NO ONE surely would deny the wish for former Formula 1 world champion Michael Schumacher to make a full recovery from his life-threatening skiing accident.

His brain injury suffered when he crashed against a rock while skiing with his son in the French Alps just after Christmas has left the former seven-time world motor-racing ace fighting for his life, top medical care putting him into an induced coma in a bid to stablise his condition and speed his recovery.

It is so ironic that someone who defied the danger of more than a decade hurtling around the world’s most testing circuits in what is little more than a rocket on four wheels should suffer a life-threatening injury when pursuing a leisure interest.

But for all the heartfelt hopes millions globe-wide would cherish for he and his family that Schumacher makes the quickest and fullest recovery, does anyone share the view that the media interest in the accident has been not just over the top, but wildly disproportionate?

As a racing driver, the German is deservedly in the pantheon of his own sport and naturally he is feted in his own country. His successes have also transcended his homeland and the Grand Prix arena.

But the coverage of Schumacher’s injury has bordered almost on the same level of attention as the recent death of Nelson Mandela.

A media scrum has been camped outside the hospital where Schumacher’s condition is being forensically scrutinised by the best medical care money can buy. There have been daily, seemingly almost hourly, bulletins as to what he has undergone, his ongoing treatment, his present condition.

But hang on a minute. He is only a racing diver, albeit one of the most successful in the modern era.

Does that mean his dreadful accident should merit the sort of investigation and coverage accorded customarily to that of nations’ kings, presidents, dictators and former prime ministers?

Or rather, is this the the way of the world now, one so obsessed by celebrity and especially that of sport?

Schumacher has had an accident, a terrible accident true, especially for himself and his immediate family and friends.

But nonetheless it was an accident that occurs every second of every day around the world whether in leisure on the slopes, behind the wheel of a car, swimming in a turquoise sea, or in the day-to-day toils of ordinary folk.

In all this palaver, you feel for those closest to Schumacher.

The man who thrilled the world of speed is not simply lying in a hospital bed. He is lying in a giant fishbowl at which a global gaze is trained.

Where is the privacy, where is the silence, where is the decency in this over-networked world?


All aboard managerial lippy-go-round

BARELY has the shiny new pin been attached to the nappy of the new year and football’s managerial mayhem cranks up again.

In the wake of the not-sofestive week in which there were desperate exhortations from Brendan Rogers decrying the roots and loyalty of a referee and then Jose Gobinho slagging rival players as expert divers – methinks he forgets a certain Didier Drogba once in his employ – then New Year’s Day was heralded by David Moyes ranting at the lack of a penalty for his winger Ashley Young.

It was, said Moyes, the most “scandalous” decision he had witnessed. Maybe, Mr Chosen One, it was a case of what goes around, comes around.

Remember, the victim of the decision – Young was brought down by Spurs ’keeper Hugo Lloris – was a player who has fallen to the turf with a regularity suggesting his frame might be made of paper.

To Moyes’ credit he has been a critic of Young’s prevalence for tumbling, but perhaps this could be a case of the biter being nipped. Maybe it would have been better for Moyes, pictured left, to have bitten his own tongue.

In full flow, meanwhile, was Ole Gunnar Solskjaer, who was effusive in taking up the position as manager of Cardiff City, a job made vacant by the shameful sacking of Malky Mackay, whose personality clashed with that of owner and club tradition-trasher Vincent Tan.

Why would anyone want to work with someone like Tan?

His albeit brief track record at the helm of the Bluebirds, who now play in red due to Tan’s fan-dismissing whim, is hardly encouraging.

Is it the lure of the challenge, the adrenaline of managing in the Premier League? I suppose the safety blanket of a huge pay-off cheque would ease the blow of it perhaps not quite working out.