Judging by the constant updates from Wimbledon flashed around the office, we all love tennis.
Well we do this week!
And last week.
And hopefully right up until about 5pm on Sunday.
There are experts everywhere, most of whom will not have held a racquet in sporting anger since they left school.
But they all know everything there is to know about tennis.
By the middle of next month, everyone will love golf.
The Open Championship will be taking the sporting centre stage.
I have, as most people know, played a bit of golf in my time.
And for that reason alone, I know I am no expert.
But that will not stop others who wouldn’t know a sand wedge from a sandwich believing they can tell me why Tiger is past it or why Ian Poulter will never win a Major.
It is all part of our national obsession with sharing our views with everyone else, even if we haven’t got the slightest idea what we are talking about!
This obsession is not purely restricted to sport.
But, especially among the male of the species, it largely is.
I know people who have not set foot in a football stadium for decades who could still do a better job of things then Roy Hodgson.
The same people, no doubt, think they could do a better job of opening the batting in the forthcoming Ashes than Alastair Cook.
That is one of the joys of sport.
Everyone has an opinion. And everyone is entitled to it.
But my problem is that no one talks about tennis in the office apart from the current two-week spell every year.
The same is true of the Open Championship and even such sporting extravaganzas as the Olympics.
Everyone, as I have aleady said, is entitled to an opinion.
But I just hope that by the end of next week Andy Murray is still a proud Great Briton and not, as one of my colleagues would have it, a whinging Scot!