Day -774. WorldCup2018
After tomorrow, "doing a Leicester" might become a commonly used
saying. Will any team at Russia 2018 "do a Leicester". South Korea and
Turkey were the last countries that probably qualified as underdogs that
came closest, reaching the semifinals in 2002. Didn't Pele once say
that an African team would win the World Cup by (when did he say) 2000?
Still waiting? And the Americans? They said they were going to win it
soon. China, as you may remember,are being a bit more realistic. Their
target is 2050. Who will be the Leicester of 2018? Colombia? Czech
Republic? Ghana? England? Don't laugh because you know England doing
well at a World Cup is always a surprise.
Saturday 30 April 2016
Friday 29 April 2016
They never went away
Day -775. WorldCup2018.
When the day doesn't get in the way I'll be back.....just like Roger Milla. We thought he was old at Italia '90 (but nobody really knew how old) and then he was back at USA '94 when he four years older than how old he was the last time. And Carlos Valderrama who seemed to be a veteran in 1990 and in 1994 we thought, "he's back again?", and in 1998, "what? How old is he now?" Milla and Valderrama, they never seemed to go away. And I won't, for the next 774 days.
When the day doesn't get in the way I'll be back.....just like Roger Milla. We thought he was old at Italia '90 (but nobody really knew how old) and then he was back at USA '94 when he four years older than how old he was the last time. And Carlos Valderrama who seemed to be a veteran in 1990 and in 1994 we thought, "he's back again?", and in 1998, "what? How old is he now?" Milla and Valderrama, they never seemed to go away. And I won't, for the next 774 days.
Thursday 28 April 2016
Long day...short post
Day -776. WorldCup2018
Goodnight day -776. It was a long one. I didn't have much time for you but there will be more.
Goodnight day -776. It was a long one. I didn't have much time for you but there will be more.
Wednesday 27 April 2016
All in the number
Day -777. WorldCup2018
I had a feeling that the number 777 had some sort of significance. I also, I admit, was low on inspiration so I hoped looking up the significance of the number 777 on Day -777 would help me out. And the believed meaning of it was indeed proved correct.
According to chi-nse.com, your "Daily Dose of Inspiration", it is a number associated with good luck: "It’s like a white feather, which suddenly fell from the sky right under your nose in the middle of the crowded street." So just when I needed inspiration, Day -777 happened. and like a feather Google appeared on my computer screen.
The deeper spiritual meaning of "Angel Number 777" is that it is a positive number, and "things are about to really start working out in your favour. Seeing 777 is a sign that you’re on your authentic life path and making progress towards accomplishing your purpose. The angels, the Divine, and the entire Universe are supporting you. Stay positive, balanced and focused upon what you’re moving towards, because the stars are aligned in your favour." (ask-angles.com)
So what does all give me for my Day -777 post? Am I feeling inspired and positive? Have I found what I was looking for, to write like I've never written before. Er......no. I'm feeling amused, because all I can think of are footballers who wear, or wore, the number 7. With teams now not sticking to the traditional numbers 1-11 on their team shirts, just imagine if a player chose to wear the number 777. I'm surprised David Luiz, with all his searching for divine intervention at the last World Cup, didn't try to wear that number.
But back to the famous no. 7's. Cristiano Ronaldo. He's made a fortune out of the CR7 brand. And he can play, but hasn't quite lit up any World Cup. He was part of the Portugal team that reached the semi-finals in 2006 and was best remembered for his wink at the Portuguese bench when England's Wayne Rooney get sent off in the quarter-final. And talking about England players getting sent off at World Cups, there's another footballer turned brand name; David Beckham, England's number 7 who was sent off in the 2002 second round against Argentina. And a Number 7 predecessor of Beckham and Ronaldo at Manchester United was one of the greatest players to never play at a World Cup, George Best. As good as he was, he unfortunately (in football terms) was born Northern Irish. Bryan Robson was another Manchester United and England number 7. He was what commentators regularly referred to as a "hard working" player. That means he was no Beckham or Ronaldo. My memory of Robson was the goal after 27 seconds against France in 1982 and his dodgy shoulder that kept popping out in 1986.
Others? Luis Suarez, who can't stop scoring goals but can't resist the occasional nibble of his opponents' ears or arms. Best World Cup moment? His "save" in 2010 for Uruguay against Ghana which denied Ghana a definite last minute winner. Ghana missed the penalty and Uruguay won after a penalty shoot out.
Kenny Daglish followed Kevin Keegan as the number 7 at Liverpool. Keegan was supposed to be the English star of the 1982 World Cup, I was told at the time. Because of injury all I saw of him was a desperate appearance as a substitute against Spain when England needed a goal to to stay in the World Cup, but he couldn't oblige. As for Daglish he was part of a pretty good Scottish team in 1978 and 1982 but, alas, Scotland could not get beyond the first round.
One of my favourites was Luis Figo. He was part of Portugal's "Golden Generation", semi-fianlists at the 2004 European Championships, but who failed miserably at the 2002 World Cup.
And I could go on: Ukraine's Shevchenko, that country's most famous player; France's Ribery and Cantona, a competition in arrogance.
Thank you number 777. Not exactly earth shattering inspiration but that white feather gave me a little something.
I had a feeling that the number 777 had some sort of significance. I also, I admit, was low on inspiration so I hoped looking up the significance of the number 777 on Day -777 would help me out. And the believed meaning of it was indeed proved correct.
According to chi-nse.com, your "Daily Dose of Inspiration", it is a number associated with good luck: "It’s like a white feather, which suddenly fell from the sky right under your nose in the middle of the crowded street." So just when I needed inspiration, Day -777 happened. and like a feather Google appeared on my computer screen.
The deeper spiritual meaning of "Angel Number 777" is that it is a positive number, and "things are about to really start working out in your favour. Seeing 777 is a sign that you’re on your authentic life path and making progress towards accomplishing your purpose. The angels, the Divine, and the entire Universe are supporting you. Stay positive, balanced and focused upon what you’re moving towards, because the stars are aligned in your favour." (ask-angles.com)
So what does all give me for my Day -777 post? Am I feeling inspired and positive? Have I found what I was looking for, to write like I've never written before. Er......no. I'm feeling amused, because all I can think of are footballers who wear, or wore, the number 7. With teams now not sticking to the traditional numbers 1-11 on their team shirts, just imagine if a player chose to wear the number 777. I'm surprised David Luiz, with all his searching for divine intervention at the last World Cup, didn't try to wear that number.
But back to the famous no. 7's. Cristiano Ronaldo. He's made a fortune out of the CR7 brand. And he can play, but hasn't quite lit up any World Cup. He was part of the Portugal team that reached the semi-finals in 2006 and was best remembered for his wink at the Portuguese bench when England's Wayne Rooney get sent off in the quarter-final. And talking about England players getting sent off at World Cups, there's another footballer turned brand name; David Beckham, England's number 7 who was sent off in the 2002 second round against Argentina. And a Number 7 predecessor of Beckham and Ronaldo at Manchester United was one of the greatest players to never play at a World Cup, George Best. As good as he was, he unfortunately (in football terms) was born Northern Irish. Bryan Robson was another Manchester United and England number 7. He was what commentators regularly referred to as a "hard working" player. That means he was no Beckham or Ronaldo. My memory of Robson was the goal after 27 seconds against France in 1982 and his dodgy shoulder that kept popping out in 1986.
Others? Luis Suarez, who can't stop scoring goals but can't resist the occasional nibble of his opponents' ears or arms. Best World Cup moment? His "save" in 2010 for Uruguay against Ghana which denied Ghana a definite last minute winner. Ghana missed the penalty and Uruguay won after a penalty shoot out.
Kenny Daglish followed Kevin Keegan as the number 7 at Liverpool. Keegan was supposed to be the English star of the 1982 World Cup, I was told at the time. Because of injury all I saw of him was a desperate appearance as a substitute against Spain when England needed a goal to to stay in the World Cup, but he couldn't oblige. As for Daglish he was part of a pretty good Scottish team in 1978 and 1982 but, alas, Scotland could not get beyond the first round.
One of my favourites was Luis Figo. He was part of Portugal's "Golden Generation", semi-fianlists at the 2004 European Championships, but who failed miserably at the 2002 World Cup.
And I could go on: Ukraine's Shevchenko, that country's most famous player; France's Ribery and Cantona, a competition in arrogance.
Thank you number 777. Not exactly earth shattering inspiration but that white feather gave me a little something.
Tuesday 26 April 2016
Justice for the 96
Day -778 WorldCup2018.
April 15th 1989 was a horrible day for football fans, especially those of Liverpool. The families of the 96 victims of the tragic events at Hillsborough who never saw their loved ones come home from watching a football match had to deal with that incredible, sudden loss. On top of that they endured years of suffering, of being told that fellow Liverpool supporters, through their unruly violent behaviour, were to blame for their deaths. For 27 years the families fought for justice for the 96. Today they got it. The verdict of the inquests into the disaster ruled the fans were unlawfully killed as a result of police errors and that Chief Superintendent David Duckenfield, the match commander that day, was "responsible for manslaughter by gross negligence".
I remember that day well. It was early days of live coverage of English football in Malta, on a new Italian channel. Not being fans of Italian commentary, and the reception wasn't the best, my Dad and I had decided to watch the recorded version later, with the "proper" English commentary. While we were watching something else, I had the urge to switch it over to the football. My Dad was none too pleased as "now you're going to spoil it for us", but it was at the moment that fans were beginning to spill onto the pitch. Our initial thoughts were, "hooligans again". But it quickly became apparent that this was something else. The fans on the pitch were the lucky ones, escaping the carnage unfolding up against the fences in the stands. BBC World Service told us that 10 had died, then 20, 30. And up and up it went. It was a Saturday afternoon unlike no other listening for news and results from the English football.
Over the years after 1989 I watched news and documentaries about the disaster. I was moved by memorials and the tragic stories. It was emotional watching Liverpool fans singing for justice for the 96 at matches around the anniversary, and the powerful renditions of "You'll Never Walk Alone". This year when Liverpool played Borussia Dortmund, close to the anniversary, both fans joined together in singing the Liverpool anthem.
But there was one moment that stood out for me. At the 20th memorial ceremony, Andy Burnham, the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport, was interrupted by an impromptu chant of "Justice for the 96". It started with one voice but grew to an impassioned plea by all those present. Something about the rawness of it, it being so unscripted and passionate, made it really hit home how affected these Liverpool supporters were by not only what had happened at Hillsborough but by what they had had to endure afterwards. It was bigger than fans supporting their team. The cry for justice would not stop until they got it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-z3mBIi084Q
April 15th 1989 was a horrible day for football fans, especially those of Liverpool. The families of the 96 victims of the tragic events at Hillsborough who never saw their loved ones come home from watching a football match had to deal with that incredible, sudden loss. On top of that they endured years of suffering, of being told that fellow Liverpool supporters, through their unruly violent behaviour, were to blame for their deaths. For 27 years the families fought for justice for the 96. Today they got it. The verdict of the inquests into the disaster ruled the fans were unlawfully killed as a result of police errors and that Chief Superintendent David Duckenfield, the match commander that day, was "responsible for manslaughter by gross negligence".
I remember that day well. It was early days of live coverage of English football in Malta, on a new Italian channel. Not being fans of Italian commentary, and the reception wasn't the best, my Dad and I had decided to watch the recorded version later, with the "proper" English commentary. While we were watching something else, I had the urge to switch it over to the football. My Dad was none too pleased as "now you're going to spoil it for us", but it was at the moment that fans were beginning to spill onto the pitch. Our initial thoughts were, "hooligans again". But it quickly became apparent that this was something else. The fans on the pitch were the lucky ones, escaping the carnage unfolding up against the fences in the stands. BBC World Service told us that 10 had died, then 20, 30. And up and up it went. It was a Saturday afternoon unlike no other listening for news and results from the English football.
Over the years after 1989 I watched news and documentaries about the disaster. I was moved by memorials and the tragic stories. It was emotional watching Liverpool fans singing for justice for the 96 at matches around the anniversary, and the powerful renditions of "You'll Never Walk Alone". This year when Liverpool played Borussia Dortmund, close to the anniversary, both fans joined together in singing the Liverpool anthem.
But there was one moment that stood out for me. At the 20th memorial ceremony, Andy Burnham, the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport, was interrupted by an impromptu chant of "Justice for the 96". It started with one voice but grew to an impassioned plea by all those present. Something about the rawness of it, it being so unscripted and passionate, made it really hit home how affected these Liverpool supporters were by not only what had happened at Hillsborough but by what they had had to endure afterwards. It was bigger than fans supporting their team. The cry for justice would not stop until they got it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-z3mBIi084Q
Monday 25 April 2016
That night in Spain
Day -779. WorldCup2018.
Do you remember when Spain had to beat Malta by 11 goals to qualify for the 1984 European Championship Finals? It's not a World Cup story, I know, but it is necessary to have one more Malta story, as a continuation of yesterday's post and in defiance of Tony Soprano. The Spain-Malta story also has a comical sequel, pointed out to my by one of those friends with whom humour in football was found many times over the years.
In December 1983 Spain had to beat Malta by a difference of 11 goals to qualify for France '84 and eliminate Holland on goal difference. This, I believe, was the last time that the final round of qualifying matches were not played at the same time, thus eliminating the possibility of teams knowing what result they needed. In the match played in Malta earlier in qualifying, Spain had come back from 2-1 down in the second half to win 3-2. Unfortunately, I wasn't at that match. When I looked it up, I found that it was played a day before my birthday and maybe I was busy eating chocolate cake somewhere, as a warm up to the even better chocolate cake I was going to eat the next day. But there was still something quite unforgettable about that match. The local TV station (the only one) would show recordings of Malta's matches in the evening. The commentator was the wonderful Fr. Hilary Tagliaferro. He presented a sports programme on TV every weekend, he was the football commentator, he worked for many years for the Malta FA. And he was a priest, admired by many. Now there's a story.
Fr. Hilary's excitable commentary when Malta scored their second goal is quiet legendary. I cannot find any footage of it, but in my head I can hear: goal...goal...goal...GOAL!!!!! Apart from the exuberant commentary it was a great result: "we only lost 3-2".
Even though we didn't expect a similar result in the return match, nobody, including the Dutch, really feared that Spain would get their required 11 goals. The 11 became 12, when Malta had the audacity to score. At 3-1 at half-time, there didn't seem much hope that Spain would redeem themselves in the Euros after a disappointing performance as the host country of the 1982 World Cup. But the goals kept coming and coming. And the final result, 12-1, was as much a triumph of a massive proportions for Spain as it was the ultimate embarrassment for Malta.
Inevitably, conspiracy theories abounded and still do. There really only was one theory, and it would take no genius to guess what it was. I stress, it was just a theory. No evidence of any wrongdoing was ever uncovered. The following year the Malta FA hired a non-Maltese coach, Guentcho Dobrev to take over the task of rebuilding some pride in Maltese football.
The Maltese goalkeeper on that fateful night was John Bonello. One would imagine that he became the punch line of many jokes in Spain. Indeed, Spanish friends, told me years later that he was quite the legend in Spain for his non-heroics that night. At the end of his career you would think that he would not want to be reminded of his unwanted status in Spain. But not our John. He embraced the humour and faced it head on. He featured in a beer commercial that had him as the prominent hero, as "Spain's Perfect Friend". The joke is taken further when you see that it is a commercial for a Dutch beer on Spanish TV. Whether Bonello realised that he was being used as source of amusement is unknown to me. Maybe he agreed to it as a way to be rid of the demons. Or he thought he could use his misfortune to his monetary benefit. He could have just wanted his 15 minutes of fame all over again. Whatever it was, it brought the conspiracy theorists out again. A couple of comments under this video infer that Bonello might have been happy to make money out of this match twice over. Again, I stress, that's a very bold accusation. The perception, unfortunately, will always remain but there was no evidence.
Whatever may have happened, it remains one of those moments that we, Maltese football supporters, can only laugh at.
Do you remember when Spain had to beat Malta by 11 goals to qualify for the 1984 European Championship Finals? It's not a World Cup story, I know, but it is necessary to have one more Malta story, as a continuation of yesterday's post and in defiance of Tony Soprano. The Spain-Malta story also has a comical sequel, pointed out to my by one of those friends with whom humour in football was found many times over the years.
In December 1983 Spain had to beat Malta by a difference of 11 goals to qualify for France '84 and eliminate Holland on goal difference. This, I believe, was the last time that the final round of qualifying matches were not played at the same time, thus eliminating the possibility of teams knowing what result they needed. In the match played in Malta earlier in qualifying, Spain had come back from 2-1 down in the second half to win 3-2. Unfortunately, I wasn't at that match. When I looked it up, I found that it was played a day before my birthday and maybe I was busy eating chocolate cake somewhere, as a warm up to the even better chocolate cake I was going to eat the next day. But there was still something quite unforgettable about that match. The local TV station (the only one) would show recordings of Malta's matches in the evening. The commentator was the wonderful Fr. Hilary Tagliaferro. He presented a sports programme on TV every weekend, he was the football commentator, he worked for many years for the Malta FA. And he was a priest, admired by many. Now there's a story.
Fr. Hilary's excitable commentary when Malta scored their second goal is quiet legendary. I cannot find any footage of it, but in my head I can hear: goal...goal...goal...GOAL!!!!! Apart from the exuberant commentary it was a great result: "we only lost 3-2".
Even though we didn't expect a similar result in the return match, nobody, including the Dutch, really feared that Spain would get their required 11 goals. The 11 became 12, when Malta had the audacity to score. At 3-1 at half-time, there didn't seem much hope that Spain would redeem themselves in the Euros after a disappointing performance as the host country of the 1982 World Cup. But the goals kept coming and coming. And the final result, 12-1, was as much a triumph of a massive proportions for Spain as it was the ultimate embarrassment for Malta.
Inevitably, conspiracy theories abounded and still do. There really only was one theory, and it would take no genius to guess what it was. I stress, it was just a theory. No evidence of any wrongdoing was ever uncovered. The following year the Malta FA hired a non-Maltese coach, Guentcho Dobrev to take over the task of rebuilding some pride in Maltese football.
The Maltese goalkeeper on that fateful night was John Bonello. One would imagine that he became the punch line of many jokes in Spain. Indeed, Spanish friends, told me years later that he was quite the legend in Spain for his non-heroics that night. At the end of his career you would think that he would not want to be reminded of his unwanted status in Spain. But not our John. He embraced the humour and faced it head on. He featured in a beer commercial that had him as the prominent hero, as "Spain's Perfect Friend". The joke is taken further when you see that it is a commercial for a Dutch beer on Spanish TV. Whether Bonello realised that he was being used as source of amusement is unknown to me. Maybe he agreed to it as a way to be rid of the demons. Or he thought he could use his misfortune to his monetary benefit. He could have just wanted his 15 minutes of fame all over again. Whatever it was, it brought the conspiracy theorists out again. A couple of comments under this video infer that Bonello might have been happy to make money out of this match twice over. Again, I stress, that's a very bold accusation. The perception, unfortunately, will always remain but there was no evidence.
Whatever may have happened, it remains one of those moments that we, Maltese football supporters, can only laugh at.
Sunday 24 April 2016
Memories make the present
Day -780. World Cup2018
Tony Soprano once said: "'Remember when' is the lowest form of conversation". I never agreed with the writer of that line, who did a good job of portraying Soprano as a man unhappy about his past and bitter about where life had taken him. This (my disagreement with the quote) came to mind a couple of weeks ago on a visit to Malta for a few days. There were lots of "remember when" moments with friends with whom some of the best moments where shared. And we laughed at our memories in way that Soprano probably couldn't. And those incidents shared many years ago have made our friendships strong.
Much of my 1000 day countdown is made up of memories, of World Cups past and other football incidents. With the same Malta friends we might have, maybe inappropriately, made fun of some of the un-pronoucable names. We laughed at commentators stating the obvious, or players doing a Rivaldo (the missile incident against Turkey, 2002). We supported, but were entertained by, Malta in their home qualifiers. We prayed for a win, maybe a draw, or even just a goal, yet very often we could do nothing other than laugh at our desperate hope that our goalkeeper would not drop a cross, or at our pleas that we be awarded a non-existent penalty out of pity.
There were matches watched by myself, lucky that I lived within a half hour walking distance from the one stadium where all the football was played. Those lazy Sunday afternoons, sitting in a mostly empty stadium, enjoying (again, probably inappropriately) the smell of cigarette smoke were probably what led to my life being remembered in 4 year cycles starting with 1982. That stadium and Tele Santana.
Tele Santana made me happy, but at the time I didn't know it was because of him. I came across a story recently about the joy that Santana brought to the Brazilian team when he was their manager, and how the Brazilian people, starved of the Brazilian way of playing football in the 1970s, shared in that joy. And so did I, in that first World Cup I watched in 1982. I've eulogised that team many times in the past. A 'remember when' moment. I remember when Brazil played football and it was fun to watch. The tricks, the audacity to do things that other players on other teams wouldn't dare do in a competitive match. And because of that memory of Santana's team I enjoy the moments of brilliance that happen these days from a team like Barcelona. And I enjoy football because Brazil '82 existed in my lifetime.
As with my my friends, reconnected with recently, the happy memories of nine World Cups make for a happy present. It wouldn't have happened without the past, Mr. Soprano.
Do I have a point? Is there a reason for all this? Probably somewhere, if I looked for it. This all simply came from a chance reading of that Tele Santana story, a remembering of that Sopranos episode and the recent trip to Malta. I will not preach about a lesson to be learnt from this. Just a happy collection of memories that contribute to me doing this everyday.
Better than Tony Soprano, comedian Steven Wright: "When I think of the past it brings back so many memories."
Tony Soprano once said: "'Remember when' is the lowest form of conversation". I never agreed with the writer of that line, who did a good job of portraying Soprano as a man unhappy about his past and bitter about where life had taken him. This (my disagreement with the quote) came to mind a couple of weeks ago on a visit to Malta for a few days. There were lots of "remember when" moments with friends with whom some of the best moments where shared. And we laughed at our memories in way that Soprano probably couldn't. And those incidents shared many years ago have made our friendships strong.
Much of my 1000 day countdown is made up of memories, of World Cups past and other football incidents. With the same Malta friends we might have, maybe inappropriately, made fun of some of the un-pronoucable names. We laughed at commentators stating the obvious, or players doing a Rivaldo (the missile incident against Turkey, 2002). We supported, but were entertained by, Malta in their home qualifiers. We prayed for a win, maybe a draw, or even just a goal, yet very often we could do nothing other than laugh at our desperate hope that our goalkeeper would not drop a cross, or at our pleas that we be awarded a non-existent penalty out of pity.
There were matches watched by myself, lucky that I lived within a half hour walking distance from the one stadium where all the football was played. Those lazy Sunday afternoons, sitting in a mostly empty stadium, enjoying (again, probably inappropriately) the smell of cigarette smoke were probably what led to my life being remembered in 4 year cycles starting with 1982. That stadium and Tele Santana.
Tele Santana made me happy, but at the time I didn't know it was because of him. I came across a story recently about the joy that Santana brought to the Brazilian team when he was their manager, and how the Brazilian people, starved of the Brazilian way of playing football in the 1970s, shared in that joy. And so did I, in that first World Cup I watched in 1982. I've eulogised that team many times in the past. A 'remember when' moment. I remember when Brazil played football and it was fun to watch. The tricks, the audacity to do things that other players on other teams wouldn't dare do in a competitive match. And because of that memory of Santana's team I enjoy the moments of brilliance that happen these days from a team like Barcelona. And I enjoy football because Brazil '82 existed in my lifetime.
As with my my friends, reconnected with recently, the happy memories of nine World Cups make for a happy present. It wouldn't have happened without the past, Mr. Soprano.
Do I have a point? Is there a reason for all this? Probably somewhere, if I looked for it. This all simply came from a chance reading of that Tele Santana story, a remembering of that Sopranos episode and the recent trip to Malta. I will not preach about a lesson to be learnt from this. Just a happy collection of memories that contribute to me doing this everyday.
Better than Tony Soprano, comedian Steven Wright: "When I think of the past it brings back so many memories."
Friday 22 April 2016
Infantino meets Putin
Day -782. WorldCup2018.
New Fifa president Gianni Infantino visited Russian stadiums that will host the World Cup, met with Vladimir Putin and announced that the World Cup will definitely go ahead in Russia and that it will be the best ever. I would have challenged him, just as a twisted joke, to have told Putin that Fifa were thinking about moving the World Cup to the U.S. as there was concerns about Russia's record of silencing political opponents, and incidents of racial abuse in stadiums. Now that would have either been one hell of a meeting to read about, or it would have been the meeting of which the details Infantino would never have been allowed to share.
New Fifa president Gianni Infantino visited Russian stadiums that will host the World Cup, met with Vladimir Putin and announced that the World Cup will definitely go ahead in Russia and that it will be the best ever. I would have challenged him, just as a twisted joke, to have told Putin that Fifa were thinking about moving the World Cup to the U.S. as there was concerns about Russia's record of silencing political opponents, and incidents of racial abuse in stadiums. Now that would have either been one hell of a meeting to read about, or it would have been the meeting of which the details Infantino would never have been allowed to share.
Thursday 21 April 2016
Prince
Day -783. WorldCup2018
True legends and icons transcend their direct areas of expertise. A few weeks ago Johan Cruyff's death made headlines outside of the football pages. Today football fans, non-football fans, and pretty much anybody who has ever listened to music on the radio was shocked and saddened by the news of Prince's passing. An icon, a legend. A lot more.
True legends and icons transcend their direct areas of expertise. A few weeks ago Johan Cruyff's death made headlines outside of the football pages. Today football fans, non-football fans, and pretty much anybody who has ever listened to music on the radio was shocked and saddened by the news of Prince's passing. An icon, a legend. A lot more.
Wednesday 20 April 2016
Barcelona and Hungary
Day -784. WorldCup2018
I admit, if it wasn't obvious already, that I have a little bit of a footballing crush on Barcelona. They are a little bit special; no, really special and have been for a number of years. A few years ago, when Frank Rijkard was their manager, and more European football was being broadcast on Canadian TV, I was transfixed one day, watching them play Harlem Globetrotter style football, but in real competitive matches. And they never stopped attacking, and scoring. And it was pretty, in the hard-to-explain-to-a-non-football-fan way that football can be pretty. It is possible that I enjoy watching them play because I don't have to suffer the humiliation of them, well, humiliating a team that I support. There is little chance of that happening for a while, unless there is a new European competition that pits the best teams in the Spanish League against teams in the English Championship (that's the Second Division in my language).
Barcelona have replaced my well documented, oft mentioned childhood team that made me dream: Brazil, version 1982. There is one big difference. While Brazil entertained as much as Barcelona do now, the latter actually won stuff, a whole lot of stuff, over and over again, season after season. Barcelona are without doubt the team that showed it was possible to win and still make it look like fun. Brazil are still looking to find that formula, lost since 1970.
And the reason for my Barcelona loving today? Apparently they were going through a bit of a crisis: knocked out of the Champions League and two consecutive defeats in the league. So what did they do today? They went to La Coruna and beat Deportivo 8-0. Eight. Nil. That's how Barcelona deal with a crisis.
All of this sparked a memory of that 1982 World Cup. High scoring wins are quite rare in recent World Cups. Germany beat Saudi Arabia 8-0 in 2002, and Portugal won 7-0 against North Korea in 2010, and there was that 7-1 hiding by the Germans in that terrible semi-final for Brazil two years ago. In 1982 Hungary beat El Salvador 10-1. That seems quite incredible to think that one team could score 10 goals against another country that had qualified to be part of the tournament for the best 24 teams in the world. But as a first time World Cup watcher it seemed pretty normal. After all this was Hungary (I had heard they were quite good, had a guy called Puskas playing for them once upon a time) and they were playing El Salvador. They didn't even sound like a proper footballing country. So, yes, 10-1 seemed like a logical result. And by that same logic, Belgium and Argentina must have been terrible to only beat El Salvador 1-0 and 2-0 respectively. In the end, I guess, the 1-0 and 2-0 counted for a lot more than the 10-1. Argentina and Belgium qualified for the second round and the Hungarians were, if they were allowed to in 1982, off on their holidays.
It may not exactly be Barcelona-esque, although the defending was probably worse than Deportivo's, but here are those 10 goals and the wildly celebrated El Salvadorian goal to make it 5-1.
I admit, if it wasn't obvious already, that I have a little bit of a footballing crush on Barcelona. They are a little bit special; no, really special and have been for a number of years. A few years ago, when Frank Rijkard was their manager, and more European football was being broadcast on Canadian TV, I was transfixed one day, watching them play Harlem Globetrotter style football, but in real competitive matches. And they never stopped attacking, and scoring. And it was pretty, in the hard-to-explain-to-a-non-football-fan way that football can be pretty. It is possible that I enjoy watching them play because I don't have to suffer the humiliation of them, well, humiliating a team that I support. There is little chance of that happening for a while, unless there is a new European competition that pits the best teams in the Spanish League against teams in the English Championship (that's the Second Division in my language).
Barcelona have replaced my well documented, oft mentioned childhood team that made me dream: Brazil, version 1982. There is one big difference. While Brazil entertained as much as Barcelona do now, the latter actually won stuff, a whole lot of stuff, over and over again, season after season. Barcelona are without doubt the team that showed it was possible to win and still make it look like fun. Brazil are still looking to find that formula, lost since 1970.
And the reason for my Barcelona loving today? Apparently they were going through a bit of a crisis: knocked out of the Champions League and two consecutive defeats in the league. So what did they do today? They went to La Coruna and beat Deportivo 8-0. Eight. Nil. That's how Barcelona deal with a crisis.
All of this sparked a memory of that 1982 World Cup. High scoring wins are quite rare in recent World Cups. Germany beat Saudi Arabia 8-0 in 2002, and Portugal won 7-0 against North Korea in 2010, and there was that 7-1 hiding by the Germans in that terrible semi-final for Brazil two years ago. In 1982 Hungary beat El Salvador 10-1. That seems quite incredible to think that one team could score 10 goals against another country that had qualified to be part of the tournament for the best 24 teams in the world. But as a first time World Cup watcher it seemed pretty normal. After all this was Hungary (I had heard they were quite good, had a guy called Puskas playing for them once upon a time) and they were playing El Salvador. They didn't even sound like a proper footballing country. So, yes, 10-1 seemed like a logical result. And by that same logic, Belgium and Argentina must have been terrible to only beat El Salvador 1-0 and 2-0 respectively. In the end, I guess, the 1-0 and 2-0 counted for a lot more than the 10-1. Argentina and Belgium qualified for the second round and the Hungarians were, if they were allowed to in 1982, off on their holidays.
It may not exactly be Barcelona-esque, although the defending was probably worse than Deportivo's, but here are those 10 goals and the wildly celebrated El Salvadorian goal to make it 5-1.
Tuesday 19 April 2016
Keep the countdown going.
Day -785. WorldCup2018.
I make sure I get something posted on my countdown everyday. One of the websites I check occasionally is the Welcome2018.com page which is the official "tourist portal" for the World Cup, as advertised by Fifa and the Russia 2018 organising committee. There are two very similar pages.....one is the "tourist portal" and one seems to be more about the World Cup itself, the host cities and such. Yes, me too. I can't see much of a difference. They both link to a Welcome2018 facebook page. It is in Russian. The Facebook page for tourists is in Russian. Then I found a very similar English page: Welcome to Russia: 2018 World Cup. Official or not, the last post was July 2015. And I worry if the day's almost over and I haven't posted anything.
I make sure I get something posted on my countdown everyday. One of the websites I check occasionally is the Welcome2018.com page which is the official "tourist portal" for the World Cup, as advertised by Fifa and the Russia 2018 organising committee. There are two very similar pages.....one is the "tourist portal" and one seems to be more about the World Cup itself, the host cities and such. Yes, me too. I can't see much of a difference. They both link to a Welcome2018 facebook page. It is in Russian. The Facebook page for tourists is in Russian. Then I found a very similar English page: Welcome to Russia: 2018 World Cup. Official or not, the last post was July 2015. And I worry if the day's almost over and I haven't posted anything.
Monday 18 April 2016
Fakers.
Day -786. WorldCup2018
If you live in England or in the global world of English football you were probably involved in today, or heard, an argument about Jamie Vardy and his belly flop onto the pitch of the King Power stadium yesterday. Did he, or didn't he? Diver, or not? Red card justified, or over the top refereeing? Whatever your opinion (cough cough diver ahem) Leicester may be without their top scorer for not only the standard one match ban but more, after he was charged with improper conduct by the English FA.
So maybe the good guy, playing for the fairytale English team of this season will be, in the eyes, of many unfairly punished. And if Leicester don't win the Premier League now, cue the wild protests. We wuz robbed.....
It reminded of my favourite World Cup diver villain. who got away with it to a certain extent. He received a measly fine for his play acting which was really quite terrible. I mean the actual act was terribly performed. Comical. That he did it was also abysmal. But his team were not punished and he was not suspended. And on he, and Brazil, went to become World Champions in 2002.
May I present to you (excuse my previous mentions of this incident) one of the worst examples of "I've been struck by a lethal weapon which has rendered me virtually unconscious until the referee shows the other player a red or yellow card" ever. Rivaldo, don't take a bow.
If you live in England or in the global world of English football you were probably involved in today, or heard, an argument about Jamie Vardy and his belly flop onto the pitch of the King Power stadium yesterday. Did he, or didn't he? Diver, or not? Red card justified, or over the top refereeing? Whatever your opinion (cough cough diver ahem) Leicester may be without their top scorer for not only the standard one match ban but more, after he was charged with improper conduct by the English FA.
So maybe the good guy, playing for the fairytale English team of this season will be, in the eyes, of many unfairly punished. And if Leicester don't win the Premier League now, cue the wild protests. We wuz robbed.....
It reminded of my favourite World Cup diver villain. who got away with it to a certain extent. He received a measly fine for his play acting which was really quite terrible. I mean the actual act was terribly performed. Comical. That he did it was also abysmal. But his team were not punished and he was not suspended. And on he, and Brazil, went to become World Champions in 2002.
May I present to you (excuse my previous mentions of this incident) one of the worst examples of "I've been struck by a lethal weapon which has rendered me virtually unconscious until the referee shows the other player a red or yellow card" ever. Rivaldo, don't take a bow.
Sunday 17 April 2016
Eder!
Day -787. WorldCup2018
Short one today, inspired by yet another defeat for the seemingly invincible Barcelona.
When the South American qualifiers resume in September the biggest match could be Ecuador-Brazil. Ecuador are joint first and Brazil are sixth. Brazil cannot afford to not be winning, starting against Ecuador. A World Cup without Brazil is a possibility and even their coach, Dunga, has admitted that it is "complicated". A Brazil without Dunga does not seem that complicated. And maybe the Brazil that would be missed at a World Cup, the team that scores goals like this, will return.
I've been nostalgic for the old Brazil many times in the past. Maybe I should give up on that ever happening again. Even the best club team in the world, one of the most magical football teams ever, Barcelona, have lost three matches in a row. A need for results may become more necessary than the beauty of it. Brazil have been fighting that battle for over 30 years now.
Short one today, inspired by yet another defeat for the seemingly invincible Barcelona.
When the South American qualifiers resume in September the biggest match could be Ecuador-Brazil. Ecuador are joint first and Brazil are sixth. Brazil cannot afford to not be winning, starting against Ecuador. A World Cup without Brazil is a possibility and even their coach, Dunga, has admitted that it is "complicated". A Brazil without Dunga does not seem that complicated. And maybe the Brazil that would be missed at a World Cup, the team that scores goals like this, will return.
I've been nostalgic for the old Brazil many times in the past. Maybe I should give up on that ever happening again. Even the best club team in the world, one of the most magical football teams ever, Barcelona, have lost three matches in a row. A need for results may become more necessary than the beauty of it. Brazil have been fighting that battle for over 30 years now.
Saturday 16 April 2016
It's Russia, we're positive!
Day -788. WorldCup2018.
With just over 2 years to go until the start of Russia 2018, one would expect the normal bad news coming out of the host nation about delays in stadium construction, problems with the new train stations or airports and a lack of hotel rooms. But not in Russia. All the updates are always so positive it makes you wonder why Russia doesn't host every major sporting event. It also makes me think about why so many millions of rubles, or dollars, or euros are spent on new stadiums. If the World Cup is given to a country with a strong footballing background, doesn't that country have many stadiums already? Unless, of course, Qatar is chosen as the host. But that's an argument for another day.
The latest Fifa news from Russia comes after a visit to six stadiums by officials from Fifa and the local organising committee. The news is, once again, all good. Everything is on track and all the work will be completed in time for the Confederations Cup in 2017. Good for them. That's great news.
What caught my attention was the headline to the story on the Fifa website:
"Stadium tour reveals positive developments"
Is the emphahsis here on reveals or on positive? Has it been revealed that there is positive news, or do we need to be convinced that the news is positive? Anybody still with me? This is another just-before-midnight post and I may be vague in my argument. But that headline amused me, as though it is trying very hard to convince it's readers that there is positive news, "because you were all expecting it to be negative."
With all this positivity I look forward to none of the obligatory stories coming out of host nations a couple of months before the start date of a mad rush to complete stadiums. If that does happen I will find this story again and send it to the orgaising committee.
With just over 2 years to go until the start of Russia 2018, one would expect the normal bad news coming out of the host nation about delays in stadium construction, problems with the new train stations or airports and a lack of hotel rooms. But not in Russia. All the updates are always so positive it makes you wonder why Russia doesn't host every major sporting event. It also makes me think about why so many millions of rubles, or dollars, or euros are spent on new stadiums. If the World Cup is given to a country with a strong footballing background, doesn't that country have many stadiums already? Unless, of course, Qatar is chosen as the host. But that's an argument for another day.
The latest Fifa news from Russia comes after a visit to six stadiums by officials from Fifa and the local organising committee. The news is, once again, all good. Everything is on track and all the work will be completed in time for the Confederations Cup in 2017. Good for them. That's great news.
What caught my attention was the headline to the story on the Fifa website:
"Stadium tour reveals positive developments"
Is the emphahsis here on reveals or on positive? Has it been revealed that there is positive news, or do we need to be convinced that the news is positive? Anybody still with me? This is another just-before-midnight post and I may be vague in my argument. But that headline amused me, as though it is trying very hard to convince it's readers that there is positive news, "because you were all expecting it to be negative."
With all this positivity I look forward to none of the obligatory stories coming out of host nations a couple of months before the start date of a mad rush to complete stadiums. If that does happen I will find this story again and send it to the orgaising committee.
Friday 15 April 2016
World Cup openings
Day -789 WorldCup2018.
The opening match of Russia 2018 kicks off at 6pm, Moscow time, on June 16th. Assuming I'm still living where I am right now, that will be 11am for me. So while I'm looking for a way to get out of work, or disappear for a couple of hours, and grab my second coffee of the day, Russians and other Europeans will be leaving work early to get home or to a bar to enjoy the football with a beer. Same match, different viewing experience. But, hold on. I thought the Russian organising committee, or Fifa, must not be too worried about work productivity that day. 6pm is a pretty early kick-off. But then I checked and June 16th is a Saturday. It seems strange. As far as I can remember, the opening match was always on a weekday, usually a Friday. Why that is strange to me I can't really explain. It must be one of those things that is wired into my football brain: World Cups start on a Friday.
So I had to check. It is a fact that we very often make decisions based on perceptions of previous events rather than real, hard facts. World Cups start on a Friday. That's what my head tells me.
Argentina-Belgium in 1982, my first one, was on a Sunday. I had school the next day. I'm not sure I was allowed to stay up and watch it all. End of year exams were close. At Mexico 1986 Italy opened against Bulgaria in a somewhat surprising 1-1 draw on a Sunday, at noon. Noon. In Mexico. Guess who was seen as the most important football audience in the world? Yes, it was prime evening viewing in Europe. I do remember watching it, even though it was 4 years later and exams were probably a little more important now. So far, my Friday theory is not quite panning out. Perceptions.
Argentina-Cameroon, Italy, 1990. Yes! It was on a Friday, at 6pm. I remember the heat and that by now our house had emptied somewhat and with it being an early start, I watched it alone at home. This was the match of the spectacular tackle on Claudio Caniggia and the surprise win for Cameroon.
USA 1994. Another Friday start. Germany beat Bolivia 1-0. I have absolutely nothing to say about, except that I remember the match that followed it. Spain drew 2-2 with South Korea. These Koreans look pretty good, I remember thinking. Again, the opening match, as were many at that World Cup, was played at a time that suited the Europeans perfectly. For me it was a great evening at the end of exams at University.
Brazil-Scotland, June 10th, France '98 was the pub plan gone wrong. And it was on a Wednesday. I was at a "British" pub, downtown Toronto, which we thought would be a great place to watch Scotland play in the World Cup. Not quite so. Maybe it was because it was middle of the day, but it felt like we had come in to watch the opening day of junior waterpolo Canadian championships. Aside from Scotland's bad luck at losing 2-1 the entertainment of the day was wondering why the bartender/waiter had disappeared out the pub when we ordered lunch. Ah, there he is, back with the bread. Funny that we actually have customers for lunch today, he must have been thinking.
The French disaster in their opening loss to Senegal at Japan/South Korea 2002 took place on a Friday. A-ha! There's another one. This was a roll out of bed, stay at home, but then quickly get ready for work event. Early morning football. It just didn't seem right. You spend the day talking about what happened before you came to work, not spend the work day arguing about what might happen when you go home from work.
Germany 2006, another Friday lunchtime. Germany beat Costa Rica 4-2 in what I would call a fun match. I rushed home that day after an early start to a big hole, a pit, in my front lawn. The gas line was being replaced, but I didn't know and my only thought was, am I going to have to deal with this today, now? Thankfully, not. Football was enjoyed.
Mexico-South Africa opened South Africa 2010. A new era in my life, a new job, meant I happened to find myself walking by a TV quite often and occasionally having to stop, but not long enough that it looked like I was lingering. And, yes, it was a Friday.
And finally to Brazil 2014. The opening match, for which I could not find an excuse to get away from work for, was played on a Thursday. Brazil, the Brazil of Hulk, Fred and Jo, and Neymar and Big Phil, unconvincingly beat Croatia 3-1. Or so I was told through the number of messages I received from friends all over the world who were ready to discuss. But life, outside of football, got in the way again.
I didn't do too badly. In my World Cup life, 9 World Cups, 5 opened on a Friday and two others on weekdays. So there you go Russia. Saturday is weird. What will I do, 789 days from now at 11 am? You would think that's well enough time to make a good plan.
The opening match of Russia 2018 kicks off at 6pm, Moscow time, on June 16th. Assuming I'm still living where I am right now, that will be 11am for me. So while I'm looking for a way to get out of work, or disappear for a couple of hours, and grab my second coffee of the day, Russians and other Europeans will be leaving work early to get home or to a bar to enjoy the football with a beer. Same match, different viewing experience. But, hold on. I thought the Russian organising committee, or Fifa, must not be too worried about work productivity that day. 6pm is a pretty early kick-off. But then I checked and June 16th is a Saturday. It seems strange. As far as I can remember, the opening match was always on a weekday, usually a Friday. Why that is strange to me I can't really explain. It must be one of those things that is wired into my football brain: World Cups start on a Friday.
So I had to check. It is a fact that we very often make decisions based on perceptions of previous events rather than real, hard facts. World Cups start on a Friday. That's what my head tells me.
Argentina-Belgium in 1982, my first one, was on a Sunday. I had school the next day. I'm not sure I was allowed to stay up and watch it all. End of year exams were close. At Mexico 1986 Italy opened against Bulgaria in a somewhat surprising 1-1 draw on a Sunday, at noon. Noon. In Mexico. Guess who was seen as the most important football audience in the world? Yes, it was prime evening viewing in Europe. I do remember watching it, even though it was 4 years later and exams were probably a little more important now. So far, my Friday theory is not quite panning out. Perceptions.
Argentina-Cameroon, Italy, 1990. Yes! It was on a Friday, at 6pm. I remember the heat and that by now our house had emptied somewhat and with it being an early start, I watched it alone at home. This was the match of the spectacular tackle on Claudio Caniggia and the surprise win for Cameroon.
USA 1994. Another Friday start. Germany beat Bolivia 1-0. I have absolutely nothing to say about, except that I remember the match that followed it. Spain drew 2-2 with South Korea. These Koreans look pretty good, I remember thinking. Again, the opening match, as were many at that World Cup, was played at a time that suited the Europeans perfectly. For me it was a great evening at the end of exams at University.
Brazil-Scotland, June 10th, France '98 was the pub plan gone wrong. And it was on a Wednesday. I was at a "British" pub, downtown Toronto, which we thought would be a great place to watch Scotland play in the World Cup. Not quite so. Maybe it was because it was middle of the day, but it felt like we had come in to watch the opening day of junior waterpolo Canadian championships. Aside from Scotland's bad luck at losing 2-1 the entertainment of the day was wondering why the bartender/waiter had disappeared out the pub when we ordered lunch. Ah, there he is, back with the bread. Funny that we actually have customers for lunch today, he must have been thinking.
The French disaster in their opening loss to Senegal at Japan/South Korea 2002 took place on a Friday. A-ha! There's another one. This was a roll out of bed, stay at home, but then quickly get ready for work event. Early morning football. It just didn't seem right. You spend the day talking about what happened before you came to work, not spend the work day arguing about what might happen when you go home from work.
Germany 2006, another Friday lunchtime. Germany beat Costa Rica 4-2 in what I would call a fun match. I rushed home that day after an early start to a big hole, a pit, in my front lawn. The gas line was being replaced, but I didn't know and my only thought was, am I going to have to deal with this today, now? Thankfully, not. Football was enjoyed.
Mexico-South Africa opened South Africa 2010. A new era in my life, a new job, meant I happened to find myself walking by a TV quite often and occasionally having to stop, but not long enough that it looked like I was lingering. And, yes, it was a Friday.
And finally to Brazil 2014. The opening match, for which I could not find an excuse to get away from work for, was played on a Thursday. Brazil, the Brazil of Hulk, Fred and Jo, and Neymar and Big Phil, unconvincingly beat Croatia 3-1. Or so I was told through the number of messages I received from friends all over the world who were ready to discuss. But life, outside of football, got in the way again.
I didn't do too badly. In my World Cup life, 9 World Cups, 5 opened on a Friday and two others on weekdays. So there you go Russia. Saturday is weird. What will I do, 789 days from now at 11 am? You would think that's well enough time to make a good plan.
Thursday 14 April 2016
Watch it all. Watch to the end.
Day -790. WorldCup2018
What a football match. It's days like this when you thank football for being able to be so exhilarating, for being so edge-of-your-seat exciting, the possibility of such an incredible turnaround in emotions, culminating in a injury time winner when all seemed lost 30 minutes earlier for the winning team.
It's days like this when I wish I didn't stop paying attention at the 60 minute mark. TV went off at half-time. Liverpool were losing 2-0 against Borussia Dortmund, 3-1 on aggregate in the Europa Cup quarterfinal. With so much going on at home it didn't seem worth having the TV on. The second best option, internet, gave me a flicker of excitement: 1-2. Should I go back to watching? No. Soon after it was 1-3 and I mentally turned off. So imagine my disbelief when half an hour later I checked the result: 4-3, 4 bloody 3! "Amazing", "match of the season", "an epic", "we have witnessed one of the great comebacks of all time". And on and on it went, all those online commentators torturing me, reminding me that no proper football fan ever stops watching until the final whistle.
There is precedent, of sorts; events that fall into the category of "great matches missed or not watched until end". First there's the comical one. And, ok, it wasn't great by any means. It was many years ago, long enough ago that I didn't have live football on TV at home, or internet at home, but recent enough that we had BBC on cable. I watched the sports news on BBC on a Sunday night eager to hear Aston Villa's result. A loss. 3-2, if I remember correctly. Ah well, it wasn't a result that made much of a difference in what was probably another unremarkable season. But news of a win is still better than that of a loss. Never mind. About 5 days later, I happened to be online and came across a mention of Villa's equaliser deep into stoppage time, a 3-3 draw, in their last match. BBC, you were a bit quick there. It's not over until the final whistle. Still it was a draw that probably didn't make much of a difference in what was probably another unremarkable season. But news of a draw would have been a little bit better than that of a loss.
Then there was the other Liverpool epic. No, not that one. The Istanbul one. Yes, there's been a few Liverpool epics. Apparently there was one earlier today. See it anybody? This was a few years after the Aston Villa loss-that-was-a-draw. Now we had TV that had live European football but lived in a country in a time zone that dictated that massive European matches, the Champions League final being one of them, happened in the middle of a work day. It was the time of VHS players and my lovely wife volunteered to record the Liverpool-Milan final while I taught an older gentleman or lady, who had absolutely no knowledge of the significance of the events taking place in Istanbul, how to get more speed on their serve. It was quite obvious, that try as hard as he or she would, there was no way that more speed was happening. But as I peeked at my watch to help imagine what stage the match was at, I offered numerous words of encouragement and was positive about the value of direction over speed. At some point a 15 year old student of mine appeared at the back fence and had fingers held up in each hand. I quickly realised, but not quickly enough, what he was doing. I shooed him away. The poor kid, knowing that I was a football fan, was trying to tell me the score of the big match I was missing. But what he hadn't yet learned was that you do not tell a football fan(atic) the result if they are recording it to watch later. But the damage had already been partly done, because even though I pretended that I didn't understand his signing so that I wouldn't spoil it for myself, I had a pretty good idea of what had happened. I got home to a smile and two VHS tapes. "It was really good," she said, "but I needed two tapes". The first half was watched in fast forward. 3-0, Milan. So was the second half, but I knew something incredible had happened so there were more periods of normal speed watching. 3-1, 3-2, 3-3. Extra time. Penalties. Liverpool win. An epic. I didn't watch it , really. I watched a taping of an epic. A big difference, if you know, or have an inkling of the result. A big part of the thrill is gone. Great kid, fantastic tennis player with am amazing coach. But I still remember him for standing at the fence with his three fingers on each hand.
But this is a World Cup countdown. So here is the World Cup entry in the aforementioned category. In the 1982 World Cup, France and Germany played out a classic semifinal. It was close, it went to extra time, France were up 3-1 in extra time and Germany came back to win on penalties. Michel Platini summed it up: "That was my most beautiful game. What happened in those two hours encapsulated all the sentiments of life itself. No film or play could ever recapture so many contradictions and emotions. It was complete. So strong. It was fabulous." It was, indeed, an epic. It was also remembered for the shameful tackle by the German goalkeeper, Schumacher, on Patrick Battiston, who was knocked unconscious and lost a couple of teeth. Incredibly, Schumacher was not sent off. I have written and spoken about this incident and this match many times. But, it is a memory brought about through descriptions of the events by my brothers and father and through highlights watched later. I did not watch it. That was my first World Cup and I watched as much as I could. But I do not remember the reasons for not watching that night. I thought it was because I had a school exam the next day. However, I checked the date: July 8th. No school. I probably had to be up early to learn how to get more speed on my serve.
There were more, so many more times when I thought how did I miss that? But France-Germany is the one that stands out. Russia 2018 is going to be a challenge, again. Unless I was there.
What a football match. It's days like this when you thank football for being able to be so exhilarating, for being so edge-of-your-seat exciting, the possibility of such an incredible turnaround in emotions, culminating in a injury time winner when all seemed lost 30 minutes earlier for the winning team.
It's days like this when I wish I didn't stop paying attention at the 60 minute mark. TV went off at half-time. Liverpool were losing 2-0 against Borussia Dortmund, 3-1 on aggregate in the Europa Cup quarterfinal. With so much going on at home it didn't seem worth having the TV on. The second best option, internet, gave me a flicker of excitement: 1-2. Should I go back to watching? No. Soon after it was 1-3 and I mentally turned off. So imagine my disbelief when half an hour later I checked the result: 4-3, 4 bloody 3! "Amazing", "match of the season", "an epic", "we have witnessed one of the great comebacks of all time". And on and on it went, all those online commentators torturing me, reminding me that no proper football fan ever stops watching until the final whistle.
There is precedent, of sorts; events that fall into the category of "great matches missed or not watched until end". First there's the comical one. And, ok, it wasn't great by any means. It was many years ago, long enough ago that I didn't have live football on TV at home, or internet at home, but recent enough that we had BBC on cable. I watched the sports news on BBC on a Sunday night eager to hear Aston Villa's result. A loss. 3-2, if I remember correctly. Ah well, it wasn't a result that made much of a difference in what was probably another unremarkable season. But news of a win is still better than that of a loss. Never mind. About 5 days later, I happened to be online and came across a mention of Villa's equaliser deep into stoppage time, a 3-3 draw, in their last match. BBC, you were a bit quick there. It's not over until the final whistle. Still it was a draw that probably didn't make much of a difference in what was probably another unremarkable season. But news of a draw would have been a little bit better than that of a loss.
Then there was the other Liverpool epic. No, not that one. The Istanbul one. Yes, there's been a few Liverpool epics. Apparently there was one earlier today. See it anybody? This was a few years after the Aston Villa loss-that-was-a-draw. Now we had TV that had live European football but lived in a country in a time zone that dictated that massive European matches, the Champions League final being one of them, happened in the middle of a work day. It was the time of VHS players and my lovely wife volunteered to record the Liverpool-Milan final while I taught an older gentleman or lady, who had absolutely no knowledge of the significance of the events taking place in Istanbul, how to get more speed on their serve. It was quite obvious, that try as hard as he or she would, there was no way that more speed was happening. But as I peeked at my watch to help imagine what stage the match was at, I offered numerous words of encouragement and was positive about the value of direction over speed. At some point a 15 year old student of mine appeared at the back fence and had fingers held up in each hand. I quickly realised, but not quickly enough, what he was doing. I shooed him away. The poor kid, knowing that I was a football fan, was trying to tell me the score of the big match I was missing. But what he hadn't yet learned was that you do not tell a football fan(atic) the result if they are recording it to watch later. But the damage had already been partly done, because even though I pretended that I didn't understand his signing so that I wouldn't spoil it for myself, I had a pretty good idea of what had happened. I got home to a smile and two VHS tapes. "It was really good," she said, "but I needed two tapes". The first half was watched in fast forward. 3-0, Milan. So was the second half, but I knew something incredible had happened so there were more periods of normal speed watching. 3-1, 3-2, 3-3. Extra time. Penalties. Liverpool win. An epic. I didn't watch it , really. I watched a taping of an epic. A big difference, if you know, or have an inkling of the result. A big part of the thrill is gone. Great kid, fantastic tennis player with am amazing coach. But I still remember him for standing at the fence with his three fingers on each hand.
But this is a World Cup countdown. So here is the World Cup entry in the aforementioned category. In the 1982 World Cup, France and Germany played out a classic semifinal. It was close, it went to extra time, France were up 3-1 in extra time and Germany came back to win on penalties. Michel Platini summed it up: "That was my most beautiful game. What happened in those two hours encapsulated all the sentiments of life itself. No film or play could ever recapture so many contradictions and emotions. It was complete. So strong. It was fabulous." It was, indeed, an epic. It was also remembered for the shameful tackle by the German goalkeeper, Schumacher, on Patrick Battiston, who was knocked unconscious and lost a couple of teeth. Incredibly, Schumacher was not sent off. I have written and spoken about this incident and this match many times. But, it is a memory brought about through descriptions of the events by my brothers and father and through highlights watched later. I did not watch it. That was my first World Cup and I watched as much as I could. But I do not remember the reasons for not watching that night. I thought it was because I had a school exam the next day. However, I checked the date: July 8th. No school. I probably had to be up early to learn how to get more speed on my serve.
There were more, so many more times when I thought how did I miss that? But France-Germany is the one that stands out. Russia 2018 is going to be a challenge, again. Unless I was there.
Wednesday 13 April 2016
Mr. Bora
Day -791. WorldCup2018
Mr. Bora. That's what they call him in Qatar these days where he is an ambassador for Qatar 2022, and an adviser at Aspire Athletics, a centre of excellence for develoing elite athletes. Or, as Mr. Bora himself said when asked in a New York Times interview what he does: "I don’t have a role. Only I share my experience." When he was coach of the United States (USMNT to be precise) he was simply Bora. In all 5 countries he coached at a World Cup he was a legend.
Mexico reached the quarter finals in 1986 where they lost to West Germany on penalties. In 1990 Bora led Costa Rica to the second round after wins against Sweden and Scotland. Next he was on to the U.S. and took the USMNT to the second round where they lost 1-0 to the eventual champions, Brazil. Nowadays, it would be seen as a failure if Jurgen Klinsmann's Americans didn't get beyond the second round. Bora was not done yet. After being sacked by the Americans for allegedly not wanting to take on more administrative responsibilities on top of coaching the team, he was off to Nigeria. Bora, the coach, not the administrator, saw his team top their first round group and he became the first coach to lead four teams into the second round. But there was more. He was China's coach at their first ever, and only, appearance at a World Cup in 2002. The naysayer in me would like to point out that Japan and South Korea, as co-hosts, didn't have to qualify for this World Cup. Seeing as they are two of Asia's strongest teams it opened up qualification to more teams. This doesn't take away from Bora's previous achievements, but after China he seemed to lose his magic touch. Short spells with Honduras, Jamaica and Iraq were miserable and ended abruptly.
Bora was a World Cup character. He contributed to memories through his mad scientist look, his ability to make unfashionable teams look good and his reported unorthodox style. Alexi Lalas, himself quite the demonstration of eccentric footballer, when asked about Bora before the 1994 tournament said: "You really have to put all your faith and believe in what he’s doing. A lot of times, it’s hard, because I have no idea what he’s doing."
And my memories of the Bora World Cup sequence? 1986: next day highlights of West Germany only beating Mexico after penalties. Mexico? Didn't think were much good. Must have been that altitude thing everybody was talking about. 1990: Costa Rica? Really? Beating Scotland? Oh no, not really a surprise. Scotland always seem to find a way to not get out of the first round at a World Cup. And Costa Rica livened up the most boring World Cup in my living memory. 1994: The Americans, with their crazy coach and wacky defender Lalas, defended like that's all they knew how to do against Brazil (even though Brazil had a player sent off) and were delighted to only lose 1-0. 1998: Spain looked like they might finally be good, but lost against a team of Nigerians who looked like Bora didn't tell them they were at World Cup, but that they were guests at a football exhibition and, oops, you just beat Spain; you were not supposed to do that. 2002: China. There was just something weird about China playing Brazil, probably because China had never played at a World Cup before and Brazil, well, they kind of were the World Cup. It felt like today's Barcelona (OK, maybe not today's but let's say last week's....no, no two weeks ago Barcelona) playing against Leicester in the Champions' League. They qualified, earned the right, but, really, how did they get there? Brazil won 4-0 and poor China didn't even score a goal in their three loses. If there was any consolation for Mr. Bora it was that Costa Rica, in the same group, fared worse than when he was their coach and were eliminated in the first round.
So who's next? Rivalling Bora would have to be Big Phil Scolari. I'm not sure I can go back to him again after him being the near daily subject of my humorous admiration in 2014. But maybe I can find something new.
Mr. Bora. That's what they call him in Qatar these days where he is an ambassador for Qatar 2022, and an adviser at Aspire Athletics, a centre of excellence for develoing elite athletes. Or, as Mr. Bora himself said when asked in a New York Times interview what he does: "I don’t have a role. Only I share my experience." When he was coach of the United States (USMNT to be precise) he was simply Bora. In all 5 countries he coached at a World Cup he was a legend.
Mexico reached the quarter finals in 1986 where they lost to West Germany on penalties. In 1990 Bora led Costa Rica to the second round after wins against Sweden and Scotland. Next he was on to the U.S. and took the USMNT to the second round where they lost 1-0 to the eventual champions, Brazil. Nowadays, it would be seen as a failure if Jurgen Klinsmann's Americans didn't get beyond the second round. Bora was not done yet. After being sacked by the Americans for allegedly not wanting to take on more administrative responsibilities on top of coaching the team, he was off to Nigeria. Bora, the coach, not the administrator, saw his team top their first round group and he became the first coach to lead four teams into the second round. But there was more. He was China's coach at their first ever, and only, appearance at a World Cup in 2002. The naysayer in me would like to point out that Japan and South Korea, as co-hosts, didn't have to qualify for this World Cup. Seeing as they are two of Asia's strongest teams it opened up qualification to more teams. This doesn't take away from Bora's previous achievements, but after China he seemed to lose his magic touch. Short spells with Honduras, Jamaica and Iraq were miserable and ended abruptly.
Bora was a World Cup character. He contributed to memories through his mad scientist look, his ability to make unfashionable teams look good and his reported unorthodox style. Alexi Lalas, himself quite the demonstration of eccentric footballer, when asked about Bora before the 1994 tournament said: "You really have to put all your faith and believe in what he’s doing. A lot of times, it’s hard, because I have no idea what he’s doing."
And my memories of the Bora World Cup sequence? 1986: next day highlights of West Germany only beating Mexico after penalties. Mexico? Didn't think were much good. Must have been that altitude thing everybody was talking about. 1990: Costa Rica? Really? Beating Scotland? Oh no, not really a surprise. Scotland always seem to find a way to not get out of the first round at a World Cup. And Costa Rica livened up the most boring World Cup in my living memory. 1994: The Americans, with their crazy coach and wacky defender Lalas, defended like that's all they knew how to do against Brazil (even though Brazil had a player sent off) and were delighted to only lose 1-0. 1998: Spain looked like they might finally be good, but lost against a team of Nigerians who looked like Bora didn't tell them they were at World Cup, but that they were guests at a football exhibition and, oops, you just beat Spain; you were not supposed to do that. 2002: China. There was just something weird about China playing Brazil, probably because China had never played at a World Cup before and Brazil, well, they kind of were the World Cup. It felt like today's Barcelona (OK, maybe not today's but let's say last week's....no, no two weeks ago Barcelona) playing against Leicester in the Champions' League. They qualified, earned the right, but, really, how did they get there? Brazil won 4-0 and poor China didn't even score a goal in their three loses. If there was any consolation for Mr. Bora it was that Costa Rica, in the same group, fared worse than when he was their coach and were eliminated in the first round.
So who's next? Rivalling Bora would have to be Big Phil Scolari. I'm not sure I can go back to him again after him being the near daily subject of my humorous admiration in 2014. But maybe I can find something new.
Tuesday 12 April 2016
Ally Dawson, Mourinho, Milutinovic
Day -792. WorldCup2018
I spent a few days in Malta where the talk of corrupt politicians and footballers was incessant. Many an argument was had, or heard, about the perceptions of illegality versus the actual illegalities of a Maltese government minister having offshore accounts in Panama (or off Panama?). Along with "who's going to be next" drama of Panama Papers we also had the sadness of the young Maltese player being arrested for attempting to facilitate the bribing of Malta's U-21 team to throw their match against Montenegro. I say sad, because while it seems almost par for the course these days that senior (and I mean quite senior in age) Fifa officials are charged with widespread kickback taking and so are more senior players (more senior than U-21), there is something not quite right when a player at the start of his career is in court charged with trying to make a bit of extra money for himself by roping in the services of his fellow young players. It definitely does not augur well for the future of these players and their ability to make decisions about right or wrong.
While this was not meant to be the subject of my comeback post today (the time away was taxing on the brain) it does remind me of a story from my youth. Allow me, please.
When I watched live football growing up in Malta, many a time I would have somebody say to me: "why do you even bother going to the stadium (there really was 1 stadium), the matches are all fixed anyway". The naive youth that I was, I never believed this to be true. Or, let me say that differently. I believed that it must have happened because everybody said it did, but I sort of took it on as part of the game just like the constant smell of cigarette smoke mixed with fresh air. It was always present. I breathed it in because if I didn't I would not be watching live football on a lazy Sunday afternoon, and ignored that it could be doing some harm. The cigarette smoke, the bribery? Both.
Then Ally Dawson happened. Ally Dawson was a former Glasgow Rangers player who towards the end of his career took up a position with Luxol St. Andrews in Malta as their player manager. While on holiday back in Scotland he said in an interview to a Scottish newspaper that bribery was rife in Malta. The Malta FA was outraged. Faced with such a damning allegation by somebody so directly involved in it's competitive structure, albeit an outsider, there was only one course of action for the MFA to take: Ally Dawson was suspended (I cannot find records of the length of the suspension). How dare he say that? Nowadays the MFA is employing more resources in the battle against bribery in local football, but its' Integrity Officer has a tough job with the amount of international betting on Maltese matches. I would like to believe that if another Ally Dawson happened today then more appropriate action would be taken.
After that little detour, here's what I really was thinking about today. I reckoned I've been mentally off for a few days so I needed to make up for it and so could afford to combine two stories. But this is my World Cup one.
While I was in Malta the quirky story that got my attention came out of Syria. Now, unfortunately, quirkiness and Syria don't go together that much these days. But the Syrian Football Federation still managed it. Fresh from their qualification for the final round of qualifying for Russia 2018, an incredible achievement not only because of the tragic effects of the civil war on their player and facility resources, the Syrian Federation celebrated their team being one step closer to it's first every World Cup by sacking the team's coach. Right, there must have been a reason and a plan. Well, the plan it seemed, with history beckoning was to go big, Jose Mourinho big. The Federation wrote to Mourinho's agent offering him the job, which Mourinho, while "honoured" to be offered the job, politely declined. It seems that Manchester is a little more tempting than Damascus.
This Mourinho story sparked another memory which is maybe related in that it's character is quite the opposite to the Special One. While Mourinho prides himself on taking up the challenges of transforming under performing big cub teams into arrogantly invincible winners, Bora Milutinovic was the mercenary coach who took five different national teams to a World Cup. His last one was China in 2002, the only one of his teams that he didn't lead to the second round.
The mention of China reminded me that country recently announced that they have embarked on a long term plan to make China a football superpower. If Mourinho is up for it, the ultimate goal is for China to be World Cup winners in 2050.
While these links in my head can go on forever, I will stop and come back with Milutinovic tomorrow.
I spent a few days in Malta where the talk of corrupt politicians and footballers was incessant. Many an argument was had, or heard, about the perceptions of illegality versus the actual illegalities of a Maltese government minister having offshore accounts in Panama (or off Panama?). Along with "who's going to be next" drama of Panama Papers we also had the sadness of the young Maltese player being arrested for attempting to facilitate the bribing of Malta's U-21 team to throw their match against Montenegro. I say sad, because while it seems almost par for the course these days that senior (and I mean quite senior in age) Fifa officials are charged with widespread kickback taking and so are more senior players (more senior than U-21), there is something not quite right when a player at the start of his career is in court charged with trying to make a bit of extra money for himself by roping in the services of his fellow young players. It definitely does not augur well for the future of these players and their ability to make decisions about right or wrong.
While this was not meant to be the subject of my comeback post today (the time away was taxing on the brain) it does remind me of a story from my youth. Allow me, please.
When I watched live football growing up in Malta, many a time I would have somebody say to me: "why do you even bother going to the stadium (there really was 1 stadium), the matches are all fixed anyway". The naive youth that I was, I never believed this to be true. Or, let me say that differently. I believed that it must have happened because everybody said it did, but I sort of took it on as part of the game just like the constant smell of cigarette smoke mixed with fresh air. It was always present. I breathed it in because if I didn't I would not be watching live football on a lazy Sunday afternoon, and ignored that it could be doing some harm. The cigarette smoke, the bribery? Both.
Then Ally Dawson happened. Ally Dawson was a former Glasgow Rangers player who towards the end of his career took up a position with Luxol St. Andrews in Malta as their player manager. While on holiday back in Scotland he said in an interview to a Scottish newspaper that bribery was rife in Malta. The Malta FA was outraged. Faced with such a damning allegation by somebody so directly involved in it's competitive structure, albeit an outsider, there was only one course of action for the MFA to take: Ally Dawson was suspended (I cannot find records of the length of the suspension). How dare he say that? Nowadays the MFA is employing more resources in the battle against bribery in local football, but its' Integrity Officer has a tough job with the amount of international betting on Maltese matches. I would like to believe that if another Ally Dawson happened today then more appropriate action would be taken.
After that little detour, here's what I really was thinking about today. I reckoned I've been mentally off for a few days so I needed to make up for it and so could afford to combine two stories. But this is my World Cup one.
While I was in Malta the quirky story that got my attention came out of Syria. Now, unfortunately, quirkiness and Syria don't go together that much these days. But the Syrian Football Federation still managed it. Fresh from their qualification for the final round of qualifying for Russia 2018, an incredible achievement not only because of the tragic effects of the civil war on their player and facility resources, the Syrian Federation celebrated their team being one step closer to it's first every World Cup by sacking the team's coach. Right, there must have been a reason and a plan. Well, the plan it seemed, with history beckoning was to go big, Jose Mourinho big. The Federation wrote to Mourinho's agent offering him the job, which Mourinho, while "honoured" to be offered the job, politely declined. It seems that Manchester is a little more tempting than Damascus.
This Mourinho story sparked another memory which is maybe related in that it's character is quite the opposite to the Special One. While Mourinho prides himself on taking up the challenges of transforming under performing big cub teams into arrogantly invincible winners, Bora Milutinovic was the mercenary coach who took five different national teams to a World Cup. His last one was China in 2002, the only one of his teams that he didn't lead to the second round.
The mention of China reminded me that country recently announced that they have embarked on a long term plan to make China a football superpower. If Mourinho is up for it, the ultimate goal is for China to be World Cup winners in 2050.
While these links in my head can go on forever, I will stop and come back with Milutinovic tomorrow.
Monday 11 April 2016
Post Malta Day 2
Day -793. #WorldCup2018
Sorry loyal readers, or reader, I'll be back on track soon.
Sorry loyal readers, or reader, I'll be back on track soon.
Sunday 10 April 2016
Post Malta Day 1
Day -794. WorldCup2018
I'll blame the delayed post on my late travel and jet lag. So just another "keeping up the countdown" day. I don't make promises, but I almost guarantee that day -793 will be back to normal.
I'll blame the delayed post on my late travel and jet lag. So just another "keeping up the countdown" day. I don't make promises, but I almost guarantee that day -793 will be back to normal.
Saturday 9 April 2016
Malta Day 5
Day -795. WorldCup2018
I want to promise, but on an old teacher's advice I don't make promises, that I will be back to normal tomorrow. Malta adventure is coming to an end. Panama Papers reign supreme, bribery at U21 level in Malta almost seems insignificant, the UEFA ball picker, now Fifa president, is possibly part of Panama corruption (the corruption he was supposed to be investigating) and Irish people truly do enjoy buying a drink for everybody and anybody. More tomorrow, maybe....
I want to promise, but on an old teacher's advice I don't make promises, that I will be back to normal tomorrow. Malta adventure is coming to an end. Panama Papers reign supreme, bribery at U21 level in Malta almost seems insignificant, the UEFA ball picker, now Fifa president, is possibly part of Panama corruption (the corruption he was supposed to be investigating) and Irish people truly do enjoy buying a drink for everybody and anybody. More tomorrow, maybe....
Friday 8 April 2016
Malta Day 4
Day -796. WorldCup2018
I wish I could but I can't. Got lots in my head but need another day to get it out. Tomorrow.....
I wish I could but I can't. Got lots in my head but need another day to get it out. Tomorrow.....
Thursday 7 April 2016
Malta Day 3
Day -797. WorldCup2018.
This is what we call "just keeping it going". The "we" being just me because I'm not quite sure in what category I can classify myself, what group I fit into: "World Cup Blogger", "Amateur football writer", "Daily Facebooker", "time waster", "time waster, hoping it becomes time well spent". I'm still in sort of holiday mode (more of a forced holiday from the wonderful world of internet), so the days keep counting down but I don't have much more.
Except for this. Come September this view will be very different as it will be Scottish supporters headquarters for their qualifier against Malta. Merriment will be had by this bay. Hopefully Malta can put a bit of a damper on the celebrations.
This is what we call "just keeping it going". The "we" being just me because I'm not quite sure in what category I can classify myself, what group I fit into: "World Cup Blogger", "Amateur football writer", "Daily Facebooker", "time waster", "time waster, hoping it becomes time well spent". I'm still in sort of holiday mode (more of a forced holiday from the wonderful world of internet), so the days keep counting down but I don't have much more.
Except for this. Come September this view will be very different as it will be Scottish supporters headquarters for their qualifier against Malta. Merriment will be had by this bay. Hopefully Malta can put a bit of a damper on the celebrations.
Wednesday 6 April 2016
Tuesday 5 April 2016
Malta Day 1
Day - 799. WorldCup2018
I feel like I've reached a milestone, under 800 days to go. I will keep going....but for today that's all I've got. Blame it on technology issues affecting a necessary writing environment
I feel like I've reached a milestone, under 800 days to go. I will keep going....but for today that's all I've got. Blame it on technology issues affecting a necessary writing environment
Monday 4 April 2016
Malta time
Day -800. #WorldCup2018.
Off to where it all started for a few days. Spain (1982)? No. Malta, the venue of many "please have mercy on us" in World Cup qualifiers. Hopefully this round of qualifying when England come to visit we"ll have moved on quite a bit.
Off to where it all started for a few days. Spain (1982)? No. Malta, the venue of many "please have mercy on us" in World Cup qualifiers. Hopefully this round of qualifying when England come to visit we"ll have moved on quite a bit.
Sunday 3 April 2016
Panama Papers
Day -801. #WorldCup2018.
Panama Leaks and Fifa, a connection. Surprised? Irony is that it involves a member of Fifa's Ethics Committee.
Panama Leaks and Fifa, a connection. Surprised? Irony is that it involves a member of Fifa's Ethics Committee.
Saturday 2 April 2016
The exertion of the 1000 day countdown
Day -802. WorldCup2018.
Did James Lawton, former Chief Sports Writer at The Daily Express and the Independent, ever, I wonder, tell his editor that he was a bit tired and needed another day to gather his thoughts before he could write his column/report? Probably not, or he wouldn't have been Chief Sports Writer for so long. But did James Lawton ever cover different angles of the same story continuously for 198 days, and counting? Maybe he did, I don't know. But, me, not chief sports writer do need another day to gather my thoughts. Roll on day -801.
(With apologies to James Lawton, for any unintended, subconscious criticism. Regular readers will now know it's actually praise of a former writing idol)
Did James Lawton, former Chief Sports Writer at The Daily Express and the Independent, ever, I wonder, tell his editor that he was a bit tired and needed another day to gather his thoughts before he could write his column/report? Probably not, or he wouldn't have been Chief Sports Writer for so long. But did James Lawton ever cover different angles of the same story continuously for 198 days, and counting? Maybe he did, I don't know. But, me, not chief sports writer do need another day to gather my thoughts. Roll on day -801.
(With apologies to James Lawton, for any unintended, subconscious criticism. Regular readers will now know it's actually praise of a former writing idol)
Friday 1 April 2016
Construction safety: Russia
Day -803. WorldCup2018.
Real journalists don't write an award winning column everyday, do they? I haven't written one yet, but I think I can still give myself the odd slower day.
So here today is a story from Fifa on the topic of safe working conditions at the construction sites of the stadiums for Russia 2018. It was on Fifa's website yesterday, a day after Amnesty International released their damming report on the conditions of construction workers hired for Qatar 2022. It is Fifa's staged feel good story, with unfortunate timing. Or is it Fifa irony?
http://m.fifa.com/worldcup/news/y=2016/m=3/news=decent-working-conditions-key-to-stadium-construction-in-russia-2773549.html
Real journalists don't write an award winning column everyday, do they? I haven't written one yet, but I think I can still give myself the odd slower day.
So here today is a story from Fifa on the topic of safe working conditions at the construction sites of the stadiums for Russia 2018. It was on Fifa's website yesterday, a day after Amnesty International released their damming report on the conditions of construction workers hired for Qatar 2022. It is Fifa's staged feel good story, with unfortunate timing. Or is it Fifa irony?
http://m.fifa.com/worldcup/news/y=2016/m=3/news=decent-working-conditions-key-to-stadium-construction-in-russia-2773549.html
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