Breakfast at Wimbledon is certainly the most famous of the European sporting events that, because of the time difference, we get to watch on the telly while munching on our cereal. But it’s not the only one.

Here it is a Thursday morning and there are actually choices to be made.

While reading about the latest Karen Sypher self-destruction, I can view either the Tour de France or the opening round of the British Open.

It’s a good thing.

So far I’m going with the bicycle race. Seven rider breakaway. Helicopter shots of the gorgeous French countryside and lovely little ancient towns.

This is certainly a unique event. I love how the crowds along the streets are not held back by barricades. They are so close they can touch the riders, and sometimes do. There’s always some guy in a wacky get up, attempting to run along with the riders for 15 or 20 yards. Like a flag-toting guy I just saw, wearing four foot antlers and a maroon outfit with Montana written across the chest.

Those team cars that zoom ahead and behind the peloton are ready in case a rider needs a tire change or some such.

Of course, watching the British Open means watching golf, which, frankly, I don’t find very compelling until the final 18. But it’s always stunning to watch these guys try to hit out of a bunker with an eight foot wall between them and the green. Plus those treeless courses, devoid of affectation like Turnberry, this year’s venue, are always intriguing.

Anyway, I need to get out and cut the grass before the expected rain. But, ya know, it’s just going to have to wait.

– Seedy K