The great Greek tragedian Aeschylus knew a thing or two about life on the edge and surviving at the outer limits. Fear, he said in "The Eumenides", is good at times; it keeps a watchful place at the heart's controls. There's advantage in wisdom won from its pain. But to be conquered fear itself must first be understood...

It was the year of watching wondrously. 2000: A Sports Odyssey. An annus mirabilis of athletic delight. A year of unprecedented pulsating sporting achievement. A year in which the hyperbolic pre-match billings were genuinely sustained by the subsequent perfomance realities.

New Year is a time for quiet reflection on what's gone, together with optimism for what's to come. As Edward Fitzgerald dreams in "The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam"...

Scotland needs a Braveheart to stir the masses. The tartan bunting's on hold. The saltire flags lie hidden in the closet. Dancing in the street's in abeyance. Holyrood's second anniversary passes with neither bang nor whisper. Ignore the smug official upbeat spin. Indifference abounds. We remain underwhelmed.

Tribute to departed greats. "STOP all the clocks, cut off the telephone", bewailed John Hannah, citing Auden in Four Weddings and a Funeral. Now I'll continue: "Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead/Scribbling on the sky the message/She is dead". Megan Tressider, committed, gifted journalist, awesome cancer survivor, is no more. Departed in her 43rd year.

"Forget what you think you know", blusters the promotional tagline as "Ali" fever grips the globe. Will Smith's reincarnation of the boxing icon, that peerless embodiment of magnetic athlete, cultural and even sexual reverence. The imperishable hero. Cassius Marcellus Clay aka Muhammad Ali.