to BBC Radio 5 Live’s 606 to face the conundrum of how to moan about a manager who has won the title and lifted the European Cup. “But Alan, have you seen how much weight he’s put on?”

Button’s victory is no way to win our love

The backlash against Lewis Hamilton after winning the Formula One World Championship was quintessentially English. He was too confident, slick and just a bit too good for a nation that prides itself on heroic failure. Meanwhile, Jenson Button was just a bit rubbish and, hence, did not fit the template of being good enough to throw it all away.

We also like a sob story while adding caveats whereby a winner must also triumph over adversity, poverty and, ideally, a life-threatening illness.

Hamilton had it a bit too easy. And Button, well, he was just not that good. The dilemma shows how we struggle to love our heroes. Tim Henman? Not enough emotion. Andy Murray? Too much. Thankfully, we all at least agree to hate drunken footballers and love George Best.

Now Button lines up for the Malaysian Grand Prix tomorrow a winner and Hamilton has had third-best status docked by the suits. He even “deliberately misled”. Ah well. Losing makes him interesting. He’s not a corporate genius but one of us, while Button’s got a non-rubbish car. It is hard to tell much about a driver who leads from start to finish; the real story is elsewhere. Hamilton must now become a champion loser. We will love him for it.

Valero tale adds to boxing’s rich canvas

Boxing is bloody barbarism that feeds on misery. The risks and intent mean that there is no other sport that comes close for guilt-edged drama and, tonight, another horribly heroic story reaches a conclusion.

Edwin Valero is a Venezuelan who fell off his motorbike in 2001 and fractured his skull. He had surgery to remove a blood clot and has been banned from boxing in the United States because of his injuries. Refusing to give up on his dream, he moved to Tokyo and boxed there. Texas, of course, has relented and he takes on Antonio Pitalúa, the Colombian, for the vacant WBC lightweight title.

I admire Valero’s determination and am confused about why I care about his health when the aim of boxing is to render a rival unconscious. Also on the bill in Austin is Jesús Chávez, an illegal immigrant from Mexico who was deported twice, served 3½ years in an Illinois jail for armed robbery, won the world lightweight title and married a soldier shortly before she went to Iraq. You can fault the morality, but not the stories.

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• Graham Spiers