tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13364141479472875682024-03-21T01:44:38.720-07:00The Blog StandardDafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-37822571675825021742010-11-30T14:46:00.000-08:002010-12-03T15:21:09.328-08:00'A Coat of Arms for Your Face': Movember<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWuUIRx-igzLUxO-9Xz53XeEZjhti47syvGmRKI1iWCpqXti9sede5KpjFIcX48EoknZ8K6h1CbWih_GZKWSdXEJpZk6gdxLgANs7Ri99zNOkFUmq9_CGaIDqjWqDdbw8NFsEC1X9AfECk/s1600/iain+and+gar.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWuUIRx-igzLUxO-9Xz53XeEZjhti47syvGmRKI1iWCpqXti9sede5KpjFIcX48EoknZ8K6h1CbWih_GZKWSdXEJpZk6gdxLgANs7Ri99zNOkFUmq9_CGaIDqjWqDdbw8NFsEC1X9AfECk/s320/iain+and+gar.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545751237078953634" /></a><br /><blockquote><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">"A well maintained moustache is a symbol of a modern gentleman."</blockquote><br /><br />That's according to the founders of Movember, the month-long charity event inviting men grow a moustache to raise money and awareness for men's health and prostate cancer in particular.</span><br /><br />From the wispy lip-ticklers at the Cardiff School of Journalism to the grizzly and glorious efforts of international rugby players, Movember is a worldwide movement.<br /><br />The rules are simple. Begin on 1 November with a clean shaven face and grow a moustache for the entire month.<br /><br />Founded in Australia in 2003, Movember has grown to the extent that, in 2009, official global participation reached 255,755, with over a million donors raising £26m.<br /><br />Having lost family members to different forms of cancer, I'm aware of the disease's fatal consequences. Prostate cancer, however, has not always benefited from exposure as far-reaching as Movember.<br /><br />Prostate cancer is the most common cancer in men in the UK – 36,000 men are diagnosed with prostate cancer every year and 250,000 men are currently living with the disease.<br /><br />Whether you're driven by the loss of a loved one or just happy to donate your face to a good cause, Movember is a more than worthy reason for sporting some facial furniture.<br /><br />One of the primary objectives for the founders of Movember is to change men's attitudes towards their health - to encourage them to be more proactive in taking care for themselves.<br /><br />A recent poll showed 45% of 'Mo Bros' are thinking of keeping their new facial accessories beyond the end of November.<br /><br />But with my effort falling some way short of Tom Selleck levels of hirsute luxury, I doubt my moustache will be keeping me company much longer.<br /><br />If you'd like to make a donation, please visit: http://uk.movember.com/donate/ <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">As written for <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/cardiff">Guardian Cardiff</a></span>Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-30913496030155954092010-09-24T10:55:00.000-07:002010-10-02T08:06:49.538-07:00Sky's the limit: The rise and rise of Murdoch's monopoly<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.antifascistencyclopedia.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/imgname-i_never_thought_it_would_get_this_bad_rupert_murdoch-50226711-rupert.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 370px; height: 278px;" src="http://www.antifascistencyclopedia.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/imgname-i_never_thought_it_would_get_this_bad_rupert_murdoch-50226711-rupert.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />The decision to move October’s football match between Leeds and Cardiff from a Saturday afternoon to a Monday evening will have passed without as much as an arched eyebrow for most people. It is the reason for this switch, however, which should cause alarm; symptomatic as it is of the monopoly enveloping British media.<br /><br />Since the inception of the Premier League in 1992 (or the Premiership, as it was then marketed), football in Britain has been governed not by the Football Association, but by Rupert Murdoch’s (above) multi-million pound television enterprise, Sky.<br /><br />Having paid astronomical amounts to screen Premier League matches, Sky have since wrestled control of fixture lists, moving matches at such frequency that, last season, Manchester United played just three home league matches at the conventional kick-off time of 3pm on a Saturday.<br /><br />And while switching a Championship fixture may not be Sky’s most outlandish statement of intent, even this relatively restrained flexing of the corporation’s muscles is indicative of its growing power.<br /><br />Worryingly for the rest of the British media landscape, though, there is little to suggest that the Sky juggernaut faces any opposition as it hurtles towards absolute dominance.<br /><br />The government is far from bothered by the swelling of Murdoch’s empire; in fact, the mogul’s expansion suits it.<br /><br />Jeremy Hunt, the Minister for Culture, Media and Sport, and the Education Secretary, Michael Gove, are just two prominent Conservatives to have rounded on the BBC recently, arguing that the corporation is too powerful. <br /><br />These two and their party, however, are more than happy to stand aside as Murdoch plans to become the outright majority shareholder of BSkyB, whose chairman James Murdoch (yes, the son of) is also an outspoken and vitriolic critic of the BBC.<br /><br />Sky recorded revenues of over £6bn last year, while the BBC this week saw the licence fee frozen – at Hunt’s behest – at £145.50, adding budgetary injury to the incessant insults the corporation has endured from its competition.<br /><br />The government’s brazen double standards are hardly surprising. David Cameron’s cabinet, after all, is deeply affiliated to Murdoch’s modus operandi, News Corporation. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.socialistunity.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/andy-coulson-006.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 460px; height: 276px;" src="http://www.socialistunity.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/andy-coulson-006.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Through News International, News Corporation owns nearly 40 percent of British newspapers, and the former editor of its prized publication, The News of the World, happens to be Andy Coulson (above), who is now Cameron’s Director of Communications.<br /><br />There is an unhealthily close relationship between the current government and the commercial monopoly which is about to strengthen yet further its grip on the British media.<br /><br />But rather than sounding the alarm bells, the UK is currently heading towards a crisis akin to that seen in Italy recently, where the Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi is also an entrepreneur with a Murdoch-esque stranglehold on the country’s media.<br /><br />There could be one, lonely voice in government willing to stem the tide. Business Secretary Vince Cable spoke at the Liberal Democrats conference about how "Capitalism takes no prisoners and kills competition where it can,” in what may or may not have been a thinly veiled challenge to Murdoch’s latest move.<br /><br />There is scant support, however, from Downing Street for Cable’s views, as the lukewarm reaction from colleagues to his controversial speech proved. It could be some time until Cable’s warnings are heeded.Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-28396622023626166722010-09-16T10:56:00.000-07:002010-09-16T11:12:11.606-07:00Serbian see-saws and Dutch pretentions: architecture in Venice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://en.nai.nl/mmbase/images/791484/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 439px; height: 293px;" src="http://en.nai.nl/mmbase/images/791484/3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />You'd think the opening salvo "Architects, we who change the world" was a tongue-in-cheek introduction. Not at Venice’s La Biennale, though: a festival of contemporary art and architecture as rich in booming pomposity as it is inspiration and creativity.<br /><br />The Dutch installation, ‘Where Architecture Meets Ideas’, was the most impressive show of self-aggrandisement. A call for architecture which “comes up with solutions for the major issues of our time” was one of its more memorable soundbites – perhaps a little optimistic for what is essentially a blue-foam cityscape (above).<br /><br />The ‘ideas web’ (below) was similarly, er, ambitious – the sort of diagram that would not be out of place on the office walls of SugarApe magazine from an episode of Nathan Barley. It was, like, totally profound and shit.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHh3FR3MH8q7g8XkZ80D71EcbtQcnJU9f3ClduRmEkiwhRHZENVxbuFmnZ5ogv2r8VsOJy2UQi19J88_hMYkJiYrfvFcXWcYHrUlOXluwjxLMJzVuLIzBOeRke7Exg1WtaQPkmcqKqKNcf/s1600/Ideas+web+Comp.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHh3FR3MH8q7g8XkZ80D71EcbtQcnJU9f3ClduRmEkiwhRHZENVxbuFmnZ5ogv2r8VsOJy2UQi19J88_hMYkJiYrfvFcXWcYHrUlOXluwjxLMJzVuLIzBOeRke7Exg1WtaQPkmcqKqKNcf/s320/Ideas+web+Comp.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517573439345709778" /></a><br />Pretentiousness is by no means, however, an exclusively off-putting quality of this exhibition. Quite to the contrary, there was much to enjoy about indulging in one’s own wafty self-importance.<br /><br />The sight of Belgium’s snappily-titled ‘Polyester and Fibreglass Seats from a Metro Station' was as visually arresting as the name suggests. Not exceedingly so. Yet it instilled in me a sense of double reality; simultaneously indulging in the gallery’s warmth yet also arrested by the chill of bus and train stations where I had spent countless, desolate hours of my life.<br /><br />Having guffawed at the lofty ambitions of the Dutch installation, I now found myself thinking twice about my own decadent reflections. There I was pontificating about Jean Baudrillard and ideas of hyper-realities, the simulacrum – from the sight of a shabby seat from a train station. Pretentious? Me?<br /><br />La Biennale is a feast of art and architecture, ranging from the self-satisfied Australian 3D vision of the future (complete with ‘edgy’ title, ‘Now and When’), to the enchanting ‘hylozoic’ (the belief that all matter is alive) fusion of technology and nature from Canada, manifest in thousands of digitally-fabricated components glittering and breathing like plants in a darkened room (below).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4dr0OuHl7s81yLekLvw7gG3S8eHZEFLBN8_5xrrzV-WPXgvubNyy2U1PErAkGe6Ff1WrNB3qL9lpHVfR97ZBnf9pOwZoHY_XX6FXzestgBqBEvjYjhgl9ei6NjNwlIB9qP3pi3QWrRP7/s1600/Hylozoic+comp.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 143px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4dr0OuHl7s81yLekLvw7gG3S8eHZEFLBN8_5xrrzV-WPXgvubNyy2U1PErAkGe6Ff1WrNB3qL9lpHVfR97ZBnf9pOwZoHY_XX6FXzestgBqBEvjYjhgl9ei6NjNwlIB9qP3pi3QWrRP7/s320/Hylozoic+comp.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517573631607339666" /></a><br />Few installations, however, were as much fun as Serbia’s, which, either through a distinct lack of ideas or an admirable commitment to childish enjoyment, turned out to be a room packed with see-saws. And not even the architects at La Biennale could muster something pretentious to say about a see-saw.Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-60579845143234684392010-08-31T01:54:00.000-07:002010-09-02T09:28:11.012-07:00Football's noisy chasm: The case of Steve Coppell and why fans boo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i.telegraph.co.uk/telegraph/multimedia/archive/01395/steve-coppell_1395575c.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 460px; height: 287px;" src="http://i.telegraph.co.uk/telegraph/multimedia/archive/01395/steve-coppell_1395575c.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />When Steve Coppell announced his resignation after just two months as Bristol City manager, the surprise resonated far beyond the usual gawpings of radio phone-ins or rolling news channel banalities.<br /><br />The esteemed former Reading boss was not only stepping down from his post at a bafflingly early stage, but retiring from football altogether.<br /><br />And it was Coppell's reason for taking such decisive action which shocked commentators and fans most. <br /><br />The 55-year-old explained how his fading passion for the game had left him devoid of inspiration, unmoved by the prospect of leading his Bristol City players for their second match of the season.<br /><br />But while, for most, an element of detachment from one's work is a prerequisite for sanity; for football fans, a sense of distance or objectivity in relation to the sport is as attractive as a steak and kidney flapjack.<br /><br />Coppell had enjoyed a successful managerial career, guiding Crystal Palace and Reading to the Premier League, and earning praise for the fluent, attacking style he instilled in his teams. So why, fans asked, would somebody turn their back on this ultimate profession?<br /><br />The answer lies in the nature of that question's final word.<br /><br />Throughout his playing and managerial career, Coppell maintained a sense of perspective; as enjoyable as football may be, it was for him simply a job.<br /><br />Such an outlook is partly influenced by Coppell's playing days, ended by injury at the cruel young age of 28.<br /><br />Having had his own dream job cut short, the former England international has an acute understanding of how football is but a profession. Life goes on without it.<br /><br />It is this detachment, however, which causes the chasm ripping through the sport''s heart.<br /><br />Beyond the vuvuzelas, the soundtrack of this summer's World Cup was the chorus of boos.<br /><br />For the usually adored likes of Wayne Rooney and Frank Lampard, a tournament-long exhibition of mediocrity saw them drown under an inescapable din of boos.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.smh.com.au/2010/06/19/1616616/420-camera-rooney-420x0.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 420px; height: 280px;" src="http://images.smh.com.au/2010/06/19/1616616/420-camera-rooney-420x0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />The cries of fury in South Africa, however, were no different to the tunes of discontent which ring out of from British stadia on a weekly basis.<br /><br />For every player who has his name chanted by thousands, there is one who feels the wrath of his club's followers, and it is not simply because a pass intended for a team-mate has ended up in the directors' lounge.<br /><br />A miss-kick or a home defeat can sometimes be grudgingly accepted, but it is the manner of failure which irks fans most.<br /><br />The passion of the underperforming players is questioned, their desire to win is shrouded in doubt, and their wages are (justifiably) criticised.<br /><br />Further than the obvious alienation that stems from such a gross gap in pay, the division between players and fans is intrinsically linked to the bemusement supporters felt after Coppell's resignation.<br /><br />For fans, there can be no sympathy for individuals who treat as a job what is for them a passion.<br /><br />While the audience vicariously endures the drama of their club's season, the protagonists treat each match as a matinee, a day in the office.<br /><br />But what might be just another afternoon's work for the players of this piece is for the paying onlookers an addiction. <br /><br />For disgruntled season ticket holders, the players - to whose wages they make a significant contribution - are little more than mercenaries commodifying their purest form of entertainment.<br /><br />So, armed with little more than their voices and cups of Bovril, the boo is for fans the most effective way of expressing their disgust; the most direct form of bypassing the chasm between players and supporters.<br /><br />The season is but a few weeks old, yet terraces nationwide are already shaking with boos.<br /><br />And should the cat calls or wolf whistles lead to another resignation or retirement, this chasm will only grow wider and louder.Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-70135107950420180112010-08-06T03:10:00.000-07:002010-08-06T03:26:18.902-07:00Football's parallel universe<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos.upmystreet.com/images/photos/70/82/708287_cff25b3e.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 640px; height: 480px;" src="http://photos.upmystreet.com/images/photos/70/82/708287_cff25b3e.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />With the Premier League fast approaching, much media coverage revolves around the frenzied dealings of the transfer market. And although a plucky performance on a soggy pitch in Pontcanna is unlikely to attract a multi-million bid from Manchester City, amateurs in the parks league can rejoice in the fact that they too can move from club to club like an expensive professional.<br /><br />While there are some who loyally stick with one team for years, those of a more fickle ilk can forge a journeying career with only the briefest of stays at any number of sides. Pre-season training is nearing its conclusion, and players across the leagues are ready to showcase their talent to a host of potential new clubs. <br /><br />There are numerous stages for such displays, whether it is the hallowed turf of Trelai Park or Cwrt-Y-Vil’s home ground Llandough Fields. Changing rooms are infused with the smell of cigarettes and Deep Heat muscle rub, and the pitches themselves are a marshland of miss-kicks and the odd moment of brilliance.<br /><br />This contrast is the primary appeal of parks football; a player is as likely to fire a match-winning volley as he is to be kicked into orbit by an overweight, middle-aged centre-back. Parks football is also intrinsically attractive for fans of the sport because it often seems to operate in a parallel universe to the professional game. <br /><br />In the shadow of the Cardiff City Stadium, for example, lies a ground belonging to a different footballing sphere, Grange Albion’s Coronation Park. While 20,000 or so flock to see Cardiff compete for a place in the Premier League, a handful of fans walking across Sloper Road stop by to watch 22 less celebrated players vie for the bragging rights of an alternative top flight: the Cardiff and District Premier Division.<br /><br />I’ve plied my trade with parks sides of varying quality, and although professionals now often seem to be younger than me, I still haven’t entirely abandoned my childhood ambition of playing in the Premier League. Arsene Wenger, however, has not yet been in contact.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/cardiff">As written for Guardian Cardiff</a></span>Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-31167528368884137722010-07-12T15:05:00.000-07:002010-07-12T16:10:15.678-07:00The World Cup: National Stereotype Bingo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjybZ4h_yDA82vWV8DU05ZUBEJRKc23AvXQtzB3zlBekClRlVf-bQwpyJKGooc23Xxh6sNBuFp79zZUyuMlT13yIqZ2km17R7PDozuGWPBsccovB34wuiYwMffcBA-BXLdbIuJdWGh_4zPH/s1600/102223243.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjybZ4h_yDA82vWV8DU05ZUBEJRKc23AvXQtzB3zlBekClRlVf-bQwpyJKGooc23Xxh6sNBuFp79zZUyuMlT13yIqZ2km17R7PDozuGWPBsccovB34wuiYwMffcBA-BXLdbIuJdWGh_4zPH/s320/102223243.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493147206558642546" /></a><br /><br />Refreshing Ghanaians, industrious Koreans, flamboyant Brazilians, arrogant Frenchmen, negative Italians and efficient Germans.<br /><br />While the World Cup may have deprived us of many things (daylight, the ability to form a non-football related conversation), the British media’s coverage of the tournament certainly provided us with an abundance of national stereotypes. Indeed, soundtracked by BBC or ITV commentary, watching an international football match became more like an introduction to a game of national stereotype bingo.<br /><br />The opening fixture between hosts South Africa and Mexico set the tone, with Peter Drury rejoicing at the “wonderful sights and sounds” of a “colourful” crowd. This was, after all, the first World Cup to be staged in Africa, a continent supposedly without anything but a smile on its face.<br /><br />It was Ghana who were truly smothered by patronising ITV commentary, with Clive Tyldsley particularly belittling in his reference to the Black Stars’ “refreshing” approach. With every mention of the “colour” and “big African smiles” of supporters and players alike, it was as if the entire squad were having their hair ruffled by an army of elderly relatives.<br /><br />Ghana’s quarter-final loss to Uruguay was, of course, a crushing blow to the whole of little Africa, and our friends in the studios had the knives out for Luis Suarez, Uruguay’s willing pantomime villain. Suarez’s handball denied Ghana a semi-final place, helped big bad Uruguay (population of three million people) to a fourth-placed finish and allowed Adrian Chiles and his cronies to crank up the condescension with heaps of gushing sympathy.<br /><br />South Korea were treated similarly even as they beat Greece 2-0, with analysts and pundits repeating like a mantra the now institutional stereotype of “industrious” Asian footballers. The guile of Park Ji-Sung was irrelevant, likewise South Korea’s collectively slick performance. What ITV wanted us to see was just how hard those little South Koreans had worked.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWeIDtGyqAbTKtR7R7MmHVn3_428IpyHd0vMKJJ0_SCqgG2YZ6jB_qixgF52vzcnJAjkD0z-yBfexVjtMKyyK8NANHiuhDxvb0IDh8w8LGTGk8mcwh9m5lxVfGDg761Fm9o_ZXhhlTIz8m/s1600/102811808.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWeIDtGyqAbTKtR7R7MmHVn3_428IpyHd0vMKJJ0_SCqgG2YZ6jB_qixgF52vzcnJAjkD0z-yBfexVjtMKyyK8NANHiuhDxvb0IDh8w8LGTGk8mcwh9m5lxVfGDg761Fm9o_ZXhhlTIz8m/s320/102811808.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493147928003345986" /></a><br /><br />BBC were seldom any better on the opening day, as they indulged in predictable caricatures of the French squad. “Plenty of Gallic shrugs,” Steve Wilson helpfully observed, reminding those watching at home that Raymond Domenech’s men are little more than an assembly of ‘cheese-eating surrender-monkeys’. <br /><br />With their self-destructive penchant for player coups and disinterested performances, though, France were arguably one team who actually strengthened their country’s stereotypes.<br /><br />Brazil and Holland, meanwhile, were determined to confound their respective traditions of ‘Samba Football’ and ‘Total Football’ flamboyance. With every gruff holding midfielder who replaced a dainty playmaker, their managers Bert Van Marwijk and Dunga seemed to be revelling in their elaborate refusal of the long-standing labels attached to their sides.<br /><br />Tyldsley did not appear to have seen any of Brazil’s matches, however, as he welcomed a headed goal of theirs with the disbelieving screech: “Brazil score a British goal!” How surprising that the diminutive South Americans can jump and emulate their Anglo-Saxon peers, who had of course enjoyed such a fruitful tournament.<br /><br />England did seem conspicuous by their absence in these long and recurring lists of stereotypes. So, when BBC and ITV commentators present their warped coverage of Euro 2012, why not introduce their viewers to the “underwhelming English”?Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-49080209563112909942010-06-29T14:08:00.000-07:002010-06-29T15:02:07.498-07:00The Not So Golden Generation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJV3oc2iKppsSW-0y75m815NlvoC92CBTtYOxcvxcroIWiq2aUQ4i9H3GBLWHAhh0_d5q38vihGaO0h8XAMFh0i9jzBIxSLYrmGAIP-_N8RA_paEI8iokcApUiRTF1mXtgmi0ujT2hBx3Q/s1600/Not+so+Golden.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJV3oc2iKppsSW-0y75m815NlvoC92CBTtYOxcvxcroIWiq2aUQ4i9H3GBLWHAhh0_d5q38vihGaO0h8XAMFh0i9jzBIxSLYrmGAIP-_N8RA_paEI8iokcApUiRTF1mXtgmi0ujT2hBx3Q/s320/Not+so+Golden.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488306741821324930" /></a><br />As the hysteria subsides and cries of injustice die away, England is coming to terms with the passing of what was supposedly a golden generation of footballers.<br /><br />England’s 4-1 defeat to Germany was met with outrage and disbelief, and then a feeling that an entire country had been cruelly denied the glory which was rightfully theirs. <br /><br />Commentators, journalists and fans alike were all incredulous that Germany had the temerity to spoil their party; overlooking how the Germans had assembled a side that plays some of the most confident, thrilling football in the world.<br /><br />For once, it was not the odious players who truly soured the occasion, but the voyeuristic reaches of the media.<br /><br />Frank Lampard accepted defeat manfully, and as he exchanged post-match pleasantries with Germany's excellent Bastian Schweinsteiger, there was in his weary gaze more than the distant look of a beaten man. <br /><br />At 32, Lampard is a veteran English pin-up of the Premier League, and he – along with his other much-vaunted (and ultimately over-hyped) team-mates – saw this World Cup as a last shot at international immortality.<br /><br />This potential glory was considered a divine right by others. The Sun boasted on their front page of England’s ‘E-A-S-Y’ group when the World Cup draw was made, and this sense of entitlement seeped through hordes of English media camped in South Africa.<br /><br /><blockquote>The chest-beating red tops and rolling news channels were missing the point, though. Indeed, their reading of the situation was as far from reality as an Emile Heskey shot is from goal.</blockquote><br /><br />This, after all, was no golden generation. Since the halcyon days of a semi-final defeat in 1990, England have failed to qualify for two major tournaments and have twice been eliminated at the group stage. Golden indeed.<br /><br />And even after England showed themselves to be distinctly mediocre in their plodding displays against the USA and Algeria, the media still could not fathom how a team as excellent as Germany’s could outclass their dear Three Lions so thoroughly.<br /><br />England players were actually commendably mature in defeat, though the media glare around them was unrelenting. While Lampard and Steven Gerrard magnanimously accepted that they had simply been outplayed, the BBC’s Alan Hansen bleated about "average" Germans, and Sky's reporters beat the "we woz robbed" drum of self-pity deep into the Bloemfontein night. <br /><br />This golden generation, we had been led to believe, simply required an alchemist to mould match-winners out of this mound of talent. Fabio Capello, a manager whose Midas touch is unquestioned at club level, was seen as the man to turn these underachievers into all-conquering champions. As this dream faded, Capello was bestowed with a new identity: the scapegoat.<br /><br />In truth, however, were these players really 'underachieving'? By the lofty, and often unrealistic, expectations of a ruthlessly demanding media, nothing less than world domination would suffice. <br /><br />But as long as the Premier League and its cheerleaders continue to blow their own trumpets louder than a continent of vuvuzelas, expectations of international success will remain nothing other than a blind expression of self-importance.<br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />Apologies for the delay in posts - I've been busy writing for <a href="http://news.ladbrokes.com/en-gb/">news.ladbrokes.com</a><br />Thanks to <a href="http://twitter.com/OptaJoe">OptaJoe</a> for stats.</span>Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-47630753762142138082010-04-13T13:49:00.000-07:002010-04-13T14:12:43.473-07:00Voting in flavourThe campaigns for next month's general election have so far been bland. A steady dribble of uninspiring manifestos have blurred all the major parties into one, so to inject some life into proceedings, here's the definitive guide to the candidates. In snack form.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDC_IxZkgg7z9dBFvYttxnoxVngrK6Asv5QgJ7MTn9NGoDoAuWLkC4srBiW_HYiF5gFl3wylGXv7USl0PIhRWPPbRXT9v6Isz9VLtm8-KKP_JHYlF1UpiUOwQCUr6M7AZ7OasnDP9PC-Fr/s1600/CameronCrisps.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 86px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDC_IxZkgg7z9dBFvYttxnoxVngrK6Asv5QgJ7MTn9NGoDoAuWLkC4srBiW_HYiF5gFl3wylGXv7USl0PIhRWPPbRXT9v6Isz9VLtm8-KKP_JHYlF1UpiUOwQCUr6M7AZ7OasnDP9PC-Fr/s320/CameronCrisps.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459731095155255682" /></a><br /><strong>Tories: Walker's Steak & Onion</strong><br />Supposedly reinvented and radical but, in truth, just a recycled idea (Beef & Onion) which was always a second-rate product.<br /><br /><strong>Labour: Walker's Sensations</strong><br />A more middle-class brand than its original incarnation, arguably losing its soul in a whirlwind of buffalo mozarella and fancy advertising.<br /><br /><strong>Lib Dems: Salt & Vinegar Discos </strong><br />The dominant force a long time ago, steadily regaining a reputation as a genuine alternative.<br /><br /><strong>Plaid Cymru: Ruffles</strong><br />Initially laughed off by its loftier peers, has gradually built itself a growing, loyal following.<br /><br /><strong>Scottish National Party: McCoy's Flame Grilled Steak</strong><br />Unswervingly independent in its rise to the top. Substantial.Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-26016996165279105062010-04-10T04:11:00.000-07:002010-04-10T04:25:10.246-07:00The demise of the divine right<a href="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Sport/Pix/pictures/2010/4/7/1270672394932/robben-001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 460px; height: 276px;" src="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Sport/Pix/pictures/2010/4/7/1270672394932/robben-001.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Arjen Robbens’s goal against Manchester United on Wednesday silenced not only Old Trafford, but the scores of British fans and media who have long believed that success is their divine right. <br /><br />With the English stranglehold of the Champions League in recent years has come an unhealthy sense of entitlement, from players, supporters and the media. This season, however, has been a wake-up call, and the reality has been particularly hard-hitting this week. <br /><br />With Arsenal and Manchester United crashing out in the quarter-finals, and Chelsea and Liverpool ejected at earlier stages, this season’s Champions League final will be the first to be contested without an English side since 2004.<br /><br />And the dearth of British representation in the semi-finals has sparked a spate of unnecessary investigations into a non-existent crisis for English club football. This worry seems all the more ridiculous when one considers that both Liverpool and Fulham have reached the final four of the Europa League. <br /><br />Rather than scrabble for reasons for this supposed emergency in British football, recent events should instead encourage fans and commentators to rein in their expectations, which have long since spiralled into realms of the stratospheric.<br /><br />These bloated expectation levels are the manifestation of an innately British notion of entitlement, and it is this presumption of success which spawned the incredulity Manchester United fans felt after their defeat this week to Bayern Munich.<br /><br />How embarrassing, they must have thought, to lose to these overachieving German upstarts. In truth, the loss should not have come as an earth-shattering surprise. Bayern are a footballing giant, with four European Cups to their name, yet the bafflement which met last week’s result suggested that they’d won with Angela Merkel in goal. <br /><br /><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/b5/Alex_Ferguson_by_FvS.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 375px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/b5/Alex_Ferguson_by_FvS.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Sir Alex Ferguson could have acknowledged Bayern’s well-deserved aggregate win, but he instead accused them of foul play. “Typical Germans,” Ferguson complained, perhaps forgetting the Roy Keane-led posses which used to surround Premier League referees on a weekly basis, to United’s advantage. <br /><br />More than an inability to admit to being outplayed, what this reveals is the unrealistic expectations weighing down British sport. <br /><br />Earlier this year, Team GB was forced to defend its medal tally at the 2010 Winter Olympics, when Hayley Williams’ gold in the skeleton proved to be the sole success. Although this was an improvement on the one silver Team GB claimed at Turin in 2006, the knives were out for Britain’s winter Olympians.<br /><br />Again, the reaction was mystifyingly hysterical. Britain, after all, does not traditionally specialise or excel in winter sports, and this is reflected financially. British snowboarding cross competitor Zoe Gillings voiced her frustrations about Team GB’s shortcomings at the games, but was also sceptical about the criticism the athletes face: “Without the funding, we’re not going to get anywhere.”<br /> <br />The demands for success are similarly implausible in the summer’s equivalent, even though it is widely recognised that Olympic sports trail far behind football, rugby and cricket in terms of participation, audiences and funding. <br /><br />Whatever the sport, the British consider themselves to have a divine right to success. Every year at Wimbledon, Andy Murray is expected to win, regardless of other players’ form or the Scot’s own slight aversion to grass court tennis. <br /><br />Similarly, whenever the football World Cup is mentioned, what immediately follows is self-righteous trumpeting of the spirit of 1966 and a series of ill-informed predictions of an England triumph. The merits of opposing teams are overlooked, and a predictable English quarter-final exit is mourned like the death of a monarch, or in The Sun’s case, seen as a global conspiracy against "our 'onest lads". <br /><br />As this year’s World Cup in South Africa approaches, we have already been inundated with panic-stricken injury updates and boasts of England’s apparently inevitable success, but perhaps recent disappointments will have at least created a ripple of doubt among the sea of self-assurance.Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-71810417365442119752010-03-25T05:44:00.000-07:002010-03-25T06:32:08.911-07:00Cardiff City: Bigger than Barcelona?<a href="http://images.teamtalk.com/09/11/800x600/Peter-Whittingham-Cardiff-celebrate_2391151.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 800px; height: 600px;" src="http://images.teamtalk.com/09/11/800x600/Peter-Whittingham-Cardiff-celebrate_2391151.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />An exasperating 1-1 home draw with Sheffield United may not represent the makings of a European superpower, but Cardiff City’s capacity to underwhelm has earned them comparisons with Barcelona and Real Madrid.<br /><br />Sam Hammam’s infamous reign as Cardiff’s owner was littered with claims of being ‘bigger than Barcelona’, only for these boasts to be tempered by defeats to the mighty likes of Darlington and Bournemouth. <br /><br />Hammam has since departed with a debt-ridden vapour trail in his wake, but Cardiff’s current manager, Dave Jones, has now added his voice to the unlikely correlation between the Bluebirds and the Catalan giants, claiming that expectations at Cardiff are as high as those surrounding Barcelona and Real Madrid.<br /> <br />And while Cardiff’s debts of £1.75m seem modest in light of Real Madrid’s summer splurge of over £200m, Jones’s association is not as incongruous as first impressions may suggest.<br /><br />The historian Gwyn Alf Williams was right when he referred to Welsh people as ‘Italians in the rain’, alluding to their Mediterranean passion and emotional extremity, albeit in a rather less glamorous climate. <br /><br />Although it is uncertain whether Jones is familiar with Williams’ work, the manager did seem to echo the historian’s sentiments when he said: "You lose a couple of games around this part of the world and it's as if it's all fallen apart."<br /><br />As well as recognising the volatile nature of Cardiff City fans’ reactions, Jones also appears to have grasped how heavily the national mood of Wales is influenced by the fortunes of its sports teams.<br /><br />The national rugby side, for example, spark a glowing sense of nationwide glee whenever they win a Six Nations Grand Slam. Parties are thrown, newspaper headlines boast of imminent world domination, and calls for a commemorative national holiday are vociferously backed at an impromptu Shakin Stevens concert staged at Cardiff Castle. <br /><br />Losses to England or Italy, however, prompt deep and gloomy self-reflections, as the country slumps into a state of misery usually only applicable to a child who has excitedly opened a Christmas present, only to find a copy of Danny Dyer’s Football Foul-Ups DVD, staring blankly from the debris of wrapping paper. <br /><br />The same is true of football fans, and Jones’s tongue was not quite so firmly in his cheek as one would have first thought when he said: "You have the expectation levels of Barcelona or Real Madrid-types here.”<br /><br />Grumbles of discontent filled the rain-sodden Cardiff City Stadium as the home side were held by the artisan Sheffield United this week, but as the Bluebirds still occupy a play-off spot in their quest for promotion, it seems fair for Jones to think that expectations may be a little lofty. <br /><br />Jones’s Spanish connection might also add another dimension to Cardiff’s upcoming derby match against Swansea – what we may now consider to be South Wales’s answer to ‘El Clasico’. <br /><br />Swansea, playing in white, will at least be wearing a kit similar to Real’s, while Cardiff have a squad oozing with as much flair and panache as any Barca side. The Catalans may have Thierry Henry, but Cardiff’s attack is led by Jay Bothroyd, and Barcelona’s so-called best player in the world, Lionel Messi, is little more than a poor man’s Peter Whittingham.<br /><br />When Swansea visit, the Cardiff City Stadium (a name no catchier nine months after its unveiling) will be rumbling with animosity, and perhaps in this hateful cauldron befitting of the Nou Camp, Jones’s comparison may seem a little less fanciful as South Wales’s superpowers collide.Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-1169090394896994712010-03-07T06:42:00.000-08:002010-03-07T06:54:51.681-08:00'Not that type of player': How football's limp excuses wear thin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLsnDsRy-Lt1BNKxsi9hiQCgrkzp6r0NgYUk7kR1iKE-7sH7SAQYlqgIVujtHwPftVP3LV-FB2kibrH019NIoxQQJJKWlsQGnbpCgxDJNeCEyBWmEdgdpTiUgFpTzG-fV-B4OPGwYnlpuV/s1600-h/RyanShawcrossjpeg.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLsnDsRy-Lt1BNKxsi9hiQCgrkzp6r0NgYUk7kR1iKE-7sH7SAQYlqgIVujtHwPftVP3LV-FB2kibrH019NIoxQQJJKWlsQGnbpCgxDJNeCEyBWmEdgdpTiUgFpTzG-fV-B4OPGwYnlpuV/s320/RyanShawcrossjpeg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445904356353796050" /></a><br />Ryan Shawcross was an unassuming, quiet presence on the England bench at Wembley in midweek, a far cry from his tumultuous last appearance.<br /><br />Two images defined last weekend’s football action: a tearful Shawcross leaving the Britannia Stadium pitch after being sent off for his tackle on Aaron Ramsey, whose crumpled leg was the match’s other enduring sight. <br /><br />Shawcross’s manager at Stoke City, Tony Pulis, was quick to defend his player: “Ryan is not that type of lad.” This feeling was then recycled as post-match interviews mulled over the incident, and it became evident that we would hear the same old excuses.<br /><br />It almost goes without saying that Shawcross didn’t mean to break Ramsey’s leg. What grates, however, is the repetitive, inane nature of the defence offered, and how, instead of taking responsibility for their reckless actions, the perpetrators are portrayed as victims. <br /><br />Ramsey’s Arsenal team-mate Eduardo fell victim to a similar injury in February 2008, when a tackle from Birmingham City defender Martin Taylor left his ankle hanging by a thread. <br /><br />Like Ramsey, Eduardo’s career was in jeopardy, and also like the Ramsey case, the offending player’s manager used the same limp excuse, as Alex McLeish said: "Martin's not a dirty player."<br /><br />This hollow sentiment is uttered too often, and after Eduardo’s injury, Wenger said: "The worst thing you hear after is that 'he's not the kind of guy who usually does that', but you need to only kill one person one time - it's enough."<br /><br />Ramsey’s injury was the third such incident in less than four years, after Abou Diaby suffered serious damage to his ankle after a terrible challenge from Sunderland’s Dan Smith. Again, the excuse offered by the offending side was feeble, as then Sunderland caretaker manager Kevin Ball said: "Dan Smith is by no means a dirty player.”<br /><br />If Shawcross had caused an injury by crashing his car, Pulis is unlikely to have offered the defence: “He’s not that type of driver.” Nobody involved in a car crash purposefully drives into another vehicle, but it is to be expected when the driver responsible has their licence suspended. <br /><br />In this case, then, why are footballers so reluctant to accept responsibility when they are involved in such serious incidents?<br /><br />Shawcross may not have been trying to shatter Ramsey’s leg, but the horrific collision was the result of a team’s bloody-minded determination to physically unsettle technically superior opponents.<br /><br />And the stomach-churning image of Ramsey’s decimated shin is not only the result of one team’s efforts to ‘get in the faces’ of the Arsenal players, but a product of a wider culture of thuggery. <br /><br />As Wenger notes, these are not merely unfortunate coincidences: "It goes with the idea that to stop Arsenal you have to kick Arsenal and that kind of thing [Eduardo’s injury] was waiting to happen.”<br /><br />When pundits discuss ways of beating Arsenal, they invariably mention how the Gunners “don’t like it up ‘em”, and that teams will succeed if they “get in their faces” and “stop them playing”.<br /><br />This message then seeps into Premier League changing rooms, where the likes of Pulis and McLeish urge their sides to rise to the challenge in an unswervingly robust manner. <br /><br />And, deliberately or not, this physical approach eventually culminates in ugly scenes such as those at the Britannia Stadium.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Published in </span>Leeds Student <span style="font-style:italic;">on Friday, March 5, 2010</span><br />Maybe Dara O'Briain is a regular reader: <br />http://www.guardian.co.uk/football/blog/2010/mar/06/aaron-ramsey-broken-leg-ryan-shawcrossDafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-31113842516936668262010-01-29T07:15:00.000-08:002010-01-29T07:25:29.437-08:00The graveyard shift<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; 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mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0cm; mso-para-margin-right:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0cm; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">Whether it is a confused Spanish playmaker being shown around Birmingham or a promising Belgian midfielder taking in the sights of Wolverhampton, the January transfer window represents new beginnings for footballers.<span style=""><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>For managers, however, the biting cold of British winter is a harbinger of change for the worse. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Sackings have been typically commonplace this winter, but what has been particularly eye-catching is the funereal manner of these dismissals. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>News of Manchester City’s December sacking of Mark Hughes was broken to viewers like a state funeral. Pundits were asked to pay tribute to a “good man”, and other managers were quick to praise a fellow professional who “deserved better”.<span style=""></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>Gary Lineker dispensed with his default mode of radiant smugness to glumly announce Sparky’s departure, and Match of the Day ended their usually chirpy closing montage with commentator Steve Wilson’s despairing mention of Hughes’ “lingering wave”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>Even Arsene Wenger, the supposed ray of intellectual hope in the landfill site of Premier League clichés, succumbed to the solemnity by adding that “it is always very sad when a manager loses his job”.<span style=""></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>The most sombre of tributes was paid to Alan Irvine, who was fired by Preston. His successor Rob Kelly vowed that the club would “carry on as we did before – it’s what Alan would have wanted.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>He also mourned Irvine as “not just a great manager but a great person”.<span style=""></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>Despite his morbid departure, Irvine has since found employment at Sheffield Wednesday. And judging by his immediate success at Hillsborough, Irvine’s move is proving to be a resurrection.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx2vYYsX_Vu2PVjt3mEtEbIhEnRKXdVJo9Qhn24BOsPCZja_xhzt8QXWqNwp70HBE7XqqSjHUZYQxx2S3AQcLcQbnTJdG9v0WdoZPpijGVtKQ-OVv5CO7yS3aFz-IdpQUveCoJFq80pTQ3/s1600-h/Paul_Hart__1559418c.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx2vYYsX_Vu2PVjt3mEtEbIhEnRKXdVJo9Qhn24BOsPCZja_xhzt8QXWqNwp70HBE7XqqSjHUZYQxx2S3AQcLcQbnTJdG9v0WdoZPpijGVtKQ-OVv5CO7yS3aFz-IdpQUveCoJFq80pTQ3/s320/Paul_Hart__1559418c.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432182135026789122" border="0" /></a><br />Paul Hart’s exit from Queen’s Park Rangers did not cause such a stir. This managerial casualty was instead brushed aside like one of many incidental fatalities in a gangster film. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>The indifference should come as no surprise. Hart (pictured) was the ninth manager to be dispatched by QPR owner, Formula 1 mogul and pseudo-mafia boss, Flavio Briatore. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>Wary of Briatore’s fearsome reputation, media coverage of Hart’s demise was muted. Rolling news channels were conspicuously unwilling to expand on the issue, while newspapers were similarly careful not to upset Briatore. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>Similarly bereft of sentiment was the end of Gary Megson’s tenure at Bolton. Like Hart, the response to Megson’s demise was underwhelming in terms of sympathy, somewhat like the national feeling of indifference induced by the death of Bernard Manning.<span style=""></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>Bolton fans had long been clamouring for his dismissal, and when the fateful moment arrived, it was met with the fervour usually reserved for the gallows. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>Linguistically, managerial fatalism comes as no surprise. Each rumoured sacking is met with tabloid headlines and studio chatter of ‘nails in the coffin’ and ‘dead men walking’.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>Some managers, such as the gloomy, vortex-eyed Avram Grant, are a step ahead of their peers, appearing to already be half dead as they morbidly prowl their technical areas.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>Grant’s club, Portsmouth, have recently had a transfer embargo lifted, and they will be hoping that an influx of new faces breathes new life into the relegation-threatened side. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""></span>Amid the chaos of the transfer window’s frantic closure, the end of January at least offers a slither of hope. Spring is a not too distant prospect, and with the almost bearable climes of February, comes the realisation for managers that they may have survived the culling season. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-91361100547965175342009-12-10T08:38:00.000-08:002009-12-10T08:48:31.295-08:00What's the measure of a guilty pleasure?It was with a considerable pinch of self-consciousness that I recently scolded myself for singing along to every word of a Good Charlotte song that blared from my kitchen radio.<br /><br />This was not because I was wary of disturbing my neighbours, or because my singing would embarrass the cat sitting in my garden, but because the song was a truly guilty pleasure. Good Charlotte are rubbish, and I really should know better.<br /><br />Good Charlotte would not, however, feature on a typical 'guilty pleasures' playlist, as they'd undoubtedly be muscled out of the selection by hordes of 70s soft-rock ballads and theme songs from programmes such as Baywatch and Nightrider.<br /><br />Do not be fooled.<br /><br />Those who confess to the 'guilty' enjoyment of acts such as Richard Astley or Whitney Houston do so fraudulently, behind a heavy veil of try-hard irony.<br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://www.irvinehousingblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/12/paul-mccartney.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.irvinehousingblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/12/paul-mccartney.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:85%;">Not good. Not even in an ironic way.</span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><p align="left"><br />Astley and Houston are flag-bearers for all that is bad about music, yet their most offensive efforts, ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ and ‘I Will Always Love You’ (dis)respectively, are spared the warranted scorn by a scandalous view shared by many that they are guilty pleasures.<br /><br />These distorted recollections are what James Murphy, a.k.a. LCD Soundsystem, would call the cool kids' “nostalgia of the unremembered eighties”.<br /><br />Christmas is notoriously synonymous with musical pseudo-guilty pleasures.<br /><br />Dross like Paul McCartney’s ‘Wonderful Christmas Time’ is hauled from the murkiest depths of music’s sewage systems to be played at office Christmas parties across the country.<br /><br />Brain-splittingly tortuous efforts like these would be treated with suitable disdain had they been released in May, yet their festive timing affords them a collective shrug of pardon from the public.<br /><br />Tolerating such drivel is bad, but it is the act of enjoying these as so-called guilty pleasures that is unforgivable. Indeed, there is not enough guilt attached to guilty pleasures. If guilt was adequately appropriated to those found to be enjoying these songs, record collections would be torched and ears severed.<br /><br />As things stand, however, we are left with halfwits who choose to dedicate club nights to ‘the best of the worst of the 80s’ and opportunities to ‘dance like your dad’ (or, more accurately, like the ‘totally random’ prick dancing next to you).<br /><br />Irony is bludgeoned all over these events like a bloody axe, to such an extent that the term itself is left gaunt and empty; a bastardised phoneme shunned to the cringeworthy corners of our darkest mass culture.<br /><br />So I’m going to listen to Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’. In an entirely un-ironic fashion.</p>Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-8650339803202712082009-10-30T09:10:00.000-07:002009-10-30T09:17:25.525-07:00The Football League Show Blog. Show.The Football League has undergone numerous facelifts and rebranding projects to rid itself of old pre-cursors such as the ‘basement’ or ‘the graveyard of ambition’.<br /><br />The Championship (formerly the second division) is no longer solely associated with the top division’s title chase, and League One and League Two are deceptively elevating pseudonyms for what are actually the third and fourth tiers of British football.<br /><br />Whereas the Football League has been innovative with its reinventions, though, the BBC’s coverage of it has been a little less than imaginative. The catchy name for its weekly, post-Match of the Day slot? The Football League Show.<br /><br />And while the BBC’s coverage, despite its less than eye-catching branding, has still increased viewing figures for the divisions in question, its peculiar underground studio does create a basement feel.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://newsimg.bbc.co.uk/media/images/46185000/jpg/_46185301_claridge282.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 282px;" src="http://newsimg.bbc.co.uk/media/images/46185000/jpg/_46185301_claridge282.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Every Saturday night, we’re taken into the depths of a cold, bare warehouse, with only presenter Manish Bhasin and an analyst, usually Steve Claridge, for company. Claridge, having played for most, if not every one, of the football clubs in the United Kingdom, is the ideal man to guide you through the efforts of Gillingham’s John Nutter or Morecambe midfielder Emmanuel Panther.<br /><br />Meanwhile, another of the BBC’s (un)memorable creations is the title of its League Cup programme… The League Cup Show.<br /><br />This competition has also had its image tarnished by indifferent managers and belittling media coverage but, like the Football League, it has consistently reinvented itself as, among other things, the Milk Cup, Worthington Cup and now the Carling Cup.<br /><br />It may only have rebranded itself for financial reasons but attendances are up, big clubs are all taking it seriously and, judging by the BBC’s decision to call in the big guns (well, Mark Lawrenson) for its coverage, the Carling Cup appears to be in rude health.<br /><br />There is viewer interactivity in both programmes, with Jacqui Oatley and Lizzie Greenwood-Hughes fielding emails from fans. Although a little tedious, it does spare us the aural ordeal of a radio phone-in ‘debate’ between Alan Green and ‘Dave from the Wirrall’.<br /><br />One facet of the footballing media circus the BBC has disappointingly overlooked is Andy Townsend’s Tactics Truck, last seen on ITV’s ill-fated Premiership highlights package. The nearest thing we’re treated to is the expert Leroy Rosenior chatting excitedly about the ‘total football’ on display at, erm, Huddersfield Town.<br /><br />The BBC also has coverage rights for football’s truly unfashionable competition, the Johnstone’s Paint Trophy. It remains unconfirmed, however, whether there are plans to broadcast The Johnstone’s Paint Trophy Show.<br /><br /><br />As written for Leeds Student 30/10/09Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-28170209011638976162009-09-01T03:44:00.000-07:002009-09-01T03:49:18.484-07:00Window of opportunity nears chaotic closureAnkara’s rammed Esenborga Airport was an unlikely scene of mass hysteria earlier this summer, and it wasn’t a visit from the Pope or an Elvis comeback concert that the Turkish capital was staging, but a feverish welcome for quite a different hero.<br /><br />Darius Vassell may be a striker with a less than handy knack for not scoring – best known for missing a penalty in England’s Euro 2004 quarter-final exit – but, at his new home, he has been embraced like a messiah.<br /><br />Described as ‘more than a player’ by Ankaragucu fans’ placards, the former Manchester City misfit looked understandably surprised as around 3,000 supporters let off flares and chanted his name.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgASBXkxDVlaqiepjz48B_4hhh9_4FnmqH_aRX9eD0UXBZPB4Baitp9YH8hMK_shmxtHsdIxMB1uOv_Jz9DIT6nY71VAOo9oW9AUKI6zPBPfpVJeYiBhnjjuqMaabSt4Ou-g9T1rmjnj7Te/s1600-h/darius-vassell1_1435010c.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376448573944836434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgASBXkxDVlaqiepjz48B_4hhh9_4FnmqH_aRX9eD0UXBZPB4Baitp9YH8hMK_shmxtHsdIxMB1uOv_Jz9DIT6nY71VAOo9oW9AUKI6zPBPfpVJeYiBhnjjuqMaabSt4Ou-g9T1rmjnj7Te/s400/darius-vassell1_1435010c.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And it is this maniacal response to new arrivals that embodies the world’s undying thirst for the circus of the transfer window, which comes to a frenzied close today.<br /><div><br />Whether it is a Bosnian wonder-kid heralded as Man United’s new favourite son, or an unattached journeyman going through the motions at a trial match in Grimsby, football transfers capture the essence of a British summer like the sight of a binge-drinking 16-year-old girl lying face down in a puddle of gravy and vomit outside Oceana, just hours after collecting 27 A* GCSEs.</div><div><br />The closure of the window, however, is as much a harbinger of the summer’s end as a chilly autumnal shower, and it is accompanied by chaotic ‘wheeling and dealing’ all over the world.</div><div><br />As 5pm nears, tanned and bejewelled agents across Europe will be frantically trying to explain why their Lithuanian utility defender is worth a last-minute multi-million bid, while managers will jostle for the signature of an aging forward whose ‘dream’ it has always been to join an underachieving Championship club.</div><div><br />And our friends at Sky Sports News will be there, anticipating every routine medical or rumoured trans-continental swap deal with the sort of excitement Carlo Ancelotti feels when he enters Greggs’ bakery.</div><div><br />The window won’t re-open until January the first, so make the most of Sam Allardyce’s latest pursuit of a fading former ‘Galactico’, ’Arry Redknapp’s bid of £3m and a bag of chips for David James, or Phil Brown’s failure to attract a confused Argentine playmaker to Hull.</div>Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-50261282627817607112009-08-10T03:49:00.000-07:002009-08-10T03:56:24.720-07:00Cullinan and cakes: Cricket's culinary treats<div align="left">Despite the efforts of various radio DJs to ram La Roux’s faux-80s synthesized squealing into my brain, Test Match Special absolutely remains the soundtrack of my summer.<br /><br />While Australia humiliated England at Headingley, the TMS team cheered its audience with an altogether jollier alternative subject to a batting collapse: food.<br /><br />It took Geoffrey Boycott less than five minutes to add his input to the mix. Asked what he thought of Matt Prior’s injury sustained during a football match, Boycott boomed in overtones of Yorkshire dissatisfaction: “Daft. You’ll get more brains in a chocolate mouse.”<br /><br />Boycott’s comment paved the way for a deluge of confectionery-related chatter in the commentary box. Jonathan Agnew waxed lyrical about cakes and sweets, sent in by the truckload by adoring listeners, while Matthew Hayden, the gargantuan Australian, licked his lips at the prospect of tucking into a selection of toffees, just as his former team-mates were devouring their feeble English prey.<br /><br /></div><a href="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2008/06/11/article-1025831-006ED7AD000004B0-581_468x473.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 468px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 473px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2008/06/11/article-1025831-006ED7AD000004B0-581_468x473.jpg" border="0" /></a> What's for tea, Bumble?<br /><br /><br />A little further along in the media area, David ‘Bumble’ Lloyd kept Twitter followers updated not only with the cricket but, most importantly, the snacks available in the Sky studios.<br /><br />One message read excitedly: “Pies and Branston have arrived and a HUGE cake. Beefy in business.” Beefy, of course, being Ian Botham – a talisman not only for his all-round cricketing ability but for his insatiable hunger.<br /><br />Shane Warne may be a new addition to the Sky commentary team but the Australian is well acquainted with cricket’s healthy relationship with food. Renowned for his cutting remarks at the crease, there were often dietary references when he sledged opponents.<br /><br />When bowling to the full-of-figure Arjuna Ranatunga, Warne was encouraged by his wicket-keeper, Ian Healey, to “put a Mars bar on a length”, to tempt the batsman out of his crease.<br /><br />Warne’s own sizeable build, however, did not go unnoticed during his playing career. When welcoming Daryll Cullinan to the wicket, Warne remarked that he’d been waiting two years to bowl at and torment the batsman once again (Cullinan had supposedly seen a psychiatrist since their last meeting). The South African’s retort was short but sweet: “Looks like you spent that time eating.”<br /><br />One wouldn't necessarily have to rummage through Bumble’s picnics or Warne’s mind games to find further foodie association.<br /><br />Batsmen playing against Durham can actually be dismissed caught (Phil) Mustard, bowled (Graham) Onions. Proving to be a hit for reasons other than wickets and a comedy surname, England seamer Onions can now list Lily Allen as an admirer. It has not yet been confirmed whether Amy Winehouse has professed to her Twitter followers about an Ian Bell crush.<br /><br />In fact, with Alistair Cook opening the batting, the England team has never been so pun-friendly, especially where culinary wordplay is concerned.<br /><br />And should Rob Key win a recall to the England side for the decisive Oval Test, you can bet that food will once again be a feature of conversation at the crease.Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-14433370024034672232009-07-06T14:50:00.000-07:002009-07-06T15:07:19.836-07:00Lions' roaring redemption song draws series of great and gruesome to an enthralling endPride is a term tossed about too often in sporting cliché, but the Lions restored theirs with a stirring 28-9 victory in the final match of an absorbing tour of South Africa.<br /><br />Smarting from an agonising 28-25 defeat in the previous Test, the tourists were galvanised by a collective pain and feeling that a golden chance of a series win had been missed.<br /><br />As the dust settled on the Ellis Park pitch, there was a buoyant feeling rare for a losing side, perhaps underlined by the sense of records set straight, a little justice regained.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBV7L8KP4wWL2yDdJmZPeVlebi_WJuJgvE6o0M-iaF2NaJlNcO3IKJIbUv8CggGsMtjwNBWmbpXdaG3SWWu1Ca4If09ZXi8IegyXhyphenhyphenO8gXoKAXbX-pQfnXvpLdsd9NnI22qBryOXIOaZdD/s1600-h/_46011599_phillips2766.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355471325251641922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBV7L8KP4wWL2yDdJmZPeVlebi_WJuJgvE6o0M-iaF2NaJlNcO3IKJIbUv8CggGsMtjwNBWmbpXdaG3SWWu1Ca4If09ZXi8IegyXhyphenhyphenO8gXoKAXbX-pQfnXvpLdsd9NnI22qBryOXIOaZdD/s400/_46011599_phillips2766.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Mike Phillips gets to grips with Heinrich Brussow<br /><br /></p></span><br />The series showcased the best and worst of a sport magnificent and brutal in equal measure. The second Test in particular will be remembered for years; a titanic battle lifted to stratospheric heights by both teams’ attacking prowess, whilst simultaneously dragged into the gutter by disputation and cowardice.<br /><br />Despite the brilliance of Rob Kearney and Bryan Habana’s tries, even this humdinger will be tainted by Schalk Burger’s gouging of Luke Fitzgerald’s eyes in the first minute. That linesman Bryce Lawrence could only recommend “a yellow card at least”, and that referee Christophe Berdos could not summon the bravery – no, just the common sense – to show a red card, only compounded the debacle.<br /><br />Controversy abounded in the final Test too. South Africa’s decision to sport white ‘justice’ armbands (in support of the banned Bakkies Botha) was an ignorant statement, belligerently rich for a team whose infantile siege mentality continues to erode an already damaged reputation.<br /><br />If their support of Botha smacked of insecurity, their coach’s apparent toleration of Burger’s actions was just stupid.<br /><br />Peter de Villiers proved a PR disaster for South African rugby. Claiming that gouging is “part of the game”, he showed himself to be not only myopic but woefully out of touch. If de Villiers still feels that his side were not given enough credit for their series win, a good starting place for him to find reason why would be the mirror.<br /><br />After defending the indefensible, de Villiers then backtracked and reiterated his comments with dizzying confusion, before concluding with an unconvincing homage to the tourists: “I always said they were a brilliant Lions team.”<br /><br />The class of 2009 may not be heralded in the same way as their 1974 predecessors but their fiercely competitive displays will have helped quieten doubts about the viability of Lions tours.<br />The victory will also have eased worries on a personal level. Phil Vickery, battered by fans and press alike after his mauling at the hands of Tenda ‘The Beast’ Mtawarira, rose to the occasion admirably by overwhelming his tormentor in the scrum.<br /><br />There was catharsis for Shane Williams and Ugo Monye as well, with the two wingers scoring between them three crucial tries of real class.<br /><br />Such a bright ending points to 2013, and springs hope of a triumphant series in Australia. With Alun-Wyn Jones, Jamie Heaslip and Tom Croft likely to be present, the pack will be a hardened, formidable proposition. Meanwhile, backs Mike Phillips, Jamie Roberts and Kearney will already be thinking about piercing Wallaby defences.<br /><br />With reputations restored and the foundations laid for an encouraging future, the atmosphere among and around the Lions is an understandably positive one.<br /><br />And this wave of optimism is epitomised by arguably the most redeemed of all tourists, Vickery, who summarised the lasting core values of a Lions tour: “I can honestly say I have never been on a tour with so many good men. We’ve put a huge amount of pride back into the Lions shirt.”Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-76070852282223950832009-07-03T04:38:00.000-07:002009-07-03T04:45:01.599-07:00Centre Court: Celebrity Sanctum<div align="left">Wimbledon’s Centre Court is as much a British establishment as Pimm’s or talking about the weather, and it has recently proved to be the centre of attention for more than tennis reasons alone.<br /><br />As well as boasting the most talked about roof since Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel (or maybe the ceiling on which Lionel Richie danced and sang about), the venue has also become a celebrity attraction during the past fortnight.<br /><br />Andy Murray’s progress has been enlivened not only by his imperious serving and cheeky drop shots but by the legion of stars present at his matches.<br /><br />Ewan McGregor, Miss Scotland and Clive Woodward have all been spotted, but perhaps the most eye-catching spectator was the young supporter sporting a Hassidic Jewish hat and synthetic curls during Murray’s win over Stanislas Wawrinka.<br /><br />From Bruce Forsyth appearance in the opening round to Kate Winslet at the quarter-finals, there seems to be a gradual rise in stardom at Centre Court as the tournament nears its climax. We wait with bated breath for today’s attendees but it has been rumoured that the Queen will be present if Murray reaches Sunday’s final.<br /><br /></div><a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/telegraph/multimedia/archive/01434/Wimbledon_1434911a.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 460px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 288px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/telegraph/multimedia/archive/01434/Wimbledon_1434911a.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="left"></a> Kate Winslet applauds Andy Murray's, erm, 'Titanic' quarter-final win<br /><br />Wimbledon, with traditionally glitzy visitors such as Cliff Richard and, er, Jimmy Tarbuck, is far from being sport’s only star attraction. Away from the baseline rallies and strawberries and cream, other sports pride themselves on their glamorous clienteles.<br /><br />Football can now even be considered chic. A far cry from meat and potato pies on crumbling old terraces, Flavio Briatore, QPR’s wealthy and vibrantly orange owner, has pledged to introduce ‘boutique football’ to Championship crowds.<br /><br />Whether Briatore can attract friends such as Naomi Campbell to a home match against Scunthorpe remains to be seen, but his plans are certainly lavish enough to make Roy Keane choke on his prawn sandwiches when he takes his Ipswich Town side to Loftus Road next season.<br /><br />While the hardened fans of sides outside the Premier League may need some convincing, Briatore can count on a growing number of fair-weather supporters to subscribe to his new brand of the game.<br /><br />Sylvester Stallone famously paraded an Everton scarf before seeing them play Reading, Tom Hanks is supposedly an Aston Villa fan, Dr Dre has been rumoured to respect Liverpool as ‘cool cats’, and the late Michael Jackson once attended an Exeter City match with Uri Geller.<br /><br />On a par with the aforementioned names in terms of fame but on a different scale entirely of commitment is Jack Nicholson, who is a partisan fixture at LA Lakers games. NBA courtside seats are as likely to excite the readers of Heat as they are basketball followers, with Ben Affleck and Denzel Washington among the spectators at the recent play-offs.<br /><br />If the pomp of major US sport is matched by its audience’s star-quality, so too are the social and cultural traditions of the UK’s other main sports. In England, rugby union is as synonymous with public school as games of ‘soggy biscuit’ and boys’ names like Oscar, and matches at Twickenham are often attended by Prince Harry.<br /><br />Somewhat differently in Wales, where rugby’s origins are rooted in mining communities, you’re likelier to see Joe Calzaghe or a former Big Brother contestant cheer the national team.<br /><br />Like rugby, cricket’s fanbase has a more regal feel, and its stiff-upper-lip reputation is amplified by the prominence of former Conservative leader John Major at test matches played at the Oval.<br /><br />Even with their aristocratic traits, however, both these former symbols of imperial Britain trail in Wimbledon’s wake, where an invitation might be issued to Buckingham Palace should Murray overcome Andy Roddick later today.</p>Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-16024628639646035142009-05-23T12:27:00.000-07:002009-05-23T12:38:45.685-07:00Survival Sunday blazes a trail for football TV analogies<div align="center">'Survival Sunday’. It may sound like the producers of Lost have taken control of English football for the weekend but, for idlers familiar with Sky Sports News, the phrase has become synonymous with 24.<br /><br />Before any ‘exclusive’ with, say, Gareth Southgate regarding the fight for Premier League survival, we are faced with the flickering digital graphics and beeping soundtrack of the long-running action series’ opening credits.<br /><br />In a week where tension has risen like Michael Martin’s blood pressure, the severity of Sky’s tone suggests that the strain of the Premier League’s final match day would overwhelm even Jack Bauer himself.<br /><br /></div><a href="http://rightwingnuthouse.com/images/jackbauer.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 485px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 363px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://rightwingnuthouse.com/images/jackbauer.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Jack Bauer: Taking aim at Alan Shearer. Maybe.</span><br /></p><br /><br />Conveniently, tomorrow will be the 24th of May, but I think the parallels should be drawn beyond this coincidence.<br /><br />There should be split-screens throughout Sky’s coverage; switching from Sunderland to Hull and other relegation-threatened teams with the sound of a ticking bomb lingering in the background.<br /><br />Tension will reach unbearable levels not as our protagonists look to thwart attempts on a presidential candidate’s life, but as they strive to retain Premier League status.<br /><br />Hearts will miss a beat not at the sight of flying bullets but of Newcastle defenders flinging their bodies to block a scuffed shot from Emile Heskey. Jeff Stelling could even narrate.<br /><br />Personnel will play an important role in replicating 24’s relentless action. Elisha Cuthbert may not be present at any of the stadia, but the Villa Park crowd will at least have the eye candy of Iain Dowie, at whom they can gaze lustily amid the chaos.<br /><br />The role of sinister, serially-telephoning nemesis would be amply fulfilled by the agent Kia Joorabchian, as he plots Carlos Tevez’s next move from the directors’ box at Hull’s KC Stadium.<br />With 24 potentially so well represented, it’s a shame TV analogies aren’t encouraged more in football coverage.<br /><br />With the bottom half bursting with adrenaline, it seems the more predictable top four would be best represented by the steadier entertainment of a cartoon. Wacky Races, which invariably begins with an exciting exchange of the lead before ending with the same victors, seems a fair illustration of a season at the Premier League’s summit.<br /><br />Perhaps the struggle for mid-table bragging rights could borrow from the battle for gang supremacy in the projects of The Wire. Appointing Stringer Bell as Wigan Athletic’s chairman would certainly liven up a Monday night fixture against Bolton.<br /><br />Giving teams fictional alter-egos could attract new fans as well as appease current followers. West Brom? Think of them as football’s answer to the O.C. or 90210 – aesthetically pleasing but with little beyond the attractive surface.<br /><br />Fulham, meanwhile, could bolster their modest attendances by rebranding themselves as the sport’s Channel 4 News; friendly, middle class and steadily growing in stature and popularity.Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-23891657203741291142009-05-07T05:21:00.000-07:002009-05-22T09:42:19.049-07:00Capital capitulationI had hoped to wake up on Monday morning to find that the previous day had all just been a bad dream.<br /><br />Unfortunately, Cardiff City’s seventh place in the Championship’s final league table stared blankly at me from my computer screen, an unforgiving reminder of Sunday’s monumental collapse.<br /><br />With four games left in the season, the Bluebirds had automatic promotion in their sights but wilted under the pressure to succeed like a daffodil in a blast furnace.<br /><br />They mustered just one point from a possible twelve, conceded twelve goals and threw away a golden chance of becoming a Premier League club.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLjjUvmv_NRMObg0liFew-X_0FUcjHn16MY-vzKScDw26FcGVk97wAgvk4-3b0vgbnUimnhdEvMEMD2AUQ3PQX09DdCXFMiZMSgyobrsO38k53mG5OVSIreVIftVXwShAGVK0wL9Z3gJTV/s1600-h/dave-jones_1015597c.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLjjUvmv_NRMObg0liFew-X_0FUcjHn16MY-vzKScDw26FcGVk97wAgvk4-3b0vgbnUimnhdEvMEMD2AUQ3PQX09DdCXFMiZMSgyobrsO38k53mG5OVSIreVIftVXwShAGVK0wL9Z3gJTV/s320/dave-jones_1015597c.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338688571089705410" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Dave Jones' expression is rumoured not to have changed since May the 3rd.</span><br /></div><br />As I searched desperately for reasons to be cheerful – well, a possible trip to Hull next season – I tried consoling myself by thinking of sport’s other spectacular capitulations.<br /><br />“I would love it!” is the infamous Kevin Keegan quote which will forever be synonymous with the 1995-96 Premier League season and, in particular, dramatic self-destruction.<br /><br />Despite being 12 points clear at the top in January, a jittery run-in saw Newcastle surrender the title to Manchester United.<br /><br />The Magpies never truly recovered, and now face the ignominy of joining the legion of underachievers in English football’s second tier.<br /><br />Eclipsing Newcastle’s capacity to crumble under pressure is quite a feat, and one that the English cricket team has repeated on numerous occasions.<br /><br />Most memorably, the second test of the 2006-07 Ashes at Adelaide signalled not only the turning point of the series but also the end of the briefest of golden eras, ‘The Class of 2005’.<br /><br />Having declared on a mammoth 551-6 in the first innings, the tourists were poised to level the series at 1-1 when they were 69-1 in their second innings.<br /><br />Once Andrew Strauss fell to England’s perennial tormentor Shane Warne, however, they imploded to gift Australia an unexpected win and, with it, a platform for a crushing 5-0 series triumph.<br /><br />When the Ashes start in July, I’ll be in Cardiff hoping that the England and Wales Cricket Board XI can upset Australia and, in the process, spark a collapse that I can actually enjoy.<br /><br />As written for Leeds StudentDafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-38473179447725236032009-04-30T16:39:00.000-07:002009-04-30T16:41:29.452-07:00Nicknames and snooker's identity crisisAs cricket’s ‘sexed-up’ alternative, the Indian Premier League, begins in its temporary home of South Africa, another quintessentially British sport has faced calls to reinvent itself.<br /><br />Thousands of miles away from Twenty20’s pyrotechnics, the World Snooker Championships have been progressing to the calmer sounds of rustling sweet wrappers and coughing pensioners.<br /><br />The Crucible’s gentle atmosphere, however, belies the tumult of the sport’s identity crisis. Those in charge at World Snooker have announced plans to trial a shorter format of the game, using six red balls instead of the conventional ten.<br /><br />The decision is perhaps a reaction to Ronnie O’Sullivan’s request in January for the “entrepreneurial skills of Simon Cowell” to help inject some life into what the world number one claims to be a “dying” sport.<br /><br />After all, the closest snooker has ever come to sexy is Kirk Stevens’ Saturday Night Fever-inspired white tuxedo.<br /><br />O’Sullivan may have had a darts-styled introduction of a pub venue and bikini -clad women in mind but it seems that he had overlooked the unique glamour which snooker offers.<br /><br />Tournament emcee Rob Walker is the man given the dubious responsibility of stirring excitement in the arena. If his cry of getting “the boys on the baize” fails to stir, however, he can turn to a rich source of nicknames.<br /><br />Quarter-finalist Mark Selby has been dubbed the ‘Jester from Leicester’, a moniker which suggests a maverick cueman with a penchant for practical tricks at the table. In reality, though, Selby is a pale, wiry Midlander whose expression seldom changes from a look of deep gloom.<br /><br />One of the sport’s newcomers, meanwhile, is the proud owner of a feistier pseudonym. Mark ‘The Pistol’ Allen has been referred to as a ‘street fighter’ by commentators but his contrived fist pumps make ‘Tiger’ Tim Henman’s self-motivational exercises look like the growls of an irate Romanian weightlifter.<br /><br />There is one player who seems above the frolics of novelty alter-egos. According to the BBC, Ronnie O’Sullivan is a man so enigmatic that his profile pieces are required to be shot exclusively in slow-motion with the accompaniment of incongruously serious classical music.<br /><br />O’Sullivan’s routine threats of retirement at the end of defeats are predictable but, without indulging in his melodramatic reflections, the BBC would have no icon on which to focus their coverage.<br /><br />While snooker may have a dearth of brooding enigmas, we can be content with the plethora of wilfully naff nicknames, such as Stephen ‘The Wonder of Wiltshire’ Lee, Ali ‘Captain’ Carter and the, er, unforgettable Alan ‘Angles’ McManus.<br /><br />As written for Leeds StudentDafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-19897016025675069862009-04-21T12:22:00.000-07:002009-04-21T12:34:36.673-07:00Dick seems not to know BestIt was announced in a recent governmental investigation that the FA’s ‘Fit and Proper Persons Test’ for prospective football club owners will require a tightening of regulations. After Dick Best’s appearance on Sky Sports News today, though, television producers may also need to rethink their screening procedures for pundits and contributors.<br /><br />Best was speaking ahead of today's announcement of the British and Irish Lions squad for this summer's tour of South Africa. Asked why he had picked Delon Armitage ahead of Tommy Bowe in his Lions starting XV, the former England coach sniggered in the interviewer Phil Edwards’ ear, “You’ve always got to have a coloured boy in the team!”<br /><br />As if the episode could become any more cringeworthy, the camera turned back to the studio, where the anchor Mike Wedderburn happened to be black. Visibly embarrassed, he uttered an uncertain “Yeeesss” before swiftly moving on to the next story.<br /><br />The reaction was decisive but unconvincing. Wedderburn’s fellow presenter Millie Clode later apologised: "[Best] made remarks that he thought were off-camera. We would like to apologise for any offence this may have caused."<br /><br />Sky appear to think that the real offence was having this racist remark made on camera, that a similarly offensive comment would have been acceptable away from our screens. Best’s casual racism was left to look like nothing more than a rugby club old boy’s joke. Armitage and Wedderburn might not find it quite so funny.<br /><br />With such limp excuses, Ron Atkinson springs to mind. Atkinson’s commentary career came to a halt after calling Marcel Desailly a “lazy nigger”, yet instead of an earnest apology, there was only talk of the comment being meant for off-air discussion.<br /><br />More recently, Carol Thatcher referred to tennis player Jo-Wilfred Tsonga as a “golliwog” while in the green room of the BBC’s The One Show, an incident which led to her being dropped from the programme. Thatcher, however, maintains that her comment should have remained private, that the remark was a “joke”.<br /><br />Off-record or not, casual or malicious; racism should not be cast aside as jovial backstage chit-chat, and certainly cannot be brushed under the ever-bulging carpets of TV bosses.Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-80423823235342638582009-04-01T04:42:00.000-07:002009-04-01T04:47:16.351-07:00Sheepish Sky sweep Shearer's past asideThere will be an eerie silence when Gary Lineker next invites ‘expert’ analysis from the Match of the Day couch. Viewers would usually ready themselves for a cliché splurge from the BBC’s preacher of the bleeding obvious, Alan Shearer, but these insights will now be confined to the walls of St James’ Park, now that the former England striker has been appointed Newcastle manager.<br /><br />This appointment seems familiar. In January 2008, Kevin Keegan was heralded as Newcastle’s ‘favourite son’, ready to restore the club to its rightful place... twelfth place in the Premier League. King Kev’s tenure, however, lasted only eight months and sparked a period of disorder and drama turbulent enough to make Jacqui Smith wince.<br /><br />Having gambled and failed with a fans’ choice, club owner Mike Ashley called on Joe Kinnear and Chris Hughton before buckling once again to supporter pressure. Inevitably, Shearer has already been lauded by the Toon Army faithful as the ‘messiah’ required to save them from relegation.<br /><br />With the news coming too late on Tuesday evening for the majority of newspapers, it was left to Sky Sports News to expand on the hilarity at St James’ Park.<br /><br />As well as its usual bombast, how the rolling news channel really entertained was by maintaining its tradition of pretending that anything happening away from their cameras does not exist.<br /><br />Formula 1, the Six Nations and autumn international rugby union are a rarity – they are sports events not covered by Sky. Therefore, it seems rational to Murdoch’s minions to view these as pure fiction and, consequently, afford them no recognition.<br /><br />When looking at a chronology of Shearer’s career, the presenters became noticeably quiet as they discussed his activity after retiring. Having read one disgruntled fan’s email demanding Shearer to “go back to the screens”, the anchors mumbled inaudibly before moving swiftly on to their next Sky Sports News ‘exclusive’.<br /><br />An unsuspecting first-time viewer of sports broadcasting may have wandered why such sheepish behaviour surrounded the mention of a player’s relation to television. What could these people be hiding? I’d imagine a discussion between the channel’s researchers and producers sounding a little like this:<br /><br />Researcher: “At least we won’t see Shearer on Match of the Day anymore.”<br />Producer: “What’s that?”<br />R: “You know, the Premier League highlights package.”<br />P: “You mean Football First?”<br />R: “No, Match of the Day – it’s on a Saturday night on the BBC.”<br />P: “On the what?”<br /><br />In such moods, tuning into Sky Sports News is like watching a broadcasting corporation collectively stuffing its ears with its fingers and repeating like an unrepentant schoolchild, “lalalalalalala!”<br /><br />Somebody, somewhere at the BBC must be delighted. Match of the Day may now even produce a soundbite containing a semblance, however small, of interest. That is, of course, if the programme even exists.Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-23771646575120113772009-03-26T07:46:00.000-07:002009-03-26T08:14:30.077-07:00Coming down with Wordsworth and Human TrafficComedowns are an inconvenient reality. Whether they are alcohol or drug-induced, or merely the realisation of a natural high’s termination, the after-effects of a good time tend to taint enjoyable experiences.<br /><br /><br />William Wordsworth, a poet preoccupied with notions of the sublime and solitude, pleasure and pain, formed a model of what we might now call ‘post-session depression’ in his poem, ‘Resolution and Independence’. Although written in 1802, the lyric poem is relevant to anybody who has ever experienced a low that follows a high:<br /><br /><br />But, as it sometimes chanceth, from the might<br />Of joys in minds that can no further go,<br />As high as we have mounted in delight<br />In our dejection do we sink as low;<br /><br /><br />This passage from the third stanza encapsulates Wordsworth’s exploration of the immediacy between joy and dejection; that to experience the pinnacle of pleasure is to automatically become despondent.<br /><br /><br />Human Traffic may not necessarily be the most obvious contemporary cultural reference in relation to poetry of the Romantic period, but the film does bear some ideological resemblance to Wordsworth’s verse.<br /><br /><br />The film follows Jip (played by John Simm) and his friends as they indulge in the drug and club culture of the 90s and, when Simm’s character discusses ecstasy, his sentiments are reminiscent of Wordsworth’s: “We risk sanity for moments of temporary enlightenment.”<br /><br />Jip then turns to the fragility and temporality of joy detailed by Wordsworth, “The last thought killed by anticipation of the next.” Although Wordsworth is sober and Pip under the amphetamine's influence, the two have in common a delight in the present but also an awareness that this dream-like state will at any moment switch to despair.<br /><br /><br />It is not only an eternal search for enlightenment which the Romantics poets and clubbers of Human Traffic have in common. Where natural delirium fails to ignite, both have sought alternative highs, primarily of the chemical variety.<br /><br /><br />Samuel Taylor Coleridge, composer of ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’, famously pushed the self-destruct button when searching for inspiration later in his life; his alternative high, opium, eventually contributed to his death. Compared to Coleridge, Pete Doherty looks less a tortured soul, more a mischievous schoolboy sneakily sipping on his parents’ sherry.<br /><br /><br />‘Resolution and Independence’, however, is not concerned with the pursuit of an intoxicating escape from reality but, rather, a natural clarification of matters of joy and dejection.<br /><br /><br />One doesn’t necessarily need to be recovering from a drug’s side-effects to endure a comedown. For example, having experienced the rapture of a concert or the rush of a last-minute winner at a football match, once the immediate joy has passed, it seems that the only way for our spirits is down.<br /><br /><br />The culmination of expectations and ecstasy of the moment mean that, even in perfect sobriety, we have entered the highest point of pleasure and, as a result, we immediately enter a state of decline.Dafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1336414147947287568.post-71264135482655979812009-03-23T09:31:00.000-07:002009-03-26T05:03:39.564-07:00Tomatoes, chimneys and seagulls: An introduction to sporting philosophyPost-match interviews and press conferences are often seen as the pinnacle of sporting figures’ capacity for dullness. Brian O’Driscoll, the Irish rugby union captain, however, bucked this trend in peculiar fashion during this year's Six Nations championship.<br /><br />In a press conference held before Ireland’s match against England, O’Driscoll was asked about playing alongside Martin Johnson for the British and Irish Lions, and facing him as opposition. The centre’s reply was wilfully cryptic: “Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit; wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad.” It is unconfirmed whether this turn of phrase was a part of O’Driscoll’s team talk.<br /><br />Meanwhile, flying the flag for footballing idiosyncrasies is Juventus manager Claudio Ranieri, who when faced with the sack at Chelsea in 2004, remarked, “Before you kill me, you call me the "dead man walking." I must buy you an espresso. But only a little one - I am Scottish!”<br /><br />This particular trail of managerial misquoting is one blazed by many before Ranieri; none more so than Kevin Keegan, who said of decision-making processes, “It is understandable that people are keeping one eye on the pot and another up the chimney.” Read this sentence repeatedly for a day, and the word “understandable” still seems somewhat misplaced.<br /><br />O’Driscoll’s enigmatic assessment is reminiscent of Eric Cantona’s famous foray into philosophy. Addressing the press in the wake of his kung-fu kick on a Crystal Palace, the former French international said that, "when the seagulls follow the trawler, it is because they think sardines will be thrown into the sea." As of yet, the forward-turned-actor’s profundity is one which has yet to have been matched by anybody at Old Trafford.<br /><br />The aforementioned examples should illustrate how sport and philosophy are not as incongruous a pairing as one might first assume. To those still unconvinced, the great Algerian philosopher Albert Camus offers a definitive final thought: “All I know most surely about morality and obligations, I owe to football.”<br /><br />As written for Leeds StudentDafhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13621862205100386293noreply@blogger.com0