As we move towards the winner-takes-all million-bucks-a-man Twenty20 cricket match between England and some bunch of other blokes yet to be decided, it's time we considered the forgotten people in this, er, thrilling development in sport. That is to say, you and me.

Are we supposed to cheer for England? I don't really think so; after all, the object of the match isn't glory. It's all about rich people suddenly getting even richer. Or not, of course.

And I ask myself: am I really going to get over-excited about Kevin Pietersen's chances of buying a second Porsche? No, this is not the kind of fixture that is going to stir up the ancient loyalties that spring from ancient traditions.

But all the same, the match will have a kind of grisly fascination. I mean, say it comes down to the last ball, one wicket or one run to win; oh, and it's a huge slog and the ball's spiralling up in the air and if he catches it, every England player will get a million bucks, and if he drops it, they won't, and who's underneath it? Go, Monty, go!

This kind of simple yes-or-no test is a staple of modern television, but it's not sport, it's reality TV. We don't care what they're doing, we only care whether or not they can pull it off under as much artificial pressure as possible. “It's always been my dream,” they sob. “It's the chance of a lifetime.” And they blow it, or they don't, tears prick the nation's eyes, and then we put the kettle on.

It's entertainment, but it's not sport. In sport, the process itself matters: the beauties, the subtleties, the long-term relationships, the tactical nuances, the opposition, the quest for perfect execution. In reality TV, we put someone on the griddle, put him to the ultimate test, and then forget him for ever while we pour ourselves a nice drink.

But that's the way sport is moving. You don't believe me? Ask John Terry. Football is a sport, and a great one, but the penalty shoot-out is just reality TV. It's not a test of football, it's not even a test of personality in any subtle or meaningful fashion. It's just an ingenious way of piling on pressure for the fun of seeing who disintegrates. And that's not sport, it's reality TV.

The process is turning sport into a cheap thrill, when the fact is that sport should be an expensive thrill. It should be paid for in the knowledge and understanding and commitment of the audience. Pressure is a part of it, of course it is; pressure in the context of profound and complex skills.

But sport moves away from these things and becomes reality TV: quite good fun, and instantly forgettable for everyone except the poor bastard who loses, or gets voted off, or drops his dance partner, or fluffs a note, or misses the penalty, or drops the million-dollar catch.

I mean, it's all right, but it's not as good as sport, is it?

Federer has to accept the new facts of tennis life

The unravelling of Rodge continues. Roger Federer's destruction at the biceps of the ineffable Rafael Nadal is certainly the end of an era. Federer has been in decline since the beginning of the year: that final at the French Open, in which Federer won only four games, was the fall.

Everyone knows it except Federer. He believes he had a pretty good clay-court season (comment?) and now he has been cutting down a few second-raters in a Wimbledon warm-up tournament in Germany and fancying himself for Wimbledon. “The win streak is incredible,” he commented. Well, yes it is: his winning streak on grass is up to 59 after his defeat of Philipp Kohlschreiber in the final at Halle, but it's not gentlemanly to gloat about such things, especially with your game in such disarray. It's also worryingly uncharacteristic.

So let the new era start a week today when play begins in SW19. It may be the era of Federer mark two: a champion remade, forging a new and tougher self after his aura of invincibility has been demolished. It may be an era in which men's tennis becomes a scrap involving three or four well-matched players. Or it may be the moment for Nadal, especially after his victory at Queen's.

That's the way it feels to me, but does the Spaniard have the temperament to play the part of champion? This story will unfold over Wimbledon fortnight, and continue over the course of the next couple of years, while the story of Federer's attempts to recover from his fall will run alongside. It's complex, multilayered and enthralling. You could, of course, get them to play a single tie-breaker for a billion quid, winner takes all. But that wouldn't be great sport; just reality TV.

Johnson has gift of perfect timing

You can say what you like about Martin Johnson's reign as team manager of the England rugby union side, but you can't deny that he has got off to the best possible start. Missing the tour to New Zealand was unquestionably a masterstroke.

He has a tough assignment ahead bearing in mind that he has not actually coached a team before. But to start off leading a crisis-riven England team against the All Blacks would have been ever-so-slightly daunting. Instead, he is back at home while his wife, with exemplary timing, is giving birth.

We can't compete with the Dutch - even at losing

Every now and then, we come face to face with Holland and are forced to concede that they are very much like us, and they do an awful lot of things that we do; except that they tend to do them better. The brilliant Holland team at the European Championship provides a perfect opportunity to appreciate this fact.

They play football better than us and yet it is exactly the sort of football we like to play and like to watch: English football in excelsis. They invented the most thrilling kind of football ever played, the total football of Johan Cruyff and his pals.

They are a former colonial power that has become a small nation and yet they accept it without rancour. They have a cheerful beery culture without our binge-drinking dementia. They are easy, liberal and tolerant, in just the way we would like to be. They have better painters. They are relaxed about soft drugs and sex, not because they are drug fiends and sex-maniacs, but because they think it's no big deal. They have a disconcerting rationality.

And also, they fail more dramatically at football even than we do; and against the Germans at that. That unforgettable total football side were 1-0 up against Germany in the first minute of the World Cup final of 1974 and still contrived to lose. It was the most brilliant defeat in football history; we really can't compete with stuff such as that.