Every day at work I speak to person after person claiming various things. Some things are true, and an awful lot arn't, but one of the most heard claims is that someone is suffering from Stress, Depression and Anxiety.
These are probably the least believed statements by me and many of my peers, partly because they are so prevalent that by law of averages a large percentage must be bullshit, and partly because claiming stress, depression and anxiety is relatively easy to do and it's a ticket to convenient benefits.
We arn't there to make a judgement on whether these people are genuine or not and in fact it makes no odds to us whether they're faking it. But the underlying fact remains: as soon as someone says Depression, most of us think of it as a quasi- illness. I'm no better than anyone else in this respect. I disbelieve the stories, I assume a lot of them are lying through their teeth. (On a side bar, I don't believe 90% of ADHD claims either but don't even get me started on that bullshit...)
The thing is I should be more sympathetic than most. If anyone should give people the benefit of the doubt in this situation it's me. Because I'm a proper mental. I suffer from stress, anxiety and depression and have for the past decade, and for years beforehand without confronting it.
I don't speak about it, other than to a select few people. This is mainly because most people (like me) assume that if someone says they have depression it either means they're preparing the ground to go on a long stretch of sick leave at work, or they're looking for a big dose of sympathetic attention, neither of which I want people to think about me. So I keep it quiet.
But now I'm here blurting it out for all 4 people who may just bother to read my blog and one or two of them may not know this about me already and may even tell other people too. Why?
The reasons I want to make it a bit more public are twofold. Firstly, occasionally you find out that someone else you know suffers with depression and has been really battling against it at a difficult time but has never spoken to you about it because they, like me, keep it to themselves. This is frustrating because when I've been suffering it's really helpful sometimes to talk to someone else. Not a big girly blubfest, but just to mention it to someone and feel free to talk about it can be very therapeutic. Fortunately I have some good friends in this respect, and I've been lucky enough to be there for other people. But there are times when good friends have been struggling and I could have helped but we were both playing the non-admittance game, and to be quite honest it's shit. Secondly, I'm too old to be embarrassed by this kind of stuff anymore. I am what I am, and I am who I am. And whether I like it or not this is part of me so I'm not going to bother keeping it quiet. If anyone has a problem with it tough shit. If you know me and you think any less of me, I don't care.
I first got diagnosed 10 years ago. Scared the shite out of me at first because I had no idea what was going on. I'd just moved into a new flat, a few weeks later had met Kerry and a few weeks later she'd moved in with me. Happy days, or should have been. But work was just beginning to turn shite at the time and with all the changes going on I think everything came to a head. I had a week where I simply couldn't function. I was exhausted and run down. I presumed I had a fluey thing and went to bed, expecting that after a day or two, I'd feel better, get up and back to normal. But that didn't happen. And so I went to the doctor who said it sounded like a virus and signed me off for another week. And than another. And then on the fourth week he ran through some questions. "Do you ever..." this, and "How do you feel when..." that. Then he asked me where I worked and when I said "Norwich Union" he just laughed and chucked a truckload of pills at me and wrote me a sicknote for work which said "Depression" and I had to suck it up and deal with it, because I was going to have to hand it in at work and become one of those people that I'd always been suspicious and skeptical of. I went back to work, relieved that I wasn't dying of some mystery disease, but baffled by the fact that this was what I had because I'd never thought of myself as being someone who would get depression. I didn't think I fit "the profile". But I went back in, rightly or wrongly, and those initial four weeks are still the only time I've ever had off sick from work with depression.
It really didn't sit well with me, not just immediately, or for the next few months. I developed horrendous panic attacks which would show up for no reason and which would render me a sweating, breathless lunatic. I remember having lunch with Kerry one day and suddenly saying "sorry, have to go" before dashing out the door because I thought I was going to pass out if I stayed where I was for a second longer. Proper fucking nutcase stuff.
For months I kept going over it in my mind: how did I get here? I thought I was mentally strong, now I'm a fucking basketcase. What triggers are there that set me off? Surely there's something I can do to get rid of this? Some way to put this bloody genie back in the bottle. But there wasn't. And after a long time I realised this and came to terms with the fact that it wasn't going away.
It's with me for life now. My Black Dog (If it's good enough for Churchill, another mentalist, who coined the phrase, then it's good enough for me). And I'm fine with that. I can manage it. I have down periods, and then I have ok periods. I still sometimes have panic attacks which I keep quiet about because nobody wants to see a big sweating freaky mess so I'll keep them to myself. But otherwise it's just a normal part of life. A pill a day keeps the total wobblies away.
But I can cope. I've been lucky to have Kerry who's been amazing, putting up with my madness, my freakouts, and my sometimes overwhelming snappiness and melancholy. Love that woman. I've also had various friends, some who are non-mentals, some who are up-front mentals and some who are closet mentals who've helped me and who continue to do so.
Anyway, I've decided that whilst I'm definitely not making a song and dance about it, I'm moving from the closet out into the open. I'm a strong proud mental man and I don't care who knows it. And hopefully if anybody else is where I was 10 years ago and needs to talk about it, they'll feel they can with me.
Monday, 19 July 2010
Thursday, 8 July 2010
Blog 8 - Start the day the right way.
Got on the bus this morning behind the usual collection of Eastern Europeans coming into the City to scab benefits and college kids spouting rubbish.
Went to go upstairs and in front of me was an attractive blonde 17 year old wearing a short floaty skirt.
God bless the bus driver because he jolted away from the stop so suddenly that the girl in front tripped up the steps (she was fine), her skirt flew up, and revealed that she had decided to embrace the day commando style. Far from being embarrassed, she brazenly stood up, smoothed her skirt back down, gave me a wink (facial), and went to sit with her giggling friends.
Carlsberg don't do Bus Rides, but if they did...
Went to go upstairs and in front of me was an attractive blonde 17 year old wearing a short floaty skirt.
God bless the bus driver because he jolted away from the stop so suddenly that the girl in front tripped up the steps (she was fine), her skirt flew up, and revealed that she had decided to embrace the day commando style. Far from being embarrassed, she brazenly stood up, smoothed her skirt back down, gave me a wink (facial), and went to sit with her giggling friends.
Carlsberg don't do Bus Rides, but if they did...
Thursday, 1 July 2010
Blog 7 - Nostradamus Head
A while ago (Feb 2009) I posted the following on the Pink Un Message Board. It got a good reaction at the time but looking back, I think a lot of our recent England World Cup shambles have vindicated the points I made here.
Plus it's an easy way to post a quick blog and I'm a lazy bastard...
The downfall of our game - a rant
The FA and the Premier League need to take a lot of criticism for the part they have played in creating situations like Saturday, where you have a team in dire need of points to fight relegation, and the majority couldn't summon up the fire and the fight to take the game to the opposition when the game was there for the taking. Obviously Norwich's woes aren't solely due to the players who couldn't produce on Saturday, but I'm talking in a wider context, as the same lack of fight can be seen at so many clubs up and down the country and even with the national team, and it's a growing problem that undermines football in this country.
One problem is that players no longer think of their being part of a club or area because their careers are so transitory. Even if you sign for a club permanently (e.g. Jason Jarrett for us), if you don't gel into the side immediately chances are you'll be lobbed out on loan to get gametime within six to eighteen months, at which point you'll have to move into a hotel for probably three to six months, leaving whatever family you have behind in a place they haven't lived for very long. Then when you do return, is it for first team football, or another loan spell away, in a hotel, while your Missus and kids cry on the phone about you never being there again? Eventually, you'll grow to resent the club that's loaning you out, and the clubs you're being loaned to.
Or if you are lucky enough to get into the team as a regular (e.g. Sammy Clingan) you're then at the mercy of the teams fortunes. If you find yourself doing well (and if you're a regular pick you can't be doing too bad with the size of most squads these days) then a bigger, richer team will be looking to sign you in which case you're moving again. Or at best, your team may be in line for promotion, in which case your stay is likely to be extended, but then you have the worry of whether the club will try and buy someone with experience of the league above who plays in your position. If your team does badly and gets relegated then you'll be looking to move to stay in the league and salary bracket you fought to get to in the first place. And if you do get to said new, bigger club, see paragraph above. And worst of all is when you're playing for a club who should be doing better but continually find themselves at the wrong end of the table, whose fans moan and are constantly negative, and who apparantly have no money and a paper-thin squad of loanees...
Players however have themselves to blame for this state of affairs by appointing agents who have routinely created monsters from young talented boys who go on to holding clubs to ransom, threatening Bosman escapes, sulky strikes or whatever it takes to get what they want. The more arseholes clubs see, the less they fancy committing to a contract for another potential nightmare ego, and they take the soft option, as City tend to do, of trying before you buy. Nine times out of ten it doesn't pan out because either the player is every bit as much of an arsehole as the rest, or is disillusioned even before he walks in the door, hating the lifestyle of a short-term traveller, and will probably consider he's doing the club a favour by being there and will only put in the effort he deems neccesary, which won't usually tally with the supporters, and the loan fails.
Add in the factor that thanks to the travelling rule for youth academies, small clubs who made the most of their youth systems like Norwich and Crewe have been completely shafted at the expense of Premiership clubs who now swallow up all the promising youth in the country (and in increasing numbers) and most youngsters are drawn into the role of traveller at young ages anyway. Live in Cambridge? Don't worry, that's only a short flight to Manchester airport. Based in Macclesfield? Don't worry, you won't have to play for Macc, because you're in range of Manchester and Birmingham and Villa and Man U are both taking on 100 youngsters this year. And whereas a few years ago it would have been ridiculous to travel these distances twice a week for training and then again for the game at the weekend, don't worry, because the potential pay rewards are so great that Dad's willing to risk his job and take time off to drive you. Or if you're really talented, the big clubs might even send a car for you.
Because of the vast numbers that now go through the big clubs nets, most of the players at Championship level and even a large proportion of those at L1 and 2 will have learnt their trade in a big clubs academy. This means that they will have been brought up to see how to carry themselves as a pro and as a man, by the current crop of Premiership footballers. So what we all end up with are over-privilaged young men who look upon their livelihood as more of a lifestyle choice than a profession. The look is as important as the job itself. Making friends with celebrities, appearing on Footballers Cribs and queing up for your crack at Danielle Lloyd is the day job, and in between that you try and fit in training and the odd game. And when the fans criticise your lack of effort, you sulk and move to another club, and another location where there are a whole new bunch of nightclubs and wannabe Danielle Lloyds desperate to look at the ceiling of a footballers crib for a night. Repeat ad nauseum.
Look back 20 years at someone like Gary Mabbutt, a one-club man, model professional and someone who had to cope with regularly injecting himself with Insulin before matches and training just to get onto the pitch. Could the modern footballer summon up the willpower to conquer such a problem? An everyday life situation for the hundreds of thousands of diabetics out there, but what would happen to Ashley Cole tomorrow if it happened to him? I imagine a barrage of "coping seminars" and three months off on full pay (funded by the fans) to get his head around it followed by a heartwarming hour-long special on Sky where he weeps comforted by Cheryl whilst we all discuss how brave the little soldier is to be even thinking of playing football again. Frank Lampard's mum dies (not pleasant, but not a totally unusual occurrence for a man in his thirties to have to live through) and shirts with "Pat Lampard RIP" are paraded around Stamford Bridge by his teammates on the day he missed the game due to her death. Admirable team spirit, and I have no complaint about his missing the match but for Gods sake!!! Would it have happened twenty years ago? An outpouring of emotion in a football ground for the passing of someone's mum who contributed nothing to the game of football except for the fact that thirty years ago she pushed out a boy who is now on the fringes of the England team and who can't take a penalty in a pressure situation? Of course not. Unthinkable.
Unfortunately, the players, the agents and the clubs have created the modern footballer and we, the fans, have to suffer through him. We have treated our young like little boys and we can't then expect them to become men. All the young talent is chauffeured into the big clubs, pampered and promised the world, the majority then get kicked out or sent on loan to places that don't pamper as well, and they look on it as an unwanted setback, an ordeal to get through rather than relish. Bitter and resentful, the lower clubs sieve through them by virtue of loans, prospecting for the odd nugget that contains both a measure of talent and residual integrity from before they got involved with the professional game.
Where have all the good men gone? We've let the growing wealth of the game, and in particular the big clubs, emasculate a generation. In the words of the England vice-captain and leader of the Champions of England and Europe, "You've been Merked".
Plus it's an easy way to post a quick blog and I'm a lazy bastard...
The downfall of our game - a rant
The FA and the Premier League need to take a lot of criticism for the part they have played in creating situations like Saturday, where you have a team in dire need of points to fight relegation, and the majority couldn't summon up the fire and the fight to take the game to the opposition when the game was there for the taking. Obviously Norwich's woes aren't solely due to the players who couldn't produce on Saturday, but I'm talking in a wider context, as the same lack of fight can be seen at so many clubs up and down the country and even with the national team, and it's a growing problem that undermines football in this country.
One problem is that players no longer think of their being part of a club or area because their careers are so transitory. Even if you sign for a club permanently (e.g. Jason Jarrett for us), if you don't gel into the side immediately chances are you'll be lobbed out on loan to get gametime within six to eighteen months, at which point you'll have to move into a hotel for probably three to six months, leaving whatever family you have behind in a place they haven't lived for very long. Then when you do return, is it for first team football, or another loan spell away, in a hotel, while your Missus and kids cry on the phone about you never being there again? Eventually, you'll grow to resent the club that's loaning you out, and the clubs you're being loaned to.
Or if you are lucky enough to get into the team as a regular (e.g. Sammy Clingan) you're then at the mercy of the teams fortunes. If you find yourself doing well (and if you're a regular pick you can't be doing too bad with the size of most squads these days) then a bigger, richer team will be looking to sign you in which case you're moving again. Or at best, your team may be in line for promotion, in which case your stay is likely to be extended, but then you have the worry of whether the club will try and buy someone with experience of the league above who plays in your position. If your team does badly and gets relegated then you'll be looking to move to stay in the league and salary bracket you fought to get to in the first place. And if you do get to said new, bigger club, see paragraph above. And worst of all is when you're playing for a club who should be doing better but continually find themselves at the wrong end of the table, whose fans moan and are constantly negative, and who apparantly have no money and a paper-thin squad of loanees...
Players however have themselves to blame for this state of affairs by appointing agents who have routinely created monsters from young talented boys who go on to holding clubs to ransom, threatening Bosman escapes, sulky strikes or whatever it takes to get what they want. The more arseholes clubs see, the less they fancy committing to a contract for another potential nightmare ego, and they take the soft option, as City tend to do, of trying before you buy. Nine times out of ten it doesn't pan out because either the player is every bit as much of an arsehole as the rest, or is disillusioned even before he walks in the door, hating the lifestyle of a short-term traveller, and will probably consider he's doing the club a favour by being there and will only put in the effort he deems neccesary, which won't usually tally with the supporters, and the loan fails.
Add in the factor that thanks to the travelling rule for youth academies, small clubs who made the most of their youth systems like Norwich and Crewe have been completely shafted at the expense of Premiership clubs who now swallow up all the promising youth in the country (and in increasing numbers) and most youngsters are drawn into the role of traveller at young ages anyway. Live in Cambridge? Don't worry, that's only a short flight to Manchester airport. Based in Macclesfield? Don't worry, you won't have to play for Macc, because you're in range of Manchester and Birmingham and Villa and Man U are both taking on 100 youngsters this year. And whereas a few years ago it would have been ridiculous to travel these distances twice a week for training and then again for the game at the weekend, don't worry, because the potential pay rewards are so great that Dad's willing to risk his job and take time off to drive you. Or if you're really talented, the big clubs might even send a car for you.
Because of the vast numbers that now go through the big clubs nets, most of the players at Championship level and even a large proportion of those at L1 and 2 will have learnt their trade in a big clubs academy. This means that they will have been brought up to see how to carry themselves as a pro and as a man, by the current crop of Premiership footballers. So what we all end up with are over-privilaged young men who look upon their livelihood as more of a lifestyle choice than a profession. The look is as important as the job itself. Making friends with celebrities, appearing on Footballers Cribs and queing up for your crack at Danielle Lloyd is the day job, and in between that you try and fit in training and the odd game. And when the fans criticise your lack of effort, you sulk and move to another club, and another location where there are a whole new bunch of nightclubs and wannabe Danielle Lloyds desperate to look at the ceiling of a footballers crib for a night. Repeat ad nauseum.
Look back 20 years at someone like Gary Mabbutt, a one-club man, model professional and someone who had to cope with regularly injecting himself with Insulin before matches and training just to get onto the pitch. Could the modern footballer summon up the willpower to conquer such a problem? An everyday life situation for the hundreds of thousands of diabetics out there, but what would happen to Ashley Cole tomorrow if it happened to him? I imagine a barrage of "coping seminars" and three months off on full pay (funded by the fans) to get his head around it followed by a heartwarming hour-long special on Sky where he weeps comforted by Cheryl whilst we all discuss how brave the little soldier is to be even thinking of playing football again. Frank Lampard's mum dies (not pleasant, but not a totally unusual occurrence for a man in his thirties to have to live through) and shirts with "Pat Lampard RIP" are paraded around Stamford Bridge by his teammates on the day he missed the game due to her death. Admirable team spirit, and I have no complaint about his missing the match but for Gods sake!!! Would it have happened twenty years ago? An outpouring of emotion in a football ground for the passing of someone's mum who contributed nothing to the game of football except for the fact that thirty years ago she pushed out a boy who is now on the fringes of the England team and who can't take a penalty in a pressure situation? Of course not. Unthinkable.
Unfortunately, the players, the agents and the clubs have created the modern footballer and we, the fans, have to suffer through him. We have treated our young like little boys and we can't then expect them to become men. All the young talent is chauffeured into the big clubs, pampered and promised the world, the majority then get kicked out or sent on loan to places that don't pamper as well, and they look on it as an unwanted setback, an ordeal to get through rather than relish. Bitter and resentful, the lower clubs sieve through them by virtue of loans, prospecting for the odd nugget that contains both a measure of talent and residual integrity from before they got involved with the professional game.
Where have all the good men gone? We've let the growing wealth of the game, and in particular the big clubs, emasculate a generation. In the words of the England vice-captain and leader of the Champions of England and Europe, "You've been Merked".
Saturday, 26 June 2010
Blog 6 - I am a football snob
I am not frightened of snobbery; either the application of it against myself, or to be seen as a perpetrator in my own right. Most people who know me have probably realised that I don't tend to embarass easily and that I'm comfortable in "letting it all hang out" in public. So if a snob is what I am, in whatever form, I'm happy enough to be known as such.
I've been the victim of snobbery on many occasions. Socio-economic snobbery often kicks in when people find out that I'm not married to the mother of our 4 children, and that we don't own our own house, and that we do actually receive Child Tax Credit to prop up my wages. You see it in smug smiles, or phrases such as "you'll get there in the end". Where, pray tell? To the suburban perfection you obviously assume you've achieved. Well strap me in, that's a thrill ride I just have to get in on. Dick.
But the area of the Arts and snobbery is the one I really want to discuss today. Everyone has their own opinion on items such as music, art, literature, and films. And I'd bet that most wouldn't include football on the same list under the heading "Arts" either, but my blog, my rules. In most areas of the Arts I always seem to be mentally undernourished according to the accepted wisdom of what counts as an enthusiast.
Take music. I like music. I have an i-pod. It has songs on, and some of those even have melody and lyrics rather than smutty limericks or songs derived from barking dogs. My taste however, is almost universally derided by my peers. It seems that McFly and Lily Allen are not what the cool 33 year old father should be listening to. According to my more musically-infatuated friends, scruffy groups of youths hammering guitars and grunting maudlin monosyllables as lyrics make up the only acceptable form of modern music. A look at the acts on view at Glastonbury shows how far out of the loop I appear to be. I have never heard of Vampire Weekend (as a band obviously, as a concept it sounds quite fun...). Couldn't tell you who they are, or name any of their songs. Yet they appear to be a major influence on proceedings. The Gorillaz, I have heard of, and of the 2 songs I know, I thought they were a load of plinky-plonky gubbins for people who like electronic instruments without any story to the song. Not my sort of thing at all. Obviously then, my tastes are not the norm. Most people don't like my music and I don't like theirs. Fine. I can accept, musically I am an outsider. And that's ok. When people at a a party discuss music, I know that my role is to nod politely and never ever reveal what is going on in my head as it will undoubtedly kill both the mood and the conversation. Rhythmically I am an island. And that island is certainly not Ibiza like everybody else.
In terms of literature, again, I'm not normal. I read voraciously. At one point I was reading two or three books a week. But when, on occasion, somebody has attempted to speak to me about literature, I quickly aquiesce into a babbling fool wishing that the other person would bugger off and leave me to my misery. Because I know, and they know within seconds, that I don't like "literature". Jane Austen - Boring. William Shakespeare - Too much effort for too little reward. Any author with two initials followed by their surname - Sod that for a stultifying game of soldiers. Don't know it, haven't read it, not interested. Now if you want to talk about Nick Hornby, Dan Brown or any other lightweight author that has written a book since I've been born then I might have a chance. But it seems that the clarifying status for being someone who can discuss "literature" is that you have to know the oldies. The classics. I don't, so again, I take my position on the fringe of the conversation nodding like Stevie Wonder during an orgasm. I'll let THEM have literature. I like it, or parts of it, but I accept, it's not my thing. I'm not a force of intelligence within the zeitgeist, because I don't fully understand or appreciate it. Fine.
However, when it comes to football, I know my stuff. I've watched and studied the game in all of its minuteia for nearly 30 years. When football is discussed, I go from dormant backbencher to cabinet rabble-rouser in the twinkle of an eye. I'm not on the fringe of the conversation, I lead the conversation. My knowledge of the history of the game, the breadth of the global sport and it's driving forces whether it be political, organizational, financial or sporting mean that I aquiesce to no man. This is MY thing. And I realise that I am not the only person who feels like this. Loads of people are exceptionally knowledgeable about the game. However my problem comes with those that arn't but believe they are. That's where I become the snob.
Most people, when entering a conversation with me will touch upon football, because they know it's MY thing. And I appreciate that they make this effort to remember my interests and engage me accordingly regardless of their own level of interest or knowledge. It's a human kindness and god bless them for it. If they are someone I know is only bringing it up as a pleasantry, I will answer with equal non-committal yet pleasant platitudes, and move onto a more mutual topic of conversation. If I know they are a football fan, then I'll launch in with the full force of a discussion between peers.
The problem lies in the middle. Those people who say they like football, or even go so far as to profess knowledge on the subject, but in actual fact form all their opinions by listening to commentators like Andy Townsend or Paul Merson once every four years at the world cup, and whom any intelligent follower of the game will tell you, are pundits of the worst kind who need regular CAT scans to prove they shouldn't be using special buses.
I was accosted on the morning of the last England match (booked the day off as holiday in January as soon as the fixture was announced to make sure no fairweather bastard in the office beat me to it two weeks before the game) whilst doing the school run by another Dad who has never professed any interest in football before. "Watching the game today then?" he enquired. "Yeah, that's what flex days are for" I replied amiably. A pleasant exchange of conversation with a football outsider.
"It was rubbish the other night" he postulated. Now at this point I would have argued if I thought it was worth it. Yes the previous game had been poor, but I was firmly resolved against the national furore that Uncle Tom Cobley and all had opined, thinking it more symptomatic of a global shift in the pattern of the game which had witnessed many other favoured nations struggling to make progress as well. However, it wasn't worth me launching into this at this point. For one, it was the school run and I didn't have the time or the patience. For two, I knew that this guy didn't know anything about football, at least no more than the average doorpost. Any point that I tried to make woulod be lost in comparison to what he'd read on the back page of the Star about how we should be building pires to set fire to players upon their undoubtedly humiliating return to the country. The laymans knee-jerk reaction. But it was a safe opinion for him to espouse as it was in keeping with the majority. (At this point I was somewhat arrogantly, but self-awaredly in the minority that thinks it knows better than the majority. And I still am.) So I kept things civil, and nodded along. Don't get involved, just let him think he knows it all, bless him. Like when your child starts telling you how the science behind Father Christmas works. Don't spoil it for them, just pretend.
He stretched my credulity and ability to ignore things a step further when he then added "I reckon if we'd got 11 blokes from the forces and sent them out there, they'd have won, because they'd have the passion". And he was serious. This wasn't just idle chat. He actually had this as a real theory and wanted my input.
And thus the snobbery kicked in. I couldn't take part in this conversation any more. I was incapable of pretence. I was Einstein, he was someone who licks windows on the bus to school. My only polite escape was to pretend that I needed to make an urgent departure and leave at haste with just a touch if brusqueness to hide my distaste. My anti-social behaviour might be abhorrent to some, but I find it far ruder when people who have no idea what they are talking about try to despoil my environment with their ridiculous theories. Just as I know enough to stand on the sidelines and let "literature" types bang on about Chaucer or Amis, or when I keep quiet when "Elbow" are heralded as a brave new future for music when I only know them as a ball and socket joint, they should know enough to not try and talk football with me if they're not packing the full armory of knowledge.
There's not a set level of knowledge required and the world of football is very varied. I have a good knowledge of English football and players across all four divisions. Some people only really get involved in the Premiership and Champions League (Again, I regard these with a certain sense of moral superiority - they'll disappear as soon as Sky pulls the financial plug), and there are some fans who have a far greater knowledge of international and foreign football than I (those I doff a reverential cap to in the knowledge stakes). However, I am happy to have a discussion with any of these people, because they've made the effort to expand their knowledge in some way. They haven't just been told what to think by the press or thick mates who know as little as they do.
This is arrogance on my part, I realise. A presumed intelligence for which there is no actual qualification or proof. However I know, with the certainty that literature or music afficianados know when they speak to me, who knows their spuds and who is an unworthy bluffer. And I simply cannot and will not enter a serious conversation with someone like that on MY subject. Arrogant? Certainly. But that's how it is. There's an adults table and a kids table happening here. Know your bloody place.
I've been the victim of snobbery on many occasions. Socio-economic snobbery often kicks in when people find out that I'm not married to the mother of our 4 children, and that we don't own our own house, and that we do actually receive Child Tax Credit to prop up my wages. You see it in smug smiles, or phrases such as "you'll get there in the end". Where, pray tell? To the suburban perfection you obviously assume you've achieved. Well strap me in, that's a thrill ride I just have to get in on. Dick.
But the area of the Arts and snobbery is the one I really want to discuss today. Everyone has their own opinion on items such as music, art, literature, and films. And I'd bet that most wouldn't include football on the same list under the heading "Arts" either, but my blog, my rules. In most areas of the Arts I always seem to be mentally undernourished according to the accepted wisdom of what counts as an enthusiast.
Take music. I like music. I have an i-pod. It has songs on, and some of those even have melody and lyrics rather than smutty limericks or songs derived from barking dogs. My taste however, is almost universally derided by my peers. It seems that McFly and Lily Allen are not what the cool 33 year old father should be listening to. According to my more musically-infatuated friends, scruffy groups of youths hammering guitars and grunting maudlin monosyllables as lyrics make up the only acceptable form of modern music. A look at the acts on view at Glastonbury shows how far out of the loop I appear to be. I have never heard of Vampire Weekend (as a band obviously, as a concept it sounds quite fun...). Couldn't tell you who they are, or name any of their songs. Yet they appear to be a major influence on proceedings. The Gorillaz, I have heard of, and of the 2 songs I know, I thought they were a load of plinky-plonky gubbins for people who like electronic instruments without any story to the song. Not my sort of thing at all. Obviously then, my tastes are not the norm. Most people don't like my music and I don't like theirs. Fine. I can accept, musically I am an outsider. And that's ok. When people at a a party discuss music, I know that my role is to nod politely and never ever reveal what is going on in my head as it will undoubtedly kill both the mood and the conversation. Rhythmically I am an island. And that island is certainly not Ibiza like everybody else.
In terms of literature, again, I'm not normal. I read voraciously. At one point I was reading two or three books a week. But when, on occasion, somebody has attempted to speak to me about literature, I quickly aquiesce into a babbling fool wishing that the other person would bugger off and leave me to my misery. Because I know, and they know within seconds, that I don't like "literature". Jane Austen - Boring. William Shakespeare - Too much effort for too little reward. Any author with two initials followed by their surname - Sod that for a stultifying game of soldiers. Don't know it, haven't read it, not interested. Now if you want to talk about Nick Hornby, Dan Brown or any other lightweight author that has written a book since I've been born then I might have a chance. But it seems that the clarifying status for being someone who can discuss "literature" is that you have to know the oldies. The classics. I don't, so again, I take my position on the fringe of the conversation nodding like Stevie Wonder during an orgasm. I'll let THEM have literature. I like it, or parts of it, but I accept, it's not my thing. I'm not a force of intelligence within the zeitgeist, because I don't fully understand or appreciate it. Fine.
However, when it comes to football, I know my stuff. I've watched and studied the game in all of its minuteia for nearly 30 years. When football is discussed, I go from dormant backbencher to cabinet rabble-rouser in the twinkle of an eye. I'm not on the fringe of the conversation, I lead the conversation. My knowledge of the history of the game, the breadth of the global sport and it's driving forces whether it be political, organizational, financial or sporting mean that I aquiesce to no man. This is MY thing. And I realise that I am not the only person who feels like this. Loads of people are exceptionally knowledgeable about the game. However my problem comes with those that arn't but believe they are. That's where I become the snob.
Most people, when entering a conversation with me will touch upon football, because they know it's MY thing. And I appreciate that they make this effort to remember my interests and engage me accordingly regardless of their own level of interest or knowledge. It's a human kindness and god bless them for it. If they are someone I know is only bringing it up as a pleasantry, I will answer with equal non-committal yet pleasant platitudes, and move onto a more mutual topic of conversation. If I know they are a football fan, then I'll launch in with the full force of a discussion between peers.
The problem lies in the middle. Those people who say they like football, or even go so far as to profess knowledge on the subject, but in actual fact form all their opinions by listening to commentators like Andy Townsend or Paul Merson once every four years at the world cup, and whom any intelligent follower of the game will tell you, are pundits of the worst kind who need regular CAT scans to prove they shouldn't be using special buses.
I was accosted on the morning of the last England match (booked the day off as holiday in January as soon as the fixture was announced to make sure no fairweather bastard in the office beat me to it two weeks before the game) whilst doing the school run by another Dad who has never professed any interest in football before. "Watching the game today then?" he enquired. "Yeah, that's what flex days are for" I replied amiably. A pleasant exchange of conversation with a football outsider.
"It was rubbish the other night" he postulated. Now at this point I would have argued if I thought it was worth it. Yes the previous game had been poor, but I was firmly resolved against the national furore that Uncle Tom Cobley and all had opined, thinking it more symptomatic of a global shift in the pattern of the game which had witnessed many other favoured nations struggling to make progress as well. However, it wasn't worth me launching into this at this point. For one, it was the school run and I didn't have the time or the patience. For two, I knew that this guy didn't know anything about football, at least no more than the average doorpost. Any point that I tried to make woulod be lost in comparison to what he'd read on the back page of the Star about how we should be building pires to set fire to players upon their undoubtedly humiliating return to the country. The laymans knee-jerk reaction. But it was a safe opinion for him to espouse as it was in keeping with the majority. (At this point I was somewhat arrogantly, but self-awaredly in the minority that thinks it knows better than the majority. And I still am.) So I kept things civil, and nodded along. Don't get involved, just let him think he knows it all, bless him. Like when your child starts telling you how the science behind Father Christmas works. Don't spoil it for them, just pretend.
He stretched my credulity and ability to ignore things a step further when he then added "I reckon if we'd got 11 blokes from the forces and sent them out there, they'd have won, because they'd have the passion". And he was serious. This wasn't just idle chat. He actually had this as a real theory and wanted my input.
And thus the snobbery kicked in. I couldn't take part in this conversation any more. I was incapable of pretence. I was Einstein, he was someone who licks windows on the bus to school. My only polite escape was to pretend that I needed to make an urgent departure and leave at haste with just a touch if brusqueness to hide my distaste. My anti-social behaviour might be abhorrent to some, but I find it far ruder when people who have no idea what they are talking about try to despoil my environment with their ridiculous theories. Just as I know enough to stand on the sidelines and let "literature" types bang on about Chaucer or Amis, or when I keep quiet when "Elbow" are heralded as a brave new future for music when I only know them as a ball and socket joint, they should know enough to not try and talk football with me if they're not packing the full armory of knowledge.
There's not a set level of knowledge required and the world of football is very varied. I have a good knowledge of English football and players across all four divisions. Some people only really get involved in the Premiership and Champions League (Again, I regard these with a certain sense of moral superiority - they'll disappear as soon as Sky pulls the financial plug), and there are some fans who have a far greater knowledge of international and foreign football than I (those I doff a reverential cap to in the knowledge stakes). However, I am happy to have a discussion with any of these people, because they've made the effort to expand their knowledge in some way. They haven't just been told what to think by the press or thick mates who know as little as they do.
This is arrogance on my part, I realise. A presumed intelligence for which there is no actual qualification or proof. However I know, with the certainty that literature or music afficianados know when they speak to me, who knows their spuds and who is an unworthy bluffer. And I simply cannot and will not enter a serious conversation with someone like that on MY subject. Arrogant? Certainly. But that's how it is. There's an adults table and a kids table happening here. Know your bloody place.
Sunday, 6 June 2010
Guns n Stuff
I flicked through the news channels the other day and got briefly distracted by a Fox News Report on the Cumbrian killings last week.
As you'd expect from the Murdoch subsidiary, it was packed with hyperbole and low on fact or context, and, as is their wont, they discussed with an "expert" the ramifications had the incident occurred in the U.S. instead of the Lake District.
The expert, named Bob, was dressed partially in camoflage and had a beard and sunglasses. And a cap. His qualification for comment was that he ran a local National Rifle Association branch. He postulated that the incident would never have happened in the States because, and I quote, "somebody woulda hadda gun and somebody woulda put the guy down."
To be fair to Bob, he is undoubtedly correct. In America, spree killings (outside of high schools) whilst not-uncommon, are almost always short-lived, precisely because there is always someone to stop the perpetrator. Derek Bird was so deadly because he possessed a weapon that nobody else did. 12 people died here and in the U.S. the probability is that far fewer would.
What Bob, and of course, Fox News, failed to do is address the realities and motives behind the attack, and indeed, spree killings in general. Spree Killings are catagorised as random attacks where the killer acts out of anger and without premeditation and has little thought for the victims identities. The killer traditionally has a mental breakdown or episode and then their anger or rage explodes in a violent, destructive and short-lived burst, which is what appears to have happened here. Certainly the initial victims of Derek Bird were targetted, as he had rowed with his brother over a will dispute and after killing him, he went to the solicitor handling the will and killed him as well. After this however, everything points to randomness. He'd snapped, killed and just killed again, his anger and life imploding upon himself.
The fact is that people have breakdowns of various types and severities all the time, whichever country they live in. A proportion of those will react violently. The difference is that in England, when people have said breakdown and react violently they reach for a knife because only 5% of the population have access to a firearm. Knives, whilst deadly, are less effective because of the physics of having to attack someone up close where they will be able to fight back. In the U.S. where 85% have access to a firearm, when people have a violent breakdown they're far more likely to use a gun, an entirely more lethal, efficient and repetative alternative.
Bob and Fox were postulating for the relaxation of gun laws in our country in the interests of protection. I'd argue that the fact that we only seem to suffer one gun-based spree killing every decade or so (Hungerford and Dunblane being the obvious examples) points to the fact that we've got the balance right, and if anything a tightening of gun laws seems more appropriate. More people may die per spree-killing incident in the UK, but in terms of where you would feel safer to live it is apparantly 1,200x more likely that you will die from a firearms related incident in the U.S. than here. I'll take those odds and leave the guns away from the general population if it's all the same to you.
As you'd expect from the Murdoch subsidiary, it was packed with hyperbole and low on fact or context, and, as is their wont, they discussed with an "expert" the ramifications had the incident occurred in the U.S. instead of the Lake District.
The expert, named Bob, was dressed partially in camoflage and had a beard and sunglasses. And a cap. His qualification for comment was that he ran a local National Rifle Association branch. He postulated that the incident would never have happened in the States because, and I quote, "somebody woulda hadda gun and somebody woulda put the guy down."
To be fair to Bob, he is undoubtedly correct. In America, spree killings (outside of high schools) whilst not-uncommon, are almost always short-lived, precisely because there is always someone to stop the perpetrator. Derek Bird was so deadly because he possessed a weapon that nobody else did. 12 people died here and in the U.S. the probability is that far fewer would.
What Bob, and of course, Fox News, failed to do is address the realities and motives behind the attack, and indeed, spree killings in general. Spree Killings are catagorised as random attacks where the killer acts out of anger and without premeditation and has little thought for the victims identities. The killer traditionally has a mental breakdown or episode and then their anger or rage explodes in a violent, destructive and short-lived burst, which is what appears to have happened here. Certainly the initial victims of Derek Bird were targetted, as he had rowed with his brother over a will dispute and after killing him, he went to the solicitor handling the will and killed him as well. After this however, everything points to randomness. He'd snapped, killed and just killed again, his anger and life imploding upon himself.
The fact is that people have breakdowns of various types and severities all the time, whichever country they live in. A proportion of those will react violently. The difference is that in England, when people have said breakdown and react violently they reach for a knife because only 5% of the population have access to a firearm. Knives, whilst deadly, are less effective because of the physics of having to attack someone up close where they will be able to fight back. In the U.S. where 85% have access to a firearm, when people have a violent breakdown they're far more likely to use a gun, an entirely more lethal, efficient and repetative alternative.
Bob and Fox were postulating for the relaxation of gun laws in our country in the interests of protection. I'd argue that the fact that we only seem to suffer one gun-based spree killing every decade or so (Hungerford and Dunblane being the obvious examples) points to the fact that we've got the balance right, and if anything a tightening of gun laws seems more appropriate. More people may die per spree-killing incident in the UK, but in terms of where you would feel safer to live it is apparantly 1,200x more likely that you will die from a firearms related incident in the U.S. than here. I'll take those odds and leave the guns away from the general population if it's all the same to you.
Saturday, 22 May 2010
Blog 4 - World Cup Squad
Warning - Football Only so if you don't like football, I wouldn't bother...
It's 2.30 a.m. but I've had too much sun on my bald bonce and after an hour or so's kip, Bailey's fallen out of bed so I've had to wake up in a hurry to give her a cuddle and sort her out, and my body now won't let me go back to sleep. So being an industrious little bastard I've decided to do my blog whilst I'm up anyway.
With the World Cup almost upon us, Don Fabio has some interesting decisions to make regarding his World Cup Squad so I thought I'd chuck my two'penneth in.
I'm going to go through the various positions and say a) who I think he'll take, and b) who I hope he'll take. However before I get to that I have to explain my major bug bear with the squad.
Whenever we go into a tournamount I am always excited, always hopeful, always positive. "This could be the one", "we've got the players", "If the Brazilians stutter we might just win this..." etc etc. Wanting to win has never been an issue. I love my country, I love football, I want us to win and be the best, and I think my views on this are the same as 95% of the population at a World Cup. However, there is a black cloud surrounding my feelings this time around. The problem is that regardless of their ability, some of the players just don't deserve to win the ultimate honour in football. If they were playing for any other team, I would be desperate to see that team beaten. We unfortunately have ourselves a generation of footballers who have been spoiled and cosseted to the extent that they are simply horrible human beings. Within the 30 man preliminary squad, there are philanderers, thieves, and men guilty of common assault. And then add in players who have gone on record voluntarily either in interviews or for their own money-driven self-obsessed tell-all ghost-written autobiographies with the most shamefully revealing insights into their lack of moral fibre, their lack of respect for the game, and their obsession with self and money above all else. The fact is that I don't want these players to represent our country. I don't want to see these people celebrating if we win. I certainly don't want to see them knighted. If they miss a vital penalty and the team goes out, will they be humbled and burn with the desire for redemption a la Stuart Pearce? Or will they shrug, disappear back to their mansion and write a crap book about how hard life is on £150,000 a week when the media pick on you every time you get caught cheating on your wife or punching someone in a club?
So what are the choices? Dispense with those that don't deserve it but potentially weaken our chances of winning it? Or win with people who stand for everything that's wrong in the modern game and feel disappointed in what should be our proudest moment? It's a conundrum. On one side the thought of sacrificing a nations happiness in order to ensure that a few blokes who struggle to control their ego's and genitals whilst being under national media scrutiny 24/7 and only in their twenties, seems harsh. However, the results of winning could be even more damaging. The players would be lauded by every newspaper, t.v. channel, and media outlet in the country and the world. At a stroke past transgressions would be forgotten and only glory would be reflected. And the message that this would send out to a generation of children and the easily-influenced would be that this behaviour is ok. As long as you win, how you behave doesn't matter. Is the war worth winning if you have to enlist the support of troops who are the antithesis of everything your efforts stand for in the first place?
Goalkeepers: Joe Hart, David James, Rob Green
These three will all go through regardless because the squad will contain three keepers and these are the only ones selected. I've no problem at all with Green or Hart as people or players, both have earned their spots on the plane. David James is a self-important poseur but I don't think that's a result of the money or status of the modern game, I think that's just his personality in general and would be the same whatever generation he played in. Whilst his behaviour is cringe-inducing at times, it's not offensive or detrimental to anyone except probably himself. And he's definitely good enough. As much as I love Greeno as an ex-City keeper of distinction, he's not consistent enough for the highest level. James has had many wobbles over the years but they have lessened over the years, and his presence and command are light years ahead of his two younger team-mates. I'd start with James. I think Capello will as well.
Defenders: Glen Johnson, Jamie Carragher, Ashley Cole, Leighton Baines, Stephen Warnock, Rio Ferdinand, John Terry, Ledley King, Matthew Upson Michael Dawson.
Probably the toughest one of the lot. Don Fabio says he's going with 2 players for every position, so the right back situation is clear. Glen Johnson and Jamie Carragher are in. Carragher's only issue is that he "retired" from international football because he was getting dragged around the world away from his family and very rarely doing anything except bench-warming. Some would hold that against him, but personally I find it refreshing and laudable. Others have had the opportunity to stake their claim during his self-imposed exile, but he's still worth a place above the likes of Wes Brown on talent, so I'm happy enough to see him in. Johnson is another kettle of fish however. A man who despite being worth millions decided to try shoplifting from B&Q with a mate cackling along, not because he needed to, but because he thought it was a laugh. Because he was above the moral implications that theft held, and knew that he could afford any subsequent fall-out if he was caught because he'd have the money and the lawyers to buy his way out of trouble. He is the best right back available, and the only natural right back in the 30, but is he worthy of an England shirt as a person? Fuck no. Capello will take him and start with him. I wouldn't have him in the squad in the first place.
At left back we have three options. We have to start with Ashley Cole. On talent alone he's possibly the best left back in the world. On attitude he's a total bloody disgrace. He cares for money and the rewards of fame far more than the game or the methods he achieves them by. I'm not going to list the litany of Cole's misdemeanours because it would take too long and it would do nothing but depress me in writing it, and you in reading it. The problem is that he's so much better than anything else we have. With Bridge opting out we're left with only Baines, who is at best, a competent Premiership player with no international pedigree whatsoever, and Stephen Warnock, who, to be quite frank, isn't very good, although neither have any overbearing character issues. Capello will take Cole and Baines and start with Cole. I can't accept that. I'd take Baines only and take an extra player from another position rather than lug along the lumbering Warnock.
At centre back John Terry is another example. Again I won't bang on about his issues, suffice to say that everyone knows he's a dick even regardless of his shagging exploits. Another awful example to young footballers of arrogance and greed. Plus he's played like Titus Bramble for the past six months. Taking away the personality thing, I'd probably take him on talent but not start with him at the moment. However, of course, I wouldn't take him at all with all things considered. Rio Ferdinand is another deluded knob who thinks a different set of rules apply to him. If it were me, he wouldn't go either. That leaves King, who is talented enough but has dodgy knees that may well not make it through a month long tournamount. He has some mild "out-on-the-lash" previous, but I'm not asking for saints, just people who respect the game, and I think he does. Upson is a bit clumsy and I'm unsure whether he's good enough for the highest level. Dawson is good, but has no experience. I'd take King, Upson and Dawson and leave the established centre backs behind to get an early start on their tell-all colouring books, starting with King and Dawson. Capello will take Ferdinand and Terry and start with them, with Upson and King as back-up.
Midfielders: Adam Johnson, Joe Cole, Gareth Barry, Michael Carrick, Scott Parker, Steven Gerrard, Frank Lampard, Tom Huddlestone, James Milner, Aaron Lennon, Theo Walcott, Shaun Wright-Phillips.
Lots of players to deal with, lets start with the character issues and get them out of the way. Gerrard thumped some bloke in a nightclub but I think that was out of character and generally he's not too bad with the whole premadonna thing. Lampard is not of high morale fibre, cheating on the mother of his kids and making a big fuss when his Mum died that would have been a source of shame twenty years ago, so cringe-inducing was it. However, like Gerrard, there's enough respect for the game to not rule him out entirely. All the rest are fine. So the question is, who's good enough? For my money I'd take Joe Cole, Barry, Carrick, Parker, Lennon, Walcott, Gerrard and Milner and start with Cole, Barry, Parker and Walcott. Johnson's good but it's too early for him. Lampard, despite his goals, is a decent player in an exceptional club team, but isn't good enough at international level, and he always disappears against good teams. All his international goals have come against the Azerbaijan's and not the Italy's or Brazil's. I think we have better players. Huddlestone is inexperienced, tubby and not mobile enough. Wright-Phillips is only left out by virtue of the fact that there are three quality players in one position and I think Lennon and Walcott have greater capacity to change a game. Capello will probably take Cole, Barry, Carrick, Lampard, Gerrard, Milner, Lennon, Walcott. I think he'll start with Gerrard, Barry, Lampard and Walcott.
Strikers: Wayne Rooney, Jermain Defoe, Darren Bent, Emile Heskey, Peter Crouch.
Character issues? Darren Bent tried shooting people with a pellet gun a few years back, but he was young and seems to have matured, so despite his Ipswich past, we'll let him through on moral grounds. Rooney shagged granny hookers, but that again was when he was very young, and few can doubt that he loves the game, so he gets a pass too. Heskey and Crouch are fine. Defoe however is a twat. He's in the game more for the money and the women. Whilst he hasn't totally disgraced himself in a specific incident yet, you can file him alongside Rio Ferdinand in terms of "do we want him representing us as a country"? Would he give a toss if he missed a pen? Would he fuck. I'd take the other four and start with Rooney and Crouch. Capello will leave out Bent only and start with Rooney and Heskey.
My squad: 1. James 2. Carragher 3. Baines 4. Barry 5. Dawson 6. King 7. Walcott 8. Parker 9. Crouch 10. Rooney 11. J Cole 12. Green 13. Hart 14. Carrick 15. Upson 16. 17. Lennon 18. Gerrard 19. Heskey 20. Bent 21. Milner 22. 23.
Because of the character-based selection I'm three players short so to compensate I'd add three from positions we're already covered in aho are good blokes so in would come Adam Johnson, SWP and, because I don't really have any other option, Lampard.
Capello will pick: 1. James 2. G Johnson 3. A Cole 4. Barry 5. Ferdinand 6. Terry 7. Walcott 8. Lampard 9. Heskey 10. Rooney 11. Gerrard 12. Green 13. Hart 14. Carrick 15. Upson 16. King 17. Lennon 18. Milner 19. Crouch 20. Defoe 21. J Cole 22. Carragher 23. Baines
I fully acknowledge my side would be less likely to win, However I'd rather take those men than the ones who will go, and my conscience would be a lot clearer win, lose or draw.
It's 2.30 a.m. but I've had too much sun on my bald bonce and after an hour or so's kip, Bailey's fallen out of bed so I've had to wake up in a hurry to give her a cuddle and sort her out, and my body now won't let me go back to sleep. So being an industrious little bastard I've decided to do my blog whilst I'm up anyway.
With the World Cup almost upon us, Don Fabio has some interesting decisions to make regarding his World Cup Squad so I thought I'd chuck my two'penneth in.
I'm going to go through the various positions and say a) who I think he'll take, and b) who I hope he'll take. However before I get to that I have to explain my major bug bear with the squad.
Whenever we go into a tournamount I am always excited, always hopeful, always positive. "This could be the one", "we've got the players", "If the Brazilians stutter we might just win this..." etc etc. Wanting to win has never been an issue. I love my country, I love football, I want us to win and be the best, and I think my views on this are the same as 95% of the population at a World Cup. However, there is a black cloud surrounding my feelings this time around. The problem is that regardless of their ability, some of the players just don't deserve to win the ultimate honour in football. If they were playing for any other team, I would be desperate to see that team beaten. We unfortunately have ourselves a generation of footballers who have been spoiled and cosseted to the extent that they are simply horrible human beings. Within the 30 man preliminary squad, there are philanderers, thieves, and men guilty of common assault. And then add in players who have gone on record voluntarily either in interviews or for their own money-driven self-obsessed tell-all ghost-written autobiographies with the most shamefully revealing insights into their lack of moral fibre, their lack of respect for the game, and their obsession with self and money above all else. The fact is that I don't want these players to represent our country. I don't want to see these people celebrating if we win. I certainly don't want to see them knighted. If they miss a vital penalty and the team goes out, will they be humbled and burn with the desire for redemption a la Stuart Pearce? Or will they shrug, disappear back to their mansion and write a crap book about how hard life is on £150,000 a week when the media pick on you every time you get caught cheating on your wife or punching someone in a club?
So what are the choices? Dispense with those that don't deserve it but potentially weaken our chances of winning it? Or win with people who stand for everything that's wrong in the modern game and feel disappointed in what should be our proudest moment? It's a conundrum. On one side the thought of sacrificing a nations happiness in order to ensure that a few blokes who struggle to control their ego's and genitals whilst being under national media scrutiny 24/7 and only in their twenties, seems harsh. However, the results of winning could be even more damaging. The players would be lauded by every newspaper, t.v. channel, and media outlet in the country and the world. At a stroke past transgressions would be forgotten and only glory would be reflected. And the message that this would send out to a generation of children and the easily-influenced would be that this behaviour is ok. As long as you win, how you behave doesn't matter. Is the war worth winning if you have to enlist the support of troops who are the antithesis of everything your efforts stand for in the first place?
Goalkeepers: Joe Hart, David James, Rob Green
These three will all go through regardless because the squad will contain three keepers and these are the only ones selected. I've no problem at all with Green or Hart as people or players, both have earned their spots on the plane. David James is a self-important poseur but I don't think that's a result of the money or status of the modern game, I think that's just his personality in general and would be the same whatever generation he played in. Whilst his behaviour is cringe-inducing at times, it's not offensive or detrimental to anyone except probably himself. And he's definitely good enough. As much as I love Greeno as an ex-City keeper of distinction, he's not consistent enough for the highest level. James has had many wobbles over the years but they have lessened over the years, and his presence and command are light years ahead of his two younger team-mates. I'd start with James. I think Capello will as well.
Defenders: Glen Johnson, Jamie Carragher, Ashley Cole, Leighton Baines, Stephen Warnock, Rio Ferdinand, John Terry, Ledley King, Matthew Upson Michael Dawson.
Probably the toughest one of the lot. Don Fabio says he's going with 2 players for every position, so the right back situation is clear. Glen Johnson and Jamie Carragher are in. Carragher's only issue is that he "retired" from international football because he was getting dragged around the world away from his family and very rarely doing anything except bench-warming. Some would hold that against him, but personally I find it refreshing and laudable. Others have had the opportunity to stake their claim during his self-imposed exile, but he's still worth a place above the likes of Wes Brown on talent, so I'm happy enough to see him in. Johnson is another kettle of fish however. A man who despite being worth millions decided to try shoplifting from B&Q with a mate cackling along, not because he needed to, but because he thought it was a laugh. Because he was above the moral implications that theft held, and knew that he could afford any subsequent fall-out if he was caught because he'd have the money and the lawyers to buy his way out of trouble. He is the best right back available, and the only natural right back in the 30, but is he worthy of an England shirt as a person? Fuck no. Capello will take him and start with him. I wouldn't have him in the squad in the first place.
At left back we have three options. We have to start with Ashley Cole. On talent alone he's possibly the best left back in the world. On attitude he's a total bloody disgrace. He cares for money and the rewards of fame far more than the game or the methods he achieves them by. I'm not going to list the litany of Cole's misdemeanours because it would take too long and it would do nothing but depress me in writing it, and you in reading it. The problem is that he's so much better than anything else we have. With Bridge opting out we're left with only Baines, who is at best, a competent Premiership player with no international pedigree whatsoever, and Stephen Warnock, who, to be quite frank, isn't very good, although neither have any overbearing character issues. Capello will take Cole and Baines and start with Cole. I can't accept that. I'd take Baines only and take an extra player from another position rather than lug along the lumbering Warnock.
At centre back John Terry is another example. Again I won't bang on about his issues, suffice to say that everyone knows he's a dick even regardless of his shagging exploits. Another awful example to young footballers of arrogance and greed. Plus he's played like Titus Bramble for the past six months. Taking away the personality thing, I'd probably take him on talent but not start with him at the moment. However, of course, I wouldn't take him at all with all things considered. Rio Ferdinand is another deluded knob who thinks a different set of rules apply to him. If it were me, he wouldn't go either. That leaves King, who is talented enough but has dodgy knees that may well not make it through a month long tournamount. He has some mild "out-on-the-lash" previous, but I'm not asking for saints, just people who respect the game, and I think he does. Upson is a bit clumsy and I'm unsure whether he's good enough for the highest level. Dawson is good, but has no experience. I'd take King, Upson and Dawson and leave the established centre backs behind to get an early start on their tell-all colouring books, starting with King and Dawson. Capello will take Ferdinand and Terry and start with them, with Upson and King as back-up.
Midfielders: Adam Johnson, Joe Cole, Gareth Barry, Michael Carrick, Scott Parker, Steven Gerrard, Frank Lampard, Tom Huddlestone, James Milner, Aaron Lennon, Theo Walcott, Shaun Wright-Phillips.
Lots of players to deal with, lets start with the character issues and get them out of the way. Gerrard thumped some bloke in a nightclub but I think that was out of character and generally he's not too bad with the whole premadonna thing. Lampard is not of high morale fibre, cheating on the mother of his kids and making a big fuss when his Mum died that would have been a source of shame twenty years ago, so cringe-inducing was it. However, like Gerrard, there's enough respect for the game to not rule him out entirely. All the rest are fine. So the question is, who's good enough? For my money I'd take Joe Cole, Barry, Carrick, Parker, Lennon, Walcott, Gerrard and Milner and start with Cole, Barry, Parker and Walcott. Johnson's good but it's too early for him. Lampard, despite his goals, is a decent player in an exceptional club team, but isn't good enough at international level, and he always disappears against good teams. All his international goals have come against the Azerbaijan's and not the Italy's or Brazil's. I think we have better players. Huddlestone is inexperienced, tubby and not mobile enough. Wright-Phillips is only left out by virtue of the fact that there are three quality players in one position and I think Lennon and Walcott have greater capacity to change a game. Capello will probably take Cole, Barry, Carrick, Lampard, Gerrard, Milner, Lennon, Walcott. I think he'll start with Gerrard, Barry, Lampard and Walcott.
Strikers: Wayne Rooney, Jermain Defoe, Darren Bent, Emile Heskey, Peter Crouch.
Character issues? Darren Bent tried shooting people with a pellet gun a few years back, but he was young and seems to have matured, so despite his Ipswich past, we'll let him through on moral grounds. Rooney shagged granny hookers, but that again was when he was very young, and few can doubt that he loves the game, so he gets a pass too. Heskey and Crouch are fine. Defoe however is a twat. He's in the game more for the money and the women. Whilst he hasn't totally disgraced himself in a specific incident yet, you can file him alongside Rio Ferdinand in terms of "do we want him representing us as a country"? Would he give a toss if he missed a pen? Would he fuck. I'd take the other four and start with Rooney and Crouch. Capello will leave out Bent only and start with Rooney and Heskey.
My squad: 1. James 2. Carragher 3. Baines 4. Barry 5. Dawson 6. King 7. Walcott 8. Parker 9. Crouch 10. Rooney 11. J Cole 12. Green 13. Hart 14. Carrick 15. Upson 16. 17. Lennon 18. Gerrard 19. Heskey 20. Bent 21. Milner 22. 23.
Because of the character-based selection I'm three players short so to compensate I'd add three from positions we're already covered in aho are good blokes so in would come Adam Johnson, SWP and, because I don't really have any other option, Lampard.
Capello will pick: 1. James 2. G Johnson 3. A Cole 4. Barry 5. Ferdinand 6. Terry 7. Walcott 8. Lampard 9. Heskey 10. Rooney 11. Gerrard 12. Green 13. Hart 14. Carrick 15. Upson 16. King 17. Lennon 18. Milner 19. Crouch 20. Defoe 21. J Cole 22. Carragher 23. Baines
I fully acknowledge my side would be less likely to win, However I'd rather take those men than the ones who will go, and my conscience would be a lot clearer win, lose or draw.
Monday, 17 May 2010
Blog 3 - 1984 anyone?
Blog 3 - 1984 anyone?
I'm increasingly frustrated and saddened at societies aquiesence into fear. Not fear of terrorism, paedophiles or them there immigunts that the Daily Mail would prefer us to be quaking in our stout British loafers at. The fear I'm talking about is far more insidious and disturbing, mainly because the moral minority seem to be getting the rest of us to accept it's validity. I'm talking about the fear of thoughts.
Over the last couple of days Lord Triesmann has been forced to resign from his positions as Chairman of the F.A. and Chairman of England's World Cup Bid following comments he made about the Spanish and Russian F.A.'s rumoured attempts to bribe referees. On the face of it he seems bang to rights. Ridiculous thing to suggest, can only hinder the work he's trying to achieve and hurt our country. And considering I've always thought Triesmann a liability as head of the bid, I was just happy to see the back of him initially.
However, the context is the key to this story. Triesmann was not making these remarks publically. He was doing so at what he thought was a relaxed lunch chat with his former P.A. ; a young woman who claims he was also her lover for six months. So he did what we all do at lunch with "friends": we chat, we talk about people we know, about common interests which would have included work, and goddammit we have a good gossip. The problem Triesmann faced is that he trusted someone he knew and never for a second thought that she would be secretly taping their conversation before flogging her grubby shameful little sneak recording to the Mail. Triesmann never broke a law, he never lied, he never made a public statement. He said he'd heard rumours that Spain and Russia were looking to bribe referees in the World Cup. In private. To a friend. As a major player in European and World Football it's his job to know about rumours such as these, whether there is any substance in them or not.
Now I can understand why this has put him in an awkward position and made his position untenable in the current media climate. However, my point is why? Who cares what Triesman says or thinks in private? If he manages the bid correctly and does his job, who cares if he's a racist, a sado-masochist or a transvestite when he's off-duty? I say loads of things to friends that I wouldn't neccesarily want to have broadcast on Facebook. The difference is that the bloody stupid Mail paid this woman her 40 pieces of silver for a bit of cheap dinnertable chatter. The rule would seem to be that anybody in the public eye cannot have thoughts of their own or talk about anything unless it's cast iron fact. God knows what would have happened if they'd discussed the Kennedy Assassination. Presumably the Warren Commission would have had to have been recalled.
Example no 2 is the poor sod who lost his job and gained a criminal record for making a joke on Twitter. Paul Chambers, a normal everyman accountant had been chatting up someone he'd met on Twitter. Eventually, after much cyber-persuasion he managed to get the object of his desire to agree to meet up. God knows where she was from but the destination of their first meeting was to be his local airport as she arrived on their metallic bird of love from parts unknown. However with the ash cloud issues cropping up the week before, the hapless Chambers makes the pronouncement on Twitter "Airport shut down - Right, you've got 10 days to sort this shit out or I'll come down there and blow the place sky high!"
Somehow Chambers Twitter, which would have only been visible to his friends and anyone who had signed up to receive his tweets, was passed on to the Head of Security at the airport who subsequently passed it on to the police. Next thing you know, Chambers has been arrested, hauled up in court, charged with threatening public safety and fined £1000, before seeing his employers publically sack him as a result. What the hell???!!!
Did they really think that Chambers was a particularly publicity-friendly member of Al Qaeda? I don't remember Osama Bin Laden popping onto Facebook on September 10th saying "Planning a big bash tomoz lol". It's ridiculous. Nobody, not one adult human in the English speaking world can have actually taken that as a genuine threat to security, yet our judicial system has treated this man like a genuine terrorist. He meant no harm to anyone but has been criminalised, fined and then subsequently sacked from his job, and for what? A joke that any number of us could have made without a seconds thought and which meant nothing to anyone save a few pompous pedants with the power to prosecute and the lack of common sense that ensures that they should never be given the reponsibility in the first place.
What can you say, either publically or privately now? What can you think? And what's next? Any bloke with an ounce of honesty will tell you that during an odyssey through the land of free porn that is the internet that there are occasions when during normal, ahem, research that you discover the links you're following have edged towards the more "fringe" elements of acceptable taste. And at this point, I think any of us will agree you realize that there are links there that a) you probably don't want to click on for reasons of general taste, but b) you definitely mustn't click on for fear of who may be monitoring it. Now at this moment in time I don't think (although I'm not 100% certain because I've never tested my supposition believe it or not) that you would be hauled off by the rozzers for clicking on HorseShaggers.Com, SnuffFiles.Web or similar. But there are any number of police operations in place aimed at catching Internet paedophiles and the availability of accessing these sites and others like them is terrifyingly easy. We're frighteningly close to a situation where one wrong click could see you in serious, life-changing trouble.
And those are the margins we are dealing with now. One wrong click. One throwaway remark. One comment in private. You would hope that the powers that be would have the common sense and testicular fortitude to see these things in the context they are actually presented in, but when the Mail buys a taped lunch conversation between friends discussing vague rumours and sees fit to publish it, or when the Crown prosecutes a guy and ruins his life for a run of the mill comment, you have to be scared for that moment which we all have when we put our foot in it inadvertantly, and hope the repercussions remain in proportion.
Anyway, I've said my piece and I'm off to get some dinner. I could murder an Indian...
AH
I'm increasingly frustrated and saddened at societies aquiesence into fear. Not fear of terrorism, paedophiles or them there immigunts that the Daily Mail would prefer us to be quaking in our stout British loafers at. The fear I'm talking about is far more insidious and disturbing, mainly because the moral minority seem to be getting the rest of us to accept it's validity. I'm talking about the fear of thoughts.
Over the last couple of days Lord Triesmann has been forced to resign from his positions as Chairman of the F.A. and Chairman of England's World Cup Bid following comments he made about the Spanish and Russian F.A.'s rumoured attempts to bribe referees. On the face of it he seems bang to rights. Ridiculous thing to suggest, can only hinder the work he's trying to achieve and hurt our country. And considering I've always thought Triesmann a liability as head of the bid, I was just happy to see the back of him initially.
However, the context is the key to this story. Triesmann was not making these remarks publically. He was doing so at what he thought was a relaxed lunch chat with his former P.A. ; a young woman who claims he was also her lover for six months. So he did what we all do at lunch with "friends": we chat, we talk about people we know, about common interests which would have included work, and goddammit we have a good gossip. The problem Triesmann faced is that he trusted someone he knew and never for a second thought that she would be secretly taping their conversation before flogging her grubby shameful little sneak recording to the Mail. Triesmann never broke a law, he never lied, he never made a public statement. He said he'd heard rumours that Spain and Russia were looking to bribe referees in the World Cup. In private. To a friend. As a major player in European and World Football it's his job to know about rumours such as these, whether there is any substance in them or not.
Now I can understand why this has put him in an awkward position and made his position untenable in the current media climate. However, my point is why? Who cares what Triesman says or thinks in private? If he manages the bid correctly and does his job, who cares if he's a racist, a sado-masochist or a transvestite when he's off-duty? I say loads of things to friends that I wouldn't neccesarily want to have broadcast on Facebook. The difference is that the bloody stupid Mail paid this woman her 40 pieces of silver for a bit of cheap dinnertable chatter. The rule would seem to be that anybody in the public eye cannot have thoughts of their own or talk about anything unless it's cast iron fact. God knows what would have happened if they'd discussed the Kennedy Assassination. Presumably the Warren Commission would have had to have been recalled.
Example no 2 is the poor sod who lost his job and gained a criminal record for making a joke on Twitter. Paul Chambers, a normal everyman accountant had been chatting up someone he'd met on Twitter. Eventually, after much cyber-persuasion he managed to get the object of his desire to agree to meet up. God knows where she was from but the destination of their first meeting was to be his local airport as she arrived on their metallic bird of love from parts unknown. However with the ash cloud issues cropping up the week before, the hapless Chambers makes the pronouncement on Twitter "Airport shut down - Right, you've got 10 days to sort this shit out or I'll come down there and blow the place sky high!"
Somehow Chambers Twitter, which would have only been visible to his friends and anyone who had signed up to receive his tweets, was passed on to the Head of Security at the airport who subsequently passed it on to the police. Next thing you know, Chambers has been arrested, hauled up in court, charged with threatening public safety and fined £1000, before seeing his employers publically sack him as a result. What the hell???!!!
Did they really think that Chambers was a particularly publicity-friendly member of Al Qaeda? I don't remember Osama Bin Laden popping onto Facebook on September 10th saying "Planning a big bash tomoz lol". It's ridiculous. Nobody, not one adult human in the English speaking world can have actually taken that as a genuine threat to security, yet our judicial system has treated this man like a genuine terrorist. He meant no harm to anyone but has been criminalised, fined and then subsequently sacked from his job, and for what? A joke that any number of us could have made without a seconds thought and which meant nothing to anyone save a few pompous pedants with the power to prosecute and the lack of common sense that ensures that they should never be given the reponsibility in the first place.
What can you say, either publically or privately now? What can you think? And what's next? Any bloke with an ounce of honesty will tell you that during an odyssey through the land of free porn that is the internet that there are occasions when during normal, ahem, research that you discover the links you're following have edged towards the more "fringe" elements of acceptable taste. And at this point, I think any of us will agree you realize that there are links there that a) you probably don't want to click on for reasons of general taste, but b) you definitely mustn't click on for fear of who may be monitoring it. Now at this moment in time I don't think (although I'm not 100% certain because I've never tested my supposition believe it or not) that you would be hauled off by the rozzers for clicking on HorseShaggers.Com, SnuffFiles.Web or similar. But there are any number of police operations in place aimed at catching Internet paedophiles and the availability of accessing these sites and others like them is terrifyingly easy. We're frighteningly close to a situation where one wrong click could see you in serious, life-changing trouble.
And those are the margins we are dealing with now. One wrong click. One throwaway remark. One comment in private. You would hope that the powers that be would have the common sense and testicular fortitude to see these things in the context they are actually presented in, but when the Mail buys a taped lunch conversation between friends discussing vague rumours and sees fit to publish it, or when the Crown prosecutes a guy and ruins his life for a run of the mill comment, you have to be scared for that moment which we all have when we put our foot in it inadvertantly, and hope the repercussions remain in proportion.
Anyway, I've said my piece and I'm off to get some dinner. I could murder an Indian...
AH
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