IT WOULD have done the shattered morale of England cricket manager David Lloyd, Aston Villa's Gareth Southgate and Nottingham Forest's resident squirrel no harm at all if they tuned in to Purple and Gold on Network Two last Friday night, where the golden tongue of Liam Griffin was `preaching belief'.

The same tongue talked Wexford's hurlers into believing they could win an All Ireland title last September after 28 years in the wilderness and after listening to Griffin talking to Ger Canning on Friday, it was easy enough to see how Martin Storey and company were inspired.

Griffin never had any doubts about his players' ability to remove themselves from the hurling doldrums, but a 28-year losing habit had left its mental scars - his first task, he decided, was to "preach belief". Mind you, this `sports psychology' approach to Wexford's problems had its doubters in the early days, and those doubters seemed to include most of the players. "Ah, there were times when I thought he was mad," said George O'Connor.

Captain Martin Storey was just as dubious about it all. "I was very skeptical The first night Liam came in, we had a meeting and he talked for about two hours. I just said to Liam Dunne, going home in the car: `We'll have plenty of headaches by the time this man's finished anyway, whatever else'."

What the English cricket team wouldn't give for a bit of Griffin's self-belief-instilling psychology these days. On the way to Croke Park for the Leinster final last summer, Griffin made the team get off their coach at the border between Wexford and Wicklow and told them when they crossed back over the border that evening, they would do so as Leinster champions. David Lloyd probably regrets not asking his English cricketers to step off their Zimbabwe-bound plane somewhere over the Mediterranean after the Christmas they've given him.

Sky Sports have been beaming live pictures of England's mini-tour of Zimbabwe to us over the holiday season and we've noticed that David and his lads just aren't having a fun time at all.

To begin with, the entire camp was in a right huff at the end of the first test when the Zimbabwean bowlers bowled too wide for the English batsmen to hit the ball - thereby preventing England reaching the modest target set for them to win the match. "Zlmbabwe will have to live with their tactics - we have murdered them in this game and they know it," said an indignant Lloyd after the test ended in a draw.

The hosts were obviously full of remorse by the time the second test started on Stephen's Day because, in a season-of-goodwill gesture, they decided to bowl straight at the England batsmen. "The most depressing day of my eight month reign," was how David described his team's resulting total of 137-9 at the end of the day's play.

"Henry Olonga bowled well today," said presenter Mark Nicholas. "Yeah, he's an intelligent young man and intelligence does help playing cricket - England haven't always shown a lot of it themselves," said a sighing Bob Willis.

By now things were looking alarmingly grim for the England boys who were facing the humiliating prospect of losing the two-match series to a nation some critics back home claimed shouldn't even have Test status. What they needed was a spectacular, noisy, rain-filled thunderstorm to cut the match short. Just as they began climbing on to the pavilion roof with their saucepan lids flashing torches and water pistols the heavens opened. Phew.

Day three. "Can England win this test match?" Nicholas asked Ian Botham. "Em, you mean can they save it? Zimbabwe are in control here," answered honest Both.

Meanwhile out in the middle, Sky's Paul Aliott was kneeling down examining the state of the wicket when he was nearly run over by a giant roller being pushed by six men. In the outfield another member of the Sky team, Charles Coville, almost disappeared underground before discovering, just in time, that the previous day's rain had turned the earth in to quicksand. It's been a traumatic trip to Africa for all concerned.

Gareth Southgate must have had that sinking feeling too last Monday night during the BBC's Euro 96 - When Football Came Home. Clearly determined to make him suffer for letting down a nation with his penalty miss against Germany in the semi-finals of the European Championship, the Beeb sat Gareth down in an armchair, replayed the miss over and over and over again and took him through every horror-filled millisecond of the experience, again (while a camera sat perched at the end of his nose recording his every nervous twitch).

"The day before the match the lads stuck a few balls down and practised penalties and..." said Gareth. "Did YOU," interrupted his interrogator. Beads of sweat rolled down Gareth's brow. "I have to confess I didn't because I didn't think I would be needed to take one. . . and I probably regret that now," he whispered, uncomfortably.

Just when we thought Gareth's ordeal was over, up popped one last question. "It's the World Cup finals, England are in a penalty shoot-out - would you take one?" asked the voice. "It probably wouldn't hold the same fear for me because since the summer I've come to realise that there are things that happen in people's lives that are far more important. I've had letters from people who have been involved in tragedies," said Gareth thinking of all those folks who received Charlie Landsborough CD's for Christmas.

He may also have been thinking about the plight of that beleaguered squirrel, Nottingham Forest's mascot, when he tried to put his penalty miss in to context. On Saturday's Football Focus we learnt from John Williams, of the Sir Norman Chester Centre for Football Research, that a survey commissioned by the Premier League had discovered that "the squirrel at Forest wasn't popular among some of their supporters - they said it was a little embarrassing".

For a minute we thought they were talking about goalkeeper Mark Crossley but no, they were picking on the poor, defenceless, cuddly squirrel employed to entertain the Forest fans now that the team can't do it anymore.

Happily Bolton's Lofty the Lion is suffering no such abuse and is, in fact, a roaring success at Burnden Park. "Even some visiting fans said they liked him and asked why their club couldn't have a mascot a little like Lofty," said Williams, who tried hard to keep a straight face through the discussion.