Humans are interesting. The things we do, the things we say, the things we choose. The things we don’t do, the things we keep quiet about, the things we choose not to do. The human mind fascinates me. With so many aspects in my life, I try to understand the reasoning behind things. This often leads to over-thinking things far too much. This is a positive as well as a negative, depending on the occasion and instance.
I wonder to what extent other people think as much as I do. The reason why I don’t sleep as well as I should is because I think too much. I have no issues going to sleep, but I wake up thinking about all the things I want to do the next day, and then I go back to sleep. Then I wake, and think some more. It is not a case of worrying about things. I do not worry about much, and if I do, then I am intent on doing something about it. But I think about what challenges and ideas I have, and how I can get wheels in motion. It goes back to when I was a child and I had very random sleeping experiences where I would sit up and talk in my sleep. It was usually a discussion around how a piece of Lego may or may not fit in my bedroom. We all have random quirks, and sleep is one of mine.
I wonder what makes me like Boxing and UFC. There is nothing in my childhood that explains why I enjoy seeing blokes in tight shorts beat each other up. I love watching it, it fascinates me, but at the same time, it does make me grimace on occasion. Some may find that strange, and I can accept that. I attended a UFC event in December with three good chaps who had never been to one previously. It was all going swimmingly well, with entertaining fights, but nothing too brutal, until one fighter’s arm snapped. Possibly not some people’s cup of tea I suspect. Some people take enjoyment from other people’s misfortunes or problems; I enjoy watching UFC and Boxing.
Watching is one thing but why do people actually become UFC fighters? What makes somebody decide to become a UFC fighter? There was an interesting dispute recently between ESPN and the UFC. ESPN were questioning the UFC and how they pay their fighters. Did you ever wonder how much a guy gets to fight in the UFC? They release the basic payments per fight with some of the top guys getting $250k per fight, and others getting as little as $4k-6k per fight. ESPN’s argument was somewhat flawed, but still, it does not hide from the fact that some guys will struggle to make $20k per year fighting. On the flipside, if you win or entertain fans, you get paid a fair bit more. I love watching it, but I find it hard to understand how some of them can fight for so little money. Though they probably cannot understand why I do what I do.
I read an interesting article today about boxing and how the sport desperately needs the star fighters to fight more often – currently Pacquiao fights twice a year and Mayweather once per year. My take on it is that the fighters themselves have a greater awareness of the risks involved and they too probably think long and hard about themselves and their careers. Easy advice to offer telling them to fight more, but the issue with those guys is that they get paid so much, they do not need to. Sadly, the guy making $4k per fight, has not option. Even tougher when they are probably equally aware of the dangers of their profession, but need to earn a living.
At what point do we decide to stop thinking? I am not sure. I can do it most of the time, but certainly there are things which linger in my mind. Working from home, I have a lot of time to think about things. If I overthink everything little thing, particularly the negatives, I would lead a pretty sad and miserable life. Thankfully I can often move on after the occasional sulk and slot them in the mind’s filing cabinet.
Last night I watched The Blind Side. It has to rate as one of my favourite sporting movies and definitely one of those feel good movies that I thoroughly enjoyed. I only realised at the very end of the movie that I was sat watching the very same Michael Oher a week ago when my Patriots were beating the Ravens. I had no idea about his story. I guess we all have stories. Some are more interesting than others, but we all have them and I enjoy hearing, listening, watching and reading about them. You can bet your life that the UFC fighters and Boxers that I watch have plenty of interesting stories too.
I like to think that I put a lot of time and effort into my relationships with friends and family, but sometimes I tell myself I should put more into certain relationships. Other times, I do not always feel like it is completely appreciated or returned. Watching that movie, it just reminded me that you can get so much pleasure and satisfaction out of what you put into other people….it is not always what you get back from them. And if you do not get anything back, they do not have that feeling of contributing to other lives. Their loss. A case of sticking to your beliefs and try doing the right thing regardless of what others do or think.
If you haven’t seen it, watch The Blind Side. Cheesy as this blog, but a great movie.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Friday, January 13, 2012
Sporting Roots
Anybody who vaguely knows me, knows that I am particularly passionate about sport. Since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, I have been a staunch Everton fan and most folks who cross my path are aware of this. Whether you went to school with me and no doubt abused me frequently, somebody I worked with and no doubt abused me, or you’re a family member or friend and have no doubt abused me, you’ll know who my team is and you will know how passionate I am about them despite all the abuse and poor performances. Randomly, two people recently called me a glory supporter – not many Evertonians can be accused of that, but it is true. I started supporting them in the mid-eighties when they were at the peak of European football. It’s been downhill ever since.
Among my first memories was Diego Maradona in 1986 and I was instantly fixated with him and the game. The truth is that it was always inevitable that I would work in sport, study sport, love watching sport, read about sport, live sport. From as early as I can remember, sport was on our television. It could have been tennis, it could have been NFL, you name it, we watched it. It was the same 25 years ago, and it is just as prevalent now if you show up at my parents’ house. Dad worked evenings and weekends, so we spent a lot of time growing up under the auspices of my mum – thankfully for Junior Bobby, Kath loved watching sports and it all grew from there.
As an eight-year-old, I can vividly recall getting a book for my birthday on the rules of NFL, which I recited and learned as I watched the game. Watching was not always possible – bed times as a child can be terribly restrictive especially when you’ve never been a great sleeper and I would listen to the radio coverage of the NFL quietly in my room – half listening to the radio and half listening for the creeks of the staircase. Of course, that was assuming my sister didn’t grass me up.
Dad has always enjoyed watching sports but for a slightly different reason. If he has a bet on a snail race and it is televised, he’ll be flicking the channels trying to find coverage. That is no doubt why I always had an attraction to data and betting, even if I fell into my role with Smartodds.
When HJ lived in Calgary and I spent a lot of time over there, I heard about this new device which allowed you to watch television over the internet if you had it connected to a cable/sky box and the internet. The Slingbox was to become a lifesaver on my travels. I picked one up in Calgary, took it back to the UK and connected it to mum and dad’s television. I had hit the jackpot. The issue with the Canadian box in the UK was that one feature did not work – the remote control – so for a good few years, if I wanted to watch something, I would call or text my folks asking them to change channel. They bought me a UK one last year and I can now change it myself – I can only apologise to them and my niece and nephew who are frequently disturbed by Scooby Doo being interrupted by Uncle Rob who wants to watch a random cricket game even though I am a ninety minute flight away. No wonder kids believe in magic.
I love my parents for many reasons and in many ways, but their love of sport and how it rubbed off on to me, along with a number of other characteristics goes a long way to explaining me. A good friend of ours often reminds me of how he watched the Stanley Cup Final with my mum from a hotel in Cologne as I drifted asleep for a period and Mum, watching at home, and him watching on my laptop via the slingbox, stayed the course at 4am. How many parents stay up til 4am to watch a Hockey match? HJ is in Innsbruck this week and I have stayed up til 3.30-4am every night watching Hockey or NFL. So if you wonder why I may be a little abnormal in doing so, look no further than my Mum.
It is funny how those kind of Stanley Cup moments stay with you and always will. In the last few years, I’ve attended a considerable number of sporting events, and I have tried wherever possible to take my parents to them. Christmas and Birthday presents are never easy these days – it’s fair to say that the culture nowadays is that we buy something if we need it. Given that they are sport fans, I like to give them ‘moments’ and ‘memories’ as gifts. Maybe it is an excuse for me to go also, I won’t lie! But more than anything, it’s my way of thanking them for instilling my passion for sport. I’m banking on neither of them reading this blog, but I’m looking forward to the next one I have lined up if I can somehow pull it off.
Among my first memories was Diego Maradona in 1986 and I was instantly fixated with him and the game. The truth is that it was always inevitable that I would work in sport, study sport, love watching sport, read about sport, live sport. From as early as I can remember, sport was on our television. It could have been tennis, it could have been NFL, you name it, we watched it. It was the same 25 years ago, and it is just as prevalent now if you show up at my parents’ house. Dad worked evenings and weekends, so we spent a lot of time growing up under the auspices of my mum – thankfully for Junior Bobby, Kath loved watching sports and it all grew from there.
As an eight-year-old, I can vividly recall getting a book for my birthday on the rules of NFL, which I recited and learned as I watched the game. Watching was not always possible – bed times as a child can be terribly restrictive especially when you’ve never been a great sleeper and I would listen to the radio coverage of the NFL quietly in my room – half listening to the radio and half listening for the creeks of the staircase. Of course, that was assuming my sister didn’t grass me up.
Dad has always enjoyed watching sports but for a slightly different reason. If he has a bet on a snail race and it is televised, he’ll be flicking the channels trying to find coverage. That is no doubt why I always had an attraction to data and betting, even if I fell into my role with Smartodds.
When HJ lived in Calgary and I spent a lot of time over there, I heard about this new device which allowed you to watch television over the internet if you had it connected to a cable/sky box and the internet. The Slingbox was to become a lifesaver on my travels. I picked one up in Calgary, took it back to the UK and connected it to mum and dad’s television. I had hit the jackpot. The issue with the Canadian box in the UK was that one feature did not work – the remote control – so for a good few years, if I wanted to watch something, I would call or text my folks asking them to change channel. They bought me a UK one last year and I can now change it myself – I can only apologise to them and my niece and nephew who are frequently disturbed by Scooby Doo being interrupted by Uncle Rob who wants to watch a random cricket game even though I am a ninety minute flight away. No wonder kids believe in magic.
I love my parents for many reasons and in many ways, but their love of sport and how it rubbed off on to me, along with a number of other characteristics goes a long way to explaining me. A good friend of ours often reminds me of how he watched the Stanley Cup Final with my mum from a hotel in Cologne as I drifted asleep for a period and Mum, watching at home, and him watching on my laptop via the slingbox, stayed the course at 4am. How many parents stay up til 4am to watch a Hockey match? HJ is in Innsbruck this week and I have stayed up til 3.30-4am every night watching Hockey or NFL. So if you wonder why I may be a little abnormal in doing so, look no further than my Mum.
It is funny how those kind of Stanley Cup moments stay with you and always will. In the last few years, I’ve attended a considerable number of sporting events, and I have tried wherever possible to take my parents to them. Christmas and Birthday presents are never easy these days – it’s fair to say that the culture nowadays is that we buy something if we need it. Given that they are sport fans, I like to give them ‘moments’ and ‘memories’ as gifts. Maybe it is an excuse for me to go also, I won’t lie! But more than anything, it’s my way of thanking them for instilling my passion for sport. I’m banking on neither of them reading this blog, but I’m looking forward to the next one I have lined up if I can somehow pull it off.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
What if....
Whenever I fly to the UK, I invariably hire a car to get to wherever I am going. This Xmas, I was slow in booking and most companies were sold out apart from Dollar Thrifty, who have made it to Heathrow and are temporarily using a hotel car park….not the most glamorous of HQ’s but given what I paid compared to other companies, I could not complain.
It was the first time I rented from them, and it may be the last. It was awesome to get a brand new Golf, which was a great drive. Aside from a technical issue (the petrol cap was jammed shut!), it was a pleasant experience. My frustration with this one was over one of these cheeky clauses inserted.
A couple of years ago, car hire companies introduced an idea where you could buy a tank of fuel in advance and bring it back empty, or bring it back full. If you bought the tank in advance, you pay something like ten pence less than at the pumps...which sounds like a good deal. However, that is reliant on taking it back empty or as close as possible to empty. I always go for the 'fill the tank myself' option as it generally is cost effective – it is not easy to judge the miles per gallon/litre in a car you have never driven before.
Dollar insisted that it was a clause in the contract so I had no choice with this one for the first time ever. Therefore, that set me a challenge of taking the car back as empty as possible. I had to top it up with £20 to get down to London for my meeting and then I had a drive to my Heathrow hotel. When I packed up, the gauge was just above zero and the counter told me I had 5 miles left of petrol. The car rental place showed as 1.9 miles away which I had to drive in the morning. I went to bed wondering if I should take the chance and try leave the car virtually empty of petrol.
When I switched the car on the next morning, I lost my bottle when it said 0 miles to go on the petrol and I decided to pull into the petrol station close by. I added £3 of petrol. Who adds £3 of petrol? I was pretty sheepish paying, I can tell you that! Still, I refused to leave much in the tank.
After dropping the car off, I was wondering what if I had taken the chance and not topped it up, would I have got to the rental place? Would I have been spluttering down the road, coming to an eventual stop, then running a mile back to the petrol station, or even worse, pushing the car to the rental place? Given that I was so determined to leave it empty, I would like to think I would have pushed it the rest of the way out of spite, but I know deep down, that I would have been red-faced at pushing a petrol-free car into the car park. Who knows what would have happened. Had I not had a flight to catch, I may well have taken the risk, but it wasn’t the time nor the place.
I have written a number of times in the past about making decisions in my life, just as we all do. What if the Headmaster at John Smeaton did actually decide to expel me as he promised if I didn’t tell the truth about a misdemeanour? What if I decided to go to Durham University instead of Liverpool which I chose so I could see my beloved Everton each week? I do occasionally wonder what would have happened if I had not taken the £10k per year job at the Press Association when I left university and done something that I didn’t enjoy but was closer to my salary dreams. I do sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had not decided to do the Master. Life would have taken a whole different shape and direction. I have no real idea and in all honesty, none of it really matters. It is nothing more than intrigue as I would not change any of it. Regrets are overrated. Even if I wish I had somehow managed to get that car back to Dollar Thrifty without a cent of petrol inside.
It was the first time I rented from them, and it may be the last. It was awesome to get a brand new Golf, which was a great drive. Aside from a technical issue (the petrol cap was jammed shut!), it was a pleasant experience. My frustration with this one was over one of these cheeky clauses inserted.
A couple of years ago, car hire companies introduced an idea where you could buy a tank of fuel in advance and bring it back empty, or bring it back full. If you bought the tank in advance, you pay something like ten pence less than at the pumps...which sounds like a good deal. However, that is reliant on taking it back empty or as close as possible to empty. I always go for the 'fill the tank myself' option as it generally is cost effective – it is not easy to judge the miles per gallon/litre in a car you have never driven before.
Dollar insisted that it was a clause in the contract so I had no choice with this one for the first time ever. Therefore, that set me a challenge of taking the car back as empty as possible. I had to top it up with £20 to get down to London for my meeting and then I had a drive to my Heathrow hotel. When I packed up, the gauge was just above zero and the counter told me I had 5 miles left of petrol. The car rental place showed as 1.9 miles away which I had to drive in the morning. I went to bed wondering if I should take the chance and try leave the car virtually empty of petrol.
When I switched the car on the next morning, I lost my bottle when it said 0 miles to go on the petrol and I decided to pull into the petrol station close by. I added £3 of petrol. Who adds £3 of petrol? I was pretty sheepish paying, I can tell you that! Still, I refused to leave much in the tank.
After dropping the car off, I was wondering what if I had taken the chance and not topped it up, would I have got to the rental place? Would I have been spluttering down the road, coming to an eventual stop, then running a mile back to the petrol station, or even worse, pushing the car to the rental place? Given that I was so determined to leave it empty, I would like to think I would have pushed it the rest of the way out of spite, but I know deep down, that I would have been red-faced at pushing a petrol-free car into the car park. Who knows what would have happened. Had I not had a flight to catch, I may well have taken the risk, but it wasn’t the time nor the place.
I have written a number of times in the past about making decisions in my life, just as we all do. What if the Headmaster at John Smeaton did actually decide to expel me as he promised if I didn’t tell the truth about a misdemeanour? What if I decided to go to Durham University instead of Liverpool which I chose so I could see my beloved Everton each week? I do occasionally wonder what would have happened if I had not taken the £10k per year job at the Press Association when I left university and done something that I didn’t enjoy but was closer to my salary dreams. I do sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had not decided to do the Master. Life would have taken a whole different shape and direction. I have no real idea and in all honesty, none of it really matters. It is nothing more than intrigue as I would not change any of it. Regrets are overrated. Even if I wish I had somehow managed to get that car back to Dollar Thrifty without a cent of petrol inside.
Impossible is Moderation
If you didn't realise by now, Burns and I quite enjoy travelling. Exploring new places, attending a sporting event, meeting new people, investigating the latest trends, and watching a few more sporting events is all great fun. Staying in some cool hotels is pretty fun too.
However there are a couple of elements which are overrated - food and pillows. I have this thing about pillows - when I rest my head, there is a certain criteria I want my pillow to meet. The right balance between soft and firm is important but more than anything, I want a thin pillow. Nobody wants to suffocate in their pillow. Moving from hotel to hotel, it is rare I find a decent pillow....which is not conducive to me sleeping well. It's a good job sleep is overrated. I've never gotten over mum throwing out my 20+ year-old pillows when I left home - and yes mum, despite some of my gear being in the loft, I have left!
The second tough element of extensive travel is food. Of course, it is always cool to try new things - unless you're staying by the coast somewhere and every menu is full of seafood. At some point, thinking of what you want to eat every day for breakfast, lunch, dinner and midnight snack is tough when you have all kinds of options available to you. It's actually easier to have few options and you just want home cooking pretty swiftly.
After spending a month in the States, I now consider myself an expert in the art of fast food. We actually went quite easy on it....but it's fair to say that I have sampled most of the options.....largely for the benefit of this blog and its readers. So, I will give you my top five fast food establishments.
1. Chipotle
Legendary Mexican fast food chain and the fajita burrito is sensational. Super filling but you don't feel quite so filthy afterwards like you do in some other places soon to be mentioned.
2. Wendy's
The Baconator is my favourite at Wendy’s and it is something I have to do whenever I get to North America. In fairness, any of the burgers there are legendary and I defy anybody to tell me there is a better burger chain anywhere!
3. ‘wichcraft
The meatloaf sandwich there is the best sandwich I have ever tasted. Seriously. You can imagine my utter dismay when the Witchcraft in the MGM Grand was closed for refurbishments while we were in Vegas. Distressing. To compound the situation, imagine my dismay when I found the only other two ‘wichcraft’s in the States – in NYC and San Fran…..and they didn’t carry the meatloaf sandwich there. Heartbreaking.
4. Dairy Queen
Have you had a Blizzard from Dairy Queen? Try this combination next time you go – Score and Smarties, and add some extra Score and Smarties, and you’ll have the dream blizzard. Another must-visit when we are in Canada….pretty darn good.
5. Subway
Possibly the only fast food chain that doesn’t make you feel like heading to the nearest gym or liposuction surgeon. Some pretty solid options to mix things up.
Notable mention goes to McDonalds for making the McRib a regular feature in their menu once again. And despite what my beloved Landon Donovan and so many Americans think, In-N-Out is hugely overrated.
However there are a couple of elements which are overrated - food and pillows. I have this thing about pillows - when I rest my head, there is a certain criteria I want my pillow to meet. The right balance between soft and firm is important but more than anything, I want a thin pillow. Nobody wants to suffocate in their pillow. Moving from hotel to hotel, it is rare I find a decent pillow....which is not conducive to me sleeping well. It's a good job sleep is overrated. I've never gotten over mum throwing out my 20+ year-old pillows when I left home - and yes mum, despite some of my gear being in the loft, I have left!
The second tough element of extensive travel is food. Of course, it is always cool to try new things - unless you're staying by the coast somewhere and every menu is full of seafood. At some point, thinking of what you want to eat every day for breakfast, lunch, dinner and midnight snack is tough when you have all kinds of options available to you. It's actually easier to have few options and you just want home cooking pretty swiftly.
After spending a month in the States, I now consider myself an expert in the art of fast food. We actually went quite easy on it....but it's fair to say that I have sampled most of the options.....largely for the benefit of this blog and its readers. So, I will give you my top five fast food establishments.
1. Chipotle
Legendary Mexican fast food chain and the fajita burrito is sensational. Super filling but you don't feel quite so filthy afterwards like you do in some other places soon to be mentioned.
2. Wendy's
The Baconator is my favourite at Wendy’s and it is something I have to do whenever I get to North America. In fairness, any of the burgers there are legendary and I defy anybody to tell me there is a better burger chain anywhere!
3. ‘wichcraft
The meatloaf sandwich there is the best sandwich I have ever tasted. Seriously. You can imagine my utter dismay when the Witchcraft in the MGM Grand was closed for refurbishments while we were in Vegas. Distressing. To compound the situation, imagine my dismay when I found the only other two ‘wichcraft’s in the States – in NYC and San Fran…..and they didn’t carry the meatloaf sandwich there. Heartbreaking.
4. Dairy Queen
Have you had a Blizzard from Dairy Queen? Try this combination next time you go – Score and Smarties, and add some extra Score and Smarties, and you’ll have the dream blizzard. Another must-visit when we are in Canada….pretty darn good.
5. Subway
Possibly the only fast food chain that doesn’t make you feel like heading to the nearest gym or liposuction surgeon. Some pretty solid options to mix things up.
Notable mention goes to McDonalds for making the McRib a regular feature in their menu once again. And despite what my beloved Landon Donovan and so many Americans think, In-N-Out is hugely overrated.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
The Fix
With a large amount of activities that I do, I plan and think about them meticulously in advance. I'm not the best on the fly, hence why I blog rather than stand on the street or in front of a crowd with a microfone spouting my thoughts or bad jokes. I make some decisions impulsively, but they are usually the ones that don't require much thinking.
Betting on sports, writing on sports, working on sporting events are all areas I have done or do, and all require significant thinking, planning and research. I do the same in my spare time when it comes to hobbies and fantasies in particular. The extent of my fantasies are in Fantasy Football, specifically NFL.
Fantasy sports require thinking if you want to earn bragging rights. The research required for selecting your team is essential. I want to avoid those players with injury problems, I want to avoid those inconsistent guys, I want to avoid those guys who shoot themselves in their thigh in nightclubs. I am looking for a solid group of guys who will consistently produce the goods for me, and one or two gems that I think will provide me with some value at some point through the season.
I play two main fantasy NFL league...I won one of them last season, and lost in the playoffs in the other. This season has not been a success. I tried a different strategy, and it just didn't work too well. There was one main reason for my failure however and I put it all down to one guy - DeSean Jackson. DeSean's contract with the Philadelphia Eagles finishes this year and he should be busting his cojones to get a nice new big contract. Instead, DeSean is sulking. DeSean is not showing up to practise and getting dropped for games. DeSean is getting injured (allegedly) early in games and not doing much. DeSean is fumbling balls. DeSean is dropping easy catches in the end zone when my two year old nephew could make the play. DeSean is not even looking like he is trying.
Me and DeSean are going our separate ways at the end of this season. I have had enough of him. I actually had a dream that DeSean died in a plane crash one week. Thankfully that was not the case, but it is over between him and I. If he had woken up and done what he should have been doing, this season would have been another success. Instead, it is now over and my team, just like DeSean, has nothing left to play for.
All I can assume is that DeSean did not pick himself in his own Fantasy team and he decided to sabotage his opponents by not playing well in the real game. That can be the only logical explanation. Folks in many sports and the likes of FIFA and UEFA worry about match fixing and illegal gambling on matches, but I think the real risk is Fantasy Football. Players are sabotaging other teams and under performing throughout and thus influencing the results of matches. I shall be forwarding this blog post to various authorities and suggesting they investigate.
Betting on sports, writing on sports, working on sporting events are all areas I have done or do, and all require significant thinking, planning and research. I do the same in my spare time when it comes to hobbies and fantasies in particular. The extent of my fantasies are in Fantasy Football, specifically NFL.
Fantasy sports require thinking if you want to earn bragging rights. The research required for selecting your team is essential. I want to avoid those players with injury problems, I want to avoid those inconsistent guys, I want to avoid those guys who shoot themselves in their thigh in nightclubs. I am looking for a solid group of guys who will consistently produce the goods for me, and one or two gems that I think will provide me with some value at some point through the season.
I play two main fantasy NFL league...I won one of them last season, and lost in the playoffs in the other. This season has not been a success. I tried a different strategy, and it just didn't work too well. There was one main reason for my failure however and I put it all down to one guy - DeSean Jackson. DeSean's contract with the Philadelphia Eagles finishes this year and he should be busting his cojones to get a nice new big contract. Instead, DeSean is sulking. DeSean is not showing up to practise and getting dropped for games. DeSean is getting injured (allegedly) early in games and not doing much. DeSean is fumbling balls. DeSean is dropping easy catches in the end zone when my two year old nephew could make the play. DeSean is not even looking like he is trying.
Me and DeSean are going our separate ways at the end of this season. I have had enough of him. I actually had a dream that DeSean died in a plane crash one week. Thankfully that was not the case, but it is over between him and I. If he had woken up and done what he should have been doing, this season would have been another success. Instead, it is now over and my team, just like DeSean, has nothing left to play for.
All I can assume is that DeSean did not pick himself in his own Fantasy team and he decided to sabotage his opponents by not playing well in the real game. That can be the only logical explanation. Folks in many sports and the likes of FIFA and UEFA worry about match fixing and illegal gambling on matches, but I think the real risk is Fantasy Football. Players are sabotaging other teams and under performing throughout and thus influencing the results of matches. I shall be forwarding this blog post to various authorities and suggesting they investigate.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Rest in Peace Gary Speed
When you’re a kid, there is inevitably a role model or hero that you look up to. They may sing, act, play sport, they may be your parents. Like so many young boys, mine were largely footballers, and being an Evertonian, I desperately tried to find a Toffeeman that I could imitate. Sadly, as the mid-eighties came to a close, I was left with the likes of Preki, Robert Warszycha and John Ebbrell to try and imitate and that just didn’t cut it for me.
My first real memories were largely based around the 1986 World Cup in Mexico. I was mesmerised by Diego Maradona and he stole the show for me even though I was hardly skilful….a boy can dream. There were some iconic figures for my beloved Everton as the nineties kicked in however. Duncan Ferguson was right up there for me and so many Everton fans. Aside from the big names players or the top goalscorers, fans often develop soft spots for home grown talent or players that are fans of the team themselves. Ultimately, you know that they will give their absolute all for the team and fight until the last whistle.
As I grew up and developed as a player, I still hadn’t honed those Maradona skills, but I was as committed as anybody. Along with Laurence Budd’s left-wing magic, I often scored a fair number of headed goals – not because I was particularly tall, but I was willing to put my head in places where others were not, and I worked on timing my jump. Duncan Ferguson was an Everton legend as he was 6 foot 4 and scored a number of headed goals for them. However, there was another player, another Evertonian, who I tried to imitate when playing myself, as I was short of 6 foot, like him, but he was a master at timing his leap to perfection.
When I was Junior Bobby, the only football I could watch live was Leeds United. My Uncle Ken would take me to games and I was just happy to be watching live football. I was mesmerised. I was around 11-12 years old when I watched my first game at Elland Road and I would wear my Everton shirt deep under 17 layers of clothes so none of the scary Leeds fans would spot it, but I knew deep down that I was not betraying my team. I was fortunate however to witness one of the best Leeds teams in history, and the Leeds midfield at that time was as good as any around at that period. There is just one other conventional four-man midfield that I have viewed that was as balanced as that Leeds quartet of Strachan, Batty, McAllister and Speed and that was the Valencia midfield of Mendieta, Gerard, Farinos, and Kily Gonzalez.
And it was the latter of the quartet that caught my eye as a player to try to imitate. Gary Speed was the player who was not quite 6 foot, but was superb in the air. He was the Evertonian. He was the guy who was perhaps not the most pleasing on the eye like Maradona, but clearly worked incredibly hard to master the skills that he did have. He was the left-footer with a decent right, which encouraged me to use my weak foot as much as possible and become more comfortable with it. He was the player who clearly looked after himself extremely well on and off the pitch that enabled him to have such a long playing career. He was the guy who was so well respected in the game, that transitioning to become a coach proved successful in such a short space of time.
When I woke up to my mum’s text last Saturday to hear that he had died, I had a lump in my throat. I had absolutely no idea of the reason – I just assumed it must have been some illness that had been hidden, an accident, or a sudden heart attack which has seemingly become more common among active players in recent years. I was pretty shocked when I learned that it was suicide, as it seems so many others have been, as there were clearly no indicators to those in football, and certainly not to the regular fan like myself.
I have not had the opportunity to read much in the last day or so about it, but I can only assume that there was some form of depression involved. The PFA statement saying that players would receive information on suffering from depression and their acknowledgment that it was an issue, suggested as much, and in truth it is surprising that it has taken this news for them to realise that. The numbers on divorces, alcohol and drug addictions among recently retired players is scary, and the void left by retirement for so many is something that requires attention from football authorities.
The news reminded me of an article I read a few weeks back from a television personality in Canada – Michael Landsberg. He is the presenter of a sports TV show called Off The Record – one of my favourites. It came following the death of a former Hockey player called Wade Belak. You can read it here - http://www.tsn.ca/nhl/story/?id=375694. It is as thought-provoking a read as you will find, and I suspect the case of Gary Speed is probably something similar. Sad times. I can only hope that the likes of the PFA further acknowledge depression as a major issue and work hard to build awareness and provide the tools and support for the guys like Belak and Speed, who have been role models to so many.
My first real memories were largely based around the 1986 World Cup in Mexico. I was mesmerised by Diego Maradona and he stole the show for me even though I was hardly skilful….a boy can dream. There were some iconic figures for my beloved Everton as the nineties kicked in however. Duncan Ferguson was right up there for me and so many Everton fans. Aside from the big names players or the top goalscorers, fans often develop soft spots for home grown talent or players that are fans of the team themselves. Ultimately, you know that they will give their absolute all for the team and fight until the last whistle.
As I grew up and developed as a player, I still hadn’t honed those Maradona skills, but I was as committed as anybody. Along with Laurence Budd’s left-wing magic, I often scored a fair number of headed goals – not because I was particularly tall, but I was willing to put my head in places where others were not, and I worked on timing my jump. Duncan Ferguson was an Everton legend as he was 6 foot 4 and scored a number of headed goals for them. However, there was another player, another Evertonian, who I tried to imitate when playing myself, as I was short of 6 foot, like him, but he was a master at timing his leap to perfection.
When I was Junior Bobby, the only football I could watch live was Leeds United. My Uncle Ken would take me to games and I was just happy to be watching live football. I was mesmerised. I was around 11-12 years old when I watched my first game at Elland Road and I would wear my Everton shirt deep under 17 layers of clothes so none of the scary Leeds fans would spot it, but I knew deep down that I was not betraying my team. I was fortunate however to witness one of the best Leeds teams in history, and the Leeds midfield at that time was as good as any around at that period. There is just one other conventional four-man midfield that I have viewed that was as balanced as that Leeds quartet of Strachan, Batty, McAllister and Speed and that was the Valencia midfield of Mendieta, Gerard, Farinos, and Kily Gonzalez.
And it was the latter of the quartet that caught my eye as a player to try to imitate. Gary Speed was the player who was not quite 6 foot, but was superb in the air. He was the Evertonian. He was the guy who was perhaps not the most pleasing on the eye like Maradona, but clearly worked incredibly hard to master the skills that he did have. He was the left-footer with a decent right, which encouraged me to use my weak foot as much as possible and become more comfortable with it. He was the player who clearly looked after himself extremely well on and off the pitch that enabled him to have such a long playing career. He was the guy who was so well respected in the game, that transitioning to become a coach proved successful in such a short space of time.
When I woke up to my mum’s text last Saturday to hear that he had died, I had a lump in my throat. I had absolutely no idea of the reason – I just assumed it must have been some illness that had been hidden, an accident, or a sudden heart attack which has seemingly become more common among active players in recent years. I was pretty shocked when I learned that it was suicide, as it seems so many others have been, as there were clearly no indicators to those in football, and certainly not to the regular fan like myself.
I have not had the opportunity to read much in the last day or so about it, but I can only assume that there was some form of depression involved. The PFA statement saying that players would receive information on suffering from depression and their acknowledgment that it was an issue, suggested as much, and in truth it is surprising that it has taken this news for them to realise that. The numbers on divorces, alcohol and drug addictions among recently retired players is scary, and the void left by retirement for so many is something that requires attention from football authorities.
The news reminded me of an article I read a few weeks back from a television personality in Canada – Michael Landsberg. He is the presenter of a sports TV show called Off The Record – one of my favourites. It came following the death of a former Hockey player called Wade Belak. You can read it here - http://www.tsn.ca/nhl/story/?id=375694. It is as thought-provoking a read as you will find, and I suspect the case of Gary Speed is probably something similar. Sad times. I can only hope that the likes of the PFA further acknowledge depression as a major issue and work hard to build awareness and provide the tools and support for the guys like Belak and Speed, who have been role models to so many.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Not for the Faint of Heart
In the past I have definitely touched upon a few sensitive topics in my blogs and have perhaps offended one or two people in the process. Well, you ain't seen nothing yet - this particular blog is going to knock your socks off and is not for the faint of heart.....don't read if you're squeamish...
If you haven't sponsored me and my Movember tache and you are reading this blog, you're a disgrace!!! I don't care if it is one dollar or one turkish lira, get your hand out of your pocket and sponsor Blogger Bobby's tache....you won't see it again after this next week!!
This is where it is at - http://mobro.co/robesteva
I'll put my money where my tache-laden mouth is and say that I will match all the donations made to me. I also don't care about birthday or christmas presents, a donation will suffice.
Don't be shy, and don't think of the tache or me, think of the good deed you are doing to a worthy cause.
If you haven't sponsored me and my Movember tache and you are reading this blog, you're a disgrace!!! I don't care if it is one dollar or one turkish lira, get your hand out of your pocket and sponsor Blogger Bobby's tache....you won't see it again after this next week!!
This is where it is at - http://mobro.co/robesteva
I'll put my money where my tache-laden mouth is and say that I will match all the donations made to me. I also don't care about birthday or christmas presents, a donation will suffice.
Don't be shy, and don't think of the tache or me, think of the good deed you are doing to a worthy cause.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Surprise Surprise
Who likes surprises? I kinda feel as if you dislike surprises, there is something strange about you. If you dislike shocks, then fair enough. I can understand that. If you are unsure whether it is a surprise or a shock, it may be like eating asparagus for the first time. The lovely taste and texture is a pleasant surprise, I like mine steamed with a little pepper on. The side effects that come with it however can be considered a shock. It took me months to work out there wasn’t something wrong with me.
Shocks are not nice. I consider these negative generally. A phone call in the night is generally a shock unless I am in North America and it is my bank's fraud team being over efficient. When I was a child, I assumed a call overnight meant bad news....for no real reason other than having old grandparents in a different country. My parents know the rule, death and illness means updating me wherever in the world I am. Anybody who lives away from their family, or perhaps even just for holidays, is likely to have a rule on this. It’s not a pleasant thought but essential to have a rule in place.
Surprises are great. I associate surprises with positivity. I love nothing more than surprising people. I enjoy coming up with great ideas for gifts, random gestures such as turning up on people's doorsteps in different countries, and generally doing things that will raise a smile on people's faces. I feel as if that has not happened as much as I would have hoped recently due to the fact that HJ and I have been so busy, but I am planning on raising my game in 2012 in this department.
Shocks are overrated, I have to say. Surprises however are underrated and I would propose that anybody who reads this blog post comes up with a pleasant surprise that is going to raise a smile for somebody else. It doesn't have to cost money, though a random bouquet of flowers never harmed anybody.....a gesture will do! Carry an old lady’s shopping bags up the street. I’ll never forget doing that once as a kid. An old lady asked me to help her and I duly carried her heavy shopping bags a mile up the road to the bus stop. I was thinking that I was in for a great little tip, until the bus came and we were still some way short of the stop. I flagged it down and the driver waited – the old lady hopped on, and as the doors were closing, she said ‘I’d love to give you a little something but my bus is here! Bye!’ I was gutted for a short period of time, but found it funny more than anything. I quickly realised that doing such gestures and providing surprises, and potentially receiving them, is a great reward for spending a bit of time, care, and effort on somebody else. I feel a new year's resolution coming on!
Shocks are not nice. I consider these negative generally. A phone call in the night is generally a shock unless I am in North America and it is my bank's fraud team being over efficient. When I was a child, I assumed a call overnight meant bad news....for no real reason other than having old grandparents in a different country. My parents know the rule, death and illness means updating me wherever in the world I am. Anybody who lives away from their family, or perhaps even just for holidays, is likely to have a rule on this. It’s not a pleasant thought but essential to have a rule in place.
Surprises are great. I associate surprises with positivity. I love nothing more than surprising people. I enjoy coming up with great ideas for gifts, random gestures such as turning up on people's doorsteps in different countries, and generally doing things that will raise a smile on people's faces. I feel as if that has not happened as much as I would have hoped recently due to the fact that HJ and I have been so busy, but I am planning on raising my game in 2012 in this department.
Shocks are overrated, I have to say. Surprises however are underrated and I would propose that anybody who reads this blog post comes up with a pleasant surprise that is going to raise a smile for somebody else. It doesn't have to cost money, though a random bouquet of flowers never harmed anybody.....a gesture will do! Carry an old lady’s shopping bags up the street. I’ll never forget doing that once as a kid. An old lady asked me to help her and I duly carried her heavy shopping bags a mile up the road to the bus stop. I was thinking that I was in for a great little tip, until the bus came and we were still some way short of the stop. I flagged it down and the driver waited – the old lady hopped on, and as the doors were closing, she said ‘I’d love to give you a little something but my bus is here! Bye!’ I was gutted for a short period of time, but found it funny more than anything. I quickly realised that doing such gestures and providing surprises, and potentially receiving them, is a great reward for spending a bit of time, care, and effort on somebody else. I feel a new year's resolution coming on!
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Painful Reading
Bookshelves and book collections say a lot about people. Imagine my parents feelings when my sister started her serial killer book colllection in her teen years. Not something which gives you a warm loving sensation and confidence that you've raised a normal child, but she didn't turn out too bad I guess.
On my bookshelves - you'll find one in Leeds and one in Lausanne - there is a wide and extensive collection of sports books...largely autobiographies and some historical and reference books, but the common theme is sport. You will also find the Dexter collection which I love and somewhere in the loft, you'll find the complete works of Shakespeare but there is as much dust as pages.
One of the most enthralling but harrowing books I have read in the last couple of years is the Theo Fleury autobiography. If you don't know who is, he was a star ice hockey player in the NHL and for Team Canada, and he shares his life and particularly how he was sexually abused during the early days of his hockey career by one of his coaches. Not an easy read, but pretty compelling and sad at the same time.
It was around a year ago that I read the book and I was reminded of it last week when a similar story hit the headlines. If you don't live in the States or love american sports, you may not have heard the story, but the most successful coach in College Football was fired due to him being aware of one of his coaches allegedly abusing a number of young students in the last 10-15 years. Another story broke this morning of another accusation in another university.
Pretty scary to think that we put our faith and trust in coaches, trainers, and teachers to guide and educate children, and this kind of thing can happen. I have a high tolerance of hearing and watching blood and guts....that may come from my love of Dexter, UFC or maybe my sister's influence, but I cannot abide with this kind of stuff and I think it is one of the worst crimes that can be committed. I hope the book gets thrown at these guys, and I don't mean any from my bookshelf, if they are guilty. It's the only way kids, schools, and communities can get over it and recover their belief. I fear that this is more rife than we realise.
On my bookshelves - you'll find one in Leeds and one in Lausanne - there is a wide and extensive collection of sports books...largely autobiographies and some historical and reference books, but the common theme is sport. You will also find the Dexter collection which I love and somewhere in the loft, you'll find the complete works of Shakespeare but there is as much dust as pages.
One of the most enthralling but harrowing books I have read in the last couple of years is the Theo Fleury autobiography. If you don't know who is, he was a star ice hockey player in the NHL and for Team Canada, and he shares his life and particularly how he was sexually abused during the early days of his hockey career by one of his coaches. Not an easy read, but pretty compelling and sad at the same time.
It was around a year ago that I read the book and I was reminded of it last week when a similar story hit the headlines. If you don't live in the States or love american sports, you may not have heard the story, but the most successful coach in College Football was fired due to him being aware of one of his coaches allegedly abusing a number of young students in the last 10-15 years. Another story broke this morning of another accusation in another university.
Pretty scary to think that we put our faith and trust in coaches, trainers, and teachers to guide and educate children, and this kind of thing can happen. I have a high tolerance of hearing and watching blood and guts....that may come from my love of Dexter, UFC or maybe my sister's influence, but I cannot abide with this kind of stuff and I think it is one of the worst crimes that can be committed. I hope the book gets thrown at these guys, and I don't mean any from my bookshelf, if they are guilty. It's the only way kids, schools, and communities can get over it and recover their belief. I fear that this is more rife than we realise.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
White Mo-Rabbits
You are probably thinking that today is November 1st, the day after Halloween, the first day of the month before December, and you may even have whispered ‘White Rabbits’ wherever you may be. To others, it may just be another day. To me, it is something different. Today, ladies and gentlemen, is the start of Movember.
I think it is fair to say that Movember is pretty North American and it is slowly reaching Europe, though I know some folks that did it last year and probably received plenty of abuse because of it. As I scribbled randomly in my last blog, I aim to do more for charity and this is where it begins.
So what is Movember I hear you ask? Well, for the month of Movember, men all around the world are growing moustaches…..they start the month cleanly shaven, and proceed to develop a Tache for one month……usually in comical fashion. It is a charity campaign with the funds raised going to prostate cancer and other cancers which affect men. My dad has been doing Movember for years…..perhaps he should do the reverse this month and shave it off. I don’t think that will go down too well but I’d like to see it in the name of charity. Unfortunately, no beards nor goatees are allowed neither.
If you read my blog regularly and did so prior to our wedding, you’ll know the dilemma I have between pleasing two pretty important ladies in my life in terms of facial hair. I do my best but it is not easy. I am assured by my Mo Sista that growing a moustache…..a comedy and likely itchy and irritable moustache….will have no impact on the number of cheeky kisses I will receive in the month of Movember. And we are spending much of the month in America so my mum will not have to suffer the view of my tache apart from the occasional photo update.
You can find more information and see my profile – it is pretty tame right now but I promise to post photos on a regular basis to keep you fully informed on the growth and comical development. I ask each and every one of you who reads this blog, to make a small donation. Don’t click the X and pretend you don’t read my blog – I know where you live. Remember, it is a good cause and it will not be funding my blackjack session in Vegas I promise. My Mo Sista and I would greatly appreciate any donations (http://mobro.co/robesteva) – however small, however big – you can then say you have done your good deed for the month and done something for charity. I’ll be the one to look daft and I’ll be your Mo Bro for Movember.
I think it is fair to say that Movember is pretty North American and it is slowly reaching Europe, though I know some folks that did it last year and probably received plenty of abuse because of it. As I scribbled randomly in my last blog, I aim to do more for charity and this is where it begins.
So what is Movember I hear you ask? Well, for the month of Movember, men all around the world are growing moustaches…..they start the month cleanly shaven, and proceed to develop a Tache for one month……usually in comical fashion. It is a charity campaign with the funds raised going to prostate cancer and other cancers which affect men. My dad has been doing Movember for years…..perhaps he should do the reverse this month and shave it off. I don’t think that will go down too well but I’d like to see it in the name of charity. Unfortunately, no beards nor goatees are allowed neither.
If you read my blog regularly and did so prior to our wedding, you’ll know the dilemma I have between pleasing two pretty important ladies in my life in terms of facial hair. I do my best but it is not easy. I am assured by my Mo Sista that growing a moustache…..a comedy and likely itchy and irritable moustache….will have no impact on the number of cheeky kisses I will receive in the month of Movember. And we are spending much of the month in America so my mum will not have to suffer the view of my tache apart from the occasional photo update.
You can find more information and see my profile – it is pretty tame right now but I promise to post photos on a regular basis to keep you fully informed on the growth and comical development. I ask each and every one of you who reads this blog, to make a small donation. Don’t click the X and pretend you don’t read my blog – I know where you live. Remember, it is a good cause and it will not be funding my blackjack session in Vegas I promise. My Mo Sista and I would greatly appreciate any donations (http://mobro.co/robesteva) – however small, however big – you can then say you have done your good deed for the month and done something for charity. I’ll be the one to look daft and I’ll be your Mo Bro for Movember.
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