Sport – Page 12 – St. Eutychus

So much to tell you…

Following a two week hiatus you’d expect there’d be a bunch of interesting stories for me to tell you. This would be an incorrect assumption. Sure, I went to a couple of weddings and saw Gomez live (they were amazing). I visited exciting places like Toowoomba, the Gold Coast and Mount Tambourine. I spent hours in a hospital car park waiting to pick up the groom from one of the aforementioned weddings following emergency eye surgery two days before he was due to marry Robyn’s sister Justina. I picked new towels, sheets and bed linen as part of preparation for my own married life (and wasn’t that fun). I learned all about weddings – for instance – I learned that the colour of an invitation should indicate what colour to wear, or not to wear to a wedding (the colour of the invite should match the bridesmaid’s dresses and also indicate the general theming of the wedding). I tried, without success thus far, to find somewhere to hold an “intimate” wedding reception following a larger inclusive ceremony and afternoon tea, and negotiated the nightmare of family politics surrounding weddings (I can now empathise with the captain of the Titanic who was no doubt doing his best to miss a bunch of minor icebergs when he ran into the big one that scuppered the ship). Plus there were a series of traumatic events in the news cycle while I was away that I felt compelled to blog about – however I couldn’t actually be bothered to respond to those compulsions. So will now mention them in passing – Andrew Johns retired as the best half back I’ve ever seen (given that my league watching career spanned exactly the length of his career that’s not too surprising). Anyone who tries to compare the incomparable skills of Mr Johns with Alfie Langer, Ricky Stuart or any other number seven who played in that period has rocks in their heads (even Geoff Toovey wasn’t as good – he sadly had no kicking game). Incidentally, Manly are still undefeated and sit atop the ladder, Manchester United won 7-1 against Roma in the Champions League and made the FA Cup final in the same week while still leading the Premier League by 3 points with only a few rounds to go (including one against Chelsea – which barring a diabolical turn of events and dramatic chance in goal difference it probably won’t matter if they lose they should still take the title) – so all in all it’s good to be me right now

The ANZAC day media fiasco played itself out in the media – but I’d like to point out that Vietnam is in fact no Gallipoli – and April 25 has very little to do with the Vietnam conflict. Why wasn’t the fuss made about that? I’m glad the real issue – Rudd’s Channel 7 favouritism was brought to the fore and promptly dealt with. A school shooting in the US made further mockery of the right to bear/bare arms (why anyone would want paws or hair free arms is beyond me). The idea that the American populace to be able to take part in a citizen’s militia to repel invaders has been a little diluted to the point where students can open fire on their peers. Gun reform is an easy campaign issue for the Democrats now so we’ll see what Joe’s blog has to say on that issue in the near future. Speaking of blogs philnsmiz has finally been updated – and should be again shortly, while Scooter’s blog still languishes back on the first of January where it promised so much but has since delivered so little. Tim’s has been also been updated.

So all in all, I am in need of a holiday. And I’m back at work today.

April 17, 2007

Rugby cuts off Grothe

If I had written the HTML programming language it would have included a “rant” tagline.

Robyn won’t like this post. For all her great qualities she is, somewhat unfortunately, a fan of Rugby Union. Many fans of Rugby Union will tell you that it is the game they play in heaven – and if that’s the case I’d seriously think about trading in Christianity for Buddhism (ok, well I wouldn’t really do that it was more a piece of poetic license). They’ll argue that “at its best” it’s a flowing game full of skilled attacking forays and deft passing, and that it’s driven by tactics and nuance… Rugby, in my experience, is played “at its best” about once every four years, in the early rounds of the world cup when professional teams put the minnows to the sword. Rugby is typically a slow game marred by stoppages, incessant scrums, tiresome rucking and mauling, and ridiculous nonsensical penalties. My main gripe with Rugby stems not from the superiority complex it suffers from, my problem is their inability to develop talent capable of playing at the highest level. Rugby fans will cite the crowds at Super 14 games and test matches as evidence that it’s a popular game – television ratings tell another story. Rugby is unwatchable for the layperson and numbers don’t lie – Rugby League continues to be the most successful televised sport in New South Wales and Queensland. Club rugby can not hope to compete with club League – so they try to compare apples and oranges by taking a representative competition (Super 14) and comparing it with a national club competition – of course a NSW team should pack out a stadium… but they should also be able to win the odd game or two. Rugby Union likes to sign league players as PR stunts. These players will inevitably be picked for state teams at the expense of properly trained junior rugby union stars – and will possibly be contractually guaranteed the opportunity to play for Australia. The list of League to Union converts is a long one, the list of success stories is markedly shorter. From a list including talented athletes Mat Rogers, Lote Tuquiri, Wendell Sailor, Brad Thorn, Andrew Walker, Clinton Shifcofske – only Tuqiri is still playing international rugby – and this isn’t due to a lack of quality on the field. Rogers, Thorn and Walker got sick of union and went back to league – Walker and Sailor were both busted for cocaine use. Shifcofske should never ever play for Australia (he was once a drug cheat too – which suggests Union isn’t picky when it comes to their desperation to get one up on their league counterparts). Tuquiri recently re-signed with the Waratahs in a massive deal, and they followed that signing with a million dollar deal to lure Timana Tahu across the chasm. League players (particularly backs) get notoriously bored in the 15 man code so they have to pay them heaps more to keep them. Paying league players this much to cross over is a foolish ploy to win a battle that rugby can not afford to be engaged in, and one that they’ll never win. Their game is too inaccessible to people not brought up on a staple diet of union. Those in the know (ie economist Michael Pascoe) suggest the ARU is in danger of sending itself broke, particularly with gate receipts plummeting as Australian teams fail and falter on the field. Eric Grothe Jr, son of the “Guru” has had an interestingly patchy league career including years in the “wilderness” spent “discovering” himself and playing guitar. He’s big and mobile and he’s a gifted athlete – but the ARU has decided enough is enough and they’re going to invest their money in development – hopefuly that comes too late and union dies the slow and painful death it deserves.

March 22, 2007

The Silly Season

Traditionally the “silly season” has been a term loosely applied to the period of time at the end of the year when contract deals are struck and players throw the good ol’ fashion concept of loyalty out the window as they shop and shill their wares to the highest bidder. The silly season extended well into the early weeks of this year with the Steve Turner saga dragging on until everyone was well and truly sick of it – and just when you thought the lowest depths had been plumbed, a story like this one emerges to remind you just how trivial sport can be. That’s right – South Sydney aren’t letting go of Mr Adam MacDougall until he returns a gift to owner Russell Crowe – did Rusty lend him a multimillion dollar condo? a car worth six figures? a poem? No – he gave him a small silver bunny worth $2000 – and he wants it back, or a player he basically sacked won’t be allowed to take the field for his new club.

March 15, 2007

Footy tipping tips for people who have no interest in the game

Some would say that speaking without thinking is fraught with danger – not so, says I. Footy tipping on instinct is a sure fire way to the top of the office tipping charts – but which instincts do we trust – and where do we turn a blind eye?

In my day to day conversations with people from all walks of life – be it the traditional office “water cooler” conversation, or random eavesdropping via discretely planted listening devices I’ve discovered a shared concern regarding footy tipping protocol and how to “back a winner” – While I have a proven track record as a failed tipper – more inclined to tip with heart than head, I am a trained observer and have kept records of a number of successful oddball methods guaranteed to spice up your weekly efforts.

The Inter-Mascot Blood Bath

Method One is the much maligned but highly successful strategy of imagining each match as a death match between mascots. This approach has anecdotal supporting evidence (some would say circumstantial) when it comes to the plight of the aptly inept South Sydney Rabbitohs. (A bunny of course is unlikely to experience success against anything but the most out of comfort opponent, unfortunately the Canberra Carrots missed out to the much more intimidating Raiders.

What must be considered at this point is the “home field” advantage – a Shark (Cronulla) does not enjoy the biological advantage over a tiger (West Tigers) on land that it would in an aquatic setting, while in reversed circumstances the tables turn somewhat – this is a vital consideration when entering your tips. The Storm obviously have a natural advantage over all but the Titans (who enjoy some godlike control over the elements) – however some storms are less serious and deadly than others and certain teams enjoy natural protection (the Eels, Sharks and potentially the Knights – provided their armour is stainless steel – a must for modern chivalry. The electrical conductivity of stainless steel is an issue which would require a more scientific mind). Under this methodology “human” teams (Knights, Raiders, Cowboys, Warriors, Titans) have an advantage over most other teams at home – however will probably struggle when it comes to those who can attack unseen in their home territory (Dragons, Eels, Sharks, Panthers, Bulldogs, Tigers… potentially the Broncos – although stampedes are rare and rodeo related casualties are rarities these days). The Sea Eagles can attack from the air with sharp talons and beady eyed eagerness, but even the humble Bulldog could cause them great pain in confined spaces. The Rabbitohs and Roosters will be lucky to win a game – but that’s probably a fair reflection of reality.

So for Round 1:

The Storm should blow the Tigers away

The Broncos will buck the Cowboys in a bruiser

The Warriors will harpoon the Eels

The Sharks will snap the Panthers

The Sea Eagles will peck the eyes out of the Raiders

The Knights will cut the Bulldogs to pieces

The Dragons will roast the Titans

The Roosters and Rabbitohs will haplessly wander around until either the bunny develops Monty Pythonesque properties or the Roosters get their talons in…

Until next time – happy tipping.

March 15, 2007

War of words

I have a confession – I’m a closet boxing fan. Not a fan of boxing within the confines of a closet – although I’d probably watch that – but a fan of the corrupt world of professional boxing. My love for all things pugilistic was inspired by the Power of One – the third most influential book I’ve read behind the Bible, and the Godfather (how I reconcile the influence of those three somewhat disparate books is a mystery even to me). I like boxing – the way the blood and sweat fly off a man’s face when a bruising right hook lands… it appeals to my inner caveman. So it is with great joy that I read today that two of my former league heroes – Solomon Haumono and John Hopoate, Manly’s Tongan bash brothers from the mid 90s – are considering a heavyweight clash of the titans. There’s something romantic about two lifelong friends (who celebrate Christmas together) jumping in the squared circle (ring) and trying to beat the daylights out of one another hoping to emerge as friends. That for me is what boxing is all about – that and the constant sledging, gambling, corruption, fixed bouts, flamboyant promoters, David and Goliath battles, and rags to riches “I trained in a shed with just a canvas bag dreaming of this day” storylines that go with boxing like things that go together really well (my similes today are suffering from an inability to form corroborative nouns).

If this bout does eventually go ahead my concerns are with the less syllablically endowed John Hopoate – largely due to a new theory I’m formulating linking boxing success with the number of syllables in a boxer’s name. Think about it – As Cassius Clay (4 syllables) Muhammad Ali (5 syllables) was a shadow of his future self. But the theory doesn’t stop there – I’m yet to conduct extensive research but my early studies show that the top 15 WBA Heavyweight boxers have an average of 5 syllables between them (First and Surname only – WBA Heavyweight champion Nikolai Vladimirovich Valuev would be unbeatable otherwise – the fact that he’s 7 feet tall and weighs 150kg is not a factor). Unless John Hopoate (5 syllables) starts billing himself as Jonathan Hopoate (7 syllables) he’s in trouble against Solomon Haumono (6 syllables). Here’s my WBA evidence…

World Title Holder – NICOLAY VALUEV – (Ni-col-ay Val-u-ev) – 6 syllables
1. RUSLAN CHAGAEV – (Rus-lan Cha-ga-ev) – 5 Syllables
2. RAY AUSTIN – 3 syllables
3. SULTAN IBRAGIMOV – (Sul-tan ib-ra-gi-mov) – 6 Syllables
4. SERGUEI LIAKHOVICH – (Ser-gui Li-ak-hov-ich) 6 syllables
5. DAVARYLL WILLIAMSON – (Dav-ar-yll Will-iam-son) 6 Syllables
6. JOHN RUIZ – 3 syllables
7. WLADIMIR VIRCHIS – (Wlad-i-mir Vir-chis) 5 Syllables
8. MIKE MOLLO 3 Syllables
9. HASIM RAHMAN 4 Syllables
10. TARAS BIDENKO – (Tar-as Bid-en-ko) 5 syllables
11. ALEXANDER DIMITRENKO – (Al-ex–an-der Di-mit-ren-ko) 8 Syllables
12. LAMON BREWSTER – 4 Syllables
13. KALI MEEHAN 4 Syllables
14. JEAN-FRANCOIS BERGERON (Jean Fran-cois Ber-ger-on) – 6 Syllables
15. EVANDER HOLYFIELD (E-van-der Ho-ly-field) 6 Syllables

The average number of syllables is 5 – the average for the top 5 boxers is 5.2 – pretty convincing evidence if you ask me – but you didn’t… Even fictional boxers have the edge over their lesser nominally endowed rivals – Rocky Balboa (5 syllables) fought the following – ignoring the Rocky Balboa comeback fight with Mason Dixon (4 syllables):

Spider Rico (4 Syllables)
Apollo Creed (4 Syllables)
Thunderlips (3 Syllables – Hulk Hogan – 3 syllables)
Clubber Lang (3 syllables)
Ivan Drago (4 syllables)
Tommy Gunn (3 syllables)

So there you have it – compelling evidence methinks… But remember – when a TV show tells you “don’t try this at home” they mean it.

March 9, 2007

Chain mail

Television tabloid journalism sank to an all new low this week – if that’s possible – with Today Tonight chaining a granny to her retirement home cupboard for the sake of a dramatic story. It’s a new low in a series of lows stretching for as long as the ratings war between Nine’s A Current Affair and Seven’s Today Tonight. It’s a battle for the hearts and minds of Australia’s gullible majority who rely on the program to keep informed and educated.

Tabloid programs traditionally rotate about seven stories – the neighbour from hell dispute, dodgy brothers traders being hunted down, consumer protection, how to save money (bargain hunting), shameless network cross promotion, dieting tips, and the emotionally charged plight of a disadvantaged entity who needs “your” help. There’s a Venn like overlap between the categories – but that’s the way they like it.

My friend Benny hates these shows, which regularly compete for story fodder (ala the tit-for-tat Corby drama from the last few weeks), blaming them for all manner of societal malaise. It’s been a bad year for Today Tonight who have managed to sully their already scurilous reputation with a number of well publiscised mishaps on and off camera.

Naomi Robson was at the heart of a number of controversies prior to her decision to hand the hosting duties on to anti chequebook journalism crusader Anna Coren.

The first famous mishap came when Naomi was caught swearing at her producer – the clip made its way to commercial radio and was widely circulated online – causing this apology…

Her horror year is documented here.

This story seems to be an all new low for any “current affairs” programming and the journalist in question should get the boot for being reprehensibly stupid.

Programs like this should not be allowed to wield the influence they do on public debate. They rate through the roof so there’s no real chance of the pin ever being pulled which is a tragedy for the country’s intellectual standards.

Speaking of intellectual standards… English Football demonstrated its capacity to churn out boorish louts incapable of human interaction – Craig Bellamy and John Arne Riise look to have been to the same school of ettiquette as Penrith’s newly appointed co-captain Craig Gower. Apparently Bellamy took to Riise’s legs with a golf club following his refusal to take part in a training camp karaoke competition. It seems that’s just what the doctor ordered with both players on the score sheet in their upset away win over Barcelona. The coach was apparently ready to give Bellamy the flick if he’d put in a sub-par performance – boom-boom-tish.

February 22, 2007

Humour me

It seems the rise of the individual’s participation in what can loosely labelled the new media has been coupled with the rise of the humourless new media critic – incapable of reading between the lines and willing to take offence on behalf of those wronged in an attempt at comedy or satire. I’m not sure where these people were before – but looking through the news in recent weeks I have to wonder – where did the great Australian ability to laugh at oneself or the misfortune of others go. Even cruelty to animals is now frowned upon. Even if the animal is a cane toad.

A judge in the Sutherland local court is to be commended for finally upholding common sense and a common sense of humour in her decision on The Chaser case. While the side line nay sayers were up in arms over the audacity of the Chaser team after they turned up at a Bulldogs game hawking fake supporters kits stocked with fake weapons – the judge in her conclusion said that the majority of people would have realised it was a joke – and that a reasonable person should not have been angered or outraged by it. Now certain people may be prepared to accuse the Chaser team of having an underdeveloped sense of propriety and may also suggest that they lack maturity – but surely a certain level of impropriety and immaturity is allowable for humour’s sake. There’s a reason that toilet humour still elicits laughs from movie audiences. Some people have lost touch with their inner child because they’re all to eager to jump on the politically correct bandwagon and condem the actions of others on behalf of an innocent third party.
If I choose to take a quote or comment out of context and take the taking out of context to its unnatural extreme (ala yesterday’s post) please don’t feel the need to condemn my actions on the basis that I have done so – instead see it for what it was – I was at work with very little to do, I had a silly conversation which amused me, and I posted it on my blog.
So in conclusion – unless I directly and purposefully offend you, please don’t take offence. Turn that frown upside down.

January 23, 2007

Titanic struggle

There’s an old saying about rats deserting a sinking ship and an old (true) story about a hyped up massively expensive ship sinking on its maiden voyage. It seems to me the Gold Coast Titans could be heading for the same murky waters. I’m expecting the Titans to perform about as well as their much maligned predecessors the Gold Coast Seagulls and the Gold Coast Chargers – badly. Today they lost two wingers and gained one – by my count that’s one step forward and two backwards – not the kind of start to training they’d have been hoping for – and then their one new winger (one dually converted (league – union – league) Matt Rogers) suffered a training ground injury in a possible testimony to his predilection for injury inflicted stints on the sideline. That’s right folks – the Titans this morning released Melbourne Storm winger Steve Turner from his contract after a protracted, long winded, annoyingly intriguing (at least if you’re the News Ltd Media – can any body else smell a rat – or a conspiracy? News Ltd are part owners of the Melbourne Storm) contract dispute*. The Titans were in an untenable position – they couldn’t afford to have a player not wanting to play for them on the books – but they also couldn’t afford to let him turn his nose up at the contract. This announcement was followed by Brian Carney’s shock decision to give the game away. That’s right. Just a day after addressing the media on his desire to cement a first grade spot for the whole season, the Titan’s marquee signing, who came over a year early to prepare for his NRL career with the Newcastle Knights and won a Dally M winger of the year award for his troubles, announced his retirement to finish his Masters degree in the UK. Things aren’t looking good for the Titans, who are still busily talking up their finals prospects.
*Well spotted Mr Finden.

January 16, 2007

A world gone topsy turvy

I woke up this morning to a world I scarcely recognised. I drove to work in autopilot, stopping and starting at traffic lights without registering an inertial change. I was shocked out of my malaise when I drove past a newsagent and saw the headline on the Courier Mail’s bulletin board. “Warne: I’d like to coach England”. My jaw dropped. I was aghast, agog, agape… all somewhat at once. Treachery. Treason. Tyranny. How could one so comprehensively turn on one’s own country to fight for the “old enemy” no less. Warne is lucky the death penalty for treason was abolished in 1985. For consistency’s sake I should also point out that former Australian internationals Tom Moody and Greg Chappell currently coach Sri Lanka and India respectively. Greg Chappell’s downfall is particularly poigniant. Chappell was once so fiercely competitively patriotic that he ordered his younger brother to bowl an underarm delivery in order to prevent New Zealand securing an unlikely victory. This passion dissipated somewhat when he took up his post with India, but he has done his best to sabotage their status as an international cricketing superpower in his tenure at the top. If Warne’s desire to take the English position is actualised it will be another event in a long string of distasteful career highlights for the Tweak Sheik.
But that’s not all. Having mildly recovered from the onset of shock and nausea at the idea of one of our own crossing over to the dark side, I was left to pick up my jaw from the floor once again when reading through the Entertainment news on the Sydney Morning Herald’s website. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame will announce its inductees for this year today – and a Hip Hop artist looks set to join the prestigious list for the first time. Grandmaster Flash, while a groundbreaking musician in his chosen field, has no place in a list of “rock and roll” musicians.
What is wrong with the world today?

January 9, 2007

Everybody’s changing

Sometimes there’s a real synergy between a number of different topics that fits nicely under the one blog heading. In a brief synopsis today’s blog will feature a mention of my trip to Brisbane, the Labor Leadership change, the Ashes, and whatever else occurs to me in the course of penning – or typing – this entry. Oh, and I recently became the proud owner of Liberia.

I’ll start with the known knowns – and move towards the known unknowns, ignoring completely the unknown unknowns.

I spent a few days in Brisbane last week. That was weird. It was a work trip and I was doing all sorts of official things demonstrating my competency and learning lots about tourism in the process. I’ll start the account from the beginning, which is, as we know courtesy of Rodgers and Hammerstein, a very good place to start.

I flew into Brisbane on Wednesday night, having spent most of the plane trip playing “eye spy” with the inquisitive six year old seated across the aisle I was ready to collect my bags and make a mad dash to the front of the taxi queue when suddenly there was a loud bang (well more a muffled whrrrr sound) and the lights went out. The baggage carousel shuddered to a stop and I was stranded waiting for my rather large, brown, antique suitcase to appear. It did. I got a cab. It drove me to my parents house. I disembarked (got out). I had dinner (cold steak). Wrote some of my sermon (which I will be preaching at church up here this Sunday night). And went to bed. I’m now tired of the blow by blow account – no doubt you are too.

Thursday was a day filled with meetings – well there were two – I met with our two PR companies who are largely responsible for sourcing the travel journalists I host in the region – and thus largely responsible for my free steak tally. It pays to be nice to the people who provide you with free steak so I duly told them what a wonderful job they were doing sourcing (and saucing) my free steaks. We established the parameters of our working relationship for the next year (with a steak quota now firmly entrenched in their contractual obligations) and moved on. Thursday was also my pseudo birthday – the day my family arbitrarily sets aside to endow me with gifts. So we celebrated in splendid fashion with noodles, waffles, and friends.

I also used my time in Brisbane to walk past the new State Library and its infamous balls of steel – which I’ll admit to finding mildly aesthetically appealing, while also admiring the skyscrapers which have been added to the CBD’s skyline since I left in March. I didn’t get to check out GoMA but I’ll save that for my next trip south. I did however, manage to visit JB Hifi, where I spent way too much of my hard earned wage purchasing a number of CDs I’ve been unable to locate in Townsville to date. Gotye, Bob Evans, and a few other JJJ favourites including Keane have now taken their rightful place in my CD collection. Keane segues nicely into my next topic – the lyrics from their song “Everybody’s changing” are quite apt when considering the Rudd takeover of the Australian Labor party.

So little time
Try to understand that I’m
Trying to make a move to stay in the game
I try to stay awake and remember my name
But everybody’s changing
And I don’t feel the same

Queensland’s second most famous Dr Death, Kevin Rudd, managed to wrest control of the party from the grasp of Kim Beazley, taking a caucus majority of 49-39 and “uniting” the party room behind his partnership with Julia Gillard. The more things change, the more they stay the same – Rudd’s Labor party will face the same challenges the Beazley party faced. He still needs to convince the public that he’s not too academic for the top job – with criticism of his extensive vocabulary already airing. I like Rudd – and he’s got a solid base of experience and expertise behind him. Solid enough to convince me that he’d be a suitable Prime Minister – I’m just not sure I prefer him to Howard or Costello. They all look like politicians to me.

It strikes me that 10 months out from an election is not an ideal time to be changing leadership – it also strikes me that with Labor polling ahead of the government this change was fairly unnecessary. Although I’m not sure anyone really wants Beazley to be prime minister – it’s more a case of public sentiment turning against Howard following the IR laws. I’m yet to be convinced the IR laws are a bad thing – but equally – I’m yet to be convinced they’re a good thing. There have been a number of issues that just haven’t registered with me as anything more than standard bureucratic incompetence – the AWB scandal, Children overboard – and in fact anything that has gone wrong in the last 10 years – seem to me to be the cost of the democratic process and not a compelling reason for governmental change. My biggest issues are with things like health, education and water – which all seem to be state government babies.

By the time you read this post Australia’s fate in the second Ashes test will be well and truly sealed, I’m predicting a win for the Aussies – and have been a believer all day.

December 5, 2006

From the Sydney Morning Herald

Rooney’s energy could produce 16 cuppas
The energy generated by British soccer dynamo Wayne Rooney as he sprints around the pitch during a match is enough to boil water for 16 cups of tea, according to research published.
David James of Sheffield Hallam University’s Centre for Sports Exercise Sciences calculated the 21-year-old Manchester United and England striker produced 6,700 kiloJoules of energy, equivalent to 1.86 kilowatt/hours of electricity.
This, he said, was also enough to light an average house for 90 minutes – the length of an average match – or run a standard television for six and a half hours.
The research for energy utility E.ON UK is part of a program to try to raise awareness in schools of energy usage in the face of the global warming crisis caused by burning fossil fuels for power and transport.

November 29, 2006

Blood Sports

The crowd chants. The emperor stands and slowly his hand turns to give the thumbs down – signalling the end. The crowd bays for more. Blood is spilled onto hallowed turf.
Human exploitation for the purposes of entertainment is generally considered a bad thing. The pioneers of the Human Rights movement would be aghast at the suggestion that people are being harried into long hours of strenuous activity, sleep deprivation, poor diet and exorbitant amounts of pressure from public expectation all for the sake of entertaining the masses. And no, I’m not talking about reality television.
Not since the blood of brave slaves was spilled by gladiators in the Colosseum of Rome have human bodies been so mercilessly and strenuously tested for our enjoyment.
It’s a hard life – but today’s sports stars have nothing on their first century counterparts – who could quite literally be reduced to counting parts following a bout in the gladiatorial arena. Oh bugger, there goes my arm. And a leg.
Sport is, as Mark’s comment on my last post suggested, hard work. I’m not denying that. Athletes train at odd hours, stick to strict diets, undergo an invasive regime of drug testing, and are deprived of basic human rights such as privacy while being forced to maintain a level of performance, or in fact show constant improvement. This no doubt takes its toll on the psyche. And so, sports stars are adequately recompensed with fame, fortune and the chance to trip the light fantastic – traveling the globe, earning the admiration and respect of thousands of awestruck fans as they strut their stuff demonstrating their feats of athletic prowess. Unlike the gladiators of old these modern day marionettes are completely untethered (except by the obviously incredibly binding contracts) – they can leave whenever they please without fear of reprisal… except perhaps if your name is Steve Turner and you don’t want to play for the Titans… well at least without the fear of physical reprisal.
So amidst the turmoil of the Trescothick saga, and to the fanfare of a flash of camera bulbs and a flurry of questions from the peanut gallery (but no trumpets), we bid farewell to Ian Thorpe – the podiatricly endowed superfish who has graced pool and podium for all of his adult life to date. We wish him well in his retirement at the ripe old age of 24. He’s lived a full life and leaves with no regrets, and nothing to achieve, except perhaps success in the elusively exclusive aquatic 100 metre dash. The aquatic superstar with the perpetual five o’clock shadow has gone out at the top rather than being tortuously knackered at the metaphorical athletic glue factory. A fine example of the graceful withdrawal which could have saved Trescothick the ignominy of going down in very public flames. But at the end of the day – the battlefield is bathed in the blood and corpses of long retired sports people that refuse to decompose into obscurity (some even rise occasionally to release pits of bile on those unsuspecting dolts who choose to follow the well trod path – ala Kieren Perkins, Jeff Thompson, Dawn Fraser et al and lest we forget those who choose to head to the commentators box…), and the harsh reality of life as a professional sportsperson has claimed another victim. What awaits our outgoing Thorpedo? Life as a fashion designer, a coach, a (shudder) television personality… or will he fade into the shadows of anonimity – only to be foiled by the occassional obsessive fan spotting his massive feet somewhere under the designer stubble and the foppish hair.

November 21, 2006

Mental as anything

My last post ruffled some feathers. Unfortunately I’ll never know whose because they posted anonymously – but I’d like to point out a couple of things to anonymous – and their potential cohort of anonymous friends who like to post ridiculous comments.
1. My last post had very little to do with depression. If it turns out that Trescothick is suffering from depression then my sympathies are with him. If however, we take him at face value (and according to his official website) then he’s not suffering from depression – he simply struggles with being on the road 300 days a year in his life as one of England’s top cricketers. In fact here are some quotes that suggest it’s not a matter of depression:

“The opener now claims he flew home early from India because of a ‘virus’ — even though it was previously said he had domestic problems.
Tresco, 30, said: “My problems are now very much behind me, I just needed a break.
“Playing six years of solid international cricket just takes it toll after a while.
“You get to certain stages of your career and you just need to be with your family to recharge the batteries.

“We play so much. We spend 300 nights of the year out of our own house, either travelling the world or in hotels preparing for games in England.”

Now I’m no psychologist. And he may be in denial, or trying to avoid being tarred with the public stigma that comes with depression -I don’t know, and that wasn’t a point I was discussing in my post.

I was shocked by the concept that an international sportsperson could claim work related stress, because as we all know – SPORT IS ONLY A GAME. That was my point – it was a point that segued nicely into the story about Shaun Berrigan and the fact he was sacrficing his brother’s wedding to play off the bench for Australia. I did not mention depression – my post was an indictment of the way sport has shifted from entertainment to something much more significant for many people. The example these stressed out, emotional wrecks are setting for the younger generation of sports people worries me. I did not comment on depression – I’m simply not qualified to do so. I may have made some reference to the issue in my response to some of the comments but I’ll get to that next. An interesting side note is that the full page photo the Courier Mail ran of a bedraggled, baggy eyed Trescothick getting off the plane in England was in fact not him but an unnamed English business man.

2. Play the ball not the man – when commenting please stick to commenting on the issue at hand. I’m not publishing my opinions asking to be attacked for them. Feel free to criticise what I have to say – but if you choose to anonymously insult me – I will delete the post. I will also reply – and because you’re anonymous I may be scathing and somewhat vindictive. I have the decency to put my name to my opinions – please do me, and other readers, the same courtesy by putting your name to yours. Also play the ball that’s being played – not some different issue. You can’t play golf while the rest of us are playing football. Whoever the anonymous poster was who brought suicide into the discussion yesterday was using a pathetic attempt at pathos by bringing in an extremely emotive, and sensitive issue into a discussion where it had no place to begin with. No one can argue with a post that wields suicide as a persuasive tool – you instantly place yourself on some sort of unassailable pedestal of rhetoric. That’s poor. No one needs to put up with shoddy emotional arguments.

3. Stick to the facts. It’s all well and good to argue using hearsay and some “statistics” that you’ve heard of supporting your position. The fact is 74% of statistics are made up on the spot. If you’re going to throw facts – scientific, economic or whatever at me – please back it up with evidence. I made the original post based on quotes from Trescothick available on the public record and reports of the story as it unfolded. Unless you’re an expert in your field – try to at least have an expert backing up your position. The exception being if you’re a certified member of the flat earth society – then I’m happy to laugh at your delusion.

4. Please read the post before commenting – don’t comment about what you think the post is about, comment about what it is about. Or leave a message saying hi. With your name. This blog exists so that my friends – or random strangers – can read my thoughts, and be kept up to speed with my life – and so that I have something to do at work, and can keep in touch with people as such I’m all for discourse – but please don’t go putting words in my mouth, I do a good enough job of making myself look stupid without your help. Finally, if you do suffer from depression, and you were insulted by any implied or explicit things I may have said in these last two posts – I apologise. Please seek professional help… or something – just don’t try to play cricket for England.

November 17, 2006

Stress Fractures

Professional sports people are finally catching up to the rest of the world when it comes to the concept of stress leave. It seems the Poms can no longer handle a bit of spirited competition with their fragile emotional psyches preventing them from partaking in competition with the Australians. Marcus Trescothick has just pulled out of the Ashes tour due to stress related illness. His trip home came close on the heels of British Rugby League half back Sean Long’s decision to give the Tri-Nations tour the flick heading home due to “emotional fatigue and exhaustion” – at least he had the excuse that his wife is heavily pregnant and about to give birth. These poor fragile sports stars. How tough life must be for them with their million dollar salaries and their fancy cars, fast women and rigorous playing schedule. Yes that’s right folks. Sport is hard work. All that running around is enough to give you heaps of emotional baggage. And the constant sledging must surely take a toll on your soul. Joel is right, sarcasm can be hard to pick up in text – so here’s an emoticon :P. When will these sports stars stop being so precious. Despite the pressure of having a nation’s hopes and expectations riding on your shoulders, at the end of the day sport is only a game. While people may not be prepared to forgive and forget when a player cracks on the field, and is sent off, possibly costing his team the World Cup (ala David Beckham) – the nature of sport means that new targets will constantly present themselves (ala Christiano Ronaldo – playing right wing for Man Utd is a position fraught with danger). You’d think Trescothick and co were trying to solve the North Korean nuclear crisis, or tackling climate change, or trying to work out exactly how they get the shells onto a smartie (which I’m researching for a later blog). At the end of the day these sports people are meant to be competitive mentally and physically – it’s not a matter of getting out of the kitchen when you can’t hack the heat – you shouldn’t be there to begin with. How can a player get to a position where he’s representing his country and bail when it all gets too hard? All the talk about how tough it is being in the spotlight, having to be a role model, training too hard – it’s all part and parcel of being a sports star – the cushy day job and good pay don’t come for nothing… at the end of the day these players have pretty much buggered up their team’s chances before a ball is bowled, or the whistle blows – so good on ‘em for that.

The “it’s only a game” perspective is in danger of completely falling by the wayside – Shaun Berrigan is set to miss being best man at his brother’s wedding just to play 80 minutes of football. I’ve never heard anything more absurd. 92% of people who responded to the Courier Mail survey said Shaun should miss the game. Coach Ricky Stuart said no. Coach Ricky Stuart is in danger of becoming Phil Gould’s successor as the most annoying person in Rugby League.

November 15, 2006

The return of the Biff

Matthew Johns’ alter ego Reg Reagan has been calling for the return of “the Biff” for a few years now, and it seems people are starting to listen. Tim posted his opinion on violence in sport in his blog a little while ago – I figured I’d get in on the action following Willie Mason’s one week suspension and $5000 fine for his one punch knock out of British Prop Stuart Fielden.

While Tim argued for violence in sport to be reduced to more civilised levels – I’m going to argue in the other direction. Sport is played for the benefit of the fans. Fans, as demonstrated by many years of blood sport attendance, love a bit of biff. That’s why State of Origin used to be so much fun. There was a good chance someone was going to be clocked on the noggin in a good old fashioned donnybrook.

That’s why the Tri Nations – despite Nathan Fien’s grannygate efforts – have been the most exciting international Rugby League series in years. And it’s why Rugby Union is a game full of pansies… (that ought to get some comments). AFL goes the closest to condoning a bit of fisticuffs of any of the major codes – with punches allowed provided you’re holding onto your opponents jersey.

The National Hockey League – Canada’s premiere sporting brand (Ice Hockey – nb the NHL also involves teams from the US – but its origins are Canadian) – has started a campaign to decrease their game’s violent image – cracking down on the legalised biffs that used to happen on the rink. The NHL is perhaps the most brutally violent sporting competition (ruling out boxing and other dedicated bloodsports). And this is why…

That punch resulted in a career ending injury for the victim and a long running series of law suits. However, there have been lengthier sentences handed out for other incidents like these:

There are all sorts of interesting legal ramifications for the assaults that occur under the guise of a sporting contest – Les Boyd (a former League star) was sued by walking outhouse, Darryl Brohman following an elbow to the head that left him with a broken jaw.

Traditionally considered a game for fairies – Football (or soccer as it’s known in only 2 countries – America and Australia) has had its fair share of on field violence

with Scottish firebrand Duncan Ferguson, who may be on his way to the A League, serving jail time for a headbutt. Irish psycho Roy Keane was sued for intentionally breaking an opponents leg following the publication of his autobiography. And my personal favourite was this incident featuring Eric Cantona. I’ve put this video up before I think, but I like it so much I’ll post it again.

November 9, 2006