I remember when the West Indies came to England in 1984, because they really messed up my summer. I was at my cricket-obsessed peak at this stage, and I was bursting with pride about the England team. We had the best players in the world - Botham! Lamb! Big Bob Willis! How could we fail?!
Me and my slightly flared cricket trousers waited with breathless anticipation and I rushed off to Old Trafford to see a one dayer. As expected we reduced the Windies to about 80 for 7. This was so easy!
Viv Richards then played the best one-day innings ever, 189 not out, and we lost massively.
Then the Test series, and the Windies smashed us into tiny, humiliating smithereens, played their very loud horns, had the coolest wrist bands and left. 5-0 defeat.
I was left bereft, emotionally crushed, and I also wore a really bad jumper to the School Disco that year and everyone laughed at me very deeply.
It was a low point, to say the least.
*******
But now it's all changed. And I've changed too. West Indies cricket is dying. I am taking no pleasure at all from this present series. I want the West Indies to come back, the magnificent, proud force of old. But they won't. Not without help.
Instead the ICC sit and watch and talk about giving money to Zimbabwean cricket, as though propping up a murderous regime will somehow help develop the game - and as though this is even the point. It makes me so angry the way priorities get mixed up.
West Indies cricket is dying on its feet. The ICC must deal with this, yet they do nothing. People are dying in Zimbabwe every day from a disgusting despot, and our politicians sit and talk, and think only of legacy.
Thursday, 31 May 2007
Wednesday, 30 May 2007
Hello / Goodbye
Goodbye: uni card, text books, dodgy lecture theatres, 10am starts, statistics, £2 lunches, trainers, curiosity, Aldgate East tube station, wondering what the hell I'm doing, time to read, time to think, musty exam halls.
Hello: staff pass, suit, ironing, billable hours, timesheets, expenses, wondering what the hell I'm doing, rush hour, words like 'client facing', clients, the Friday feeling, the Monday feeling.
Hello: staff pass, suit, ironing, billable hours, timesheets, expenses, wondering what the hell I'm doing, rush hour, words like 'client facing', clients, the Friday feeling, the Monday feeling.
Sunday, 27 May 2007
Placebos
God I'm tired. And bored. And now I'm ill too. No running for 3 days. No fun of any kind. It's all been outlawed. I ache all over, including mentally. Yes that's right I'm having a moan - it's my sodding blog.
Anyway, placebos. Did you know that placebos really are medically proven? That they can even reverse the effect of an active drug? That they can be 50% as powerful as morphine in terms of pain relief?
To a very large extent this depends on the context in which the drug is given, and your confidence arising from that context. In other words, a nice clean hospital with a nice understanding Doctor who shares your taste in music and fine wine and the placebo effect will be strong.
And talking of context and drugs, tolerance. It's to do with the body producing a compensatory and preparatory effect in the opposite direction of the drug. How weird is that? In other words, heroin addicts taking their regular dose in a strange location are at far greater risk of overdosing than in their regular squat with sole piss-stained sofa. That piss-stained sofa helps the body prepare for its regular hit of smack! Useful.
The description of heroin incidentally was 'initial euphoria followed by profound sense of well-being'.
Oh God whatever. I want a placebo now. I want a hospital. I want my Mum. Failing that, just pass that fucking heroin.
Anyway, placebos. Did you know that placebos really are medically proven? That they can even reverse the effect of an active drug? That they can be 50% as powerful as morphine in terms of pain relief?
To a very large extent this depends on the context in which the drug is given, and your confidence arising from that context. In other words, a nice clean hospital with a nice understanding Doctor who shares your taste in music and fine wine and the placebo effect will be strong.
And talking of context and drugs, tolerance. It's to do with the body producing a compensatory and preparatory effect in the opposite direction of the drug. How weird is that? In other words, heroin addicts taking their regular dose in a strange location are at far greater risk of overdosing than in their regular squat with sole piss-stained sofa. That piss-stained sofa helps the body prepare for its regular hit of smack! Useful.
The description of heroin incidentally was 'initial euphoria followed by profound sense of well-being'.
Oh God whatever. I want a placebo now. I want a hospital. I want my Mum. Failing that, just pass that fucking heroin.
Friday, 25 May 2007
No Justice
I had the chance to go to the European Cup Final and eventually decided not to, mainly because I had not attended any of the previous rounds, and would inevitably have taken the seat of someone who had, but could afford to pay less. That to me is not the action of someone who loves Liverpool FC.
Having read the press and spoken to two (separate) mates who did go, that looks like a good decision.
Rumours of charging barricades and knowingly using fake tickets now appear to be true.
This is a difficult thing to have to admit, but it seems the behaviour of some of the Liverpool fans was a disservice not just to the club, but to the memory of the 96 supporters who died at Hillsborough.
I have no doubt that the situation was handled badly - though not as bad as at Hillsborough - but we must be responsible enough to ensure the authorities are not given the chance to cock it up. We must acknowledge there is a problem with very large games abroad and the culture of 'getting in' no matter what. It is a very serious situation, which could easily end in another disaster.
Of course there is a problem with ticket allocation and with the policing, but we must look at ourselves too.
This club is about more than football. It is the greatest club in the world, and it does have the best fans in the world, in any sport. But this isn't a right. We must remain vigilant. Hillsborough is, and must always be, part of our heritage and we must never forget what really happened that day (see below). But if the memory is to be truly honoured we must also be vigilant of our own fans' behaviour at all times. Unless we acknowledge that we have a problem with the European-adventure-get-in-at-all-costs type of fan then we risk debasing this great club, and the memory of the 96.
Having read the press and spoken to two (separate) mates who did go, that looks like a good decision.
Rumours of charging barricades and knowingly using fake tickets now appear to be true.
This is a difficult thing to have to admit, but it seems the behaviour of some of the Liverpool fans was a disservice not just to the club, but to the memory of the 96 supporters who died at Hillsborough.
I have no doubt that the situation was handled badly - though not as bad as at Hillsborough - but we must be responsible enough to ensure the authorities are not given the chance to cock it up. We must acknowledge there is a problem with very large games abroad and the culture of 'getting in' no matter what. It is a very serious situation, which could easily end in another disaster.
Of course there is a problem with ticket allocation and with the policing, but we must look at ourselves too.
This club is about more than football. It is the greatest club in the world, and it does have the best fans in the world, in any sport. But this isn't a right. We must remain vigilant. Hillsborough is, and must always be, part of our heritage and we must never forget what really happened that day (see below). But if the memory is to be truly honoured we must also be vigilant of our own fans' behaviour at all times. Unless we acknowledge that we have a problem with the European-adventure-get-in-at-all-costs type of fan then we risk debasing this great club, and the memory of the 96.
Thursday, 24 May 2007
YNWA
Liverpool lost in the Champions League Final this evening. Having outplayed Milan for most of the first half, they fell behind, and were then punished again on the break before scoring a late consolation.
In brighter news, you'll never walk alone.
In brighter news, you'll never walk alone.
Monday, 21 May 2007
Eve of the Big One
So here we are. It's the evening before my second degree-level statistics exam in 3 months and the time where I wonder how I ever got myself into this mess. It's not the maths it's the conceptual stuff I struggle with. I mean, how does Rsquare change resemble a semi partial correlation? Can anyone tell me? Actually, can anyone tell me?
Anyway, it's foot to the floor tonight. Talking of feet and floors, just done my run...new record round park of 16:38. Feeling very pleased.
I'm hoping the analogy of running performance and general performance holds.
I love you all like prize winning micro art.
Anyway, it's foot to the floor tonight. Talking of feet and floors, just done my run...new record round park of 16:38. Feeling very pleased.
I'm hoping the analogy of running performance and general performance holds.
I love you all like prize winning micro art.
Sunday, 20 May 2007
Enough
with the lesbians I hear you say. Alright. It's just, you know, exciting. And I am a Tiger.
I tell you what else is exciting, coming back to London. I've been in Liverpool for a while and whilst I love it with all my heart, it feels like I am trapped in some suburban nightmare when I'm at my Mum's. It's a place where people actually care about what next door are doing with their petunias, TV only has 5 channels and people still write down phone messages on the fridge.
My Mum is really becoming a powerful Christian. And my Stepdad continues to turn into a sort of full time gambler, without the spiralling fixation with drink, drugs and high class prostitutes. He likes a late night whiskey though and loves a good swear. It is possible that he is turning into the anti-Christ and my Mum is the risen daughter of Jesus and that the the ultimate battle between good and evil is being fought out in some sort of modern morality play in a semi just outside Liverpool.
But life there is so different, and it really feels a bit suffocating. I think because it reminds me of being so bored growing up, waiting for the next cricket match to begin as the sun baked down on the concrete alleyway next to our house and afternoons went on for days.
Saw my Grandparents. My Grandad was on good form. "What was your last exam?" "Occupational psychology". "Oh I see. (Without pausing) Well, better than Constipational Psychology I suppose".
Quite.
I tell you what else is exciting, coming back to London. I've been in Liverpool for a while and whilst I love it with all my heart, it feels like I am trapped in some suburban nightmare when I'm at my Mum's. It's a place where people actually care about what next door are doing with their petunias, TV only has 5 channels and people still write down phone messages on the fridge.
My Mum is really becoming a powerful Christian. And my Stepdad continues to turn into a sort of full time gambler, without the spiralling fixation with drink, drugs and high class prostitutes. He likes a late night whiskey though and loves a good swear. It is possible that he is turning into the anti-Christ and my Mum is the risen daughter of Jesus and that the the ultimate battle between good and evil is being fought out in some sort of modern morality play in a semi just outside Liverpool.
But life there is so different, and it really feels a bit suffocating. I think because it reminds me of being so bored growing up, waiting for the next cricket match to begin as the sun baked down on the concrete alleyway next to our house and afternoons went on for days.
Saw my Grandparents. My Grandad was on good form. "What was your last exam?" "Occupational psychology". "Oh I see. (Without pausing) Well, better than Constipational Psychology I suppose".
Quite.
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