WOULDN'T it be marvellous if Scarborough could switch their FA Cup fourth round tie against Chelsea to the Reynolds Arena, thus making a few bob for a club who have recently come out of administration and for one currently in it?

Unfortunately, the FA frown upon cup ties being switched, except for safety reasons, although there would obviously be a big temptation for Scarborough to cash in further on a live TV appearance by taking it to Middlesbrough.

Scarborough's McCain Stadium has a capacity of 6,000. It has witnessed good times, including 12 years in the Football League, but after relegation in 1999 the club slid into near-bankruptcy.

They are doing things the opposite way round from Darlington. After coming out of administration they are planning to move to a new stadium on the outskirts of town, encouraged by the lifting of a covenant on the McCain Stadium, which means the land can now be sold for housing or a supermarket.

It would greatly help Darlington, of course, if Feethams could be sold. But it can't, which is one reason why almost everyone barring George Reynolds will wish they had stayed there.

He says the ground was condemned, although it could have been brought up to scratch for a fraction of the cost of building the plush white elephant which has quickly become such a millstone.

If there is an individual or a consortium genuinely wanting to buy out Reynolds' 96 per cent shareholding in the club how do they put a value on the stadium? They could argue that it's worthless because they wish to take matches back to Feethams, and the club's survival is all that matters.

If Reynolds' own money built the stadium and he is the only person who thought it necessary to build it, then he could be stuck with it, forcing him to fight more battles with the council over alternative uses.

THE real sadness about the Quakers' situation is that it was so predictable. Just as predictable, in fact, as sportsmen issuing strenuous denials when they fail a drugs test, or forget to take one.

As Greg Rusedski's statement was considerably longer than this column, methinks he protesteth too much. If, as he maintains, he has nothing to worry about he should simply wait for next month's hearing in his home town of Montreal - we're quick to disown him in such circumstances - instead of lambasting the Association of Tennis Professionals.

He claims he has been singled out, citing the fact that there were seven identical cases earlier last year and 36 other nandrolone cases just under the limit. They were dismissed because of the possibility that the drug was included in supplements handed out by ATP trainers, who were ordered to stop the practice in May.

What doesn't look good for Rusedski is that he was tested two months after that, but that is unlikely to worry his lawyers, who will have a field day proving that the whole system is a shambles. They will probably bankrupt the ATP as Diane Modahl did with UK Athletics.

There will be no flood of tears for Rusedski. Despite his astonishing win in the BBC Sports Personality awards in 1999, he has struggled like fellow Canadian Lennox Lewis to win lasting affection in this country, and his foul-mouthed outburst at Wimbledon last year did not suddenly elevate him to McEnroe-like status.

His only reason for taking nandrolone would be to help him get over his injury, and if that were the case he deserves a shred of sympathy, especially as the quantity was not sufficient to enhance his performance.

But we will probably never be certain of the truth, just as we will never know whether Rio Ferdinand truly forgot to take his test, or whether Dwain Chambers genuinely didn't know his supplements contained designer drugs.

They may be all guilty of nothing more than stupidity - although Rusedski would even deny that - but their cases have highlighted how professional sport has brought a murky side to what used to be innocent recreation. The whole situation is a dog's dinner and a lot of lawyers will line some very deep pockets before it is adequately resolved.

FOLLOWING Newcastle's failure to earn a penalty for a blatant trip on Alan Shearer, it was extraordinary to hear that no visiting side had succeeded with a spot kick in the Premiership at Old Trafford since 1993. The fact that only three have been awarded tends to support the intimidation theory which is gathering force around Sir Alex Ferguson.

After unsettling Fulham's Louis Saha, it emerged that he had secretly invited PSV Eindhoven's Arjen Robben over to discuss a transfer.

If Ferguson wants to ride roughshod over others, it should be no surprise if - as Manchester United suspect - people were planted to ask damaging questions about him at the club's annual meeting.