Bend It Like Bazza

There’s a million and one adjectives I would use to describe myself. I’m not shy….there’s plenty of good ones mixed in with the negatives ones. I’ll admit I’m massively weak at X, just as I’ll say I’m pretty good at Y. In fact, I’d rarely say it, unless I’m as comfortable as can be with you, but I consider myself to be a ruthless and objective self-assessor. I won’t punish or praise myself for too long, and I’ll move on. Of all the positive or negative adjectives I could possibly use about myself, I would not use naïve as being one of them.

Very little surprises me in life. Professionally, I’ve seen plenty and there’s little that shocks or stuns me, so being naïve about X, Y and Z hardly ever happens. Are sporting events at the highest level fixed? I have little doubt. The sport that you love and adore? I’ll say somewhere, somehow, it is fixed. It may be drugs, it may be match-fixing….could be anything. Waking up as a young pup in 1988 to the news that Ben Johnson was doping in Seoul just about ruined me. The worst you can imagine, I expect it and I’m rarely surprised.

So, let’s rewind to Junior Bobby. This boy was brought up on a certain old crooner that sang ballad after ballad on any of my lengthier road trips. Holidays weren’t too common back in the day and Auntie Joan and Uncle George used to ease the burden on my folks and take me and my stinky sister (it was World Sibling Day not so long ago and that is my tribute H – you’d be disappointed if any different!) to Primrose Valley for an awesome caravan stay. I loved them. The highlight of the road trips was the music and the singing to the one and only Barry Manilow.

Growing up, I’d frequently get stick for my appreciation for Bazza and that is fair. At all the various stages of my life, Barry and Bon Jovi have been ever-presents. Totally different artists, not everybody’s cup of tea, but that’s ok. In terms of my passion for the pair, I’d categorise Bon Jovi for the music and Barry more for the words. Many a time I’d listen carefully to the words of a Barry tune and just be fascinated at what a life he must have led. So much sentiment, so much charm, so much feeling. Not that it bloody worked for me with the women, but I always enjoyed the words as much as the music.

Fast forward to three weeks ago, when I’m googling ‘Barry Manilow tour’ to find out if he’s coming back to the UK and I can wangle some tickets for my mum. To my surprise, Old Bazza has only gotten married to his manager Garry Kief. Turns out, the entire family always thought he was gay, but I literally had zero inkling at all! I guess I was completely side-tracked by the beautiful words and crafted songs written about women to ever really give it any thought over the years.

Not that anything changes – my love for Barry will indeed be eternal. I may revisit various songs just to see if I did actually miss any clues in there of course. The biggest thing springing to my mind is the fact that it’s obviously been hidden (from me any way!) until his career is coming close to an end and he is 71 years-old. That’s sad to me, but I hope it’s not stopped him from having a bit of fun!

Maybe I have a naïve side after all.