Hockey Sticks At The Ready

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

It's Sunday and I'm wandering around YouTube looking for free live sport. Normally there's a cricket or football game that I can cling onto (have to work out what Romanian team to support) but find myself surprisingly stopping at women's hockey. Why would I want to watch a sport I've little knowledge of  and not taken any interest in the past? Well it's in Cardiff (Wales were playing), I noted that this game is part of a tournament, and my daughter plays hockey at school.

In other words I've a plan to knock off another day from the summer holiday.

This tournament is called Eurohockey Championships II. It involves eight nations just below the top tier. For the moment they are playing in two groups of four before everything then goes into the knockout stage. The reward for the final two is entry into the elite group of nations.

There were two matches on Monday. The first we would miss and it didn't matter anyway. The second however was France Italy. This was good because in the absence of Wales we had a team to support in view of our ancestry.

Just to give you a clue...

"Italia! Italia!"

So found ourselves in Sophia Gardens at around five thirty in the evening. Also home for Glamorgan Cricket Club it's a complex that houses the Welsh Hockey HQ with it's own (much smaller pitch). Had our hot dogs (which tasted better than the Five Guys thing at the Red Dragon Centre on Friday)soft drinks and we were ready.

As we entered the pitch both teams were training and the announcer was giving out the teams. There was a group of young Frenchmen to our right. You could tell they were French by their tops (a giveaway that) and the way they cheered when every player from their side was mentioned (one I noticed that received a whistle). However when it was time for the national anthems it was they who belted out Les Marseillaise with commendable gusto more I noticed than the team. The Italians ladies (dressed in white) sang their tune as loud as possible as if their lives depended on it.

"Allez le Bleu" shouted one of the Frenchmen as the match started. Or if you can imagine a surprisingly gruff voice "ARRLLLEZ LE BLEU!!".

And indeed France in the beginning did attack. So much so that my hockey ignorance began to show. There was apparently a foul on a French player in the Italian half. Ah I said to my daughter "a free kick".

Well she gave me a look of utter contempt that only a teenage girl could give.

But after this French pressure Italy a few minutes later scored.

"Italia! Italia!"

The French tried again. Just missing the goal whilst the Italian goalie threw herself spectacularly across the line.

Soon after I started clapping. Italy scored with a goal a few yards from the halfway line. It was spectacular....but no one was celebrating....cue contemptuous daughter look two. She tells me that you have to be in the semi circled area to by the net to score a goal. 

Ahh right....

There then was an altercation. A French player fouled an Italian who turned round and raised her stick. Before it turned all martial arts though they were both sent off. Didn't seem to bother Italy though. A run off the wing, a cross from which a strike by an oncoming Italian player caught the defence and the goalie off guard. The most football like goal of the game.

Moments later there was a third. A back flip of the stick to the net. 3-0 Italy. And that was the score at half time.

"Italia! Italia!"

The Italians spent half time by the pitch. The French ladies went off to their French dressing room presumably to be shouted out with various French swear words by the French coach.

If there was swearing though it didn't work. Four minutes into the second half Italy scored again. Soon after that there was a penalty  that made it five.

Even the sin binning of an Italian player didn't matter. Just like football when a team tries to throw everything but the kitchen sink to try and retrieve itself from a bad scoreline leaving itself venerable to opposition attack. There was a one on one between the Italian player and the French goalie. I'll give you another clue what happened.

"Italia! Italia!"

To be the Frenchmen I mentioned earlier still shouted support to their countrywomen...just a little more muted with every goal that crossed the line.

And before the final whistle there was another ....seven nil ....."Italia! Italia!".

It's not for me to talk about either team's chances in the tournament. I lack the knowledge to say anything about that. Except in retrospect the fact that the Italian ladies sang the national anthem as forcefully as possible unlike their French counterparts was perhaps a sign that they were a team. Which (let's face it the French lost seven nil!) their opponents really were not.

I must admit I enjoyed my first hockey game and more importantly so did my daughter. Unfortunately work means I can't go to any other match but we'll see whether the wife can take her in the next few days.

Oh yes just one more time.

"Italia! Italia!"

Until the next time.

In Which Amongst The Gloom There's Always Football And Why Breaking In a New Shirt Reminds Me To Make a Belated Apology To Denmark

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So I wake up at 6:09am in the morning and as I turn the TV on I discover the beginnings of a Labour party coup where senior figures start to turn on their leader and resign from their opposition posts. An incompetently handled Labour coup from people who rather start a civil war than try to deal with the disunited kingdom that the referendum has produced. And you wonder why as an Englishman decided to join Plaid Cymru.

But anyway. There's always the football. Let's forget about the Euro referendum and watch Euro 2016 instead......oh.

A quick note about England's match tomorrow against Iceland. The most ironic thing about that game is that even if the English fans acted like choirboys Europe will still want them beaten by Iceland even though it's not in the EU. Football can throw things like that up sometimes.

Anyway there were three matches to watch and was looking forward to doing this marathon having missed yesterday's games and knowing I'd miss tomorrow's ones because of work.

First turned out to be Republic of  Ireland vs France. A match that apparently the Observer Book of cliches was acting as co-commentator on ITV. The commentary had even more bizarre moments. After he took a free kick we were informed that Pogba "has powerful thighs". For a moment there I thought I was watching a different sort of channel. The sort which broadcasts after midnight and needs a pin number to watch it......or so I'm told.

It went surreal. Discussing the Irish (and West Ham reserve) goalkeeper the commentary said "Darren Randolph's left hand upright"......whatever that means.

The Republic scored first, with a penalty from a foul that was so obvious no French player argued with the referee.

Unfortunately for the Irish in the second  half France reacted with two quick goals and a sending off . A French victory then. And you know what? I wanted France to win. Because we all know that had they lost the Daily Mail and definitely The Sun would have used the headline FREXIT.

So to the next game Germany Slovakia. This was the only game where I had a football shirt in my collection to wear for the first time. It was this.

Germany

As you know by now I'm not the sort of collector that gets something and hides it away forever more. If I collected toy trains they wouldn't be kept in a box. They'd be used as nature and Mr Hornby intended. So as I had a shirt for Germany wear it I did. Of course this was the reason why they beat Slovakia 3-0 in a match that seemed more of a training session than a competitive game. They don't have to thank me.

The final match was Belgium Hungary. Belgium won 4-0 but they only really were dominant in the latter stages of the second half. They now face Wales as favourites. Which I think for Wales is a good thing as the hopes of a nation but not the pressure of expectation will be on them.

One more thing. Hungary had a player called Pinter. Who I assumed played cultured football and was the caretaker of their defence. Hope there wasn't a drama when he got substituted.

Wearing the shirt of a team in my collection has never seemed to effect the performance of the team in question. With one exception. That of Denmark.

I had bought this shirt in I think 2008 for £10. Promptly it was put onto a hanger and then to the wardrobe never to see the light of day again.......until 2010.

I rather like this shirt. It's simple,unfussy and has the colours of the Danish flag on it. You don't get the feeling that it has been given to a designer who was on drugs the night before.

Denmark

Anyway as I said we fast forward to 2010. It's the World Cup in South Africa. The last matches are being held in group stage of the tournament. Denmark are facing Japan. For the first time since it was bought it there's a logical opportunity for wearing the shirt and that's what was done.

Well, not wishing to appear pompous and patronising let me say that I have of course seen Asian teams beat European sides before and after this particular game. But it was the first match that I'd ever seen where the Asian side dominated almost from start to finish. Japan won by three goals to one, The Danish goal being a a late penalty scored I think by John Arne Thomasson.

So clearly the reason for this defeat was that I, whose closeness to Denmark recently was when we visited Legoland in Windsor a few years back wore the shirt. Somehow I'd cursed them. So the shirt wasn't worn again.....until last year.

Denmark were playing Portugal in a qualifying game for Euro 2016. As I recall both sides needed a win to be assured of coming to France. It was a dull game it has to be said. Portugal did not dominate the Danes in the way that Japan had all those years earlier. Yet the curse came back to haunt me again. For although Denmark only lost by one goal to nil, that goal at no stage in the play was touched by Ronaldo. A Portuguese goal where Ronaldo's not involved? Surely not? But that is what happened and obviously I was responsible.

So people of Denmark I'm sorry. I'll try not to do it again. Honest.

Until the next time.

In Which I've A Delayed Father's Day,Claim History With A Poetry Book,Dismiss Civilization,The Best Marian Keyes Book Cover Ever Plus Harry Potter And Football

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So it's 7am in the morning and I'm already downstairs watching a recording of Friday's baseball match between the Seattle Mariners and the team I support the Red Sox. Wasn't happy because they were losing 7-2. I was also bothered by the high level of twittering this early in the day. Couldn't those birds just fly off and be nosey somewhere else?

Then I hear familiar but unusual footsteps for this time of the day on a weekend walk down the stairs. It was my daughter.

"Daaad" she asked. In that tone I know too well meaning that she wants something. "Can I have the Ipad?"

The night before (actually the morning 1am) I'd caught her using her Ipad in be and confiscated it. Whilst not regretting giving it to her for Christmas a few years back (let's face facts other kids have it so it would damage her to be without one) there are moments when I wonder whether we should send her to hospital to have it surgically removed from her hands.

"No" I reply. To which she turned on her heels and walked back upstairs.

There was I then waiting for my daughter to come down with Father's Day gifts. No returning sounds were forthcoming. Five,ten then fifteen minutes passed. So up the stairs I went.

My daughter had gone back to sleep.

Eventually when properly awake two hours later she did come down bearing gifts. Everything then was alright with the world....for a while anyway.

Being Father's Day I had control of lunch. Decided on a takeaway from a relatively new American style Bar and Grill place near where we live purely on the grounds that we'd never tried it before.

So once I'd gone there. Given and paid for the order. sat and waited for it to be ready. Whilst waiting read the Thirties poetry anthology to pass the time. Therefore I claim to be the first person to read a book of poetry in an American Style Bar and Grill. My place in history is now assured.

Evidence

Finished Civilisation by Clive Bell. Well that was a waste of time. Just a load of waffle to prove to me that he didn't know the difference between Civilisation and Civilised. And when you find some races called "barbaric" and "savages" you get the idea of the author's frame of mind.

Still that means that a new book is needed and it's this.

Number 24 - Marian Keyes - The Other Side Of The Story

An explanation first. To celebrate Penguin's 70th anniversary they brought out a series of modern books but in the style of the original 1935 covers. Hence that is why this book is covered the way it is.

I have a theory, born out of no research whatsoever,that one of the reasons why some female writers of "general" novels don't seem to have a large male readership is because of their book covers. Marian Keyes is a good example of this.

Many years ago I was on holiday in Italy. I'd finished reading the books I brought with me and was looking for another English book to read (shamefully my Italian exists but with the vocabulary of a stumbling two year old). So going into this shop and noticing the group of used paperbacks on offer the only one that was in English was Marian Keyes' novel Sushi For Beginners.

Now if I was in Wales would avoided this book like a car crash. If I had the temerity to have picked it up subconsciously then the swirly lettering, the cartoon figures, the bright colours, the blurb would have been screaming at me.

"What are you doing looking at this? This is not for you. You're a man. Go back to your beer and football". 

I know that you can't judge a book by its cover. But when you pick a book up you have a short timespan to decide whether to buy it or not. The cover suggested another modern Pride and Prejudice chick lit tome, that it was not for me. But, in Italy at that time it was the only one available. So, reluctantly I bought it.

Well I was blown away by how good it was. Funny, witty and indeed deep it was the most surprising thing I'd read that year. The main characters were female. but the men were not either quasi Mr Darcys or evil knuckle scraping types whose sole job in life was to do down women. These were real people. The icing on the cake was that the author had the same contemptuous view of Barney the Dinosaur.

Marion Keyes is a good writer and it was only through circumstance that I'd realised it.

The weather was pouring most of  day so my wife and daughter suggested we watch the first Harry Potter movie, Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone. Without any afternoon football to protect me I reluctantly said yes.

I have studiously avoided the Harry Potter novels in my life. agreeing with the late comedienne Linda Smith that adults who read children's books for their own pleasure are odd and in some cases creepy. I feel as well that when adults do this they're invading into territory they should avoid. Children should have things they call their own.

But here we are, a wet weekend in Wales and I'm watching the movie. I feel as if arriving late for a party not wanting to attend in the first place. What did I think of it? Absolutely nothing, perfectly neutral. But, I am a fifty two year old man, these books were not designed for me and please believe when I say I won't be dressing up in a wizard's costume anytime soon.

And so to the football. Two matches on in exactly the same time. France/Switzerland and the match no UKIP supporter will see Romania/Albania. I watch each match 15 mins at a time. It seemed to work fine. Didn't miss the only goal of the two games from Albania. Nor did I miss the rippable quality of the Swiss football shirt. Glad I don't have that in my collection.

One final thing. The Swiss goalkeeper was dressed in a colour best described as a luminous yellowy green. I assumed he was cycling back to their base after the game.

Anyway.

Until the next time.

Couldn't Watch Euro 2016, So I'll Moan About Archaeology Instead

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well I was working the afternoon/evening shift at work last night so missed the start of Euro 2016. The match was between France and Romania. The French won thanks to Dimitri Payet. And at club level who's got Payet? "We've got Payet,We've got Payet" (sorry,sudden bursts of singing does not work when read).

Perhaps I'm going to miss the first three days of the competition because of work is a good thing (no point recording them I'd know the results before I could watch them) because I also missed some of the English fans going retro and turning into the apes of the past. God it just makes me despair sometimes.

Suddenly you realise that there is a connection between Euro 2016 and the EU referendum in that thanks to some English fans more Europeans actually would want us to leave.

So instead of the football I'll moan about archaeology instead. I shouldn't worry about making archaeologists angry. They won't put you into a grave. They'll just dig you up thousands of years later to take anything of value (either monetary or sentimental) buried with you.

As you probably know (or guess from the background picture) I collect vintage Penguin/Pelican paperbacks and I've just finished Digging Up The Past by Sir Leonard Woolley first published in 1930. Essentially this book is an introduction to archaeology based with his own experiences in the field.

Now let me be fair to Sir Len. He would have had to a produced a book pretty spectacular for me to have been interested in the subject. Fireworks and dancing girls would've needed to have been included. After all if I wanted to be outside, bored  and covered in dirt I would have taken a far greater interest in gardening.

So I approached this with not a closed mind but let's say it was unlocked but shut. A lot of this tome is boring but I felt that it was more to do with me than him so I'll give him a pass on that. However there were moments that interested me for the wrong reasons.

Sir Len mentioned that workers on his sites (say for example Egypt) were paid "a fair wage" and yet there was no explanation on exactly how this wage was actually "fair" Len was after all an archaeologist so exactly what knowledge did he have on a living wage for the average Egyptian in the nineteen thirties? Let's not forget the conditions they would have worked under as well. Calling it "a fair wage" doesn't mean it was. It's a trick that's used to this present day. Say something often enough then some people will always believe it to be true.

Yet despite this "fair wage" he had also a scheme, "described as baksheesh" where workers who discovered any valuable objects got a bonus. It struck me as a sort of cultural equivalent of the double glazing salesman getting extra money for being the best flogger of glass that month.

Also, when talking about this bonus scheme Lenny described his Arab workers as liking it because they're...wait for it...."gamblers by nature". Now even if you take account of the time it was written, and that he was not implying that after working in the dig they were trying to place a bet at 2:30 in Haydock, it's still a pretty insensitive remark. I'd argue that it shows his low opinion of the workers on his site,

But do you know what shocked me more. It was the chapter on digging up ancient graves. He seemed to treat it as just part of the job but I was thinking to myself that here is a grave digger justifying his actions on the grounds of historical accuracy. We're not talking about rich pharaohs here. Lenny Boy talks disapprovingly about the people who raided graves to take things like jewellery but though I don't approve of that it seemed more understandable than doing the same thing to find a Celtic Warrior's sword or even worse a child's toy.

You might say it doesn't happen now. I've no idea and I don't care. If you see the results of an archaeological dig in a museum there is a possibility that the remains were treated with more care than the workers who found them and that a final dignity was taken away from ordinary people in the name of culture.

Archaeology. Didn't dig it before reading this book. Dig it less now.

So have a new Penguin book to read from the larger white spined "King Penguin" series of the nineteen eighties.

Jim Harrison - Sundog

Jim Harrison died fairly recently in March of this year. Though picking from the great unread was purely coincidental. 

Until the next time.