Stan The Man

No, not Stan Bowles, although he's the undoubted original.

Just recently I've been catching a lot of Stan Collymore on various talkSPORT programmes. And it turns out that he's quite a decent broadcaster.

talkSPORT seem to have a penchant for the more controversial presenter. Off the top of my head I can name George Galloway, and to a lesser extent Terry Christian & Alan Brazil. You could add Collymore to that list.

Collymore made his name as an explosive striker, one of the most exciting players of his generation. He first came to my attention when he was at Nottingham Forest. I recall, randomly, one of my flatmates at Uni on the phone to Clubcall one night, trying to find out if Collymore would be fit to play for Forest against his team Wolves. They reported that he was still injured, so my flatmate gleefully went off to the game. Needless to say, Collymore played and scored.

Later came a big money move to Liverpool (a British record transfer fee at the time), and his debut for England. I remember watching him warming up as sub at Wembley, against Brazil in one of those tin pot end-of-season mini tournaments (the Umbro Cup), and thinking that this was the start of a really promising international career. He reminded me a lot of Paul Gascoigne; a fans' player, undoubtedly talented, but with a maverick streak about him.

As it turned out, the parallels with Gazza were apt. Both players with unfulfilled potential, beset with on & off field problems - trying to conquer personal demons off the pitch, whilst never fully recovering from bad injuries on it.

At least Gazza played a fair few times for his country. Collymore picked up only 3 caps for England - yep that's right, just three times - a surprising statistic when you consider some of the donkeys who have worn the 3 lions over the years. Stan's international career (1995-1997) was eclipsed by Gascoigne's (1988-1998).

Stan was a great player, but ultimately flawed. For every positive memory I can think of (e.g. scoring the winner in that famous 4-3 Liverpool vs Newcastle game), there is a negative - remember him doing his Harry Enfield scousers impression "calm down, calm down!" to the travelling Liverpool fans after he was sent off at home for Aston Villa? His red card in this game was the result of 2 yellows - a bad tackle on Steve Harkness (who had clashed with Stan in a previous game) followed by an off the ball shove on Michael Owen (whose emergence at Liverpool had accelerated Stan's departure to Villa).

It was downhill after that for Collymore - ongoing battles with depression, short spells at several clubs, his volatile relationship with Ulrika Jonsson, including punching her in a Paris bar during the 1998 World Cup, early retirement, and the dogging stories.

Stan started off as a decent match summariser on 5 Live, but recently moved over to talkSPORT where his broadcasting career has flourished. I listened to him earlier tonight discussing the Carlos Tevez affair and he was intelligent & insightful - better than some of the bumbling buffoons presenting on other sport programmes.

With his strong opinions & history he won't be every body's cup of tea, but he's refreshingly honest, articulate & interesting to listen to - I've been impressed with his media career to date. Better that he's remembered like this rather than for a group of bystanders watching him in the back of a land rover in a car park....

All You Need Is Love

Paul McCartney has been threatened with 'sacrifice operatives' if he performs in a concert in Israel as part of that country's 60th anniversary celebrations.


The threat was made by Omar Bakri Muhammad, an Islamist militant leader and activist:






http://www.express.co.uk/posts/view/61355/We-ll-kill-Sir-Paul-if-he-plays-Israel


This story reminded me of a poem I read for the first time recently, by W.H. Auden. Auden is better known for writing Funeral Blues, the poem later used in the movie Four Weddings & A Funeral ("Stop All The Clocks....").

Auden wrote this piece in August 1968 (actually the poem's title), and refers to the communist invasion of Czechoslovakia that month, but it could easily have been written about Bakri:

The Ogre does what ogres can,
Deeds quite impossible for Man,
But one prize is beyond his reach:
The Ogre cannot master speech.

About a subjugated plain,
Among it's desperate and slain,
The Ogre stalks with hands on hips,
While drivel gushes from his lips.

Don't Mention It!

People who won't say "thanks" when you hold the door open for them.

Drivers who won't acknowledge you when you pull over to let them through.

I've encountered one each of these today. It's doubtful that either of these two ignoramuses are reading this rant, but if you are - I'm not your fecking servant, OK?

*Sigh*

When I set up this blog it was not my intention to write about stuff like this. Most people, you would think, have been brought up with some basic manners. There's not usually any excuse for not nodding/smiling when someone holds open a door for you - unless of course you're on an aeroplane in mid flight & not wearing a parachute.

Likewise, although it's probably not mentioned in the Highway Code, most drivers know when to say thanks in some way when someone pulls up to let you out of a tight parking space. You have to be a bit careful though - some people leave it right until the last moment to hold their hand up when you've let their oncoming car in ahead of you at a tight spot in the road. Many a time I've been about to give someone the bird, when they've smiled & nodded their thanks virtually as our windscreens are parallel.

Some might say that there's more serious issues to be concerned about, but my argument would be, get the basics right at least.

The Good, The Bad, and.....

I feel sorry for Iain Dowie. No, not because of any aesthetic reason - I'll try to avoid making any childish jokes about his boat race during this posting.

See, Dowie's on a bit of hiding to nothing this season as manager of QPR. If he gets QPR promotion to the Premiership, he will probably be replaced by a more, shall we say, cultured manager/coach. If he doesn't, he'll get the sack anyway.

The bar has been raised at Rangers. With the takeover by wealthy investors, expectation levels have risen enormously. Add to this the inflation busting increase in season ticket prices at Loftus Road, and suddenly the tolerance of loyal fans has become a lot shorter. We're only 3 games into the new season, and already the "noisy minority" on various internet messageboards are calling for Dowie's head.

I've always had a theory in football, that whatever level of football you watch, regular punters will always crave a scapegoat to moan about. Like a pantomime villain, some people love to hate certain players. Sometimes the tarnishing is well deserved, other times not so - I could never understand, for example, why a section of R's fans regularly used to moan about Steve Palmer's inclusion in the team when we were crying out for an experienced, calming influence in the team.

This season's early contender for King Rat appears to be new goalie Radek Cerny. Signed on a free from Tottenham, Radek has replaced fan's favourite Lee Camp between the sticks, and about 20 minutes into his home debut was given some stick by some of the QPR fans for his nervous start to the game.

Dowie also is a very strong contender for the role of one of the Ugly Sisters (see what I did there?). Along with the massive expectations, fans were grumbling about his perceived style of football, and the fact that he replaced the popular Luigi di Canio, who had Rangers playing some stylish passing football last season - perhaps conveniently ignoring the fact that we needed better organisation & fitness levels as well.

I think people are judging Dowie a little too early. A new manager needs time to impose his style, personality & philosophy of play onto his team. I met Dowie a few years ago, at an end of season Player of The Year do. At the time he was assistant manager to Gerry Francis, so just starting out on his managerial career. He came across as an intelligent & likeable guy, and seemed to me to be really passionate about football. After Francis was sacked, Dowie was a strong contender to take over the reins, but Ian Holloway got the gig instead.

In the meantime, Dowie has taken Oldham to the playoffs, Palace to the playoff final & subsequent promotion to the Premiership, where he missed out by a whisker of keeping them there the following year, left Palace in acrimonious circumstances a year afterwards, left to join Charlton where he was sacked after only 12 Premiership games, and then had a storming start to last season in charge of an exciting Coventry team, before a slump & fallout with the Coventry board signalled his departure.

You might detect that I am sitting in his corner on this one. I think the jury is still out on him at the top level, but has proved to be a very capable manager at Championship level. He's a bright, young & hungry manager, and needs to be given time. I was, like many QPR fans, a little underwhelmed by his appointment, but I have since warmed to him - he's positivity shines through in interviews (and with a face like his you'd have to be positive - sorry, sorry).

I was at the first two games of the season, an uninspiring 2-1 home win vs Barnsley, and a 3-2 away win in the Carling Cup at Swindon, where some of our attacking play was a joy to watch. By all accounts, our 3-0 capitulation at Bramall Lane was awful, so the start of the season has been a mixed bag. All I am saying is give Dowie a chance.

I Am Who I Am Because Of Everyone

I love the new TV Advert from Orange, where a guy talks about the people he has connected with during his life & who have helped define who he is. One of the best ads I've seen for a while, and it's definitely struck a chord with me. A little bit twee? Possibly, but I like it.

I'll shut up already and let the script tell the story..........

I am my Mum ... and my sister. I am my best friend Mike, who I have known since school. I am Kate, who is still somewhere in Thailand. I am all the girls I've ever kissed ... and the girls I will. I am the teacher that failed me, and the one that spurred me on. I am my bosses, and every one of my friends. I am a bloke I'll meet travelling, who'll teach me the guitar. I am the places I go to with mates, and the jokes I share with them. I am the people who put me down ... and the ones who pick me up. I am who I am, because of everyone.

It's based on a quote by George Matthew Adams, who once said:

There is no such thing as a 'self-made' man. We are made up of thousands of others. Everyone who has ever done a kind deed for us, or spoken one word of encouragement to us, has entered into the make-up of our character and of our thoughts, as well as our success.

Blame It On The Boogie Board

Ah, The Sea. It conjures up some great images.....The Guinness Surfer advert with the white horses...... the view from Brighton promenade...... the song La Mer...... that new Smirnoff TV ad..... scuba diving in the tropics...... Sydney Harbour...... the Isle Of Wight Ferry...... OK, maybe not the last one, but generally when you think of the sea, you get some pretty vivid pictures in your head.

Trouble is, there is a flip side to this. I found out last weekend, nearly to my cost, that The Sea is not to messed with.

About a year ago, I went down to North Cornwall with friends, one of whom has owned a holiday home down there since the 70's. Ostensibly it was a few days chilling out by the coast, but it turned into a kind of watery epiphany for me.

See, ever since I was young, I have had a fear of water. Now, by this I am not talking about bathing or showering; rather, I don't feel comfortable in (or on, or over) any body of water that is bigger than my bath tub. Consequently, I have never been a good swimmer. To be fair, I have tried swimming lessons, but not to any great degree of success. If I was ever to appear on Room 101, deep water would be my second item in (after wasps).

Going back to a year ago in Cornwall - my friends were insistent that I donned a borrowed wetsuit, and tried out Body boarding (a watered-down version of surfing, excuse the pun) on Harlyn Beach. Surprisingly, I found it great fun, but didn't catch any waves. The following day we tried nearby Constantine Bay, which had choppier water, and I absolutely loved it, catching some great waves in the process. I could now enjoy the buzz of surfing without having to swim further out to sea. All in the relative safety of water shallow enough for me to touch the sea floor, under the watchful eye of the RNLI Lifeguards. I even learned stuff about swimming between the safety flags to avoid things like 'breaks'.

One year on, I returned to the Cornish coast for a Stag Do. This time, I meant business - armed with my own wetsuit & body board, I felt like a seasoned veteran as we returned to Constantine. On Friday & Saturday the stags pissed about in the sea on boogie boards, like (as my friend put it so well) kids in a sweet shop. We planned to return there early on Sunday morning.

You can probably tell at this stage, that I was getting a little bit over-confident. I should have spotted the warning signs: my mate (the stag) dislocating his shoulder in the same bay whilst canoe-surfing the previous year, the Warning: Dangerous Currents sign that greets you as you enter Constantine beach, and the fact that I had was still a crap swimmer, despite my improved confidence in water.

On the Sunday morning, the tide was a lot further out than usual, and as the whole stag party joined other body boarders a 100 yards into the water, some of us suddenly were pulled out over a shelf on the sea bed. At the time I wasn't immediately concerned, I just used my board as a float and kicked my legs to try to reach shallow water. It was only when I realised that the strong currents were actually dragging us further away from the beach, that I began to panic. What really freaked me out was how quiet the sea was. Of course, I have since learnt that the thing to do in such circumstances is to throw the board to one side (or use the cord to tie it to your leg), and swim to cut through the water. Being a non swimmer, this wasn't an option for me :-)

So, a big thank you is in order to people (you know who you are) who calmed me down and stayed with me/pulled me to safety. I do know that if I had been the only person in the water it might have been a tricky situation for me. I wasn't the only one to be caught out - the lifeguards fished out a couple of other members of the stag party, including the stag who dislocated his shoulder again trying to help out his brother in law. But all's well that end's well.

It's now my intention to learn how to swim properly before the next time I venture out on my board. I haven't been put off - I was back in the water on Sunday morning & later in the afternoon - but I'm determined not to get caught out like that again.

I will end this post by giving a big thumbs up to the RNLI lifeguards. Yes, a lot of them are tanned poseurs who sleep with more than their fair share of women, but they do a great job. It is scandalous the lack of Government funding that the RNLI gets - they rely almost entirely on voluntary donations & legacies. If you wish to support them, or find out more about them, please visit their website at http://www.rnli.org.uk/

Four Wheels Bad, Two Wheels Good

So I've taken the plunge and splashed out on a new bike.

I say new bike, but to be honest I've not really owned a bike since my schooldays - not wishing to sound like the Four Yorkshire men sketch from Monty Python, but I used to cycle, every day, 3 miles to school and 3 miles back, uphill BOTH ways, through wind, rain, hail and snow.....you get the picture.

I thought that my cycling days were well behind me until recently, when I joined some work colleagues in a charidee bike ride from Worcester to Bridgwater. Sadly, my 10 gear Raleigh racing bike would not have been up to the job, so I borrowed my mate's GT hard tail mountain bike. Several months of training paid off as all nine of the team each completed the 100 miles, and raised lots of money in the process for disadvantaged kids. Nice work, people.

A few things I have discovered during my reborn interest in cycling:

1. Bike technology has moved on leaps & bounds since I was a kid. Now they have suspension! Front AND back in some cases! And disc brakes - no more wearing down of brake blocks!
2. It's not cars you really have to look out for - it's bloody pedestrians. I've lost count of the number of times some numpty has stepped out off the kerb in front of me - often whilst staring straight at (or maybe through?) me!
3. Off-road cycling, as well as being incredibly dangerous, is an extremely exhilarating activity. Nothing quite beats cycling down a muddy hill in the woods at around 30 mph, with your braking capability severely reduced, with dirt splattering in your face, and nothing to protect your skinny legs from a barbed wire fence or a 30 foot drop into some stinging nettles. Great fun!
4. I always thought that I'd look a tit in a cycle helmet. And I do. But one day I know I'm gonna be glad I wore one.
5. Loads of people are into cycling - more than I thought, certainly. I've noticed increasing numbers at work now using bikes for their commute, not to mention the more hard core element who go mountain biking at weekends.
6. It's actually quicker to cycle from my flat to work, than doing the journey by car. Partly because I can cut through the back of Stockley Park (cars are banned from this entrance) - I can shave a mile off my commuting distance. And secondly because I can avoid the inevitable traffic backlog leading up to West Drayton Road (saves about 10 minutes I reckon).
7. Finally, I haven't mentioned the health benefits - needless to say, cycling is like WD-40 on my knees.

It's my goal to cycle in to work a couple of days a week from now on. I wish I'd started doing it long before now, but I was making excuses not to do it. My aim is to make the bike pay for itself, although I've calculated that to do this I'd need to do it commute by bike 200 times! We'll see my resolve fully tested on a cold & wet Tuesday morning this November.....