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God I have all this stuff going round in my head but I never find the time to exorcise it!  I mean where the fuck do I start?  Trump is a thousand words of ridicule straight away, this after vowing I would do my best to ignore the lunatic this time around.  Closer to home the country celebrated eighty years since VE day a couple of weeks back and yes of course we should “remember the sacrifices of ordinary people…” but I struggle with the way this sentence usually finishes.  The BBC chose “…the defeat of Fascism in Europe” which conveniently ignores Spain which endured a bloody civil war and brutal aftermath which continued even while the rest of Europe sent its tourists there and this too was conveniently ignored.  Few people mention the Fascism rising across the continent in the present day.

Heading east and arriving in the war zone predicted/defined by Orwell we see and hear media outrage when bombs are dropped in Ukraine but ethnic cleansing in Palestine is erased from history.  We are literally witnessing a genocide in which our own government is complicit and nobody seems to give a fuck.  Is it because to criticise the state of Israel is considered anti Semitic?  It’s the allegation they pinned on Corbyn and they can pin it on me too, fuck Israel and while I’m at it fuck Putin, fuck Trump and fuck that snivelling wanker Starmer.

I Know Why the Caged bird Sings by Maya Angelou
I can’t remember how many times I’ve read this book but I can remember the first time.  I had to study it a lifetime ago and unable to put it off any longer I picked it up with little interest and no enthusiasm.  Before I knew it I was forty pages in and even my ignorance couldn’t blind me to the fact that I was reading something special and over the years I came to realise it was written by someone great.
The first of Maya Angelou’s autobiographies naturally covers her childhood and although she spent time in St. Louis and San Francisco it is Stamps - Arkansas that is imprinted in my mind.  A first hand account of the realities of growing up Black in the deep south of USA in the 1930’s. What Maya Angelou does so well is interpret the scenes through the eyes and understanding of the child that lived through them, as opposed to the adult looking back.
This is a brilliant book, beautifully written that will stir every emotion and if it doesn’t there must be something wrong with you.

Test cricket returned with England giving Zimbabwe a three day thrashing which allowed under pressure batsmen to consolidate their positions and taught us that our reserves of fast bowlers are not as deep as we would hope.  Crawley delayed his inevitable axe but Pope deserves to silence the doubters for a while.  England’s most successful bowler was Shoaib Bashir with nine in the match, for once spin doesn’t seem to be a problem.  We are currently hammering West Indies in an ODI series and Joe Root demonstrated that he is probably the best all format batsman in the world and he looks like he’s getting better.  Adil Rashid collected his 150^th cap and is still class, why did he never play more Tests?  We have some T20 trashathon stuff to come but by the end of the month we’ll be contemplating a proper Test series against an evolving India side which will be a big examination ahead of a trip down under this winter.

Things not as they should be

I’ve been a boxing fan for years, despite or maybe because I have precisely none of the attributes required to enter a boxing ring.  In recent times my allergy to cliché means I find the pre fight hype and antics of the boxers a total turn off.  The same pantomime has been going on for decades, its just boring, stop.  Everything I despise was on display in the weeks prior to the Benn vs Eubank fight but this wasn’t what got me chuntering.  Nor was it the totally fake rivalry manufactured around the fact that their brilliant fathers had a couple of tear ups thirty years ago.  The problem is the two should never have shared a competitive ring in the first place; one has fought at super middleweight and the other started off as a light welter.  If both were at their preferred weights there would be twenty one pounds difference.  So to make this fight viable the weight was set for 160 pounds with rehydration clauses that meant neither man could enter the ring in peak condition and any advantage the bigger man may have would be nullified.  In a notoriously brutal and potentially lethal sport this can’t be right but if there’s money to be made then corners will be cut until somebody gets badly hurt.  I didn’t see the fight but heard it was a good one with both boxers showing class in the fight and after and it was nice to see their dads embrace.  The weight drained winner spent twenty four hours in hospital and I hope there isn’t a rematch.

Resolution by Irvine Welsh

I love Irvine Welsh and will always read whatever he writes but honestly Ray Lennox is not a character I warm to.  I liked ‘Crime’ but ‘Long Knives’ less so and this is just more of the same.  The plot is hard to follow at times and the writing isn’t always up to this author’s usual standard, a bit lazy if anything?  The social comment (with which I strongly agree) seems a bit contrived when it appears.  But as ever there is plenty I do like, the dialogue is great, there is darkness and humour, when things speed up I couldn’t resist the reading and the conclusion is satisfying.  But what this book didn’t do, (like its predecessor) was suspend my disbelief.

A treasured friend left us this week, we will remember her laughing loud and dancing without a care.  This song is for her.

losing my religon 2 ??

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

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

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

Losing my religon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

World Test Championship

 

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

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

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

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