A quo - from which ( court a quo, court from which appeal has been taken).
Ad quem - to which
qua - as or in the capacity of (allows man to live qua man)
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Friday, 29 May 2009
Good Old Football
I have had this post boiling inside of me for a long time and I just can't ignore it anymore. Football fans are a captured market because of the affinity that they develop with their teams. They'll put up with all kinds of crap because they absorb the team into their life. This fact is being exploited by the football fat cats. The media moguls behind the sensationalist media, the owners of the sports channels that ramp up the game beyond reality and, of course, the football clubs owners, staff and footballers - they are all taking the pee out of the football fan. Big time.
Why should anyone follow football anymore, bearing in mind the following points?
1) Professional football, at the elite end, anyway, is uninterestingly uncompetitive. Everyone knows this but nothing, it seems, can or will be done. The Champions League teams, with their tidy annual pay packet, are drawing further and further away from the rest. They have the best resources in virtually all departments. But for the English game's recent injection of foreign capital (which is unsustainable) the Premier League would already be a glorified version of the SPL. It basically is. The aristocrats of the Premiership are busy hoovering up any player that shows a bit of promise, leaving any attempts by the underclass to bridge the gap futile. Meanwhile, the bumbling managers of the rest go and repeatedly punch themselves in the face by, for example, signing goalphobic forwards (Heskey and Elmander).There isn't just one fault line in English football. The gap between the Premier League and the football league seems to be growing too, making promotion to the top an increasingly unappealling tryst with long ball football and scrapping for survival - for a year or two.
2) The professional game, generally, is becoming less skill-focussed and more physical strength focussed. The lesser, non-Champions League sides are resorting to a brawny game of physical strength to cling onto the coat-tails of the leaders. David Moyes and Martin O'Neill are demonstrating that the only way to even try to compete, it seems, is to build your game around brutish forwards and accurate set-plays. Skilful play is, it seems, in serious decline.
Wingers aren't very popular these days. Alex Ferguson has almost converted one of the world's most exciting wingers into a prosaic goal-machine - whilst Ronaldo's dancing feet do still sparkle from time to time - how often? You're more likely to see him converting a point-blank range header these days.
What has the Premier League come to when Gary Megson and Tony Pulis, members of the anti-skill society, are now celebrated British managers? (Kevin Blackwell may soon join them). We are at an unprecedented low, in terms of skiful play. Whilst there are idealistic sides that still play skilfully, notably Arsenal and the leading Spanish clubs, they are increasingly in the minority as Mourinhoism surges on. Boro and West Brom, two sides that try to play football, are leaving the Premier League, so the skill levels are only going to go down.
3) The modern player is outrageously overhyped - they aren't actually that good. Carlos Tevez was player of the season in Brazil a couple of times, he comes here to much fanfare and is rumoured to be valued at £25 million. Is he THAT good? Not really. He's a workaholic with a good all-round game for a forward but I would not call him a genius. But, maybe you think I'm being harsh - in that case, let's reluctantly turn our eyes to the other, lesser Premier League clubs. Amongst the more eulogised Premier League footballers is Tim Cahill. Effective but what is he but a tough, brave, strong competitor. He's not what I would call an exciting talent that I would like to watch as a neutral. You look through the Premier League, objectively, and you see scores of average, mediocre or worse players who are primarily playing because of their physical strengths.
It's not just England or the lesser sides. I had heard great things about Barcelona this season before the Chelsea tie. Even though Barcelona didn't exactly overly impress - I admired their style and the trio of Messi, Iniesta and Xavi are genuine geniuses. But, I was horribly disappointed by some others, especially Dani Alves. Whenever he plays, all I hear is what a superstar he is and how attacking blah blah blah. I do not follow the Primera Liga but I can say with near certainty that the guy is simply a decent all-round player with excellent fitness and admirable eagnerness to go forward. Anything more is hype.
Most of these footballers are efficient but very rarely are they the geniuses that they are portrayed as. Many of them may be talented but ferociously complacent. The likes of Zlatan Ibrahimovich and Dimitar Berbatov patronise the fans as they bestride football pitches as if they are God's gift to humanity, rarely deigning to break into a sweat. They do a few flicks and backhills, address their headband and then expect to receive unconditional adulation.
When the world's best footballers assemble for an international tournament, do we get a sumptuous feast of the brilliance of football? No. Judging by the last however number of tournaments, the players flag under the pressure of the tornado of hype that precedes these tournaments. But for a few teams that do play well (Argies, Spain) the majority wander around like lemons.
The international tournaments are tedious and talentless, generally. Any interest retained is soley on the psychological level of partisan nationalism. If they weren't representing your country, you'd feel sorry for them and then switch off. I do that now regardless of my nationalist instinct.
4) The modern game is riven with cheats and egomaniacs. Everyone knows this, so I need not expound too much. Diving, feigning injury, petty gamesmanship of walking off with the ball etc, petty squabbling, thuggish aggression, self-obsessed celebration and so on. Why do they carry on like this? Because the fans continue to cheer them. Sadly. What they need is a good slapping. There is very little honour, dignity or respect in the game.
So, Skysports, Kelvin McKenzie, the FA, the Premier League, FIFA, the footballers, the newspapers and the rest, how do you justify taking money from fans when your product is sub-standard? You may build it to be the height of drama, the very epitome of the divine union of bullish strength, balletic skill and erudition but that is a load of old egotistical, manipulative doodah and if you had more shame, you'd stop the pretence. You are exploiting the fans' blind loyalty. Correct football's sharp decline. If not, I hope the day comes when you are left without an audience and fans clock onto your complacent, avaricious exploitation
Why should anyone follow football anymore, bearing in mind the following points?
1) Professional football, at the elite end, anyway, is uninterestingly uncompetitive. Everyone knows this but nothing, it seems, can or will be done. The Champions League teams, with their tidy annual pay packet, are drawing further and further away from the rest. They have the best resources in virtually all departments. But for the English game's recent injection of foreign capital (which is unsustainable) the Premier League would already be a glorified version of the SPL. It basically is. The aristocrats of the Premiership are busy hoovering up any player that shows a bit of promise, leaving any attempts by the underclass to bridge the gap futile. Meanwhile, the bumbling managers of the rest go and repeatedly punch themselves in the face by, for example, signing goalphobic forwards (Heskey and Elmander).There isn't just one fault line in English football. The gap between the Premier League and the football league seems to be growing too, making promotion to the top an increasingly unappealling tryst with long ball football and scrapping for survival - for a year or two.
2) The professional game, generally, is becoming less skill-focussed and more physical strength focussed. The lesser, non-Champions League sides are resorting to a brawny game of physical strength to cling onto the coat-tails of the leaders. David Moyes and Martin O'Neill are demonstrating that the only way to even try to compete, it seems, is to build your game around brutish forwards and accurate set-plays. Skilful play is, it seems, in serious decline.
Wingers aren't very popular these days. Alex Ferguson has almost converted one of the world's most exciting wingers into a prosaic goal-machine - whilst Ronaldo's dancing feet do still sparkle from time to time - how often? You're more likely to see him converting a point-blank range header these days.
What has the Premier League come to when Gary Megson and Tony Pulis, members of the anti-skill society, are now celebrated British managers? (Kevin Blackwell may soon join them). We are at an unprecedented low, in terms of skiful play. Whilst there are idealistic sides that still play skilfully, notably Arsenal and the leading Spanish clubs, they are increasingly in the minority as Mourinhoism surges on. Boro and West Brom, two sides that try to play football, are leaving the Premier League, so the skill levels are only going to go down.
3) The modern player is outrageously overhyped - they aren't actually that good. Carlos Tevez was player of the season in Brazil a couple of times, he comes here to much fanfare and is rumoured to be valued at £25 million. Is he THAT good? Not really. He's a workaholic with a good all-round game for a forward but I would not call him a genius. But, maybe you think I'm being harsh - in that case, let's reluctantly turn our eyes to the other, lesser Premier League clubs. Amongst the more eulogised Premier League footballers is Tim Cahill. Effective but what is he but a tough, brave, strong competitor. He's not what I would call an exciting talent that I would like to watch as a neutral. You look through the Premier League, objectively, and you see scores of average, mediocre or worse players who are primarily playing because of their physical strengths.
It's not just England or the lesser sides. I had heard great things about Barcelona this season before the Chelsea tie. Even though Barcelona didn't exactly overly impress - I admired their style and the trio of Messi, Iniesta and Xavi are genuine geniuses. But, I was horribly disappointed by some others, especially Dani Alves. Whenever he plays, all I hear is what a superstar he is and how attacking blah blah blah. I do not follow the Primera Liga but I can say with near certainty that the guy is simply a decent all-round player with excellent fitness and admirable eagnerness to go forward. Anything more is hype.
Most of these footballers are efficient but very rarely are they the geniuses that they are portrayed as. Many of them may be talented but ferociously complacent. The likes of Zlatan Ibrahimovich and Dimitar Berbatov patronise the fans as they bestride football pitches as if they are God's gift to humanity, rarely deigning to break into a sweat. They do a few flicks and backhills, address their headband and then expect to receive unconditional adulation.
When the world's best footballers assemble for an international tournament, do we get a sumptuous feast of the brilliance of football? No. Judging by the last however number of tournaments, the players flag under the pressure of the tornado of hype that precedes these tournaments. But for a few teams that do play well (Argies, Spain) the majority wander around like lemons.
The international tournaments are tedious and talentless, generally. Any interest retained is soley on the psychological level of partisan nationalism. If they weren't representing your country, you'd feel sorry for them and then switch off. I do that now regardless of my nationalist instinct.
4) The modern game is riven with cheats and egomaniacs. Everyone knows this, so I need not expound too much. Diving, feigning injury, petty gamesmanship of walking off with the ball etc, petty squabbling, thuggish aggression, self-obsessed celebration and so on. Why do they carry on like this? Because the fans continue to cheer them. Sadly. What they need is a good slapping. There is very little honour, dignity or respect in the game.
So, Skysports, Kelvin McKenzie, the FA, the Premier League, FIFA, the footballers, the newspapers and the rest, how do you justify taking money from fans when your product is sub-standard? You may build it to be the height of drama, the very epitome of the divine union of bullish strength, balletic skill and erudition but that is a load of old egotistical, manipulative doodah and if you had more shame, you'd stop the pretence. You are exploiting the fans' blind loyalty. Correct football's sharp decline. If not, I hope the day comes when you are left without an audience and fans clock onto your complacent, avaricious exploitation
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
Greatness
Let me,
Swash that buckle, spin that star,
Fly off the edge
and soar beyond.
Crash through applause
with tears to die
and leave music your trail
of lingering high.
Engrave this look to stone
and history's mind,
to speak of every cant
and breathe this time.
Eluding ground of grave
to feel fresh haunt of today
Brush pretty words from my mouth,
From eternity's lair.
But, how to this play?
Sun of reverent warmth
what is your way?
Is blood felled,
Life dulled,
Hope mould, killed, shirked...
Is this mark my stay?
Say quick, life steals away,
Creeping that darkness
my shadow strives.
Tell the secret
of bed-rid allay.
I cannot wait more.
What? Sincerity.
Call the guards.
Bring weapons, chains.
Of all the insults-
Render a man, dying, with suspense
Abandoned mourn and eyes withdrawn from death. Just.
Just to hear this false gift,
Lips brutally sneer.
Sincerity.
This world is sick,
Petty dressed and undeserved
of God's gaze.
No reason compels for stay-
But stupid animals and wicked ways.
Let a rest take me
Under the arch-
Away, I say away.
Leave my time to sit and wait.
do not disturb me for the finest wit,
For it is a ruse of malign intent
and I care not what happens.
I expect no more.
Swash that buckle, spin that star,
Fly off the edge
and soar beyond.
Crash through applause
with tears to die
and leave music your trail
of lingering high.
Engrave this look to stone
and history's mind,
to speak of every cant
and breathe this time.
Eluding ground of grave
to feel fresh haunt of today
Brush pretty words from my mouth,
From eternity's lair.
But, how to this play?
Sun of reverent warmth
what is your way?
Is blood felled,
Life dulled,
Hope mould, killed, shirked...
Is this mark my stay?
Say quick, life steals away,
Creeping that darkness
my shadow strives.
Tell the secret
of bed-rid allay.
I cannot wait more.
What? Sincerity.
Call the guards.
Bring weapons, chains.
Of all the insults-
Render a man, dying, with suspense
Abandoned mourn and eyes withdrawn from death. Just.
Just to hear this false gift,
Lips brutally sneer.
Sincerity.
This world is sick,
Petty dressed and undeserved
of God's gaze.
No reason compels for stay-
But stupid animals and wicked ways.
Let a rest take me
Under the arch-
Away, I say away.
Leave my time to sit and wait.
do not disturb me for the finest wit,
For it is a ruse of malign intent
and I care not what happens.
I expect no more.
Notebook
My notebooks pages are thin,
On fill they fall,
With light pull,
Fluttering invisibly away, away,
Into what cannot be seen.
My notebooks pages are thin,
Relief to carry, nought to refer.
Only, this morning's brush and spit,
Already fading to the pipes.
Vigour of colour is a day pronounced
on pedestal, alone and proud.
A moment momento,
A herald of next.
My notebooks pages are thin, yes,
But thin will be none
when the end is come.
On fill they fall,
With light pull,
Fluttering invisibly away, away,
Into what cannot be seen.
My notebooks pages are thin,
Relief to carry, nought to refer.
Only, this morning's brush and spit,
Already fading to the pipes.
Vigour of colour is a day pronounced
on pedestal, alone and proud.
A moment momento,
A herald of next.
My notebooks pages are thin, yes,
But thin will be none
when the end is come.
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
Work
Sal's desk of world forth her eyes is hidden from me,
Her grey jumper shields the hand-loved print.
The purity of attention falling from brown eyes to page
Is only a silhouette -
A dark head of pony-tail, bowed gentle
and arms by a thoughtful side
of observing wisdom,
like the far off hill in delicate mist,
Is all I see.
A leaf of the current,
A life of the world,
Is what I see.
Her grey jumper shields the hand-loved print.
The purity of attention falling from brown eyes to page
Is only a silhouette -
A dark head of pony-tail, bowed gentle
and arms by a thoughtful side
of observing wisdom,
like the far off hill in delicate mist,
Is all I see.
A leaf of the current,
A life of the world,
Is what I see.
Saturday, 23 May 2009
Roald.
Today, I found out that Roald, as in "Dahl", is pronounced Ro-arled - not Rolled, as I have always believed it.
I made this discovery by listening to a Radio 4 production on Dahl's life. I only caught the end. I had been discussing the brilliance of Dahl's books only hours before with my sisters and then, as I flicked through the wireless, I heard an elderly lady reading an excerpt from a book, finishing by attributing it to "Boy" - one of Dahl's autobiographical (and exceedingly good) books.
As I listened to his voice and the tales and details from his relatives and friends, I was reminded of the sheer genius of the man. His books are delightfully compelling and singular. I still remember the lingering afterglow I found myself immersed in after reading "Danny the Champion of the World" and a number of the other classics.
The idea that anyone can criticise, as some have, the anti-fairy tale ending to his books seems outrageous and just plainly stupid. As Dahl said in an interview excerpt, the ending of Witches is, philosophically, a very happy one as it emphasises and celebrates the love of the child and the grandmother above all material concerns. Of course, the concept was meant to surprise, even shock but the truth of human existence is often shocking to our often comforting delusional normality. And, let's face it, a child living as a mouse with his gran, is not exactly the stuff of disturbing nightmares - I wouldn't have thought so anyway. I remember being miffed, perhaps a little dismayed in a ineffable way, when I read the end as a child, but no psychological trauma.
Dahl was a master. I can only dream of having his wit, drive and skill. SO I will....
FF
footyfatigue@blogspot.com
I made this discovery by listening to a Radio 4 production on Dahl's life. I only caught the end. I had been discussing the brilliance of Dahl's books only hours before with my sisters and then, as I flicked through the wireless, I heard an elderly lady reading an excerpt from a book, finishing by attributing it to "Boy" - one of Dahl's autobiographical (and exceedingly good) books.
As I listened to his voice and the tales and details from his relatives and friends, I was reminded of the sheer genius of the man. His books are delightfully compelling and singular. I still remember the lingering afterglow I found myself immersed in after reading "Danny the Champion of the World" and a number of the other classics.
The idea that anyone can criticise, as some have, the anti-fairy tale ending to his books seems outrageous and just plainly stupid. As Dahl said in an interview excerpt, the ending of Witches is, philosophically, a very happy one as it emphasises and celebrates the love of the child and the grandmother above all material concerns. Of course, the concept was meant to surprise, even shock but the truth of human existence is often shocking to our often comforting delusional normality. And, let's face it, a child living as a mouse with his gran, is not exactly the stuff of disturbing nightmares - I wouldn't have thought so anyway. I remember being miffed, perhaps a little dismayed in a ineffable way, when I read the end as a child, but no psychological trauma.
Dahl was a master. I can only dream of having his wit, drive and skill. SO I will....
FF
footyfatigue@blogspot.com
Money, lots of it.
Does anyone know how I can earn some money without doing anything to demanding or tiresome?
Better still, does anyone want to give me money.
I promise, I'll pay you back - if I make it big in the world. This eventuality is inevitable because my destiny is for greatness. By investing in me, you'd be guarenteeing safe return of your money PLUS bonus. How safer can this be?
You trust me, don't you? You've read my blog and know that I'm not the sort to go and bet that Hull City will beat Manchester United 3-0 tomorrow, don't you? Betting - PAH! I've never touched the stuff. I'm pristene.
I'll take your money on trust and do something with it. Probably invest it in shares and climb that beanstalk, do battle with a giant of greed and come off a winner. I'd be rich, shower you with rewards for your belief in me when I was minuscule and then I'd turn my attentions to the needy of this world and try to sow seeds of humanity in the darkest corners of this civilization.
Go, on, drop me an email. Give whatever you wish to, nothing considered too small. (Actually, I think anything over £1 is fine). I really need the springboard.
I await your correspondence.
FF
Better still, does anyone want to give me money.
I promise, I'll pay you back - if I make it big in the world. This eventuality is inevitable because my destiny is for greatness. By investing in me, you'd be guarenteeing safe return of your money PLUS bonus. How safer can this be?
You trust me, don't you? You've read my blog and know that I'm not the sort to go and bet that Hull City will beat Manchester United 3-0 tomorrow, don't you? Betting - PAH! I've never touched the stuff. I'm pristene.
I'll take your money on trust and do something with it. Probably invest it in shares and climb that beanstalk, do battle with a giant of greed and come off a winner. I'd be rich, shower you with rewards for your belief in me when I was minuscule and then I'd turn my attentions to the needy of this world and try to sow seeds of humanity in the darkest corners of this civilization.
Go, on, drop me an email. Give whatever you wish to, nothing considered too small. (Actually, I think anything over £1 is fine). I really need the springboard.
I await your correspondence.
FF
Friday, 22 May 2009
Friday of the Week
Hi,
I'm sitting in my room with my stinky feet pressed onto my bed, my legs stretched. Things are a little messy but not as bad as usual. I have dismantled and buried a "pile" consisting of books and paper and folders. The remnants now lie in crevices under my desk and can't be seen by the casual viewer. It also means that my desk is liberated and stretches away like a feature-less desert (all 5o centimetres of the extension).
During my mild tidying, I have come across a small ring-bound pamphlet-book (like the student planners they provide at school) called "Oil, Gas and Troubled Waters" by Edwards Angell Palmer & Dodge. This was a votive offering from a law firm that I contacted. These law firms provide information in natty little booklets for clients and kindly, Edwards et al sent me it despite not being Tescos or Vladimir Putin. (Must have a few coppers spare, this firm).
I haven't read it. I meant to become acutely aware of the issues to fulfil my interest and so that I could spout knowledgeably in an interview with any law firm. Unfortunately, my interviews never got to the stage where I could discuss the merits of Russia continental shelf extension claims. In fact, they ended de jures much earlier - perhaps, when I was making the application...
So, now I have this very legal little handbook and I do not know what to do with it. To try and read would bring back too many painful memories of puzzled interviewers piercing stares of barely disguised doubt, as well as raising gruesome visions of what's to come. I've also kind of gone of the fad of Arctic Oil Race. After all, what is it but an issue that involves the future of our energy resources, climate change and world power re-alignment. Hardly, life and death!
I followed current affairs very closely for a while - not just for superficial employment reasons but I genuinely found it interestingly thought-provoking, honest. I've never been a junkie, my natural inclination being to know enough not to be considered a dunderhead but not enough so that scouring news reports scuppers my football reading obsession (I navigated 5 or 6 footy sites for news on a daily basis at one stage). So, with job interviews looming, improving my knowledge of current affairs was, I thought, essential.
And it is essential - but not just for jobs. To be aware of what the spectrum of fate has for the people of this scurrying planet is essential for the goodness of your character. The more you are aware of the depths of despair that exist and the great successes, the less you think of yourself, your little plot, as the centre of this universe. The more you empathise with others, the more self-less, sympathetic and nice, you become. Theoretically.
However, with the stomping interview disasters and what not, my eagerness to gaze up at the spewing crumbs has declined. I flopped back onto that sagging couch and stuffed my fist into the popcorn heap. So, I know enough to partake in the average conversation but not much more.
Perhaps, I will try to get myself into shape using this blog. I could try and write about currenty affairs stuff here and wax knowledgeable. Mmmm...have to think about that. Not sure if it's my thing, to be honest. Although, I don't have to worry about making this blog so eclectic so that it if falls apart and disappears as the separate shards are too thin to be visible...
Revision? What revision? Oh, yeah. Won't go into it but I've had a few problems. Will resume my revision after I've filled my belly.
Laters.
Footy fatigian.
I'm sitting in my room with my stinky feet pressed onto my bed, my legs stretched. Things are a little messy but not as bad as usual. I have dismantled and buried a "pile" consisting of books and paper and folders. The remnants now lie in crevices under my desk and can't be seen by the casual viewer. It also means that my desk is liberated and stretches away like a feature-less desert (all 5o centimetres of the extension).
During my mild tidying, I have come across a small ring-bound pamphlet-book (like the student planners they provide at school) called "Oil, Gas and Troubled Waters" by Edwards Angell Palmer & Dodge. This was a votive offering from a law firm that I contacted. These law firms provide information in natty little booklets for clients and kindly, Edwards et al sent me it despite not being Tescos or Vladimir Putin. (Must have a few coppers spare, this firm).
I haven't read it. I meant to become acutely aware of the issues to fulfil my interest and so that I could spout knowledgeably in an interview with any law firm. Unfortunately, my interviews never got to the stage where I could discuss the merits of Russia continental shelf extension claims. In fact, they ended de jures much earlier - perhaps, when I was making the application...
So, now I have this very legal little handbook and I do not know what to do with it. To try and read would bring back too many painful memories of puzzled interviewers piercing stares of barely disguised doubt, as well as raising gruesome visions of what's to come. I've also kind of gone of the fad of Arctic Oil Race. After all, what is it but an issue that involves the future of our energy resources, climate change and world power re-alignment. Hardly, life and death!
I followed current affairs very closely for a while - not just for superficial employment reasons but I genuinely found it interestingly thought-provoking, honest. I've never been a junkie, my natural inclination being to know enough not to be considered a dunderhead but not enough so that scouring news reports scuppers my football reading obsession (I navigated 5 or 6 footy sites for news on a daily basis at one stage). So, with job interviews looming, improving my knowledge of current affairs was, I thought, essential.
And it is essential - but not just for jobs. To be aware of what the spectrum of fate has for the people of this scurrying planet is essential for the goodness of your character. The more you are aware of the depths of despair that exist and the great successes, the less you think of yourself, your little plot, as the centre of this universe. The more you empathise with others, the more self-less, sympathetic and nice, you become. Theoretically.
However, with the stomping interview disasters and what not, my eagerness to gaze up at the spewing crumbs has declined. I flopped back onto that sagging couch and stuffed my fist into the popcorn heap. So, I know enough to partake in the average conversation but not much more.
Perhaps, I will try to get myself into shape using this blog. I could try and write about currenty affairs stuff here and wax knowledgeable. Mmmm...have to think about that. Not sure if it's my thing, to be honest. Although, I don't have to worry about making this blog so eclectic so that it if falls apart and disappears as the separate shards are too thin to be visible...
Revision? What revision? Oh, yeah. Won't go into it but I've had a few problems. Will resume my revision after I've filled my belly.
Laters.
Footy fatigian.
Thursday, 21 May 2009
What's the time?
5.00pm. The day of start of Real Revision and, guess what, I haven't started revising.
I am such a plank
Good day.
Footy fatigian.
I am such a plank
Good day.
Footy fatigian.
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
It's 10.39pm
Another day bites the dust. Thursday rolls in. Wednesday takes a bow. So, did I have a good day, full of splendour and relish? Erm.... not sure 'bout that.
Tomorrow, I start my revision SERIOUS. I have 1.5 weeks left and I've been dribbing and drabbing through revision. What I need now is to sit down and really get stuck into that work - otherwise, disaster looms like the Mary Celeste on the horizon (but, perhaps, more lethal).
Specifically, Thursday will bring the start of Personal Injury law revision. Road Traffic Accidents and stuff like that. It's boring - huh, what's that....? Oh, new 'positive me' wants a word: "It's not boring, it's just a matter of appreciating it, like anything else. All aspects of life can be appreciated, if in the right frame of mind."
Thanks, old chap, couldn't have put it better myself. I will try and appreciate it because it is life and if I can't appreciate life, what is there else?
I will still be blogging in the next few weeks. I have to say, I am getting disillusioned by the absence of any readers. "It's not disillusioning, it's just a matter of-" Okay, okay! I don't want a horde of readers to stroke my ego but, it would be nice to have a bit of feedback - get a discussion going - fend off abuse. I don't know.
Hellooooo. Hellloooooooooo. Anybody out there? Coooooooeeeeeeeeeeee.
I have a diary, by the way. I tiny one in which I am trying to bring order to my ways. However, I have grander plans. I want to start a real diary, recording my days and supplementing this blog. I don't want to subject every one of my random and, perhaps, trying diatribes/thoughts to the public. (Helllloooooo. ANyoooone?) I'm not even sure if this blog is working. I keep reading that the central tenets of good blogging is to focus on a particular area and make it coherent. Mine is anything but.
By the way, how am I meant to publicise my blog? I've submitted it to google and yahoo but somehow I get the feeling I should be doing more. I've read stuff about sitemaps, meta things, directories, pinging and stuff and, to be frank, I'm all at sea. My fault, really, because I haven't researched things thoroughly. My method of research is look something up on google, click the link, and then see a page of thick text and unfamiliar technicalities and abort the research there, with a hasty click of the X. Stupid, really. You don't learn much - except random meaningless words of these things. In my defence, though, one of my phobias about the internet is "disreputable" sources. Half the time, these websites giving info look two-bob and annoying - so I have to do the X-move.
My plans grow loftier, by the way. I want to write a book. I've got an idea but it is rather limpid. I admire people who can carry a vision. I have an idea, grow warm on its potential - for an hour - and then gloomily accept that the world is not ready for it - or it's a loud of codswallop which isn't worth wasting time over. It's one my fatal flaws that I can't maintain my enthusiasm for much. I'm the sort that needs other people's approval and encouragement to get me through. (Hint.)
But, yes, I will try to write this story - and see if it can sprout into a book. If I do ever get it going, I will inform the general public, if you so wish. The only thing is that I may find myself trying to do too much. My mind is like a pin-ball machine most of the times. Ramp up the speed and obstacles and my brain is like a crazed gymnast trying to escape a maze. Or the like.
That reminds me that I have noticed that I always jog or run up stairs. Why am I always rushing around but not getting much done. I really am an enigma -to myself, so what other people make of me... Slow down footy fatigian. Sl-o-w d-o-w-n. Deeeep Breaths. Again. Deeep Breaths.
Okay, I'm better. I was going to end today's blog there but, I think I ought to go on awhile. But, now I think about it, that'll do.
GOod night.
Footy Fatigian.
PS. Comments are welcome, even from cyber-ghosts with dirty fingernails.
Tomorrow, I start my revision SERIOUS. I have 1.5 weeks left and I've been dribbing and drabbing through revision. What I need now is to sit down and really get stuck into that work - otherwise, disaster looms like the Mary Celeste on the horizon (but, perhaps, more lethal).
Specifically, Thursday will bring the start of Personal Injury law revision. Road Traffic Accidents and stuff like that. It's boring - huh, what's that....? Oh, new 'positive me' wants a word: "It's not boring, it's just a matter of appreciating it, like anything else. All aspects of life can be appreciated, if in the right frame of mind."
Thanks, old chap, couldn't have put it better myself. I will try and appreciate it because it is life and if I can't appreciate life, what is there else?
I will still be blogging in the next few weeks. I have to say, I am getting disillusioned by the absence of any readers. "It's not disillusioning, it's just a matter of-" Okay, okay! I don't want a horde of readers to stroke my ego but, it would be nice to have a bit of feedback - get a discussion going - fend off abuse. I don't know.
Hellooooo. Hellloooooooooo. Anybody out there? Coooooooeeeeeeeeeeee.
I have a diary, by the way. I tiny one in which I am trying to bring order to my ways. However, I have grander plans. I want to start a real diary, recording my days and supplementing this blog. I don't want to subject every one of my random and, perhaps, trying diatribes/thoughts to the public. (Helllloooooo. ANyoooone?) I'm not even sure if this blog is working. I keep reading that the central tenets of good blogging is to focus on a particular area and make it coherent. Mine is anything but.
By the way, how am I meant to publicise my blog? I've submitted it to google and yahoo but somehow I get the feeling I should be doing more. I've read stuff about sitemaps, meta things, directories, pinging and stuff and, to be frank, I'm all at sea. My fault, really, because I haven't researched things thoroughly. My method of research is look something up on google, click the link, and then see a page of thick text and unfamiliar technicalities and abort the research there, with a hasty click of the X. Stupid, really. You don't learn much - except random meaningless words of these things. In my defence, though, one of my phobias about the internet is "disreputable" sources. Half the time, these websites giving info look two-bob and annoying - so I have to do the X-move.
My plans grow loftier, by the way. I want to write a book. I've got an idea but it is rather limpid. I admire people who can carry a vision. I have an idea, grow warm on its potential - for an hour - and then gloomily accept that the world is not ready for it - or it's a loud of codswallop which isn't worth wasting time over. It's one my fatal flaws that I can't maintain my enthusiasm for much. I'm the sort that needs other people's approval and encouragement to get me through. (Hint.)
But, yes, I will try to write this story - and see if it can sprout into a book. If I do ever get it going, I will inform the general public, if you so wish. The only thing is that I may find myself trying to do too much. My mind is like a pin-ball machine most of the times. Ramp up the speed and obstacles and my brain is like a crazed gymnast trying to escape a maze. Or the like.
That reminds me that I have noticed that I always jog or run up stairs. Why am I always rushing around but not getting much done. I really am an enigma -to myself, so what other people make of me... Slow down footy fatigian. Sl-o-w d-o-w-n. Deeeep Breaths. Again. Deeep Breaths.
Okay, I'm better. I was going to end today's blog there but, I think I ought to go on awhile. But, now I think about it, that'll do.
GOod night.
Footy Fatigian.
PS. Comments are welcome, even from cyber-ghosts with dirty fingernails.
Confidence
"They are able because they think they are able." Virgil
"To succeed in life, you need two things: ignorance and confidence." Mark Twain
I have often marvelled at how ordinary many successful people are. Take David Beckham. Not the stuff of greatness in my book but nonetheless hugely successful in sport and fame. I'm interested in sport here.
As all football fans will know, the man has some significant strengths - crossing, passing, stamina but he has a notable gap in his repertoire. He can't seriously run with the ball because he is slow and even immobile. So, there's no dazzling runs from him. Just plain passing. Accurate but plain.
In a game with much to do with sprinting, how has Beckham climbed such dizzying heights. He's earned moves to the world's biggest football clubs, earned millions and continues to enjoy success on the football pitch. To answer, I leave aside the esoteric elements of propaganda and hype and focus on Beckham's biggest mental strength, his confidence.
It is, in my opinion, Beckham's dazzling and durable confidence that makes him what he is. It sets him apart from Liam Lawrence, Darren Ambrose and David Bentley - all footballers with comparable objective football attributes to Becks. But Beckham expects to make the grade alongside superstars and believes he is amongst the best. The goal will go in, the pass will find the forward.
How and where he got this confidence is a question for the psychologists. It's a priceless thing - especially when matched with tireless work-rate. It makes the world of difference. There are so many hugely successful footballers who, on objective analysis, do not boast mesmeric ability, Gary Neville and Michael Owen to name another two. Their exceptional self-confidence differentiates themselves and enables them to reach great heights. Objectively, there is often little technical ability difference between a Premier League player and lower league footballer. The advantage is held in the head of the Premier league footballer. The lower league player, perhaps very gifted, does not BELIEVE that he is gifted, he feels inferior, worries about his capacity and therefore will never reach the heights of the confident.
Confidence is such a vital ingredient to achievement - in fact, the vital ingredient. Without confidence, you are suffocated by fear and worry which hinders most progress. You don't see the wider picture, you don't take that risky step, you can't perform the basics. All because you are wracked by debilitating fear of failure. The easiest tasks become enormously difficult. Fear breeds more damaging fear.
Confidence is about ignoring possibility of failure. Thus, it can be said that confidence is about being ignorant - intentionally or otherwise. If you do not care for your reputation, you are likely to be more confident. When you are unaware of the consequences, you concentrate on the task.
However, confidence in ignorance can make you selfish and ruthless. Is it possible to be humble, accepting your own limitations, but still be confident?
Maybe, there is a higher plane of self-belief, beyond being confident and ignorant. To accept that failure and success are facts of life and that life is to be appreciated, is to be rise above fear of failure without ignoring it.
If we fully understand failure, rather than ignore it, we are many times more confident. We get the best of both worlds. We are guided by the foreseeable consequences of our actions but we also accept that those consequences, whilst to be taken into consideration in our decision-making, cannot always be controlled. If we have lived according to our maxims of appreciating life (including other people) the consequences are not our problem. We have done all we can. We become free, empowered to live our lives without the trenchant fear of consequences.
My problem is that I am in a thrall to fear and its kaleidescope of consequences. It makes doing simple things difficult. I am a sort of Ade Akinbiyi or Emile Heskey - lack of belief in my ability defines my success and prevents the achievements that are out there. (That said, those guys do have more self-confidence than most to get to the top levels of English football - so the comparison is perhaps inappropriate - maybe I should go for....Gary Tomkigo (a guy, fictional, who never made it after being released by Slough United FC. Now blogs).
Somehow or other, I have to let go. Focus on making the right decisions for the right reasons (appreciating life) and let everything else go.
Easier said, written, blogged than done. ; )
Footy fatigian
@ footyfatigue@blogspot.com
"To succeed in life, you need two things: ignorance and confidence." Mark Twain
I have often marvelled at how ordinary many successful people are. Take David Beckham. Not the stuff of greatness in my book but nonetheless hugely successful in sport and fame. I'm interested in sport here.
As all football fans will know, the man has some significant strengths - crossing, passing, stamina but he has a notable gap in his repertoire. He can't seriously run with the ball because he is slow and even immobile. So, there's no dazzling runs from him. Just plain passing. Accurate but plain.
In a game with much to do with sprinting, how has Beckham climbed such dizzying heights. He's earned moves to the world's biggest football clubs, earned millions and continues to enjoy success on the football pitch. To answer, I leave aside the esoteric elements of propaganda and hype and focus on Beckham's biggest mental strength, his confidence.
It is, in my opinion, Beckham's dazzling and durable confidence that makes him what he is. It sets him apart from Liam Lawrence, Darren Ambrose and David Bentley - all footballers with comparable objective football attributes to Becks. But Beckham expects to make the grade alongside superstars and believes he is amongst the best. The goal will go in, the pass will find the forward.
How and where he got this confidence is a question for the psychologists. It's a priceless thing - especially when matched with tireless work-rate. It makes the world of difference. There are so many hugely successful footballers who, on objective analysis, do not boast mesmeric ability, Gary Neville and Michael Owen to name another two. Their exceptional self-confidence differentiates themselves and enables them to reach great heights. Objectively, there is often little technical ability difference between a Premier League player and lower league footballer. The advantage is held in the head of the Premier league footballer. The lower league player, perhaps very gifted, does not BELIEVE that he is gifted, he feels inferior, worries about his capacity and therefore will never reach the heights of the confident.
Confidence is such a vital ingredient to achievement - in fact, the vital ingredient. Without confidence, you are suffocated by fear and worry which hinders most progress. You don't see the wider picture, you don't take that risky step, you can't perform the basics. All because you are wracked by debilitating fear of failure. The easiest tasks become enormously difficult. Fear breeds more damaging fear.
Confidence is about ignoring possibility of failure. Thus, it can be said that confidence is about being ignorant - intentionally or otherwise. If you do not care for your reputation, you are likely to be more confident. When you are unaware of the consequences, you concentrate on the task.
However, confidence in ignorance can make you selfish and ruthless. Is it possible to be humble, accepting your own limitations, but still be confident?
Maybe, there is a higher plane of self-belief, beyond being confident and ignorant. To accept that failure and success are facts of life and that life is to be appreciated, is to be rise above fear of failure without ignoring it.
If we fully understand failure, rather than ignore it, we are many times more confident. We get the best of both worlds. We are guided by the foreseeable consequences of our actions but we also accept that those consequences, whilst to be taken into consideration in our decision-making, cannot always be controlled. If we have lived according to our maxims of appreciating life (including other people) the consequences are not our problem. We have done all we can. We become free, empowered to live our lives without the trenchant fear of consequences.
My problem is that I am in a thrall to fear and its kaleidescope of consequences. It makes doing simple things difficult. I am a sort of Ade Akinbiyi or Emile Heskey - lack of belief in my ability defines my success and prevents the achievements that are out there. (That said, those guys do have more self-confidence than most to get to the top levels of English football - so the comparison is perhaps inappropriate - maybe I should go for....Gary Tomkigo (a guy, fictional, who never made it after being released by Slough United FC. Now blogs).
Somehow or other, I have to let go. Focus on making the right decisions for the right reasons (appreciating life) and let everything else go.
Easier said, written, blogged than done. ; )
Footy fatigian
@ footyfatigue@blogspot.com
Tuesday, 19 May 2009
The Trees
Glowing bask of the day,
Flushed in surfeit of life,
Above and beyond,
The trees are eager in play.
See their mottled sway to green shade
and azure dream,.
They ripple before the restless breeze,
Having stood before the sparkle rain,
That harmony bent
to tender caress in silver sheen.
A rich applause has come and gone.
Now, they behold the travelling length of train,
Empty nosing of its way.
These trees have seen me too,
A wingless bird of the undergrowth,
Bound to its city crawl stay.
Are giant sculpture's honest face,
Too still for small creatures of the night?
Oh, if I could,
Learn my eyes through bracken and shoot,
To be amongst the skies of truth,
Truly tall for ecstatic play,
Every day would be this;
A glowing, basking sort of day.
Footy fatigian.
I was at the library this morning trying to get my restless butt to sit still and do some revision. I noticed, all of a sudden, that it was raining - that beautiful spider-web rain that is like a shadow of a torrent. Moments later, the sun came out, the sky shone blue and a line of trees blustered there way into my head.
Flushed in surfeit of life,
Above and beyond,
The trees are eager in play.
See their mottled sway to green shade
and azure dream,.
They ripple before the restless breeze,
Having stood before the sparkle rain,
That harmony bent
to tender caress in silver sheen.
A rich applause has come and gone.
Now, they behold the travelling length of train,
Empty nosing of its way.
These trees have seen me too,
A wingless bird of the undergrowth,
Bound to its city crawl stay.
Are giant sculpture's honest face,
Too still for small creatures of the night?
Oh, if I could,
Learn my eyes through bracken and shoot,
To be amongst the skies of truth,
Truly tall for ecstatic play,
Every day would be this;
A glowing, basking sort of day.
Footy fatigian.
I was at the library this morning trying to get my restless butt to sit still and do some revision. I noticed, all of a sudden, that it was raining - that beautiful spider-web rain that is like a shadow of a torrent. Moments later, the sun came out, the sky shone blue and a line of trees blustered there way into my head.
Monday, 18 May 2009
Cusp
I'm fast approaching a cross-roads in my life and I've got my eyes closed and my comfort blanket thrown over me. The fact is, I don't want to make the decision about employment and careers and all that. It just scares me, so I just pretend its not there.
So, I'm going to get a nasty surprise when I collide with said future.
My dream is to become an author and write my way out of an office and work colleagues and computers and all that stuff. Realistically though, I can't see it happening. Especially, as books do not materialise from nought. What else? Maybe it's time to secure the services of Adsense and blog my way to wealthdom... Do I have a single reader yet? ; (
What to do? I'm creative but lack strength of mind, tenacity and self-belief. I think that I'm going end up doing what I've made an art-form thus far, drift into something. A sad way to live but... well, I'll leave it at that for now.
Good night
Footy fatigian.
(I was quite surprised at my poems. They're the first I've written for a while and they seem alright. Annoyingly, though, when I re-read them, my pride prevents me from properly judging them objectively...grrr...damn ego, always bringing me down).
So, I'm going to get a nasty surprise when I collide with said future.
My dream is to become an author and write my way out of an office and work colleagues and computers and all that stuff. Realistically though, I can't see it happening. Especially, as books do not materialise from nought. What else? Maybe it's time to secure the services of Adsense and blog my way to wealthdom... Do I have a single reader yet? ; (
What to do? I'm creative but lack strength of mind, tenacity and self-belief. I think that I'm going end up doing what I've made an art-form thus far, drift into something. A sad way to live but... well, I'll leave it at that for now.
Good night
Footy fatigian.
(I was quite surprised at my poems. They're the first I've written for a while and they seem alright. Annoyingly, though, when I re-read them, my pride prevents me from properly judging them objectively...grrr...damn ego, always bringing me down).
Life after death
Stone of decay in my jaw,
Where sweet upon sweet sticks.
Clamped and stewed to mush to glue,
Gleaming the spirit in laugh on drool.
Enough, the needle ache,
The jaw's longing cud is empty sap.
A life addiction needs dismiss.
Let salt of cheek bud to bloom,
And wash grey grit of sugar through.
Toil and age made strings of the harp,
Fingers to draw music of life.
Yet, the harvest of crystal is rich-to-poor,
Stolen away by brush of hand,
Vanished to air by restless thought.
The prized crystal sits too frail of form,
Too fleeting to mound in currency.
No, nothing remains but enthroned sweet,
To overlord bows and bounty for ever.
At dark, whimsied hope sighs,
in cold breath.
If only hazy moons cycle fixed,
Rivers of salt would flow throughout.
Footy fatigian.
Sorry for being a bit morbid - just getting it out of my system...
Where sweet upon sweet sticks.
Clamped and stewed to mush to glue,
Gleaming the spirit in laugh on drool.
Enough, the needle ache,
The jaw's longing cud is empty sap.
A life addiction needs dismiss.
Let salt of cheek bud to bloom,
And wash grey grit of sugar through.
Toil and age made strings of the harp,
Fingers to draw music of life.
Yet, the harvest of crystal is rich-to-poor,
Stolen away by brush of hand,
Vanished to air by restless thought.
The prized crystal sits too frail of form,
Too fleeting to mound in currency.
No, nothing remains but enthroned sweet,
To overlord bows and bounty for ever.
At dark, whimsied hope sighs,
in cold breath.
If only hazy moons cycle fixed,
Rivers of salt would flow throughout.
Footy fatigian.
Sorry for being a bit morbid - just getting it out of my system...
Saturday, 16 May 2009
Saturday
Wind dares aloud through trees and the hover clouds that creak,
A battle rages aloft and what light strikes driven swords.
To join arms, risking all?
No, your path takes you through.
With peaceful shadows in the tunnels of mind,
You wade only to pause and to clip your satchel.
Beauty spilt, profusely stilled to your unsuspecting back,
Away you stride, honour of guilt,
Your work is done, knife adrift.
Footy fatigian.
This is a poem to represent the self-dissatisfaction I feel for not being able to see the wonder of life and for having let and continuing to let people close to me down by shirking true responsibilities and tough choices.
A battle rages aloft and what light strikes driven swords.
To join arms, risking all?
No, your path takes you through.
With peaceful shadows in the tunnels of mind,
You wade only to pause and to clip your satchel.
Beauty spilt, profusely stilled to your unsuspecting back,
Away you stride, honour of guilt,
Your work is done, knife adrift.
Footy fatigian.
This is a poem to represent the self-dissatisfaction I feel for not being able to see the wonder of life and for having let and continuing to let people close to me down by shirking true responsibilities and tough choices.
Thursday, 14 May 2009
It's gonna take time
My new resolution to appreciate the small things is going to take a bit of time.
Before I can try enjoying meniality, I am actually going to have to indentify meniality. My natural instinct, in 'auto-pilot' is to perform those everyday tasks blankly and quickly - getting them through as soon as possible.
I have noticed that when I am doing things like brushing my teeth, I am distantly frustrated at the time it is taking me and the impediment it represents to my tasks. But what tasks lie ahead - hardly the most life affirming - just breakfast, studying, talking etc.
So, whilst I have to appreciate the mundane, I need a reassessment of the deceptive-mundane, that is, the stuff that I overrate, the stuff that I hurry to, for no good reason. I need a new equilibrium, where all activities are seen in their true light.
One of the most important reassessments must be the one of myself. It is human nature to compare oneself and to derive a social status for yourself. But that is not what should motivate me. I shouldn't be motivated by earning the respect or admiration of others. That's not true pleasure. I should be actuated by a desire to appreciate life, live it to the max and be happy. Somehow, I need to shed myself of this trenchant cloak of vanity that hangs over me. Only then will I be strong and independent.
Before I can try enjoying meniality, I am actually going to have to indentify meniality. My natural instinct, in 'auto-pilot' is to perform those everyday tasks blankly and quickly - getting them through as soon as possible.
I have noticed that when I am doing things like brushing my teeth, I am distantly frustrated at the time it is taking me and the impediment it represents to my tasks. But what tasks lie ahead - hardly the most life affirming - just breakfast, studying, talking etc.
So, whilst I have to appreciate the mundane, I need a reassessment of the deceptive-mundane, that is, the stuff that I overrate, the stuff that I hurry to, for no good reason. I need a new equilibrium, where all activities are seen in their true light.
One of the most important reassessments must be the one of myself. It is human nature to compare oneself and to derive a social status for yourself. But that is not what should motivate me. I shouldn't be motivated by earning the respect or admiration of others. That's not true pleasure. I should be actuated by a desire to appreciate life, live it to the max and be happy. Somehow, I need to shed myself of this trenchant cloak of vanity that hangs over me. Only then will I be strong and independent.
Wednesday, 13 May 2009
Thought for the day
If we can't appreciate and enjoy the small, ordinary, regular things in life - how can we be happy? After all, it are these that make up the bulk of our daily existences.
I find brushing my teeth very trying. I pace around and try to complete the job in the least time possible without making my mouth a haven for bacterium. Nice.
Now I think about it though, I am going to have to brush my teeth for the rest of my life (twice a day) so I should really learn to enjoy the experience. It could brighten up my life no end.
I'll let you know tomorrow how my new entente cordiale with minutiae is going. My first target is to brush my teeth - happily.
Yours footy fatigian.
PS. That Tevez scored again. Apparently, it was an "incredible" goal. The fun never ends with that guy.
I find brushing my teeth very trying. I pace around and try to complete the job in the least time possible without making my mouth a haven for bacterium. Nice.
Now I think about it though, I am going to have to brush my teeth for the rest of my life (twice a day) so I should really learn to enjoy the experience. It could brighten up my life no end.
I'll let you know tomorrow how my new entente cordiale with minutiae is going. My first target is to brush my teeth - happily.
Yours footy fatigian.
PS. That Tevez scored again. Apparently, it was an "incredible" goal. The fun never ends with that guy.
Tuesday, 12 May 2009
Ferguson coy on Tevez
The news that Carlo Tevez may leave Manchester United FC has left the sports media gasping for air. What, with this news, Ronaldo's annoyance at getting substituted and the fact that Ferrari may not be racing cars around a circuit, it's a surprise that more people are not predicting the end of our present civilization as we know it.
Sorry to be facetious but Tevez is a scampering little gnasher of a footballer with the looks but not the true heroic qualities of Quasimodo (I doubt that he'd martyr himself for Nani). He is a decent enough footballer but, as with the majority, over-hyped to the extreme. He is not that good. I don't see him performing breathtaking skill - which is how I judge a "great" forward.
If he moves, he moves. Contrary to expectations, the equilibrium of the earth did not shatter on Beckham moving to Spain - or to USA - or to Italy. (Maybe the Americans wish it had). Football transfers really are not worth hyperventilating about - or even caring that much about. The media pump them up and desperately try to excite extreme emotions to...yup...make money.
Any half-educated, sane person, no matter how footy-loving, should not be overly concerned with ANY football transfer rumour.
I have a different take on the BBC's headline "Ferguson Coy On Tevez"
Sir Alex Ferguson has refused to comment on the rumours surrounding the extra-terrestrial origins of Carlos Tevez. Ferguson's failure to dismiss the story has only added fuel to the furnace of sensation that has engulfed the world's media and left football a long forgotten subject. Football may never be the same.
Last week a newspaper published incredible details about the Argentinian footballer, Carlos Tevez. The report, attributed to a mystery Man U insider, alleged that Tevez is a master of black magic and that he has been using these supernatural skills to aid his team. Amongst the most alarming of a mind-boggling set of accusations is the claim that Tevez owns a doll in the figure of the Arsenal manager, Arsene Wenger, which he ritually smacks with a variety of Noddy Books (Enid Blyton) and a copy of Silas Marner (George Eliot). The allegations claim that this is an act of voodoo black magic which has disbalanced the mind of Wenger into believing that butt-clenching prudence and a bunch of youngsters will bring him untold glory.
The allegations go on to claim that Tevez has been using his "brain energy" to manipulate the flight of the ball in matches. The famed Cristiano Ronaldo dipping free kick, it has been claimed, is actually the work of Tevez, as he sits on the sidelines with "bulging eyes" muttering feverishly and stroking his hair. These incredible claims seem to be the stuff of magical fiction - Harry Potter or Twilight - but the consequences for the game are beyond quantification. Cristiano Ronaldo is said to be "devastated" to hear that he was not responsible for the free kick goals. His agent has said that that Ronaldo has adopted black garments to reflect his state of mourning and not eaten for days and will be moving to Real Madrid.
The unearthly claims go on and on. It is said that Tevez, in a pique of frustration one day, made Dimitar Berbatov's shorts slip down as the Bulgarian was training. Remarkably, Berbatov is said to have happily continued to play with his boxer shorts proudly on show. In fact, reports suggest that he upped his game and actually broke into a trot, for a couple of minutes. Berbatov is said to have later cursed his choice of not wearing Y-fronts on that particular day. A request by to train without shorts again was subsequently turned down by Man U management.
This remarkable ability of Tevez has, it has been suggested, been hushed up by Alex Ferguson to gain an unfair advantage on the opposition. No-one knows the full extent to which Tevez has been using his shamanic nouse to promote his team's cause. The skills of magical ball manipulation and short-dropping, allegedly performed by Tevez, brings into serious question the legality of Tevez playing in a league of humans. FIFA are yet to comment but an investigation must be inevitable.
The story revives memories of the saga surrounding the legality of Tevez's loan move to West Ham. Former West Ham boss, Alan Pardew, last night warned that the eyes of the world are on the football authorities, "You know how it is, Man U and these bigger teams get the longest straw and get away with murder and worse. If the authorities let this go then the fans will be up in arms. This is a chance for the authorities to show that everyone is equal in the eyes and ears of the legislature." Ironically, an alien may actually be above the law - a theory which has been troubling Parliament in the last few days.
Alex Ferguson is said to be furious about the story hitting the media. As yet, the whistleblower remains unknown, but this may not be for long. Witness outside Old Trafford claimed to have seen some men carrying a rack and other "nasty" looking equipment into the building. This morning, Darren Fletcher was seen hobbling to his Ferrari apparently in great pain, aided by a black-eyed Paul Scholes. Rio Ferdinand, however, is said to have missed his appointment having wandered of on one of his thoughtful walks. Man U have ordered a search party to retrieve him. Meanwhile, reports from the AC Milan training ground say that David Beckham is in "high spirits".
This singular story has erupted at a time when Man U wanted complete focus on their objective of winning the Champions' League and Premier League. The hope for a quiet preparation has been blown out of the water. Manchester United are a club accustomed to being watched, the coming weeks, however, will take this scrutiny to an unprecedented level.
The footy fatigian will bring you the latest when we have it.
Sorry to be facetious but Tevez is a scampering little gnasher of a footballer with the looks but not the true heroic qualities of Quasimodo (I doubt that he'd martyr himself for Nani). He is a decent enough footballer but, as with the majority, over-hyped to the extreme. He is not that good. I don't see him performing breathtaking skill - which is how I judge a "great" forward.
If he moves, he moves. Contrary to expectations, the equilibrium of the earth did not shatter on Beckham moving to Spain - or to USA - or to Italy. (Maybe the Americans wish it had). Football transfers really are not worth hyperventilating about - or even caring that much about. The media pump them up and desperately try to excite extreme emotions to...yup...make money.
Any half-educated, sane person, no matter how footy-loving, should not be overly concerned with ANY football transfer rumour.
I have a different take on the BBC's headline "Ferguson Coy On Tevez"
Sir Alex Ferguson has refused to comment on the rumours surrounding the extra-terrestrial origins of Carlos Tevez. Ferguson's failure to dismiss the story has only added fuel to the furnace of sensation that has engulfed the world's media and left football a long forgotten subject. Football may never be the same.
Last week a newspaper published incredible details about the Argentinian footballer, Carlos Tevez. The report, attributed to a mystery Man U insider, alleged that Tevez is a master of black magic and that he has been using these supernatural skills to aid his team. Amongst the most alarming of a mind-boggling set of accusations is the claim that Tevez owns a doll in the figure of the Arsenal manager, Arsene Wenger, which he ritually smacks with a variety of Noddy Books (Enid Blyton) and a copy of Silas Marner (George Eliot). The allegations claim that this is an act of voodoo black magic which has disbalanced the mind of Wenger into believing that butt-clenching prudence and a bunch of youngsters will bring him untold glory.
The allegations go on to claim that Tevez has been using his "brain energy" to manipulate the flight of the ball in matches. The famed Cristiano Ronaldo dipping free kick, it has been claimed, is actually the work of Tevez, as he sits on the sidelines with "bulging eyes" muttering feverishly and stroking his hair. These incredible claims seem to be the stuff of magical fiction - Harry Potter or Twilight - but the consequences for the game are beyond quantification. Cristiano Ronaldo is said to be "devastated" to hear that he was not responsible for the free kick goals. His agent has said that that Ronaldo has adopted black garments to reflect his state of mourning and not eaten for days and will be moving to Real Madrid.
The unearthly claims go on and on. It is said that Tevez, in a pique of frustration one day, made Dimitar Berbatov's shorts slip down as the Bulgarian was training. Remarkably, Berbatov is said to have happily continued to play with his boxer shorts proudly on show. In fact, reports suggest that he upped his game and actually broke into a trot, for a couple of minutes. Berbatov is said to have later cursed his choice of not wearing Y-fronts on that particular day. A request by to train without shorts again was subsequently turned down by Man U management.
This remarkable ability of Tevez has, it has been suggested, been hushed up by Alex Ferguson to gain an unfair advantage on the opposition. No-one knows the full extent to which Tevez has been using his shamanic nouse to promote his team's cause. The skills of magical ball manipulation and short-dropping, allegedly performed by Tevez, brings into serious question the legality of Tevez playing in a league of humans. FIFA are yet to comment but an investigation must be inevitable.
The story revives memories of the saga surrounding the legality of Tevez's loan move to West Ham. Former West Ham boss, Alan Pardew, last night warned that the eyes of the world are on the football authorities, "You know how it is, Man U and these bigger teams get the longest straw and get away with murder and worse. If the authorities let this go then the fans will be up in arms. This is a chance for the authorities to show that everyone is equal in the eyes and ears of the legislature." Ironically, an alien may actually be above the law - a theory which has been troubling Parliament in the last few days.
Alex Ferguson is said to be furious about the story hitting the media. As yet, the whistleblower remains unknown, but this may not be for long. Witness outside Old Trafford claimed to have seen some men carrying a rack and other "nasty" looking equipment into the building. This morning, Darren Fletcher was seen hobbling to his Ferrari apparently in great pain, aided by a black-eyed Paul Scholes. Rio Ferdinand, however, is said to have missed his appointment having wandered of on one of his thoughtful walks. Man U have ordered a search party to retrieve him. Meanwhile, reports from the AC Milan training ground say that David Beckham is in "high spirits".
This singular story has erupted at a time when Man U wanted complete focus on their objective of winning the Champions' League and Premier League. The hope for a quiet preparation has been blown out of the water. Manchester United are a club accustomed to being watched, the coming weeks, however, will take this scrutiny to an unprecedented level.
The footy fatigian will bring you the latest when we have it.
Sunday, 10 May 2009
Reality TV meets Nike
Have you wondered what it is about following football (and sport generally) that makes it so addictive to some people?
To a non-football fan, the obsession does seem very peculiar. Yet, because football is a seemingly unavoidable part of the zeitgeist, nearly everyone grows to accept it as the norm - just as you might become inured to the fact that a random selection of noises and aggressive, misogynistic words, put to a beat, is considered popular music. If you do doubt the validity of football, you generally do it in private, away from the blaring trumpets of the football fraternity, in case you offend their sensitive souls.
Football and Celebrity Cooking Programmes
Football fans can find even the dullest of games watchable because they appreciate the difficulty of basic football skills. This is because many fans play the game. They can relate to, to a certain extent, what goes on on the pitch. By analysing and comparing their ability to those of the professionals they improve their knowledge (new vanities become possible) and can improve their own ability (even more vanities possible). A non-football fan neither appreciates the difficulty of, say, controlling a long ball nor cares to learn to perform or even appreciate the skill. Hence, the square pass is meaningless to them.
A helpful comparison of this "technical skill" interest of the football fan, is the cooking enthusiasts interest in celebrity cooking programmes. Unless you cook and appreciate the skill and effort (make-believe skill and effort, perhaps) you really won't find a celebrity cook compelling viewing. This "technical skill" interest of the football fan is the most valid reason for watching football. The excuses run dry from here.
Football and Reality TV:
One of the most compelling aspects of football to the fans is its episodic nature. We naturally want to know more, once we have a certain level of knowledge about something, especially when it involves gossip and high emotion. Why do people fall for two-penny reality tv shows with pathetic or even loathsome participants and a shoddy premise that would disappoint in a shanty town (and, usually, a host, who's perma tan bulging face wouldn't know a shanty town if one fell on it). It's all because we learn about the characters, their personalities, their objectives and we sympathise, detest, rage and speculate and we grow curious as to what will happen next. The curiosity and urge to speculate drives us onto the next episode and the next.
It's only once the final of "Longest Toenails 2009" has come and gone, the delirious winner announced and promptly forgotten, that we reflect - and realise the whole thing was tat. Meaningless, pointless, tat. The thing about football is that there is no end. A tournament ends, a season starts and so on. Football's backstory is interminable and the more the fan absorbs, the more they anticipate the future story-line, with its innumerable plot-lines, peddled and stewed by the media and other busy money-spinning speculators.
Football and Tribalism :
To a non-football fan, the obsession does seem very peculiar. Yet, because football is a seemingly unavoidable part of the zeitgeist, nearly everyone grows to accept it as the norm - just as you might become inured to the fact that a random selection of noises and aggressive, misogynistic words, put to a beat, is considered popular music. If you do doubt the validity of football, you generally do it in private, away from the blaring trumpets of the football fraternity, in case you offend their sensitive souls.
Football and Celebrity Cooking Programmes
Football fans can find even the dullest of games watchable because they appreciate the difficulty of basic football skills. This is because many fans play the game. They can relate to, to a certain extent, what goes on on the pitch. By analysing and comparing their ability to those of the professionals they improve their knowledge (new vanities become possible) and can improve their own ability (even more vanities possible). A non-football fan neither appreciates the difficulty of, say, controlling a long ball nor cares to learn to perform or even appreciate the skill. Hence, the square pass is meaningless to them.
A helpful comparison of this "technical skill" interest of the football fan, is the cooking enthusiasts interest in celebrity cooking programmes. Unless you cook and appreciate the skill and effort (make-believe skill and effort, perhaps) you really won't find a celebrity cook compelling viewing. This "technical skill" interest of the football fan is the most valid reason for watching football. The excuses run dry from here.
Football and Reality TV:
One of the most compelling aspects of football to the fans is its episodic nature. We naturally want to know more, once we have a certain level of knowledge about something, especially when it involves gossip and high emotion. Why do people fall for two-penny reality tv shows with pathetic or even loathsome participants and a shoddy premise that would disappoint in a shanty town (and, usually, a host, who's perma tan bulging face wouldn't know a shanty town if one fell on it). It's all because we learn about the characters, their personalities, their objectives and we sympathise, detest, rage and speculate and we grow curious as to what will happen next. The curiosity and urge to speculate drives us onto the next episode and the next.
It's only once the final of "Longest Toenails 2009" has come and gone, the delirious winner announced and promptly forgotten, that we reflect - and realise the whole thing was tat. Meaningless, pointless, tat. The thing about football is that there is no end. A tournament ends, a season starts and so on. Football's backstory is interminable and the more the fan absorbs, the more they anticipate the future story-line, with its innumerable plot-lines, peddled and stewed by the media and other busy money-spinning speculators.
Football and Tribalism :
Football is tribalistic. We become fans of clubs and all we care about, to a large extent, is our own success. The supporters of clubs form a community and the individual feels empowered to be part of this 'proud' entity, with its illustrious history. We celebrate manically when our team wins, despite not having contributed anything meaningfully to that success. We act as if we were integrally involved.
To stop supporting a club is to lose that sense of community and empowerment, which is why we may find it difficult to even contemplate giving it all up.
Football and Nike
Modern football is a commercial business of massive proportions. This means that branding is at the forefront. The idea of branding is to hype the product to the max. Forget rationality or truthfulness, boast every quality for your product that you can. So, a media organisation that sells a football product (live games on tv or newspapers) will sensationalise the game of football in a bid to manipulate the fan into believing that the next match is about life and death.
A football club will market itself as a super-aspirational source of coolness and success, if only you buy the shirt...attend the games...subscribe to the station etc. etc. Never mind that the players act like morons or aren't actually that good, its the deception that counts. The deception is that football is everything and footballers are gods.
So, if football is hardwired into the psyche as being cool, how can you resist it's allure? How can you deny that that goal was simply a fortunate long shot and not "a spectacular goal of sublime quality that must go down in the history of civilisation as a epoch making moment."?
No one's there to say, "hang on" it was just a goal, he's just a footballer - it's just a game.
SO there you are non-footy befuddled people. Why is football so popular and why are people infatuated with matches in which nothing happens for the majority of the time? It's because football is a Frankenstein monster hybrid of all that is addictive of Reality TV, Cooking Programmes, Designer Brands and Tribalism.
There is nothing wrong with you if you don't care about football (as you probably know). In fact, you are missing out on a particularly virulent strain of Reality TV-Celeb Cook-Designer Brand-Tribalism, so you are actually doing pretty well.
And I say this as a sufferer (a messed up one).
Saturday, 9 May 2009
Saturday was Premier League day
When I was younger, two or three years ago, Saturday was Premier League/football day. Everything was about the 3 O'Clock kick off and the 5pm results. I didn't even attend matches. From the comforts of my home, with my ear pressed to the radio, my footy obsession was exercised liberally. Never mind family, friends, life and existence - 5Live/Talksport was be all/end all.
I used to care so much for the fortunes of my beloved team. Nerves would jangle like billi-o. My intestines would be like a rubber-band ball. And, due to the nature of the team I support, invariably, the result would be disappointing and all that pent-up energy would come gushing out in a fire-brand of keyboard tapping.
Yup, I was (and kinda still am) a notorious Football Fan Forum/Messageboard Fiend. When my team (let's call them Hala Stream) suffered inglorious defeat, I would hit that messageboard like a typhoon, plundering out intense arguments to support my criticisms of the manager and the players. I'd whip into online scuffles with my fellow posters - and I had the advantage of never tiring of continuing the argument. Yup, I was one of those. Please forgive me.
But what was it all for. I think I developed the skill of constucting sound and convincing arguments. I reckon that I have got quite good at analysing and understanding football. But has forming an in-depth understanding of the psyche of Alan Green (crazy footy radio commentator) or learning to mimic Gerard Houllier (a rather rubbish French football manager) or generally becoming uber knowledgeable about football been really that useful?
Frankly, not really. It was all the excitable and gullible delusion of a youngster (which, in my defence, I was). I feel sorry for people who never reach some level of footy fatigue enlightenment, no matter how much inner turmoil it thrusts upon you. Without, footy enlightenment, you go through your life thinking that a game is life and that a roster of stupid millionaires (or rich men) is worthy of your worship and domination of your time, energy, emotions and happiness. Which is not that far off being wildly concerned and deeply moved by something like who is at No.1 of the Song Charts or the biggest movers and fallers of the FTSE 100.
I guess if your life is very depressing, it is attractive to suffer from a delusion, like being obsessed with a football team. It means that, now and again, you are happy - and that you have an interest. But, frankly, a delusion only papers over the chasmic cracks and the chickens will come home to roost, eventually.
However, let's be clear, football isn't the worst obsession you could have. Life generally is very unsatsifying and often boasts the same or similar foibles of sport. Yet, I think, in the end, true happiness (which I and most people are after) will only come from becoming truly aware of what does matter and what doesn't really. That's not to say you can't care about pointless stuff - but you need to remain emotionally aloof. I reckon.
So, in a way, when I'm blogging about football or sport, they can be treated as symbols for all the pointless stuff we do to escape from the reality of our lives. It's not just football or TV or chewing our finger nails that we need to put into perspective but EVERYTHING. Once we've done that, then are we taking the first steps to true happiness.
Thanks for reading this. It is only my second post, so please don't judge me too harshly...
PS Hala Stream are playing today. They haven't been faring to well this season and do really need the points to steer to safety.
I used to care so much for the fortunes of my beloved team. Nerves would jangle like billi-o. My intestines would be like a rubber-band ball. And, due to the nature of the team I support, invariably, the result would be disappointing and all that pent-up energy would come gushing out in a fire-brand of keyboard tapping.
Yup, I was (and kinda still am) a notorious Football Fan Forum/Messageboard Fiend. When my team (let's call them Hala Stream) suffered inglorious defeat, I would hit that messageboard like a typhoon, plundering out intense arguments to support my criticisms of the manager and the players. I'd whip into online scuffles with my fellow posters - and I had the advantage of never tiring of continuing the argument. Yup, I was one of those. Please forgive me.
But what was it all for. I think I developed the skill of constucting sound and convincing arguments. I reckon that I have got quite good at analysing and understanding football. But has forming an in-depth understanding of the psyche of Alan Green (crazy footy radio commentator) or learning to mimic Gerard Houllier (a rather rubbish French football manager) or generally becoming uber knowledgeable about football been really that useful?
Frankly, not really. It was all the excitable and gullible delusion of a youngster (which, in my defence, I was). I feel sorry for people who never reach some level of footy fatigue enlightenment, no matter how much inner turmoil it thrusts upon you. Without, footy enlightenment, you go through your life thinking that a game is life and that a roster of stupid millionaires (or rich men) is worthy of your worship and domination of your time, energy, emotions and happiness. Which is not that far off being wildly concerned and deeply moved by something like who is at No.1 of the Song Charts or the biggest movers and fallers of the FTSE 100.
I guess if your life is very depressing, it is attractive to suffer from a delusion, like being obsessed with a football team. It means that, now and again, you are happy - and that you have an interest. But, frankly, a delusion only papers over the chasmic cracks and the chickens will come home to roost, eventually.
However, let's be clear, football isn't the worst obsession you could have. Life generally is very unsatsifying and often boasts the same or similar foibles of sport. Yet, I think, in the end, true happiness (which I and most people are after) will only come from becoming truly aware of what does matter and what doesn't really. That's not to say you can't care about pointless stuff - but you need to remain emotionally aloof. I reckon.
So, in a way, when I'm blogging about football or sport, they can be treated as symbols for all the pointless stuff we do to escape from the reality of our lives. It's not just football or TV or chewing our finger nails that we need to put into perspective but EVERYTHING. Once we've done that, then are we taking the first steps to true happiness.
Thanks for reading this. It is only my second post, so please don't judge me too harshly...
PS Hala Stream are playing today. They haven't been faring to well this season and do really need the points to steer to safety.
Friday, 8 May 2009
Footy fatigue is here to stay.
My (revised) first post.
Why am I blogging? To establish a productive hobby after years of pointless ones.
What am I blogging? Stuff. Sometimes dystopian but not always
What am I blogging about? Not sure but footy (football) and fatigue will come into it. And, perhaps, misanthropy but not always.
When am I blogging? Regularly, I hope.
Will this project be a platform for bitter ramblings, dressed with failed attempts at drollness, rolled up in irksome zaniness? Sometimes. Although, I'll try to be genuine.
I will try to avoid straying into "smart-alec" self-indulgent "funny" pantness. I have to admit that in the past my writings from not inconsiderable oeuvre have entered this sad realm. It happens when I let me ego seize full control of my fingers, making me intent on trying to be cool. Sorry if it happens but I'll try and be sincere in my blogs.
Oh and why "footy fatigue"? Well, I have reached the existential crisis in my life where I have realised that professional football, and to some extent, all professional sports (my keen interest/obsession for many years) are stages of much greed, manipulation, selfishness, aggression, idiocy and plain simple tedium.
Playing football can be fun and is healthy. Following professional football is an exercise in egotism, delusion and gullibility. That's not to say that there are no positives in supporting a football club but being "a fanatic" is, I think, a very bad thing to be.
I am glad to say that I am not a fanatic - although, I still can't sever that emotional tie with the club I support and the obsessive need to know scores and the latest footy stories still haunts me. In this blog, I hope to express my dissatisfactions with football and maybe help those who also suffer from the footy fatigue to come to terms with themselves.
But I won't just be bleating on about football. Trust me, I'm better than that.
Yours
footy fatigian
Why am I blogging? To establish a productive hobby after years of pointless ones.
What am I blogging? Stuff. Sometimes dystopian but not always
What am I blogging about? Not sure but footy (football) and fatigue will come into it. And, perhaps, misanthropy but not always.
When am I blogging? Regularly, I hope.
Will this project be a platform for bitter ramblings, dressed with failed attempts at drollness, rolled up in irksome zaniness? Sometimes. Although, I'll try to be genuine.
I will try to avoid straying into "smart-alec" self-indulgent "funny" pantness. I have to admit that in the past my writings from not inconsiderable oeuvre have entered this sad realm. It happens when I let me ego seize full control of my fingers, making me intent on trying to be cool. Sorry if it happens but I'll try and be sincere in my blogs.
Oh and why "footy fatigue"? Well, I have reached the existential crisis in my life where I have realised that professional football, and to some extent, all professional sports (my keen interest/obsession for many years) are stages of much greed, manipulation, selfishness, aggression, idiocy and plain simple tedium.
Playing football can be fun and is healthy. Following professional football is an exercise in egotism, delusion and gullibility. That's not to say that there are no positives in supporting a football club but being "a fanatic" is, I think, a very bad thing to be.
I am glad to say that I am not a fanatic - although, I still can't sever that emotional tie with the club I support and the obsessive need to know scores and the latest footy stories still haunts me. In this blog, I hope to express my dissatisfactions with football and maybe help those who also suffer from the footy fatigue to come to terms with themselves.
But I won't just be bleating on about football. Trust me, I'm better than that.
Yours
footy fatigian
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