The injured shoulder meant a week and a bit confined to barracks. Although some of that time was spent getting to and from doctor’s surgeries and hospitals, the majority was spent in front of the TV or in the sunshine. Some observations from my time off…
Good to get the chance to watch most of the action from the World Athletics Championships and the performances of Usain Bolt. The bloke is a phenomenon and while I usually get turned off a sport (golf) by one man’s dominance over the field, this is different. In the current world, no-one should be able to touch him. I always thought Michael Johnson’s 200m record was the Beamon of the track. I was wrong.
Just how many price comparison websites are there, and are they the sole source of the Digital channel’s advertising revenue. While Compare The Meerkat has some sort of amusement factor, the tosser in the Go Compare advert (the one wearing the poweder blue sweater and who jumps into the monitor) needs to be terminated forthwith. He goes beyond annoying, and is certainly not the sort of twat who helps an injured patient.
Just how many property shows are there on the bloody telly. For chrissake, I hope all these pricks go bust in this property slump and show that there is no easy way to make lots of money by adding little or no value. Again, blood pressure up as some wanker decides whether he wants the £500k barn conversion or the £520k town house near good schools.
Got to watch House of Cards while on my leave, and it really is the business. Ian Richardson is just superb as Francis Urquhart and while the plot seems to have thinned with age, it still more than meets the mark for a DVD purchase. I still have the other two parts, To Play The King and The Final Cut to watch, and given my increasingly worrying OCD tendencies, I won’t watch them for a while so that I always have something I need to do in the future. It took me a year and a half to watch Last King of Scotland, even though it had been on Sky, when I bought the DVD. I can be strange.
I have never seen a dog more fascinated by water.
If you think Big Brother is bad, please avoid the following. Charm School with Sharon Osbourne. Rock of Love with Brett Michaels (Is that his name? He was out of Poison, of “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” fame). Shot At Love with Tila Tequila. I make no further comment.
To the people who sold me my camera battery – the damn thing took around 30 photos before flunking out. What sort of crap are you selling? My old battery still takes nearly 100, so why is it the newer gear is so awful.
I am following the US healthcare debate with glee. Fox News does nothing else but bang on about it. While I know our NHS has many failings, it does the best it can (I got an X-ray straight away, my waiting times were not too bad, and I have an orthopedics appointment in short order) especially when you consider some of the absolute muppetry you have to put up with. When I was queuing at Lewisham Hospital last Monday, a bloke in front, who spoke little English, presented the receptionist in Accident and Emergency with a solicitor’s letter. While there were people on crutches, people with blood pouring out of head injuries, and yes, correspondents with arms hanging out of their shoulder sockets (dramatic effect), this numpty was trying to get Injury Lawyers For You action. “You must sign. Say I was here 11 hours to be seen” – the receptionist did very well not to tell the bloke to “Foxtrot Oscar”, and at one point I thought the drunk on crutches was going to sort him out. Meanwhile an ambulance patient was waiting to be admitted as this bloke tried to milk the state of a few quid for his time.
Ah well…enough for now. Back at work, and the days just fly by… and for the millionth time “I WASN’T THERE LAST NIGHT”.
“Everyone outside top four are aiming for the same thing – I think Man City are better equipped to do that quicker than Everton and that’s why I’m here”
Of course, the reputed hike in his salary, nice signing on bonus and other assorted goodies had little to do with his move, his sulk and his temper tantrums. It was always about challenging for honours. Of course….
Just another footballer, insulting our intelligence.
But thanks for asking. I’ve been to that particular fixture before and I find the whole rigmarole, the whole charade tiresome and as predictable as it could possibly be. When sports journos come on and say they are “shocked” they are either lying or have been living in a darkened room for the past 100 years. However, what it does allow all football journos to do is to allow them to have a stab (no pun intended) at the old Wilfred Owen game, and become war correspondents, if just for one day… “I saw scenes of horror….” blah blah blah.
As Talking Heads once said “Same as it ever was, same as it ever was”. WindyBricks will revel in the “kudos” and in the same breath get outraged at the terrible media coverage. Occidental Cured Pork will get off pretty scott free as they are the media darlings and the FA will lift up the carpet and gently sweep the pitch invasions under it. The consequences for away supporters of WindyBricks may be the main tangible impact – there goes Dog Chains away fellows – and we’ll have the old Crimewatch UK photos trying to get the “ringleaders”. The more outrageous talking heads can and will use the invective to provoke a meathead response – I well recall Simon Bates after the Play Off row a decade and a half ago having a real tear up. Yes, Simon Bates! The idiots will ring in to reinforce stereotypes.. same as it ever was….
We could play phrase bingo.. how many times will we see
“We thought we’d left this sort of thing behind”
“Wherever [WindyBricks] go for a big game, trouble follows”
A subluxation of the right shoulder, and the pretty nice pain I had to go with it, has rendered the blog stationary for the past couple of weeks. I’m still getting a bit of grief from the top of the arm as I type (and when swotting moths) but it is much more tolerable and hence I imagine I’ll be getting on the blog bandwagon soon. I have an appointment on Thursday to map out what needs to be done to the muscle damage I seem to have sustained from a cricket match two weeks ago (doc said I should avoid throwing et al for a couple of months), and I’ll know a bit more from there. At least I can sleep at night.
My best wishes to Adelaide Exile who I understand has suffered a much worse injury than mine which will keep him out of football for a lot lot longer. I know the recovery will be a long one, mate, but all the best.
WindyBricks play Occidental Cured Pork tonight, and in all seriousness, I really can’t be bothered with it. I’m not going, which means I’m not real Windy in their eyes, and after the game in 2003, I really have no desire to be put through the dry run of a police state to watch a meaningless cup match (which it is, in the whole scheme of things). Others are welcome to their excitement and anticipation. I’m not one of them. Since I last corresponded we have beaten Matt Damon’s Gob 4-0 in the PissPoor Lager Cup, had a dull draw against Sandy’s Automobile, a 2-0 win over Ancient Cured Pork (Fit), and a goal-less draw against The Used Car Salesman from Essex. We remain unbeaten, having conceded just one goal with both our main centre-backs unfit. It isn’t a bad start.
The Red Sox hold a tenuous grip on the wildcard place for the MLB play-offs, but while many look at Texas as the threat, in the back windscreeen are the Rays. They worry me, because we have a lamentable record against them in recent times. The Red Sox are in the middle of a brutal part of their schedule, and still have to play Tampa home and away (I believe), New York (away) and Los Angeles Angels (home) before season’s end. The offense seems to be hitting a little more consistently, but now Beckett has had two poor starts on the bounce and the distress signals are beginning to be seen. That said, the American correspondents aren’t panicking, but that is precisely what I can do.
So, an interesting couple of weeks dealing with my first really tricky sports injury in my 40 years on this earth, and of course, missing some of the Ashes test I had tickets for was tough, but hopefully on the road back to recovery now and blogging will pick up again in the near future.
I injured my right arm on Tuesday (well shoulder actually) so typing with left arm only. Blogging is going to be light as a consequence. I am sure you will all survive.
But can someone please explain to me, and I am a rational human being, how allowing your child to be killed carries a minimum sentence of only five years, and being the main perpetrator of the death of a child gets you just a minimum of 12.
The woman in the Baby P case will be just 33 when she gets out. Presuming she is given anonymity and protection she will be able to breed some more, and when there are people in this world desperate for kids there just seems no justice in this. I’m not in to petty retribution for the sake of it, but how, when she has shown such abject disregard for human life should she be able to have another go at it.
I am not here to put on a morality show, or get all righteously indignant. But it seems to me that the sentence is unduly lenient, and even if they are indeterminate, a minimum sentence keeping the mother inside until she is past child bearing age, for the sake of any future poor kid born to this woman, seems appropriate to me.
England getting humped in the test match, Boston going 24 innings without a run against the Yankees (well at time of writing we are 5-0 down in the 9th with one out – so it is 23 innings at the moment), and only the WindyBricks keeping any semblence of joy with a 1-1 drawn down south. James Black Lace soundalike impressed in the midfield, and I liked the letterless supermarket up front – once he sharpens up he’ll be very dangerous.
Let us hope there are more glad tidings coming up.
It could be worse – I could be an England cricket fan, who loves the Red Sox, and a supporter of the only football club in Norfolk.
I’m really not sure what is more bizarre. The song, or the beloved’s video capture of the bizarre goings on. Be warned, midway through the first clip, you will get neck ache….
Michael Kay has me and the beloved divorced. A Yankee male and his Red Sox partner walking outside Yankee Stadium.. “a relationship doomed to fail” sniffed the twat. Why the hell have we got the YES feed for this game. They make gracelessness an art form.
It appears after a hopeless run of starts Boston have cut their losses on the Smoltz gamble and designated him for assignment – in football parlance, he’s been given a free transfer – as he shows no signs of bringing anything near a major league level of pitching to the Red Sox. This hall of famer went to the well once too often and suddenly Boston’s failure to capture Halliday last week looks even more concerning. Another reclamation project has failed, and now Boston need to give serious thought to how the rest of the season’s rotation pans out. I’m hoping I am wrong, but this season has 2006 all over it – the injuries are starting to bite, the pitching is fading and a long series against the Yankees could turn the season sour very early.
We need a Josh Beckett start tonight to start correcting this sinking ship.
Ah… the smell of plastic on manicured grass, the hurly burly of diving prima donnas and moaning managerial staff. The cut and thrust of well thought out meaningful argument descending into “eff you” and “not the windybricks I used to know”. It can only mean another season of Division Three football at the novel Leslie Grantham and the fortunes of the WindyBricks will ease into my blog yet again.
For the third year in a row we start the campaign on the road – this time at the Titanic’s Departure FC who quite comically commence proceedings 10 points below us. We have no centre-backs to speak of as No Nutritional Value wants to up his calorie count with some Championship fibre, and Stefan Dennis’s foot has buggered up – Don’t it make you feel good indeed! So we start the season with a couple of new signings – one a rehashed loanee in the Correctly Costed Argonaut, and the other a supermarket from Stevenage, albeit with a letter dropped off his signage. A lot will rest on him and The Great City of the Jacksons to score the goals to put us up with the division’s best, but one can’t help but thinking that the Overcoat has missed a trick and had us standing still when others about the place are improving. Pre-season went well, though, so no need for too much pessimism yet.
This morning, after a restless, painful night fighting the sands of time as my body gave its view on a forty year old chunkster pretending he can still play cricket, I awoke to find out that the Sox had been handed their lunches in a 13-6 beatdown in the Bronx, and that it was a dank, grey cloudy morning to match my mood.
And then, I switched on BBC. First we had a story that the TUC wanted to ban high heels. On came a podiatrist to say they weren’t banning them, they wanted to offer women a “healthy choice”. When the government and its apparatchiks start offering me things which include the words “healthy” and “choice”, I am bolting the door and getting out my shotgun. Because we all know where that road leads, and choice isn’t the word I’d use to describe it. The only thing missing is the “voluntary” code of conduct, which surprisingly turns very “involuntary” in a short space of time. As a defender for high heels, they dragged out a past winner of the Apprentice (female) from the rolodex, who gave as vacuuous a defence as one could muster (did Michelle Dewberry really win, or has she just become an airhead overnight) against one of the smiling assassins of killjoy health fascists this regime seems to have grown from a pretty rich brainwashed stock. No. If a woman wants to wear fucking high heels, let them. If they don’t. Don’t worry about it. Fuck your choices, and your healthy options.
Next up (or was it before – they all segue into one) was my favourite journalist / reporter Robert Peston. I have to say I am incapable of listening to him. He has my back up in a millisecond, my rage burning quicker than a Usain Bolt pick-up phase, and the vitriol spews forth like Mount Tambora in 1815. What is it about the condescending, stuttering, patronising, odious twerp that I can’t stand. Perhaps its the way he explains simple issues as if they are the knowledge of him and him alone. I would understand what you were on about Peston if you didn’t stutter and sneer your fucking answers, pausing at all the wrong places, as if you’ve been infused with some gravitas from somewhere. You may have had your nice source to put you where you are now, but he’s never stopped you being an odious twerp, and your report may one day have the desired impact on me, as an insignificant critic, of blowing my fucking head off in rage. Against the wall you go. And don’t let him have a last word. He’ll stutter it it it it it it it it it it it it before you know it and your head will explode.
And just as the breathing came back to normal… “Over to [whoever] at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival”. Oh my fucking stars. Please God no. The reporter, whoever it was, then handed over to two white blokes who went on some dismal fucking rap/poetry about Breakfast News. These two really should have been incinerated before a syllable came from their lips. What BBC prick thought, after Peston and high heels, to let these two fucking students loose on our screens. If I had my way I’d napalm Edinburgh and take all these pricks with the firestorm that would ensue. I am very much with the Daily Mash on this one.
I didn’t stick around for the eukelele orchestra. Ripping my eyeballs out might have been less painful.
Ah yes, maybe I should get the clip of Animotion’s finest, I mean only, hit up again. This time I am looking at a website called Boston Dirt Dogs.
Let me give a little background briefing for the uninitiated. When baseball was on its knees after a damaging strike in 1994, the authorities took a casual approach to steroids in their sport and allowed people wo grow unfeasibly large muscles without the necessity for piss tests. As a result, a home run record that stood since 1961 was beaten by two people who had taken advantage of that lax regime and bulked themselves up. Their names, Sammy Sosa and the then record setter Mark McGwire. People flocked to the stadia to watch these two, but others were also hitting enormous amounts of homers and the game became a draw again. People cared more for that than a dull Yankee dynasty.
The best player in baseball at this time was probably Barry Bonds. According to various scribes, despite being an amazing all-round player, he hated the fact that these two bulkers had smashed the home run record and been given plaudits and pleasantries and fame that outstripped his. So if he couldn’t beat them, he joined them. He bulked up, took the drugs, according to Game Of Shadows, and promptly beat the record, and to boot, the total home runs in a career mark set by Henry Aaron.
Now Bonds was a “bad man”. Not the sort the world wanted holding a prestigious record. McGwire was a decent media personality, and Sammy Sosa the sort of unthreatening black man America doesn’t mind in the slightest, and he smiled a lot. Bonds was a surly, un co-operative, rude, fan unfriendly player and despite the records still got no love. So despite the other two giving specious denials and obfuscations, the main enemy of the drug world when all the steroid abuse came to light was Bonds. He’ll probably end up doing time.
Meanwhile Jason Giambi, a man who bulked up in Oakland and secured a massive contract from the Yankees, was allowed to say sorry, but not define what he was sorry for. Other names came out of the hat, and rumours circulated about over many others.
Then came a report into steroid abuse on the back of a few confessions by a couple of trainers, which focussed, rather unfairly, on the Yankees and the Mets. Given the report was written by Senator Mitchell, his affiliation to the Red Sox rather than the brokerage of peace accords in Northern Ireland, meant that in the views of those who wanted to believe it was a fix, this was a biased piece. It names several players, most notably Roger Clemens and Andy Pettitte of the Yankees. As Clemens was a grade A arsehole in the eyes of the Red Sox, the sense of schadenfreude was immense. What was evident was that behind the scenes there was a list of over 100 players who tested positive in 2003. Sealed in secrecy by law, this list is now haunting MLB…
Because earlier this year, and ignoring that Mitchell didn’t pick him out, Alex Rodriguez, the highest played player in the game, and by common consent the best, was outed as being on the list. I have little or no time for the bloke, but he took the best way out – said it was a fair cop, yes he was, yes he did, and then went on the injured list for a month. He has made a reasonably low key return to the Yankees who lead the AL East. He hasn’t been a distraction because the Yankees haven’t let it become one. The New York media are ravenous beasts, and A-Roid will have to live with it for the rest of his days, but he’ll get by on his $25m a year and be fine with the world.
However, all outside Boston had one player in their sights. David Ortiz, the folksy, laugh-a-minute quotable guy from the 2004 and 2007 champion teams. He left Minnesota to join the Red Sox, got bigger, hit more home runs than he ever did before, set a Red Sox record, and in tune with the profile for many steroid abusers, his production has fallen off a cliff since tighter testing. If anyone fit the profile it was Ortiz. When fellow slugger extraordinaire Manny Ramirez fell foul of current testing and copped a 50 game ban this season, the noose was tightening. Then his name, and Manny’s, got leaked to the New York media as being on the secret list, and the frenzy was on. As Ortiz had previously said that all drug offenders should he banned for a year, he was hoisted on his own petard.
Most Boston fans have reacted as the Yankee fans did with their beasts. Oh shit, everyone was doing it, why single out the big names, lets get this over with, lets get through it. The Joy of Sox, the blog I read has mentioned it, but said move on. As they did, except for cruel mocking which sports always bring up, with the Yankees. Now it is Boston’s turn.
I now turn to Boston Dirt Dogs. A site whose very name conjures up Trot Nixon – true Red Sox who scrap, fight, claw for their team at the expense of all others. You’d think it would, by its name, be the most protective of all its players, and repel the brickbats coming their way. I’d expect that of a fan site. Except every clickable link on this site takes you to the Boston.com sports section – part of the Boston media. Bob Ryan, Tony Masserrotti and the king of all bleeding hearts, Dan O’Shaughnessy. There is a major series going on right now with the New York Yankees. Boston Dirt Dogs seems more concerned that David Ortiz is pleading the fifth and keeping his trap shut. For this he is a “distraction”. And to make sure we are distracted, look at the focus of the non-game stories on there. All anti-Ortiz and Ramirez. Vitriolic, hyperbolic, catatonic… The individual stories, unlike a blog, don’t have individual links, so if you read this a bit later than today, you might need to look further down. But a sample of the tone of this nuthouse’s posts..
This, under a picture of Ortiz photoshopped as Sherlock Holmes…
The Tables Get Turned in the Bronx Today, When the Distracted Detective Faces the White Hot Spotlight of the New York Media
Overheard Later This Afternoon in Front of Ortiz’s Locker at Yankee Stadium …
David, David, Over Here… Not Talkin’ About the Past, What’s Up with That?
Is It True That Barry Bonds Has Advised You On These Early Deception Strategies?
Will Canseco Cover for You In Exchange for 2 $25 Gift Certificates from Papi’s Grill?
What Kinds of Supplements Were You Taking Prior to the 2003 Voluntary
Everyone-Knew-In-Advance Test That May Have Triggered a Positive Result?
Has Anyone Ever Injected B12 or Lidocaine Into Your Buttocks Over the Past 7 Years?
Dan Duquette Regrets That You Missed His ‘Advisory Meetings’ in the Spring of 2001
Do You Have Any Cousins That May Have Bought Boli in a Dominican GNC?
Did Your Former Paid Personal Assistant Monga-roid Teach You Anything He Learned from the Pumped and Jacked Red Sox Security Guards?
Have You Ever Shared Fertility Strategies With Old Friend Manny Ramirez?
How Were You Blindsided About a Test Result You Were Notified About in 2004?
Can You Believe That Alex Rodriguez Handled This 1,000 Times Better Than You?
Do You Think You Can Run Out the Clock on the News Cycle and Red Sox Nation?
Do You Want To Point Your Finger at the Cameras And Offer a Strong Denial?
Sammy Sosa Says He Doesn’t Understand What’s Going On, But You Should Call Him
Are You Thinking of Blaming It on Those Dominican Shakes? Or the Rice and Beans?
Is Angel Presinal Your Personal Dr. Watson?
Was It All Loosey-Goosey Back Then?
Amazing – that was all one article, prior to the 1st v 2nd series between the Yankees and Red Sox. What a preview.
And more..under the heading “Papi’s Got A Brand New Bag”
Ortiz Is Hiding Behind His Solo Effort to Find Out What the
Feds Have On Him Before He Talks to Us
Wrong Tito, Ortiz Has All the Answers,
And He Can Tell Us What He Took At Any Time
Tito Gets Testy in ‘EEI Interview: “What do you want him to say? We were very honest. We need to let this process play out. There are things that I’m sure are happening that are way over my head, that Major League Baseball, the union, lawyers are taking care of. David said when he has answers, he’ll address it. We don’t have answers. I don’t know how much more explicit I can be.”– 8.5.09, Red Sox manager Terry Francona on the Ortiz delay
“All we can hope for, at this stage, is that Ortiz does not adopt Rodriguez’s approach when it came time to answer questions and fill in the blanks. We don’t need to know merely what Ortiz tested positive for and when he used it. We need to know what else he has taken, if anything, and we need to know why.
We have yet to hear a single player stand up and tell us the complete truth, that the game was out of control, that players felt the need to keep up, that things became twisted and out of control. That the line between right and wrong did not grow fuzzy – it disappeared entirely – and the game became one muddied mass.
The Longer He Takes to Get His Story Straight
The Harder He’s Going to Be to Believe
Still, We Wait for Ortiz to Get Answers
Will This Continue To Be a Distraction Through Tampa and Into New York?
Since Papi Actually Got His Answers from the Players Association in 2004,
The Nation Has Plenty of Questions to Ask
How Many Days Does It Take to Get Your ‘Stuff Together’?
Meanwhile, Sox GM Theo Epstein Continues to Admire Ortiz’s Courage
Is Papi Out Helping O.J. Find the Real Killers? What Should Ortiz Do? Survey, Comment
“He needs some time to get some answers and then he’s going to stand up and answer every question. I admire that courage.” – Red Sox General Manager Theo Epstein, July 30 (… tick, tick, tick Theo)
“Because neither Major League Baseball nor the Players Association is believed to know the substances for which the players tested positive during that survey testing year – only the government has those results – if a player thinks he tested positive for a supplement, he might have a reasonable case. The supplement 19-norandrostenedione was legal in 2003 and contained the steroid nandrolone, a hard-core performance-enhancing drug used to build muscle.” – 8.3.09, Daily News
Apologies for the formatting going a bit off now – a bit of a novice with some of this. The point is that Boston Dirt Dogs purports itself as a Red Sox fan site. It helpfully reminds you in the top corner that BDD is a feature of Boston.com. The site is not produced by the Boston Globe sports dept. It might as well be because it bloody well sings their tune. For the Boston media, many of whom revelled in a mythical curse as a reason for the disasters that befell the Sox, these are difficult times. The partly loveable losers have turned into a well-drilled, top-level franchise through professionalism and adherence to principles of recruiting that aren’t that old school. For this story to fall into Shaughnessy’s lap is a godsend, and all the other bleeding heart reporters are banging in on it too. BDD does their bidding. It did it over the return of Pedro Martinez in a Mets shirt, and got all prissy over Nomar’s standing ovation this season.
I’m not looking for blogs to get into a circling the wagons procedure and ignoring it. Ortiz has been caught, and when the true story comes to light, he should be judged on it. If his silence is masking a sinister serial steroid abuser, he’ll get his come-uppance. Ortiz, for now, has not failed a test under the new laws and is free to play. That is fact, and all the while he is playing, as badly as he has this season, he is in a Red Sox shirt and I want him to succeed. Just as all Yankees do with Pettitte and A-Rod. The Boston Dirt Dogs site is serving another master and it disingenuous of it to pretend otherwise.
I had a good friend work on the Manchester Commonwealth games. Most observers of these games put them in the category of “marvellous success” or some such pigeonhole of that ilk. My friend absolutely despised Mihir Bose, because, as he put it “he couldn’t wait for them to fail, so that he could gloat!” It seemed in his time as a press scribe, Bose did all he could to put a negative spin on these games, and someone close to them made his views very clear to me…
So when I read of Bose’s departure from the BBC with immediate effect yesterday, and given my take on the stuff I’ve read and seen him present I am not shedding any tears of sorrow for that, I was reminded of Rich and his work. Bose was all set to unleash his brand of sports scepticism on the public over the London Olympics. He was chipping at the edges and I’m sure he would have unleashed hell at some point. My old mate Charles Sale has had his tuppeny worth on the barely sentient pages of the Daily Mail - Jesus, Charles, suppress your glee in a more subtle fashion, please – by saying that the Beeb couldn’t cope with his more journalistic approach to sports. What? He was a dirt digger, and what we want on TV is the sport reported, not a bunch of ill-attributed tittle tattle dressed up as “world exclusives” – if we want them, we get newspapers. I doubt I’m alone in thinking the BBC thought employing the most prominent Asian sportswriter in the business was sexy, right on and a nice equality move. Bose may well have been the strongest candidate – my displeasure is a matter of taste (for the record I think Manish Bhasin is top notch with the cricket and deserves more exposure, especially if the BBC decide to really put their toe back into the water.; and Rishi Persad is also bloody good – so no complaints on my account if you want to throw the “Asian” angle at me) and to me he seemed like a rambler, a gossiper, and someone convinced of his own abilities while others thought he was, well…..crap.
No tears here, and I’m not sure why the BBC treated it like a death in the family yesterday, but I’m sure he’ll turn up, and if he has left due to his sick mother in India, that he has a happy outcome to that. Now the BBC might be better concentrating on someone with a bit more camera savvy and a reporting / presenting style we can warm to? How about Manish or Rishi, perhaps?
The irony of Charles Sale pointing out blog comments though is spectacular. The irony of Charles Sale deriding someone’s ability to move from the print media to TV (I so wish I had a copy of that Hold The Back Page episode) is beyond satire… I quote..
Bose’s immediate departure means there will be no farewell post on his blog, where he was a particular target for readers’ vitriol. “Not your worst blog Mihir – b4 every1 slates u” says the first comment on his final story. High praise indeed. “Just re-read this for the 3rd time and still trying to work out the point of this.” Now they are going to have to find someone else to moan about.
Sorry people, but the blog has been a bit ignored recently. However, should I have anything to say, you’ll be the first to know.
Some comments.
I hate pre-season friendlies and tournaments. For those of you who don’t know why, I refer you to this. That hatred is maintained – ha ha ha, Van der Sar has broken his finger in a pre-season tournament and is out for two months. Serves them right.
I have not commented on the Red Sox because I fear the worst. The next few weeks are brutal and the Yankees are likely to pull away from us. We seem unable to get a consistent offense going, and the pitching is a little up and down. The series in the new Bronx BandBox is going to be crucial. Split that and I may have some faith. However, I fear the difference is that the Sox go to Toronto, face Halliday and get a morale sapping defeat. The Yankees go there and win. A small sample size, but a pretty prescient one. The Yankees are top because they beat the crap out of the crap. We are second because we let people like Brett Anderson shut us down.
I could go off on an article a couple of weeks back where Kevin Mitchell in the Guardian mocked Stewart Cink for being (a) a christian not afraid to profess his faith and (b) a republican. Next time you see Kevin Mitchell mock Younus Khan for praising Allah, give me a call. And any lefty leaning footballer too. Anything goes in The Guardian after all. I love the news about their poll for the top TV programme this decade. Top Gear is walking it!!!! (Now they’ve sussed, they are manufacturing a closer contest).
WindyBricks start their campaign on Saturday with an away game against Titanic Launch FC – and like the esteemed vessel, they nearly sunk over the Summer. I won’t be at My Providing AcquaintancesStadium as I would much rather save my money for things I’d enjoy, and you won’t be seeing me at The Novel Leslie Grantham next Tuesday either for some weak piss lager cup game against Matt Damon’s Gob. My seasonal reappearance will be on 15 August when the Novel Leslie Grantham plays host to the automobile of Montgomerie’s mate (reattached) for a festival of football.
Finally, my post on my old Latin teacher (how preposterous does that sound) has reaped a reward. I am really pleased to hear from him and shows the power of the net. I’m now minded to go through my blogs and get shot of all the naughty words! What would my teacher think? As my dear late mum used to say, if you have to use a swear word, it shows up the lack of words at your disposal. I hope this blog proves that assertion as invalid. Anyway, this is a real boost to me today, and is one of the things that makes this all worth while, despite the comments of those who use their brains only to move, drink and slag off others.
And in a nice follow-up, I am off to the Great British Beer Festival this afternoon. Pip Pip!
I will now, categorically, without fear or favour say that Murray cannot win the French Open. See, that was easy wasn't it? 6 months ago
Can Andy Murray win the French Open? Yes. He is still in it. Will he win the French Open? No. Can't outlets work out the difference? 6 months ago
My thoughts are Roatan. It wasn't my favourite place, but let's hope the earthquake 40 miles offshore has left it as unscathed as possible. 6 months ago
Thursday afternoon, India on my mind, weekend looming fast. Hope the weather stays fair for Sunday when North London meets Kent Snobs. 7 months ago
So Flintoff is injured pre-Ashes again. Guarantees he'll go into the big games undercooked, no doubt. What a surprise. 7 months ago
Garry Sheffield (NYY)
Corey Koskie (TOR)
Fred Lewis - Grand Slam (SFG)
Ray Durham (SFG)
Pedro Feliz (SFG)
Adam LaRoche (PIT)
Yorvit Torrealba (COL)
Nick Markakis (BAL)
Pat Burrell (PHI)
Prince Fielder (MIL)
Dmitri Old Has Seen These Guys Hit Test Centuries at The Oval
John Crawley (v Sri Lanka - 1998), Justin Langer v England - 2001), Mark Waugh (v England - 2001), Steve Waugh (v England - 2001), Michael Vaughan (v India - 2002), Herschelle Gibbs (v England - 2003), Marcus Trescothick (219 v South Africa - 2003), Graham Thorpe (v South Africa - 2003), Andrew Strauss (v Australia - 2005), Justin Langer (v England - 2005), Matthew Hayden (v England -2005), Mohammed Yousuf (v England - 2006), Anil Kumble (v England - 2007), Kevin Pietersen (v South Africa - 2008), Jonathan Trott (v Australia - 2009), Michael Hussey (v England - 2009)
Come The Revolution – Up Against The Wall
Russell Brand, Jonathan Ross, The Editorial Staff at The Daily Mail (Stephen Glover first), Richard Littlejohn, PJ and Duncan, Sinitta, Zac and Sheherazade Bentley Goldsmith (read her Wiki entry for silver spoonery), Jamie Redknapp, Dr Phil The Fat Fascist Edwards and his mate.., Crimson Snide Ferguson, Robert Peston, Participants at the Edinburgh Fringe, Dominic Lawson (to have a beer snake thrown at him by the Barmy Army)
