By Chris Wright
Picture the scene: You’re Iker Casillas, your beard is marvellous. Being the saint you are, you leave the house in good time to make it to training on time when a wild traffic jam appears on the motorway…
Being the diligent, honest soul you are, you take a photograph as proof of your vehicular malaise and send it to your manager as proof of your predicament, along with an apology for your imminent tardy arrival .
And the bastard still fines you.
There is no God.