losing my religon 2 ??

Some cricket happened…  If I remember correctly the Champions Trophy went away for a while and then came back.  Anyway a 50 over mini world cup is something all the international teams want to win and interests me enough to tune in the radio.  England were crap and were well beaten in all their three matches with a batting line up that didn’t inspire too much confidence and a bowling attack that would have looked perfect anywhere but the sub continent.  Joss never seemed a natural captain to me and for the ODI team the only way is up.  We’ve been here before and the result was spectacular.

But even with England under performing my biggest gripe lies elsewhere.  This tournament was billed as a triumphant return for Pakistan as an international venue but politics got in the way and India ended up playing all their matches in UAE which effectively gave them home advantage.  To be fair they would probably have been favourites anyway, like they were last year at their own World cup last year where they famously choked.  Redemption for the billionaire superstars but it does seem like it was put on a plate.

I’ve enjoyed being an armchair rugby fan again lately, the six nations have been excellent even though I mostly don’t really know why the ref has blown his whistle.  France have been brilliant, at their best as good as any team I’ve seen yet somehow England managed to beat them.  I complained about it a year ago but the amount of Saffers, Kiwis and Aussies masquerading as Scots, Irish and Italians devalues things for me but this is just accepted without a word, I shouldn’t get too smug just because England’s pacific islanders haven’t been playing.  England finished runners up with a team full of home born players (except one who could have chosen to play for Scotland) and when they look back they might think that haven beaten France they should have completed the Grand Slam?  The French deservedly topped the table in the end, another team without dodgy imports, fair play.

Losing my religon

I’ve always followed my local football team and when I was young we had a great team that won at Wembley, my Dad and I were ever present at home games watching top level football and getting change for a quid.  But even then the pull of the waterside was strong and I was spending most of my free time fishing before Sir Bobby moved on.  In the years since then I went to a few games most seasons but as time speeded up and I became more contrary this dwindled away to nothing.  I fell out of love with football.  But I still follow the Town and I always will though nowadays I do so from a far, listening to radio or following internet coverage.  In recent times even this has been fraught/emotional/both at crucial times, culminating in the Town’s return to the premier league.  Tempting as it was I didn’t really think I’d actually make my way to a game, they were all selling out and I never made the effort but when a spare ticket was offered I thought ’why not?’

So for the first time in maybe five years I found myself following the ritual that thousands do as a matter of course for ten months of the year.  I was in a carload of friends as we made a slow snaking chain of tail lights into town, the journey was barely walking pace and seemed to take hours.  Eventually we squeezed our way into a space outside another friend’s house, this was a short walk from the ground.  Half an hour before kick off, I was way outside my comfort zone, in with a dozen or more people squashed into a kitchen, drinking tea and talking football.  Most of these people were proper football junkies, they talk the talk, buzzwords and cliches, I felt that any utterance from this outsider would have fallen flat.

We walked down the hill and managed to step into the throng of people poring towards the ground, everyone heading in the same direction, we got in line and march along.  I’d infiltrated the ranks of the believers and was carried by the throng towards the cathedral.  At the bottom of the hill our group split into two, most head south but we go west.  Since I first joined the cult in the seventies this ground has changed dramatically; three of the four stands have been rebuilt in that time and all the structures have been spruced up inside and out.  Nowadays the drab concrete is screened by lots of blue and white, decorated with images of great players and great days.  To do what this team has managed to do will be added to that history in the future, for a club of this size the premier league is massive.

We queued at the turnstiles, the lines moved slowly and I was surrounded by voices belching more football chat, the devout were exalted.  Thousands of people, we all wanted the same result, we had a common goal yet I didn’t feel part of it.  Once I belonged here completely, now I felt like an imposter.  Eventually we made it through and there were just a few minutes to go before kick off.  My prolonged absences mean the ground is now unfamiliar and this was the stand I’d spent the least time in so it took a while to find the right entrance, before even that we needed to piss.  Eventually after several flights of stairs and an apologetic shuffle we found our seats which were bang on the half way line, with seconds to spare.  There was a minute’s silence for someone whose name I didn’t catch then the game started with a roar.

Ten minutes later things had quietened down considerably, the visitors – Brighton had all the play and the Town couldn’t touch the ball.  Thankfully we were not made to pay and as the half went on our team grew into the game and actually looked the more likely side to score, testing the goal keeper twice; the volume rose, the chants resounded.  Once I would have known all the words to all the songs and would have been bellowing along.  Nowadays I don’t know half the players let along the words to the jingles.  This old ground has changed on the inside too, nowadays everything is so much bigger though maybe higher would be a better word.  To my left what was always called the North stand. The rough and ready terrace that always lead the chants and carried the mood.  To my right the old stand was called ‘Churchmans’ after the tobacco factory behind it.  This was our stand when I was a kid, always a good atmosphere but less volatile than the North stand.  Nowadays the old firm sit at this end where they can keep an eye on the away fans.  A half chance! But Omari took the wrong option when Burns would have been through on goal…

Half time came too soon, the scores were level and the mood was optimistic.  But that was as good as it got, the second half saw Town miss another chance early on but Brighton mostly dominated and it was no surprise when they took the lead after an hour.  Until this point I’d barely noticed the away fans opposite, I’d never have known they were there but as the game went on they just grew louder.  After going behind Town seemed to lose belief and never looked like equalising, likewise the home crowd couldn’t get any vocal momentum in fact where we sat it was totally flat and not the kind of faces I used to stand shoulder to shoulder with.  The game drifted away and the visitors ended up comfortable 2-0 winners.

We joined the throng of people, the tide now going in the opposite direction, this time the stream had more pace and carried us back up the hill.  We landed back in the crowded kitchen for tea and a debrief, there few good points for the Town tonight but even the proper football fans were happy just to see their team playing at this level once again.

So the cult of football, I’d sneaked in for an evening and although I felt like an imposter who’d jumped on a bandwagon I think I manged to escape without giving the game away or leaving too many bad smells.  But this isn’t me anymore, I’m not part of it and have no desire to be.  I don’t want to parrot the cliches, I can’t buy into the one eyed optimism, fucking football banter bores the bollocks off me!  I watch sport objectively these days though I’m not sure I like this development.  The world of football has been warped by the pull of money, it’s been yanked in one direction while I’ve tried to tip toe in the other.  Capitalism ruins everything.    

World Test Championship

 

The World Test Championship cycle has come to an end with a final table which doesn’t make sense to me but to be fair I have made no attempt to understand how points are awarded.  I think the way the fixtures in these two year cycles are arranged means some teams have an easier schedule than others.  For example in the latest cycle South Africa have beaten Bangladesh, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, West indies twice, drawn with India but lost to New Zealand and haven’t played England or Australia at all.  Somehow they ended up topping the table. England may have been inconsistent lately but finishing sixth out of nine teams doesn’t seem right, even with the penalties for slow over rates.  Sri Lanka, South Africa and New Zealand all finished above England even though we've beaten these teams both home and away in recent series, though I’m not entirely sure when the latest schedule began.  Of the others we have a win and a loss against India who finished third as well as a draw and a loss against Australia in second.  Maybe one day we’ll get a schedule where we don’t play Australia or India?

Going back to the over rate penalties, assuming these are brought in to give fans more value for money, can anyone honestly say they’ve been short changed watching England?  Pundits and commentators bang on about over rates and they have a point but half a dozen overs lost rarely makes a difference to a good day of test cricket. It’s the other eighty odd that count.

Another potential controversy is bubbling with suggestions for a 'two tier' test championship being made.  I don't like the idea of this because I couldn't imagine a cricket world where England don't play against West Indies on a regular basis.  But if this format is to be the future there has to be some kind of promotion and relegation involved, even if this means one of the big teams occasionally take a tumble.

The final will be contested between South Africa and Australia, I think it will be held at Lords this time around which seems as fair as anywhere for a match between these teams.  With this announced ahead of time it implies England would have had a home advantage had they made it to the final.  This doesn’t seem right any more than a final featuring India being held in Dubai.  Anyway, I still maintain a focused England is the best Test team in the world and I don’t care who wins this years final as long as it isn’t Australia.

Tested then gone

The gloomiest weeks of the year were brightened by an England test series which like them all flashed by before I knew it.  When we’re playing away in New Zealand it’s hard to get too involved due to the time difference but starting at 2200 it did mean a few late nights as I couldn’t resist waiting till the lunch break before going to bed.  That said I did have at least one early night during each match when a tumble of wickets had me cursing my way up the stairs expecting to find an England batting disaster when I cam back down in the morning.  Happily I was wrong on two out of three occasions and this reflected how the series finished and to win 2-1 away against the Kiwis is a very good result.

The latest quirky selection will give the selectors something to think about.  Jacob Bethell, aged 19 with 260 runs in the series batting at first drop, including three second innings half centuries against a decent attack.  How can they leave him out now?  If Jamie Smith is going to reclaim the gloves then for me either Crawley or Pope has to make way.  It should be Crawley but can someone else in this squad open the batting?  Another injury for the skipper is troubling and once again I wonder if his bowling is worth the risk and if not we need to balance the side somehow.  Stokes has the technique to open the batting.  The bowlers all done quite well, Carse looks comfortable at Test level but Woakes continues to look uncomfortable abroad.  I like Woakes and hope he gets the opportunities to pass two notable statistical landmarks that are looming.  I’m not convinced about Bashir though despite his regular wicket taking.  If the team’s balance has to change then maybe he could be another that makes way?  Of the eleven that started the first test match of the year in India only five played in the last match in New Zealand and they were all batsmen.  If I were selector there’d be a few more changes before our next match in May.  (In May!?!  We’ve got to wait six months for more Test cricket!!  ICC bastards.

XI for test vs Zimbabwe that will never be picked by anyone other than me

Stokes, Ducket, Bethell, Root, Brook, Pope, Smith, Woakes, Ahmed, Atkinson, Archer/Wood/Carse

Shitstorm

The shitstorm in the middle east won’t go away, now in Syria the “brutal” Asaad regime has been toppled.  We are told that this is a good thing because the Syrian leadership was in cahoots with the filthy Russians and the dodgy Iranians and because Asaad himself was a bit of a bastard.  But honestly, was he any worse than the oil gangsters in Saudi?  And who are the rebels that have ousted the old guard?  Searching my memory, wasn’t it Islamic State (so called) when this blew up before?  Have people forgotten the last time the west celebrated a middle eastern dictator being removed things soon got a whole lot worse.

Fah fetched

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

Another one of ‘those’ books that everyone has read and from the same era as ‘on the road’ but this I enjoyed a lot more but I have to admit to being predisposed to like a dystopian fiction.  NB it can’t go unnoticed that this was written in the aftermath of Orwell’s alleged fictional vision.

This is a world in which books are banned and immediately burned on discovery, their owners sentenced to death.  Montag is a fireman a profession in this future which is responsible for this state sponsored incineration censorship.  That in days gone by fireman traditionally doused the flames is now just a whispered myth.  Away from work the population is stupefied by prescription drugs and manipulated by large screens mounted on their walls and if they want to get out they get into a car and drive like Winston Wolf.  All the while people live in permanent fear of war.  This is a short book that reads easily, doesn’t get bogged down and finishes with a glimpse of hope.

But then again maybe it’s all too far fetched, after all it’s not like we live in a world where people spend their free time out of their minds on narcotics; licensed, prescription or otherwise.  Where people are addicted to interactions through a handheld device which drip feeds them bullshit whilst it simultaneously strokes their alter egos until they think the virtual version is the real them.   It’s not like this is the only time any ‘reading’ goes on because most of the time people are staring at screens that drench them in whatever the current desired world view may be.  And we would never point and sneer at anyone daft enough to suggest that the world we are told we live in might actually be something else.  No that couldn’t happen.

Up the Creek

 

"On the Road" by Jack Keruoac

A cast of dubious characters travel across the USA by road, either hitching or actually driving themselves.  Starting at New York they usually end up at San Francisco by way of Denver but actually reach Mexico before the end.  On their travels they are fuelled by loads of booze with a side dish of narcotics and try to jump on almost any passing female.  Surprisingly they claim to be successful and on some of these occasions no cash changes hands.  Sal and friends very predictably behave very badly but this is the late 40’s and compared to more recent generations its all a bit tame although I suppose it was probably considered shocking when published.  I had the impression that many of the characters were rich kids posing as artists, slumming it amongst the weirdos and riff raff but all the time they know they can just send a telegram and have funds wired and so their lives and experience are fake.  Reference ‘Common people’ by Pulp.  But not ‘Dean’ who our narrator spends half the book trying to convince us is some kind of sainted, tortured genius and is unable to disguise that he’s actually a selfish prick who could do with a long lay down on a doctor’s couch.

A revered book, classic of the beat generation etc.  Kerouac’s unique new prose, seriously?  Does unique mean bad, or lazy at best.  Another edit could have done wonders for this. The casual racism and blatant sexism can be reasonably explained by being "of its time".  There are passages and scenes that are really good and very readable but for far too much its just boring and predictable.  Disappointing.