Murder on Gdansk Floor

If you read my blog, you likely read it due to the Facebook update. If you are on Facebook, you will have likely have seen some random pictures of me in Gdansk, Poland over the last three weeks.

I left UEFA around 18 months ago, but have been fortunate enough to have been invited to work on some Champions League, Europa League and now the European Championships as an external. I struck lucky in Gdansk with the Spanish in town, a fantastic group of people to work with, and a fantastic city. Gdansk is a cool place, though we actually spent more time in neighbouring Sopot. Both cities are in Northern Poland and are on the Baltic Sea, which means beach time baby. I managed to visit the beach twice. Once at 5am for a vodka-fuelled swim, and another time for a short part of a run which was clearly a bad decision. As a side note, Sopot will host the 2014 World Indoor Athletics Championships and I am sure it will host a fantastic event.

Weather-wise, we were not so lucky. It rained most days and was quite cold most of the time. We had one glorious day of 30c but unfortunately it was Spain v Croatia, and I was wearing the full suit. Not ideal, and with a classic blue shirt on, you have to wear the jacket if you're prone to sweating like me.

Events like this are somewhat unnatural from a work perspective and so much depends on the people you work with. The hours are long, and it can be reminiscent of Big Brother as you spend a lot of time with your colleagues. My team were fantastic to work with - everybody did their jobs, we all had sufficiently decent musical tastes (I did not subject them to Barry or JBJ though), and we had laugh after laugh, picking up a few nicknames along the way which cannot be printed. All in all, a thoroughly enjoyable experience.

What did I learn from Euro 2012?

…..that as much as I tried to dislike Jose Reina and Fernando Torres when we interviewed them due to their Liverpool connections, I could only find them incredibly friendly and normal.

….that as glamorous as it sounds to be working on a European Championships, it is three or four weeks of incredibly long hours and hard work. I am not saying it was not fun, but it is not easy.

….that working behind the scenes with players and coaches is a fantastic experience. I learned some amazing secrets that are not in the public domain….and unfortunately, they will remain that way!

….that some people can deal with pressure and stressful moments, and others cannot in all walks of life, and I am thankful that I generally can.

….that the people of Poland are extremely friendly and fun with Sopot & Gdansk ranking up there on my list as fun places to visit.

….that the Irish fans are fantastic. The results were miserable, but the fans are an absolute credit. They just have fun, simple as that…nothing more, nothing less.

….that Twitter has become the place for breaking news and coverage in sport. It may have struggled to cope with the barrage of Tweets at times, but that is where it is at these days.

….that I have said it before and I will say it again, as much as I have enjoyed the tournament, the quality of it is not as good as the Champions League in my view.

….that Polish vodka is dangerous and should not be mixed with beer. Or Jaegermeister. Or Mojitos. Or anything else.

….that my favourite t-shirt in Gdansk was on that had ‘GERMANY’ printed in bold across the middle, and underneath it read ‘I’m actually Greek but we’re sponsored by Germany’. Hilarious!

Age and Beauty

When I was younger, I wondered whether older men and women viewed fellow 60/70 year-olds as sensationally hot and attractive, just as I viewed a 21-year-old hotty when I was around that age. Does the 70-year-old granny walk past the pub and all the old guys’ heads turn with a cheeky whistle or two? I like to think that I was a bright kid, but I was certainly prone to getting sucked into some ridiculous misconceptions. There were others. I used to think gravy came from graveyards and Vicks Vapor Rub was made by Vicars. It took some time to live those down too.

Age, growing up and getting old is a funny old thing. I spent two weeks in the UK in May, mainly in Leeds doing a coaching course. The early stages of the course are based around youth football. There are certainly important technical lessons that I learned, but the overriding factor for me were the social aspects of coaching, and how you should treat the players. My favourite coaches or teachers were the ones who created the most enjoyable working environment and that got the best out of me - I generally believe that to be the case regardless of whether you’re a 11-year-old kid chasing a ball around a park, or a 40-year-old office worker.

Spending time with my family over those two weeks was a pleasure as always. I get as much satisfaction from spending time with my ridiculously adorable 6-year-old niece Mia and feisty ‘destined-for-the-UFC' nephew Max, as I do with the older folks in the Leeds crew. Time ticks by but the people are the same. I noted another myth while at home when my Mum said that time goes by too fast – the days, weeks and months just fly by….and nothing gets done. Well Mum, time ticks by the same as it always did, there are still sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, 24 hours in a day. And more importantly, you fill your days, weeks and months constantly. It is far better than sitting at home all day counting the hours. The days go so much slower when you look at the clock, or have nothing to do. Sometimes when I wonder where the time has gone, I think about what I have achieved, places I have been, and people I have seen, and I realise that is where the time went.

During those two weeks in Leeds, the experiences we all have at different stages of our lives, and how we interact with people of different ages was on my mind in a combination of random thoughts. I have heard a few people say that your 30’s are the best years of your life. That may have just been somebody feeling sympathetic towards me when I hit the 30 mark. So, ever the analytical mind, I decided to take a look at the various decades of one’s life and the general characteristics and experiences that you go through to try work out which decade was actually the most enjoyable.

The Noughties

You spend a fair amount of this time having absolutely no idea what you should do, but you just get on with it. You don’t care what others think, you poo and pee all over and start to say things that make older people squirm….somehow you’re still loved and adored by all. You will never learn and absorb as much in a decade as you will in this one.

The Teens

You still have no idea what you should do, but you know what you do not want to do – and that is more or less anything your parents or teachers want you to do. You care what everybody else thinks, but you don’t want to show it or let people know that you have developed those things called feelings. Somewhere just before the middle of this decade you wake up one morning and realise the same or opposite sex are quite appealing after being in denial for years, but you have no real idea how to deal with that until later in the decade. The decade of ‘trial and error’.

The Twenties

The harsh reality of work has almost certainly kicked in and it is ‘find your way in life’ decade. You realise that having your own money to spend is amazing, but actually, with all the responsibility that goes with it and all the people wanting their share of it, you recognise that being a student was not so bad after all. If you’re lucky, you’ll get to travel, probably to put off the work issue, escape it for a while, or buy some time to work out what you actually want to do for a job. You don’t realise that most other people in life do not love their jobs and have just fallen into something. You just know that you don’t know what it is exactly that you want to do for the next 40 years. Retirement sounds like a distant dream.

The Thirties

The decade of the ‘ticking clock’. If marriage and kids have not happened yet, everybody in your family is likely to be wondering if you are gay or have the cojones to ask the question. There is a different pressure in this decade, and that realisation comes when you find yourself submersed by students in a bar one night, and realise the hotty in the corner has more chance of being your child than your lover. Once you realised that, you can relax, be confident in yourself and get on with enjoying life. You’ve got some great relationships, many of which will be keepers as you realise that if you are friends with people as this point of your life, it is because you want to be friends with them.

The Middle Ages

Another type of pressure in this decade, and that realisation comes when you find yourself submersed by students in a bar one night, and realise the hotty in the corner is your child and there is a smooth guy chatting to her, and he is bigger than you. You are however happier going to the old pub that does not have televisions or music for a good old chat rather than a dance. Everything becomes that fraction bit harder physically, but you are still as sharp mentally. The youngsters of today are keeping you young, if you cannot match them physically any more, you are darn sure you’ll imprint your wisdom on them. You still don’t really know what you want to be when you grow up, but you would like a career change or to work for yourself. You’re at the halfway mark of your working life which is a grim thought. The decade of ‘painful realisations’.

The Fickities

At this point you are counting the days to retirement and thinking about all those amazing trips that you would love to do….and you realise they are pretty similar dreams to those you had when you were a Teen, but children, work, mortgages always got in the way. There is still some time to go however work-wise, but ambitions are a fraction lower, and you are in survival mode in what is possibly the only real time in your life where you are wishing that time went faster. The decade of ‘The Final Countdown’….and if you are that old, you’ll know the song too.

The Sixties et al

All those thoughts and dreams that you have been weighing up in the last decade can now become a reality. Or can they? Income is possibly reduced and you do not have the earning power, and you are reluctant to spend as although you cannot take it with you, you do not want to run out. While you should in fact be selling your house, move into rented accommodation and blow all your savings in a methodical manner, you are thinking of legacy and what you can leave for the kids. The kids who are actually big bad adults themselves now – let them look after you a little now. You have worked for some forty years, and now you should be enjoying life. The decade of ‘Nike – Just Do It’.

The End (of the blog)

I think that....

….I do not like the fact that in the last few years, a number of foreign athletes have been nationalised and will compete for Great Britain in the Olympics. I don’t think anybody will accuse me of being racist – I would have no problem if it was not so blatant, but it smacks of desperation to boost GB’s chances of reaching their medals target. If any of them win, nobody will complain, and history will only show the medals table, but I can’t think it is right.

….one of my favourite sports writers is Peter King of Sports Illustrated. He knows his NFL inside and out, and in turn, he helps his readers know a fraction of it inside and out. Along with Kevin Iole at Yahoo, Steve Kim at Maxboxing, and Thomas Hauser at Seconds Out, they are my favourite sports writers. For some reason, I have yet to find a favourite football writer – maybe I trust my judgement better than theirs.

….I will not be attending the David Haye v Derek Chisora fight. How the Luxembourg Boxing Board can sanction this fight in England demonstrates how poor and disjointed the administration is in the world of Boxing. I’m staging a mini protest for that reason…..and because I don’t think it will be a great fight.

….Pep Guardiola has done a fantastic job at Barcelona, but I cannot be convinced about him until he proves himself elsewhere, and I think that will be extremely difficult. The players were largely in place before he took over and the system certainly was. His transfer record was not the best. And I think he is largely overrated despite having a sensational record. That all said, watch Chelsea or another rich team throw stupid money at him, which he will eventually take. As an outside shot, I wouldn’t rule out him returning to Barca after one season….you heard it here first!

….as sad as it is for Rangers fans, they have an opportunity to rebuild the club from almost scratch and start again – managing the club and playing squad correctly. Unfortunately, I think it will be negative for the league, and will reduce the quality of Celtic too. Motherwell will be knocked out of Europe pretty quickly next year, and Scottish football could suffer further. What Rangers misery does mean, is that they will likely be forced to give young home grown talent a chance, and may be that is a blessing in disguise….if there is one.

….the example of a manager’s impact on a team cannot be emphasised enough when you consider Chelsea under Andre Villas-Boas and Chelsea under Roberto di Matteo. Perhaps even more importantly however, it shows the impact an owner or chairman can have in supporting his manager also – something AVB ultimately did not have.

….my feelings on Tim Bradley potentially upsetting Manny Pacquiao in June are still the same as my blog back in January….i think he has the stamina, speed, and toughness to cause Manny some serious problems. This is the first time in some time that I think Manny is fighting somebody at his peak, and in his natural weight class – and I think Manny will find it extremely difficult. Bradley is far from great to watch, but I think he is an extremely talented and solid boxer with a very good defence…so much so that I may even have a bet on him as there is usually value on anybody fighting Manny or Floyd. As much as the whole world wants to see Floyd v Pacman, I think there may be a spanner in the works at some point, and this could be it.

….the American businessman who is investing $20m in recruiting American heavyweight boxers, will pay them to train at his facility, and he will subsequently get a share if the profits from future events involving those boxers, could be on to a winner. If this is done correctly and they scout talent well at a young enough level, and they look at it as a long term investment, this could be a fantastic idea and concept. One thing is for sure, Heavyweight boxing is desperate right now and has been for some time. The only other sure thing is that there is big money to be made in it. I saw calculations that a Manny/Floyd fight would generate $300m. If this guy has hundreds of millions, then I think it is worth a shot. One of the most innovative ideas I have come across and I like it.

…..i was involved in a slightly bizarre interview this week and was asked a question that I have never been asked before. The candidate asked us ‘Why would you pick me over the other people?’ A strange one considering she was the second of nine people that we were interviewing, and a stranger one considering her profile. She did not make it, but she wins the award for best ‘asking-you-the-question-you’re-supposed-to-ask-the-candidate question!

You Can Choose Your Friends....

I wake up on Monday morning a little confused. The surroundings are not home, but I have become used to that. The time is later than we usually wake - we are used to getting up at 6am and it is 8.30am. I have a dream in the back of my mind but it is taking me some time to piece it together in my confused state. It was a football dream. No surprise there. I was playing....I've still got enough energy to charge round a pitch so again, hardly a great surprise. I go to the bathroom, where much of my greatest thinking occurs. I am playing football, with some friends, enjoying the game, bending some free kicks like Beckham....and I am wearing high heels. All my team-mates are wearing high heels. And we are all guys.

Sometimes it is good to wake up, even if you are short on sleep. This was one occasion. Some things in life you choose. Some things are chosen for you and you play with the card you are dealt. This dream was dealt to me, and the only choice I have is to embrace the dream and hope and pray it was a one off.

It's a bit like the old saying about being able to choose your friends but not your family. I liken it also to how you begin supporting a team. Little Bobby never wanted to be a Leeds fan like the rest of his pals at school. They were in the second division at the time, while Everton were riding high. Not that it made much of a difference, as I would not have chosen Leeds any way, just to be awkward. I am not the kind of guy who likes to be different. I do have a track record of being awkward at times, and this was one of those moments.

There are two phrases that are used at Everton.....and they are cheesy as they come. 'Evertonians are born, not manufactured' and 'Once a blue, always a blue.' You often hear of people supporting one team during their early years and occasionally making a switch – that does not happen with Everton fans. You may switch to Everton, but you will not decide to shelve them and go for somebody else. It happens with other clubs and there is an example in my family. My cousin’s son TJ, whom you may know from the dance floor if you attended our wedding, used to be a Manchester United fan. I took him to Wembley in 2009 to watch Everton v Man Utd in the FA Cup semi-final, and before kick-off, he was wearing blue. That may have been something to do with being surrounded by hundreds of slightly tipsy singing Evertonians on the train, but he knew what was good for him. It may not have been the Leeds United his father would crave, but it is not Manchester United, which surely has to be a bonus living in Leeds. Anyhow, he is stuck with the Blues now, always a Blue.

So many of us choose a team when we are young and with twenty years hindsight, you wonder why you made the decision. Nobody has ever called me a glory supporter as it has been downhill ever since but that was in essence what it was with Everton dominating in the mid-eighties. Unfortunately, you can ditch your friends, you can change your car, but the team becomes part of the family and there is no escaping that even when times are bad.

Another season is coming to a close and another season of raised hopes but inevitable disappointment for my boys. It is looking like a seventh place finish which on the face of it is a fantastic finish with the resources we had available and the circumstances faced. It may end up being one place higher than those in red, and if it does, that will be a small consolation. It could have been better, but it could have been much worse.

I finished a fantastic book last week called the GM by Tom Callaghan. It gave great insight to the role of the General Manager at an NFL team. Effectively, he is the only guy in the teams that must think long and short term. He makes the calls on player recruitment, and always has an eye on the long term development of the team. Some are good, some are bad as in any sport. At Everton, we are lucky, to have had a great manager for over ten years now who has had the possibility to consider long and short term. That is not the case for so many other managers and coaches who change clubs with such frequency, that long term planning is impossible. It is a serious flaw in the game, particularly English football. You have the guy whose future depends on the next few results, signing players on four or five year contracts – where is the logic? I do not suspect it will change as it is certainly endemic in English football, and these things take years and decades to change. Heck, even heels may be adopted before that happens.

Some clubs have tried to bring the role in, with Liverpool being the most recent team. They fired Damien Comolli a month ago after it was deemed that his methods of player recruitment had proven unsuccessful. No surprise that it was American owners that brought him in, but even they may have realised that it is difficult to adapt to. The other side to the logic is that you are asking a coach to coach players that he may not want or like. Maybe in that sense, it is better to stick to tried and trusted method that has existed for years. It will likely lead to mistakes proving extremely costly, (Andy Carroll any one?) but the truth is that those kinds of mistakes still happen where GMs are in place (Albert Haynesworth perhaps?).

When I was younger I remember reading a story about a child who tried divorcing her parents – a pretty radical idea at the time, and still is really. It got me thinking that perhaps you can indeed have some choice in your family. I must admit that it did cross my mind once or twice when I was in trouble, but it is fair to say that it was nowhere near as much as my parents wishing they could divorce me no doubt. I liken the role of parents to that of the GM – they have to have the long term development and perspective in mind, but they have to get through the next day and week with the kids. A bit like supporting Everton, you may have fleeting thoughts of divorcing them too when they lose a key semi-final against the enemy, but they are part of the family, and regardless of the options that exist in different colours, you’re ultimately stuck with them. You can choose your friends, but not your team, nor your dreams.

Weighing on the Mind

I find very random motivations to write blog posts. They are largely sparked by emotions, thoughts, or events. I cannot claim to have any deep reasoning behind this blog other than to avoid nibbling on my own arm. It is that time again when my favourite Mexican and I are embarking on yet another weight loss bet. It actually started back in January when we both came back from breaks in the Americas having clearly over-enjoyed the food and drink on offer. The challenge was to lose 11kg/24.2lbs by May 1st – around 1kg per week.

Armed with a fantastic Christmas gift from my girl, a Nike+ Sport Watch, I have gotten back into my running. I had never really gotten out of it even in the States, but it had certainly dropped off somewhat. I already had a GPS watch, but the Nike one is attached to a fantastic Nike website which has all kinds of information, training programmes and schedules. As many folks will have noted, it has been mentioned by one or two of you, you may have seen my Facebook updates whenever I run. I suspect that may be highly annoying to some people, and I am not one for usually updating my status feeding you the very latest updates on the Esteva/Burns household. However, this one is slightly different. When I am running, I have it in the back of my mind, just when I am about to stop, of just how bad or weak my effort will look to so many people if I stop at that point. So I keep running. Inadvertently, and perhaps annoying at times, it does the job. If it annoys you, I am sorry – you have permission to de-friend me!

So, with around three weeks left, we both need to lose another 4kg each….slightly behind schedule but doable. In contrast to the last one we did, I have still been drinking alcohol at times and been eating reasonably normally – I have just increased the amount of exercise, and cut out the garbage food. With 4kg in 3 weeks, it is time to cut the alcohol and decrease the portions now.

Hence the blog. I cannot quite describe how hungry I am right now but typing is preventing me from chewing on my fingers at the very least. If I thought my fingers weighed 4kg, I could be tempted. I suspect the next twenty days are going to be pretty miserable but I am determined to hit the mark this time when we weigh in however brutal it is going to be. It did get me randomly thinking at what point do we stop worrying about what we eat and drink if it makes us happy? Skinny and starvation of the nation is not really for me. With a head the size of mine, a puny body is never going to work. That said, I know I would not be happy if I piled the weight on neither. As with so much in life, I guess it is finding the right balance. Maybe when I’m 70 I’ll ditch it and just have a house full of crisps and bathe or shower myself daily in Boddingtons. But for now, the mission continues.

Musical Minds

It is 10.30pm on Saturday night and I am sat on the train heading back to Lausanne after an afternoon working in sunny Aarau – a small German-speaking city in the North-ish of Switzerland. Sunny and Northern are not two adjectives I have often used together too much in my lifetime, but strange things happen.

I am listening to a band called Daughtry and their album Break The Spell. It is one of my favourites right now along with Coldplay’s latest album. I stumbled across Daughtry by accident really – I heard one song of theirs on the radio, caught the name, and included it on my list to Santa, and Mr Claus produced the goods. Well, actually, it was Auntie Joan and Uncle George, and a great gift nonetheless.

Certainly one of the more random musical discoveries for me. I generally hear two or three tunes, and eventually buy an album. Unless it is Jon or Barry, our old friends, and it’s a no brainer. Play.com usually just send it without me having to click ‘buy’…so certain they are of the purchase. This one was a little more random, but a successful one.

It got me randomly thinking, what makes us like songs and bands? Now, I may perhaps be setting myself up for a few jokes with that comment. But genuinely, what makes you like a band or a song? Is it the tune? Is it the words? Is it the singer? Is it the title of the song? The voice?

It is not particularly easy to put one’s finger on it, and often it is a mixture of a few of them. For me, a large number of the songs I like and consider my favourites are because of the words. I have a couple of songs in my head these days with the words firmly imprinted in my mind and it is much to do with some of my thoughts recently. Analytical Bobby listens to the words of so many songs, and it is the reason why I grew to be a Barry fan. Those lyrics that I appreciate and associate myself with are often the ones that I prefer. I will not claim that to be the reason why I like Bon Jovi – that is more a style and a sound thing. I know, I know….leave it.

But before you start furiously scribbling on my Facebook wall and mocking me, I have another question for you. What is to say that what you hear through your ears is the same as what I hear? Do strawberries taste the same for you as they do me? What if Strawberries actually taste like Cabbage to you, but strawberries to me or vice versa? So nobody likes Mushrooms, that I accept and rightly so. But you get my point.

I guess that is what makes us all unique. The truth is, life would be very boring if we all liked the same thing. So if you like Mushrooms, then you’ll understand why I like Barry Manilow and Bon Jovi. You’re a bit weird too, but that’s fine, I won’t hold it against you!

Harm In No Trying

I posted an article on my Facebook wall this morning but decided this topic warrants a blog post. I've written before about the inherit risks and subsequent effects that athletes go through, ultimately for our entertainment. Sadly not all of the stories end happily as this one hopefully will.

On Saturday, we were in Madrid for my favourite Mexican's birthday. He's cracking on in years sadly, so its imperative we enjoy them with him. As my boys were playing against Sunderland in the FA Cup, I broke away from the group and found a good old fashioned Irish pub to watch the game. I couldn't persuade anybody else to come for some reason.

We drew after a fairly uninspiring game and I rejoined the group. As usual, I'll check my iphone and the scores, but it was a text message from my mum that drew my attention to the fact that Fabrice Muamba had collapsed. I followed it intently on my iphone....i would not like to guess what those updates cost in data roaming charges. For whatever reason, I could not shake it from my mind all weekend - Muamba rather than the roaming charges. Memories flooded back to me from when Marc Vivien Foe passed away and I heard about it at a Bon Jovi concert. When Antonio Puerta passed away in 2007 and Dani Jarque in 2009. For some reason, these deaths and the Muamba incident just leave me with this numb feeling that I cannot quite describe.

People die all the time, every minute. I am not a fan of death and I think it is overrated. I remember crying one day when I was about 10 years old begging my mum not to die. I had just worked out what it was all about. Mum classically reassured me she had plenty of years left in the tank, but everybody dies one day. It was some reassurance, but not the eternal one I was hoping for. I have come to terms with it as I have gotten older.

Naturally the passing of family, friends, and old acquaintances is sad. But something just seems to tie me to these athletes when something tragic happens like Fabrice Muamba collapsing last Saturday. All I could think about was this superbly strong and energetic midfielder that I saw at Goodison Park in March 2010 who I was seriously impressed with and can recall thinking as clear as day that I sat there thinking of how well Muamba would slot into our midfield.

Jarque and Puerta were two young Spanish footballers who I had watched, studied and analysed since they broke into the first teams at Espanyol and Sevilla respectively. I rated Jarque as a *** key defender, while Puerta was behind a talented Adriano at Sevilla, but his potential was there to see. Perhaps it was the fact I had followed them both, as part of my job, and seen their development, that attached me to them in some form.

I'll share a small quote from the doctor in the BBC article published this morning:

"Two hours after [regaining consciousness] I whispered in his ear, 'What's your name?' and he said, 'Fabrice Muamba'. I said, 'I hear you're a really good footballer' and he said, 'I try'.

And that is good enough for me. People trying. It's half the battle and sums up why this guy is miraculously hanging in there. It is a stark reminder of the risks that professional athletes go through, ultimately for our entertainment. I suspect all of those people in the stadium on Saturday afternoon shared a similar feeling to the one I experienced. Seeing tributes and well-wishing from all over the world for Muamba was heartening and after so often sitting in some pretty horrendous abuse at times, it was a timely reminder that maybe football fans are not so bad after all. Aside from the one chap who was arrested for racially abusing Muamba on Twitter on the Saturday evening. Maybe he needs to make more of an effort himself and try harder to be a better person.

Curing Manflu

I am not sure there is a value that can be put on providing a smile for somebody else, or being on the receiving end of something that makes you smile. Unless that is, you are a professional smile maker, or smiler, but I have yet to see that on anybody's CV. This week I have had a serious case of man flu – I’m fortunate I am living to tell the tale.

I have 5 smiles for you this week. A smile a day keeps the doctor away...or so I would like to think.

Monday

Was suffering from a severe dose of man flu and was in need of cheering up. I decided to go for a run....I am losing the battle with a certain Mexican compadre of mine to lose 10kg by May 1st, and I don't like losing. I went on my cheeky 5kg route and halfway through, a gran is pushing her grandson down the road in a pushchair, and the kid, who cannot have been more than two years old, stuck out his hand to give me a high five. Amazing. Smile achieved and the kid had no idea. Hopefully my tap put a smile on his face.

Tuesday

The one and only Suzanne Brodeur sent round an email with this link. I cannot fathom how it only has 65 or so hits, but this is legendary in my eyes! Video aside, SB is a sensational smile-maker....I have yet to meet anybody who has not smiled in her presence. I think she could be a cure for manflu.

Wednesday

HJ came home from Zambia.....despite suffering from a potentially terminal case of man flu, it put a smile on my face. As it always does and always will.

Thursday

Stuck on a plane for 5 hours for a ninety minute flight. Yet I was thoroughly charmed and entertained by the two 50+ year-old air hostesses who looked after us and did their utmost to keep us sane and smiling, when it was probably harder for them. The vodka and oranges also may have contributed to this.

Friday

Stuck in Heathrow Airport Terminal 5 for three additional hours – the fog strikes again. Thankfully, Wagamamas put a smile on my face and belly this time. I think I speak for a fair few people when I say this, but I can become a fraction impatient and restless when I am hungry. On the flipside, I’ll smile all day long after a good meal. So my beloved Sony Shop has been replaced by a London 2012 store – I guess that was the bad karma from yesterday’s blog. Still, I had a good lunch, so I’ll keep smiling.

5 big smiles in 5 days....enough to cure the most serious of potentially terminal manflu diseases.

London 2012

Call me miserable, pessimistic, grumpy…..Northern. The last few days have hit home to me that the Olympics in London this year may not be as great as people are imagining.

I am sat on a British Airways plane waiting to fly to London. Due to the fog in London, we are delayed two hours and they only knew this when we boarded the plane – not ideal. It is not just Easyjet that suffer delays – fog stops any airline, cheap or less cheap. I’ll give BA their due, they are providing drinks for people and the air hostesses have ipads with all our flight details on and are helping with rescheduling options for people missing connections. That’s the difference I guess.

Speaking of travel, my mum read a newspaper report claiming that a regular journey in London that takes one hour and a half, will take over three hours during the Olympics as they try to manage the flow of people. Awesome. I cannot wait for those tube journeys. Imagine going to see 9.6 seconds of the 100m final and travelling SEVEN hours there and back to watch it.

One of the biggest unions in the UK dished out a few threats this week about considering action during the Games. I witnessed the protests about the Games in Vancouver two years ago and I am sure that it has happened in other host countries before, but I cannot help but think there is an inevitability about some form of union action in the UK. The world is watching, we’re hosting the biggest sporting event in the world, and I just sense something like this is going to cause all kinds of unnecessary disruption.

Rewind to a couple of weeks ago and I am watching Derek Chisora slap Vitali Klitschko in a press conference, spit water on his brother before the fight, and then embark in one of the most ridiculous scraps post-fight with David Haye…..closing the battle with screams of ‘I’m going to kill you David’, and ‘I’m going to burn you David.’ Classy, very classy. Throw John Terry and Wayne Rooney and their antics in recent months in for good measure, and you have the cream of British sport disgracing themselves. They may not be participating in the Olympics, but it is not what I want to see when the spotlight will be on British athletes more than ever this year.

On the participation front, I vividly recall the struggles faced by Canadian athletes at the start of the Vancouver Games in dealing with the huge pressure on them with the whole country expecting. I imagine this is also the same for all host countries and their athletes – but let’s face it, if there is one thing British athletes are not good at, is dealing with pressure and expectation. A huge stereotype, but let’s see.

And there you have it. I warned you it was miserable, pessimistic and grumpy, and I didn’t even start scribbling about budgets. I hope I’m wrong.

The Subtle Differences in Life

When I was at school, I favoured English Literature over Language. I had reasonable writing skills which enabled me to blag things if I didn't know the answer or pad something out around an argument but hitting the required word count. When I was at University, that did not work. Studying English Lit meant a lot of reading, no blagging, no padding. I was exposed. So I went down the Language route, and my analytical skills developed.

I chose English because I was reasonably good at writing in particular, but also because I didn't really know what I wanted to do and it was a solid route to keep my options open along with my languages. I also harboured vague desires to become a teacher and subsequently a journalist, but that didn't last too long. It did however give me solid foundations for my professional career, which I think was the right call. It also gave me a decent understanding of grammar - needless to say I'll be proofreading this blog several times.

I saw one of these humorous posts on Facebook a couple of days ago which highlighted the importance of grammar to our everyday lives. It read:

Knowing your shit and Knowing you're shit.....the difference grammar can make!

There's a pretty fundamental difference between the two, but an easy mistake to make. I am actually typing this blog on my blackberry....and I am avoiding the sms language. Unfortunately, as useful as texting, bbm, What's App, and MSN are, they do butcher the English language and we probably do make more grammatical mistakes for that reason. I never thought I would see the day when my mum would LOL at me!

As useful and as efficient as they are, it is so easy to create misunderstandings. How often have you questioned the tone of such a message which would be far clearer if somebody had told you on the phone? It happens all the time. And different people use grammar in different ways. If my girl messages me with a full stop (a ‘period’ to my North American friends) rather than an exclamation mark, I can tell the tone is perhaps a little downbeat or more serious. If a Rob Lockhart uses an exclamation mark, then either the world is about to end, or the Toronto Maple Leafs have just won a Stanley Cup. Needless to say that neither are likely.

Emails. Are you the kind of person who starts an email with Hello/Hi or Dear or do you just go straight in with the name? Personally, I find it a little impersonal at times without receiving the greeting, but you can meet that person and they can be as pleasant as anything. I had several emails with our company accountant last week and she started every email with ‘Hi Rob’ – even though we were speaking all day long via phone and email…..never once did she leave out the greeting which impressed me.

Understanding the small and subtle differences that your punctuation and grammar can have on the tone of what you and other people scribble is key to avoiding misunderstandings. Remember that next time you receive a message saying ‘U no u r shit’….that extra space between the u and the r is likely to be a heavy-thumbed mistake.