Terry’s not all gold
John Terry will be given a hard time this weekend and beyond because of the stories about his private life. It’s sad.
But if Terry’s bedroom antics are proved, then it’s just another chapter in the sorry saga of some of the highest-profile professional sportsmen having little integrity, loyalty and family commitment.
If Terry leaves his childhood sweetheart - now his wife - and their twins, then there is a case for saying these things happen, love fades and occasionally men and women find solace in new people.
But if it’s a fling and with a teammate’s now former girlfriend and it’s coupled with Terry’s alleged cash-for-tour scandal at Chelsea’s training ground recently then the man who is the England skipper deserves all he gets.
How much money, fame and adulation do these people need?
Great player though he is, inspirational leader he may be and natural fighter on the pitch goes without saying but someone has to sit him down and tell him of his responsibilities to his England badge and what it should stand for.
Taking away the captaincy is futile. He’s the best we have. Rooney’s not a skipper, Gerrard couldn’t handle it and Lampard will probably want to stick by his mate.
But then we could always revert to Beckham...
Sunday, 31 January 2010
Friday, 29 January 2010
Wild man tamed - Wayne Rooney
The last thing I was expecting to do today was praising Wayne Rooney but over the months he’s been increasingly impressive.
His performances for Man United in the past have sometimes seen the red mist take over but maybe marriage, fatherhood or even advancing years have seen him grow as a footballer, a man and a TV performer.
He’s not the most articulate fellow around – but neither is David Beckham and look at the esteem he is held in – yet whatever media training he gets from United or words of wisdom from Sir Alex are paying off.
He’s been quietly getting personal experience of TV with his Sky programme looking for a young football star. He’s been shy and awkward but has genuine empathy with the people under pressure.
Unlike Alan Shearer, who really should trust himself to have an opinion, Rooney has had demons on and off the pitch but is changing, so much so that there’s talk of a bid from Real Madrid – a sure sign that he’s making his mark.
Four goals against Hull, the winner against Man City in midweek and continued excellence on the pitch have lifted from the shadow of Cristiano Ronaldo. I also hope he stays fit because he can lead England to a well-overdue World Cup success.
Stunning success for Andy Murray in Australia. Long may it continue and long may we continue to be sceptical about his Grand Slam, world number one and all-conquering ambitions.
If anyone can get the better of Roger Federer and – even more importantly – have Federer just a little wary of an opponent, it’s the Scot.
Good luck in the final. It is tempting to fall back on the ‘plucky Brit, gallant attempt’ line should Murray lose but, hey, let’s be confident.
We’re actually believing he can win.
His performances for Man United in the past have sometimes seen the red mist take over but maybe marriage, fatherhood or even advancing years have seen him grow as a footballer, a man and a TV performer.
He’s not the most articulate fellow around – but neither is David Beckham and look at the esteem he is held in – yet whatever media training he gets from United or words of wisdom from Sir Alex are paying off.
He’s been quietly getting personal experience of TV with his Sky programme looking for a young football star. He’s been shy and awkward but has genuine empathy with the people under pressure.
Unlike Alan Shearer, who really should trust himself to have an opinion, Rooney has had demons on and off the pitch but is changing, so much so that there’s talk of a bid from Real Madrid – a sure sign that he’s making his mark.
Four goals against Hull, the winner against Man City in midweek and continued excellence on the pitch have lifted from the shadow of Cristiano Ronaldo. I also hope he stays fit because he can lead England to a well-overdue World Cup success.
Stunning success for Andy Murray in Australia. Long may it continue and long may we continue to be sceptical about his Grand Slam, world number one and all-conquering ambitions.
If anyone can get the better of Roger Federer and – even more importantly – have Federer just a little wary of an opponent, it’s the Scot.
Good luck in the final. It is tempting to fall back on the ‘plucky Brit, gallant attempt’ line should Murray lose but, hey, let’s be confident.
We’re actually believing he can win.
Thursday, 28 January 2010
Home thoughts
Home thoughts
• Andy Murray – maybe we were wrong. Injury or not Nadal is still a formidable opponent and the way Murray sustained the aggression and guile in the first two sets was impressive. No more the Scottish sulker – a nickname from a former coach not mine – and there’s only Federer after Cilic, probably.
• Two quotes that say the great game of footie is in safe hands. Firstly, Michael Dawson of Spurs on the penalty that gave Leeds a draw in their cup tie: “I spoke to the referee afterwards and he said I went through the man to get the ball. You have to respect his decision.” Class.
• And secondly, Villa’s new rising star Fabian Delph: “I’ve had a few chances this season and not done particularly well so I’ve nobody to blame apart from myself.” More class.
• While we’re on the subject, two more football observations: Marcus Tudgay coming up against new Wednesday manager Alan Irvine’s methods: “It’s exactly like being back at school. I hated school but it’s working so don’t change something that’s not broken”. Class room.
• And where would we be without good old Fergie Time. He’s banned Sky from his press conference this week for “going on” about the League Cup spat with Tevez and Neville. Maturity on the field, less off it. No class.
• Andrew Strauss is dead right not to go to Bangladesh. I heard Ray Illingworth doing his usual “in my day” rant which is a pity because Illy’s one of my heroes. Players play too much.
• Rugby’s up before the beak because Ospreys had 16 players on the field against Leicester in the Heineken Cup at the weekend. Normally it wouldn’t matter a jot but Leicester were five points behind and pressing when the Osprey’s defence held out. Leicester chief Peter Wheeler wants the game replayed. It won’t be but it should. Coach Richard Cockerill was more up front: “We weren’t good enough”.
• Andy Murray – maybe we were wrong. Injury or not Nadal is still a formidable opponent and the way Murray sustained the aggression and guile in the first two sets was impressive. No more the Scottish sulker – a nickname from a former coach not mine – and there’s only Federer after Cilic, probably.
• Two quotes that say the great game of footie is in safe hands. Firstly, Michael Dawson of Spurs on the penalty that gave Leeds a draw in their cup tie: “I spoke to the referee afterwards and he said I went through the man to get the ball. You have to respect his decision.” Class.
• And secondly, Villa’s new rising star Fabian Delph: “I’ve had a few chances this season and not done particularly well so I’ve nobody to blame apart from myself.” More class.
• While we’re on the subject, two more football observations: Marcus Tudgay coming up against new Wednesday manager Alan Irvine’s methods: “It’s exactly like being back at school. I hated school but it’s working so don’t change something that’s not broken”. Class room.
• And where would we be without good old Fergie Time. He’s banned Sky from his press conference this week for “going on” about the League Cup spat with Tevez and Neville. Maturity on the field, less off it. No class.
• Andrew Strauss is dead right not to go to Bangladesh. I heard Ray Illingworth doing his usual “in my day” rant which is a pity because Illy’s one of my heroes. Players play too much.
• Rugby’s up before the beak because Ospreys had 16 players on the field against Leicester in the Heineken Cup at the weekend. Normally it wouldn’t matter a jot but Leicester were five points behind and pressing when the Osprey’s defence held out. Leicester chief Peter Wheeler wants the game replayed. It won’t be but it should. Coach Richard Cockerill was more up front: “We weren’t good enough”.
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
Where to begin?
Where to begin...?
Such a lot happening this week that it’s a challenge to know what to concentrate on first!
Let’s go with the plight of clubs. Poor Palace have gone into administration despite Simon Jordan’s riches and Neil Warnock’s outstanding managerial qualities.
League rules mean that any club taking such a step is automatically docked 10 points – surely too Draconian a measure in these dire economic times. It means that Palace’s play-off challenge is savaged and they are plunged to just above the relegation scramble.
That’s bad enough but you could be Chester. The Conference side are being chased by the tax man and threatened with winding up. This after the club said it would accept an offer of a pound – that’s £1 – if someone would take it on. Fans have boycotted home games, players haven’t been paid and last week kids made up the team against Mansfield. Predictably they were hammered 4-0.
The daily telegraph said the FA should investigate what’s wrong but isn’t it reasonably plain?
We have an elite league, even an elite group within the elite league, and home town football at the level the League has sustained for 130 years is not viable anymore. There are only so many sugar daddies and sheikhs around and they aren’t interested in Chester.
Happily, one good news story was that Notts County have someone to pay their tax bill – this time.
So shutdowns, amalgamations, regional leagues and feeder clubs for the bigger fish has to happen.
My club, by the way, is a League 2 struggler and sad though it is I’d rather see us as a nursery for a Premier League side than go out of business.
Such a lot happening this week that it’s a challenge to know what to concentrate on first!
Let’s go with the plight of clubs. Poor Palace have gone into administration despite Simon Jordan’s riches and Neil Warnock’s outstanding managerial qualities.
League rules mean that any club taking such a step is automatically docked 10 points – surely too Draconian a measure in these dire economic times. It means that Palace’s play-off challenge is savaged and they are plunged to just above the relegation scramble.
That’s bad enough but you could be Chester. The Conference side are being chased by the tax man and threatened with winding up. This after the club said it would accept an offer of a pound – that’s £1 – if someone would take it on. Fans have boycotted home games, players haven’t been paid and last week kids made up the team against Mansfield. Predictably they were hammered 4-0.
The daily telegraph said the FA should investigate what’s wrong but isn’t it reasonably plain?
We have an elite league, even an elite group within the elite league, and home town football at the level the League has sustained for 130 years is not viable anymore. There are only so many sugar daddies and sheikhs around and they aren’t interested in Chester.
Happily, one good news story was that Notts County have someone to pay their tax bill – this time.
So shutdowns, amalgamations, regional leagues and feeder clubs for the bigger fish has to happen.
My club, by the way, is a League 2 struggler and sad though it is I’d rather see us as a nursery for a Premier League side than go out of business.
Sunday, 24 January 2010
A Brit of pluck and courage
A Brit of pluck and courage
The Ozzie Open tennis rumbles on with little to commend it except the occasional scare for a “name” and the hope that a Brit may just raise a headline or two – Andy Murray included.
One figure that emerged with such dignity and credit this week was Elena Baltacha, the 26-year-old Kiev-born Brit whose last few sporting years have been packed with pain thanks to a liver condition and back operation.
She emerged from her win over the 30th seed Kateryna Bondarenko saying that she was fed up with reading about herself of the “nearly girl”, the one whose career might have been so different had it not been for her injuries. Poor thing used to be the cry.
She said: “We are all guilty of looking back at problems. We always seem to dwell on the past and all that has happened. We could talk all day about it but what’s the point? I’m in the present. The only way is forward”.
Far from being the usual sports person’s cliché of “I played OK. One game at a time” drivel, the honesty of the words and the obvious frustration of the questioning sparked a rare moment of affinity with the sporting world.
She added in Melbourne: “I look at myself in a different way. I’m OK with everything and I take each day as it comes.”
In these tough days of the duff economy, a war, suffering across the world and trouble, it’s not a bad way to think.
The Ozzie Open tennis rumbles on with little to commend it except the occasional scare for a “name” and the hope that a Brit may just raise a headline or two – Andy Murray included.
One figure that emerged with such dignity and credit this week was Elena Baltacha, the 26-year-old Kiev-born Brit whose last few sporting years have been packed with pain thanks to a liver condition and back operation.
She emerged from her win over the 30th seed Kateryna Bondarenko saying that she was fed up with reading about herself of the “nearly girl”, the one whose career might have been so different had it not been for her injuries. Poor thing used to be the cry.
She said: “We are all guilty of looking back at problems. We always seem to dwell on the past and all that has happened. We could talk all day about it but what’s the point? I’m in the present. The only way is forward”.
Far from being the usual sports person’s cliché of “I played OK. One game at a time” drivel, the honesty of the words and the obvious frustration of the questioning sparked a rare moment of affinity with the sporting world.
She added in Melbourne: “I look at myself in a different way. I’m OK with everything and I take each day as it comes.”
In these tough days of the duff economy, a war, suffering across the world and trouble, it’s not a bad way to think.
Saturday, 23 January 2010
Fishing: Can it get exciting?
Fishing: Can it get exciting?
A couple of things happened this week to make me shake my head in sorry resignation of the state of the world: one was seeing Gary Neville giving Carlos Tevez the middle-finger insult and the other was my cricketing pal saying he’s giving up the game for fishing.
Now Neville – surely the surliest man in sport - has long been a lost cause. The pocket shop steward, whose myopic love-affair with Manchester United and its manager does him few favours, sunk a little further by wiggling his digit at the Argentinian who had just scored for Man City against United in the League Cup semi-final.
Tevez, we know, was winding up the United folk for not bowing to his summer demands, signing him on and making him a few more millions.
So he danced about, had a go at the United officials, including no doubt Sir Alex, and generally made a bit of a prat of himself in old fashioned goalscoring euphoric way.
Neville reacted. But, Gary, it doesn’t matter! Stay aloof. Maintain your dignity. You can do loads of laughing in the second leg when you turn them over. Nuff said.
Much more important is the bombshell that Andy – my mate and the man whose slow turners take a couple of days to reach the batsmen who are then so bored waiting they invariably get themselves out – is packing it in.
And for what? Standing knee deep in a cold stream in the Yorkshire Dales that’s what.
Why, I said. Because it’s fun, he said.
Fun? I said. Yes, he said. Lots.
How can it be, I said, when it’s belting down and you’ve left your umbrella in the car two miles away and the fish aren’t biting and you can’t feel your hands and feet?
Because my 16-year-old son wants me to take him and I love him and it’s the only time we get to spend any quiet time together.
Fair enough. A lot of batsmen aren’t going to be bored out this season.
A couple of things happened this week to make me shake my head in sorry resignation of the state of the world: one was seeing Gary Neville giving Carlos Tevez the middle-finger insult and the other was my cricketing pal saying he’s giving up the game for fishing.
Now Neville – surely the surliest man in sport - has long been a lost cause. The pocket shop steward, whose myopic love-affair with Manchester United and its manager does him few favours, sunk a little further by wiggling his digit at the Argentinian who had just scored for Man City against United in the League Cup semi-final.
Tevez, we know, was winding up the United folk for not bowing to his summer demands, signing him on and making him a few more millions.
So he danced about, had a go at the United officials, including no doubt Sir Alex, and generally made a bit of a prat of himself in old fashioned goalscoring euphoric way.
Neville reacted. But, Gary, it doesn’t matter! Stay aloof. Maintain your dignity. You can do loads of laughing in the second leg when you turn them over. Nuff said.
Much more important is the bombshell that Andy – my mate and the man whose slow turners take a couple of days to reach the batsmen who are then so bored waiting they invariably get themselves out – is packing it in.
And for what? Standing knee deep in a cold stream in the Yorkshire Dales that’s what.
Why, I said. Because it’s fun, he said.
Fun? I said. Yes, he said. Lots.
How can it be, I said, when it’s belting down and you’ve left your umbrella in the car two miles away and the fish aren’t biting and you can’t feel your hands and feet?
Because my 16-year-old son wants me to take him and I love him and it’s the only time we get to spend any quiet time together.
Fair enough. A lot of batsmen aren’t going to be bored out this season.
Thursday, 21 January 2010
They think it's all over
They think it’s all over
The passing of the great Bill McLaren marks the end of that era of sports commentators who shared one attribute that today’s broadcast professionals would do well to remember: they only spoke when it mattered.
McLaren, who was 86, was if anything just a little too polite and detached from the human drama of sporting events but he had a beautiful descriptive style. So did Kenneth Wolstenholme and Barry Davies in football, John Arlott and, more recently, Richie Benaud
Lawrence Dallaglio on the radio this week gave three examples of McLaren’s perceptive style and turn of phrase. I paraphrase just a little but here goes: a Scottish player, builder by trade, when faced with the giant Kiwi Jonah Lomu haring down on him said “I felt like laying bricks in a different way”.
When the buxom streaker Erica Roe graced Twickenham with her ample front row McLaren piped: “I wonder who that laddie plays for. I don’t seem to recognise him”. And he described the elegant England wing David Duckham as being so good he could “sidestep three people in a phone box”.
Great stuff.
Now lest I be condemned for being just another old fart who hankers after the past, let me say that Martin Tyler on Sky – sometimes - and Kevin Geary on BBC News both have that beautiful way with words that makes you feel they care.
Tyler can get excited when it matters but he has two saving graces in that he is intelligent for a spots buff and he can keep Mr Windbag Andy Gray in check as well.
And listen for Geary on the news. Subtle plays on words and elegant puns that don’t grate, just make you smile.
Worst of the lot for me: Alan Green. I like a man with an opinion but he loves himself. Not good.
Then there’s Mr Give It A Rest, Motty. John Motson seems like a nice man which is probably why no-one has ever told him to SHUT UP!
Farewell Bill.
The passing of the great Bill McLaren marks the end of that era of sports commentators who shared one attribute that today’s broadcast professionals would do well to remember: they only spoke when it mattered.
McLaren, who was 86, was if anything just a little too polite and detached from the human drama of sporting events but he had a beautiful descriptive style. So did Kenneth Wolstenholme and Barry Davies in football, John Arlott and, more recently, Richie Benaud
Lawrence Dallaglio on the radio this week gave three examples of McLaren’s perceptive style and turn of phrase. I paraphrase just a little but here goes: a Scottish player, builder by trade, when faced with the giant Kiwi Jonah Lomu haring down on him said “I felt like laying bricks in a different way”.
When the buxom streaker Erica Roe graced Twickenham with her ample front row McLaren piped: “I wonder who that laddie plays for. I don’t seem to recognise him”. And he described the elegant England wing David Duckham as being so good he could “sidestep three people in a phone box”.
Great stuff.
Now lest I be condemned for being just another old fart who hankers after the past, let me say that Martin Tyler on Sky – sometimes - and Kevin Geary on BBC News both have that beautiful way with words that makes you feel they care.
Tyler can get excited when it matters but he has two saving graces in that he is intelligent for a spots buff and he can keep Mr Windbag Andy Gray in check as well.
And listen for Geary on the news. Subtle plays on words and elegant puns that don’t grate, just make you smile.
Worst of the lot for me: Alan Green. I like a man with an opinion but he loves himself. Not good.
Then there’s Mr Give It A Rest, Motty. John Motson seems like a nice man which is probably why no-one has ever told him to SHUT UP!
Farewell Bill.
Sunday, 17 January 2010
Saturday, 16 January 2010
Indy Cars Can Help F1
Indy car racing in the US is always seen as the poor relation to Formula One. It is.
It’s smaller, seems to be struggling financially, and has had more than strained relationships with the CART series in the States.
But it does boast a British champion – Edinburgh-born Dario Franchitti – and it also can claim to be the one top class motorsport which has had a woman as a race winner, Danica Patrick. Can you imagine a woman climbing the heights of F1?
I know F1 has boasted women drivers – five all told since 1958 – but none has succeeded like Patrick who next season will race monster stock cars in the US NASCAR series.
NASCARs are the bruising automobiles which fly round oval tracks at 200-plus mph. Great spectacle.
Indy cars, from memory, are same-spec racers that rely more on the skill of the driver to see them home.
Isn’t that what F1 needs a bit more of? There will always be the debate around who is the best driver while F1 teams compete with such diverse budgets.
The rules are constantly being tweaked and it’s getting better but it’s still more of a pit-stop lottery.
It’s smaller, seems to be struggling financially, and has had more than strained relationships with the CART series in the States.
But it does boast a British champion – Edinburgh-born Dario Franchitti – and it also can claim to be the one top class motorsport which has had a woman as a race winner, Danica Patrick. Can you imagine a woman climbing the heights of F1?
I know F1 has boasted women drivers – five all told since 1958 – but none has succeeded like Patrick who next season will race monster stock cars in the US NASCAR series.
NASCARs are the bruising automobiles which fly round oval tracks at 200-plus mph. Great spectacle.
Indy cars, from memory, are same-spec racers that rely more on the skill of the driver to see them home.
Isn’t that what F1 needs a bit more of? There will always be the debate around who is the best driver while F1 teams compete with such diverse budgets.
The rules are constantly being tweaked and it’s getting better but it’s still more of a pit-stop lottery.
Friday, 15 January 2010
Murray is Mr Chivalrous
I don’t know about you but I have mixed feelings about Andy Murray – our new Great Hope in tennis.
While I want him to be even more successful and win a Grand Slam event soon, I fear that his 2009 fleeting world ranking of Number 2 will be the best he’ll do and his tennis career will now be one of the nearly man. I hope I’m wrong.
Maybe it’s just the pessimistic Englishman in me. I’m not at all bothered by his supposed miserable nature – Mr Grumpy. I reckon anyone who has to bear the responsibility of English (British?) tennis fans to win big is entitled to feel that way.
Anyway, I don’t think he is Grumpy. He has a sense of humour and an aggression that is not usually evident in British sportsmen.
He’s also a gentleman as seen recently in apologising for “letting down” 15-year-old Laura Robson in the Hopman Cup final in Perth.
Murray unexpectedly lost to Tommy Robredo after winning the first set then, after Robson impressively won her singles match, partnered the teenager in their deciding doubles defeat.
He had the grace to say he let her down, which is true. He then added she could do really well in the forthcoming Australian Open and her career – which is maybe true as well.
You get the feeling only the big events matter now to Andy Murray, which is inevitable. But at least he had the bottle to acknowledge that every event matters to people just starting out
While I want him to be even more successful and win a Grand Slam event soon, I fear that his 2009 fleeting world ranking of Number 2 will be the best he’ll do and his tennis career will now be one of the nearly man. I hope I’m wrong.
Maybe it’s just the pessimistic Englishman in me. I’m not at all bothered by his supposed miserable nature – Mr Grumpy. I reckon anyone who has to bear the responsibility of English (British?) tennis fans to win big is entitled to feel that way.
Anyway, I don’t think he is Grumpy. He has a sense of humour and an aggression that is not usually evident in British sportsmen.
He’s also a gentleman as seen recently in apologising for “letting down” 15-year-old Laura Robson in the Hopman Cup final in Perth.
Murray unexpectedly lost to Tommy Robredo after winning the first set then, after Robson impressively won her singles match, partnered the teenager in their deciding doubles defeat.
He had the grace to say he let her down, which is true. He then added she could do really well in the forthcoming Australian Open and her career – which is maybe true as well.
You get the feeling only the big events matter now to Andy Murray, which is inevitable. But at least he had the bottle to acknowledge that every event matters to people just starting out
Thursday, 14 January 2010
Hanging Loose on the Slopes
There was a lovely story this week of American world champion downhiller Lindsey Vonn who wrung an apology from Austrian ski coaches who hinted that her weight gave her an edge over the rest of the opposition.
Having seen pictures of Miss Vonn it’s hard to see what the Austrians are thinking of unless it’s a cunning plan to try to upset the 25-year-old before next month’s Winter Olympics in Vancouver.
But as Vonn said herself: “If weight were the key to success in ski racing, everyone would be stuffing their faces.”
And they are plainly not.
Ski-ing is one of those sports that is fantastically exciting if you are there – like Formula One. The noise, speed, atmosphere are all enhanced by the live spectacle.
I’d argue that you can get just as much excitement from a footy match, golf tournament or cricket Test by watching on the box – or even listening to the radio – but winter sports somehow needs the live experience to help you feel the danger.
I’m a fan of the TV watching variety. Having tried skiing once, at the end of a week of ski school in Austria I was able to turn left and right, slalom a little and stop and that was good enough for me. Nice experience spoilt by the kit.
But seeing downhillers and slalomers hurtling down mountains to the sound of cowbells, cheers and hoots is by far a more satisfying feeling.
Having seen pictures of Miss Vonn it’s hard to see what the Austrians are thinking of unless it’s a cunning plan to try to upset the 25-year-old before next month’s Winter Olympics in Vancouver.
But as Vonn said herself: “If weight were the key to success in ski racing, everyone would be stuffing their faces.”
And they are plainly not.
Ski-ing is one of those sports that is fantastically exciting if you are there – like Formula One. The noise, speed, atmosphere are all enhanced by the live spectacle.
I’d argue that you can get just as much excitement from a footy match, golf tournament or cricket Test by watching on the box – or even listening to the radio – but winter sports somehow needs the live experience to help you feel the danger.
I’m a fan of the TV watching variety. Having tried skiing once, at the end of a week of ski school in Austria I was able to turn left and right, slalom a little and stop and that was good enough for me. Nice experience spoilt by the kit.
But seeing downhillers and slalomers hurtling down mountains to the sound of cowbells, cheers and hoots is by far a more satisfying feeling.
Nice Guys Can Be Winners
Andrew Strauss is one of nature’s nice guys. He’s inoffensive, non-aggressive, quiet and quite posh for a professional sportsman but the Ashes series and the England win in Durban against South Africa shows how The Quiet Man can get results.
Let me declare an interest here. Strauss lives opposite a great mate of mine in Ealing. My mate says he’s exactly as you see him on the box – nice. His wife’s nice and he’s got a nice baby too.
And it was only through the turmoil of Kevin Pietersen falling out with Peter Moores that he ever got the job in the first place.
It seems that when boards and managers see the need for change they go for the “big bang” theory; who’s our most dynamic player, let’s put him in charge.
Yet it’s the Quiet Men who calm things down and bring stability. Mike Brearley years ago helped to get the best out of Botham when all seemed hopeless and Ray Illingworth before that went about his business quietly. Yes, behind closed doors things may have been different but Quiet Men tend to have the strength to deal with situations Quietly.
In football, the Quiet Men are Arsene Wenger and Fabio Capello. Both foreigners I know but both men of intelligence and experience.
There are two exceptions to the rule in football at least; Sir Alex Ferguson and Martin O’Neill.
Ferguson now has the authority and stature in English football that he is untouchable. He’s a man of supreme talent, luck and good judgement but who is still passionately childish enough to want to wind up opponents and officials in equal measure.
O’Neill is the next generation Fergie. Tries to be calm and collected but watch him shouting, bawling, running and falling on the touchline. Great to see and completely daft.
Yes, we like the Quiet Men. But the barmy ones are a lot more fun.
Let me declare an interest here. Strauss lives opposite a great mate of mine in Ealing. My mate says he’s exactly as you see him on the box – nice. His wife’s nice and he’s got a nice baby too.
And it was only through the turmoil of Kevin Pietersen falling out with Peter Moores that he ever got the job in the first place.
It seems that when boards and managers see the need for change they go for the “big bang” theory; who’s our most dynamic player, let’s put him in charge.
Yet it’s the Quiet Men who calm things down and bring stability. Mike Brearley years ago helped to get the best out of Botham when all seemed hopeless and Ray Illingworth before that went about his business quietly. Yes, behind closed doors things may have been different but Quiet Men tend to have the strength to deal with situations Quietly.
In football, the Quiet Men are Arsene Wenger and Fabio Capello. Both foreigners I know but both men of intelligence and experience.
There are two exceptions to the rule in football at least; Sir Alex Ferguson and Martin O’Neill.
Ferguson now has the authority and stature in English football that he is untouchable. He’s a man of supreme talent, luck and good judgement but who is still passionately childish enough to want to wind up opponents and officials in equal measure.
O’Neill is the next generation Fergie. Tries to be calm and collected but watch him shouting, bawling, running and falling on the touchline. Great to see and completely daft.
Yes, we like the Quiet Men. But the barmy ones are a lot more fun.
Wednesday, 13 January 2010
Home thoughts...
Worrying story about John Terry allegedly charging to show visitors round the Chelsea training establishment. Mischievous if it’s made up, sickening if it’s not.
Sir Alex at it again with Fergie time against Leeds. He reminds me of my dad. He’s had his day and is getting embarrassing and is now a bit boring. But nobody likes to say anything for fear of another rant. So we just look away.
Much debate this week about the complexity of rugby union rules. Too right. It’s a black hole of bewildering whistles that even the best TV coverage fails to illuminate for the confused viewer.
I tried, I really did, to watch NFL this week and I was once as much of a fan as most sports-loving folk. But I gave up because of its predictability and sheer dullness.
The Aussies won again against Pakistan, cricket’s nearly men. What a fantastic attitude those boys have. We are never beaten should be the motto of all sports teams.
My aged mum was looking through a drawer at her house the other day and produced a picture of me playing for my pub team circa 1972. What larks! Hair all over the place. Stomachs pulled in and we weren’t bad at all. At least we were in footie kit. Dread to think what the fashions were like once we changed. Blimey, how time flies.
Sir Alex at it again with Fergie time against Leeds. He reminds me of my dad. He’s had his day and is getting embarrassing and is now a bit boring. But nobody likes to say anything for fear of another rant. So we just look away.
Much debate this week about the complexity of rugby union rules. Too right. It’s a black hole of bewildering whistles that even the best TV coverage fails to illuminate for the confused viewer.
I tried, I really did, to watch NFL this week and I was once as much of a fan as most sports-loving folk. But I gave up because of its predictability and sheer dullness.
The Aussies won again against Pakistan, cricket’s nearly men. What a fantastic attitude those boys have. We are never beaten should be the motto of all sports teams.
My aged mum was looking through a drawer at her house the other day and produced a picture of me playing for my pub team circa 1972. What larks! Hair all over the place. Stomachs pulled in and we weren’t bad at all. At least we were in footie kit. Dread to think what the fashions were like once we changed. Blimey, how time flies.
Tuesday, 12 January 2010
Not gods, just human
With the snow wiping out the meaningful games this week – apologies to Fulham and Stoke fans – I was drawn back to a couple of revealing programmes on Premier League footballers.
Firstly, Joey Barton was interviewed at length on Radio 4 no less articulating, quite eloquently I thought, his struggle with the anger and violence within him, what he is trying to do to understand and come to terms with it and about football in a broader sense.
One quote stuck out, to the effect that when he talked to people about footballers in general he agreed with the majority opinion that they were “knobs”. That’s knobs in the sense of dickheads and not toffs.
Sometimes it’s difficult not to agree when well-paid young men with all the advantages of freedom, talent and wealth do something stupid.
Then I heard a trailer for another programme on Didier Drogba, Chelsea’s rapidly reforming diver who at last seems to be able to let his talent speak for itself on the pitch. Great player.
Drogba spoke movingly about the hospital he is trying to build in his native Ivory Coast. He was mindful of his image in England of football’s drama queen but again he was most touching when saying he wanted to give something back to a country he left when he was six.
Indeed, the cynics might say it’s easy for him to plough his millions into a project that will earn him generous publicity but Drogba’s been involved with charity work for years. So much so that in 2007 he was appointed by the UN Development Programme as a goodwill ambassador.
He’s not the only Premier League footballer involved in good works, of course, and there are plenty of lower league players who give freely of their time and limited wealth.
It all goes to show that footballers are human, just like you and me, and are capable of almost anything.
Firstly, Joey Barton was interviewed at length on Radio 4 no less articulating, quite eloquently I thought, his struggle with the anger and violence within him, what he is trying to do to understand and come to terms with it and about football in a broader sense.
One quote stuck out, to the effect that when he talked to people about footballers in general he agreed with the majority opinion that they were “knobs”. That’s knobs in the sense of dickheads and not toffs.
Sometimes it’s difficult not to agree when well-paid young men with all the advantages of freedom, talent and wealth do something stupid.
Then I heard a trailer for another programme on Didier Drogba, Chelsea’s rapidly reforming diver who at last seems to be able to let his talent speak for itself on the pitch. Great player.
Drogba spoke movingly about the hospital he is trying to build in his native Ivory Coast. He was mindful of his image in England of football’s drama queen but again he was most touching when saying he wanted to give something back to a country he left when he was six.
Indeed, the cynics might say it’s easy for him to plough his millions into a project that will earn him generous publicity but Drogba’s been involved with charity work for years. So much so that in 2007 he was appointed by the UN Development Programme as a goodwill ambassador.
He’s not the only Premier League footballer involved in good works, of course, and there are plenty of lower league players who give freely of their time and limited wealth.
It all goes to show that footballers are human, just like you and me, and are capable of almost anything.
Thursday, 7 January 2010
Darts - Making an Impact
Darts has come a long way since the days of Jockey Wilson, Leighton Rees, John Lowe and Eric Bristow. Or has it?
When Rees won the first Embassy World Darts Championships in 1978, it was a sport struggling not to be embarrassed by its pub image. The players, apart from Bristow, were homely, working class men who found fame uncomfortable. Their skill was rare and under-appreciated.
There is still a prejudice against the men who throw the arrows but less so, thanks to Sky Sports cash and the phenomenal Barry Hearn. Hearn, who has transformed snooker, boxing, fishing and pool apart from darts, has helped to add respectability to the game of darts so much so that Sport England now officially recognises it as a sport.
That’s important because now it can hope to qualify for Olympic status.
I’m a fan. But like so many other sports only when there is tension and meaning to a contest or a spectacular feat – like Raymond van Barneveld’s nine-darter this week at Ally Pally. Great theatre but who wants to sit through half an hour of round one action featuring a couple of no-hopers.
Come to think of it, who’d want to sit through ice skating or show jumping at all?
And yes, the Mickey Mouse nicknames of some of the players – The Machine, Flash, Darth Maple – make you cringe but the skill of the throwers, the scoring averages of the best players and the astonishing record of Phil Taylor demands respect.
I’ll dip into the darts in quiet moments of TV tuning. And when Phil ‘The Power’ Taylor needs a 167 finish to win the title with ‘Barney’ van Barneveld sitting on double 16 I’ll probably be shouting him down as he lands treble 20, treble 19 and bull.
Good stuff.
When Rees won the first Embassy World Darts Championships in 1978, it was a sport struggling not to be embarrassed by its pub image. The players, apart from Bristow, were homely, working class men who found fame uncomfortable. Their skill was rare and under-appreciated.
There is still a prejudice against the men who throw the arrows but less so, thanks to Sky Sports cash and the phenomenal Barry Hearn. Hearn, who has transformed snooker, boxing, fishing and pool apart from darts, has helped to add respectability to the game of darts so much so that Sport England now officially recognises it as a sport.
That’s important because now it can hope to qualify for Olympic status.
I’m a fan. But like so many other sports only when there is tension and meaning to a contest or a spectacular feat – like Raymond van Barneveld’s nine-darter this week at Ally Pally. Great theatre but who wants to sit through half an hour of round one action featuring a couple of no-hopers.
Come to think of it, who’d want to sit through ice skating or show jumping at all?
And yes, the Mickey Mouse nicknames of some of the players – The Machine, Flash, Darth Maple – make you cringe but the skill of the throwers, the scoring averages of the best players and the astonishing record of Phil Taylor demands respect.
I’ll dip into the darts in quiet moments of TV tuning. And when Phil ‘The Power’ Taylor needs a 167 finish to win the title with ‘Barney’ van Barneveld sitting on double 16 I’ll probably be shouting him down as he lands treble 20, treble 19 and bull.
Good stuff.
Wednesday, 6 January 2010
Bolton's Gary Megson and The Chuckle Meter
Bolton’s just-fired manager Gary Megson didn’t help himself in the job, did he?
Megson, who seems to want to fight the world, is one of those blokes who can’t relax; who never smiles and who can’t see the funny side of being in an impossible job.
He kept Bolton in the Premier League last season but he went, not because his team’s in the drop zone, but because he slagged off the fans.
Megson didn’t think he needed the supporters on his side but all managers of poor teams who struggle have to make an effort to get the fans onside because if they don’t then they are fighting not only the opposition but their own camp.
Managers can’t win. The only certainty is the sack – unless you are Fergie – and the best policy is to try to enjoy the ride. The real difficulty comes when you are perceived to be too old to do a decent job anymore – like George Graham.
We should have the Chuckle Meter – a sliding scale of each manager’s ability to laugh at himself and the job. For instance:
Top three in the Chuckle Meter Stakes
1. Harry Redknapp – even when the taxman is after him he can still find time to put it all in perspective and chuckle. The laughter also hides the fact that he’s a great man-manager and doesn’t lose his cool.
2. Roy Hodgson – Roy losing his temper is like your mum trying to discipline the dog. Lots of finger-wagging but we know she doesn’t mean it.
3. Arsene Wenger – controversial this one but watch him. A supreme gentleman, articulate and aloof but always courteous, except when the team is ballsing it up against mediocre opposition like Liverpool and need a kick up the shorts.
More Chuckle Meter contenders greatly received...
Megson, who seems to want to fight the world, is one of those blokes who can’t relax; who never smiles and who can’t see the funny side of being in an impossible job.
He kept Bolton in the Premier League last season but he went, not because his team’s in the drop zone, but because he slagged off the fans.
Megson didn’t think he needed the supporters on his side but all managers of poor teams who struggle have to make an effort to get the fans onside because if they don’t then they are fighting not only the opposition but their own camp.
Managers can’t win. The only certainty is the sack – unless you are Fergie – and the best policy is to try to enjoy the ride. The real difficulty comes when you are perceived to be too old to do a decent job anymore – like George Graham.
We should have the Chuckle Meter – a sliding scale of each manager’s ability to laugh at himself and the job. For instance:
Top three in the Chuckle Meter Stakes
1. Harry Redknapp – even when the taxman is after him he can still find time to put it all in perspective and chuckle. The laughter also hides the fact that he’s a great man-manager and doesn’t lose his cool.
2. Roy Hodgson – Roy losing his temper is like your mum trying to discipline the dog. Lots of finger-wagging but we know she doesn’t mean it.
3. Arsene Wenger – controversial this one but watch him. A supreme gentleman, articulate and aloof but always courteous, except when the team is ballsing it up against mediocre opposition like Liverpool and need a kick up the shorts.
More Chuckle Meter contenders greatly received...
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