The Obscurer

Category: Sport

Saturday 7th May 2005

Cattle Prods And The IMF

I probably shouldn’t be writing this, after the amount of Stella I have been drinking tonight, and at this time of the night/morning, but time is pressing. Anything I write that is particularly stupid will be deleted in the morning, leaving only the plainly stupid to remain. What the hell; here I go.

As you may have noticed, I haven’t managed to do any live-blogging of the general election. It was never going to happen. I was watching the television coverage in bed by 1 am, and I was asleep by 3 am; so kudos to NoseMonkey, amongst others, who managed to cover the whole event. I hope their insomnia is soon cured.

Here in sunny Cheadle the LibDems managed to turn a tiny majority of 33 into a comfortable majority of 4,020. Bizarrely, in the most marginal seat in the country, the Con Club at the top of my road only put up their “Vote Conservative” posters last week. They really didn’t deserve to win here. It looks as if the LibDems won because of a collapse in the Labour vote. I really don’t understand this whole business of swings, though. The BBC website reports a 4.2% swing from Conservative to Liberal Democrats, when if you look at the figures, the Tories vote was largely static, while Labour voters switched to the LibDems (Cheadle is fucking weird, though; this time there was a swing to the LibDems; in 1992 the Tories increased their majority. Madness).

Across the country a similar story seems to have emerged. Labour has simply shed voters in all directions; they have done a starburst towards any other party. The war seems to have played a larger part in the election than I suspected it would, but Labour are still by far the largest party in parliament. There was never much doubt that Labour would form the government in this election, but next time it may not be so clear cut, and so it will be interesting to see if in the next election people still feel they can afford a protest vote against the government. Whatever people think of Blair, or the war, I don’t think that there is a feeling at the moment that people want to see the back of Labour, whereas in 1992 the country was thoroughly sick of the Tories and wanted them gone, they just lost their nerve in the polling booth; by 1997 nothing short of divine intervention could have saved them. In improving their share of the vote by just 0.6% this time it still doesn’t seem as if the nation is particularly enamoured with the Conservatives just yet.

Well done to Jon Chatfield by the way, an old college friend of mine, for increasing the LibDem vote in Cambridgeshire South East; I was in the land of nod, unfortunately, by the time that result came through. I was also sleeping for the exchange between the God-like Paxman and the twattish Galloway (no prizes for guessing which side I am on in this argument), but thanks to the wonder of the Internet you can watch it again (and again) here. Wherever you stand on the war, I think it is a terrible thing that Galloway has won in Bethnal Green and Bow; egos like his don’t need feeding any further. I would like to think that he has delusions of grandeur, but unlike Kilroy he actually does seem to have some supporters; and let’s face it, they are welcome to him. On a better note, I am happy that the deeply irritating television presenter Esther McVey has failed to win Wirral West. When I heard they were doing various recounts in the constituency I did hazard a guess that she had lost, but just couldn’t accept it. I don’t know the woman, so I may be doing her a disservice, but that is the way it appeared to me.

I mainly watched the coverage of the election on the BBC which was pretty good; I just wish they wouldn’t give Peter Snow so many electronic toys to play with. That graphic of the party leaders walking down Downing Street was totally embarrassing, and I don’t ever want to see it ever again. That said, whenever I flicked over to ITV or Sky (usually when Dead Ringers’ Jon Culshaw appeared on the screen) they also succumbed to the corny graphics; it must be obligatory in the media these days.

What now? Hopefully we will see the government taking more notice of parliament this time round. Blair I suppose will have some more of his “difficult decisions” to make for a while yet, but for how long? He has looked rattled and grumpy all campaign, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he just wants out now. Some have mentioned that he would like to see Britain through signing the EU Constitution, but as there is not a cat in hell’s chance of winning that referendum (that’s if another country hasn’t scuppered it by the time it gets to us) there is not much for him to hang around for. Perhaps he may stay long enough so he can hand the leadership over at a convenient time, so Brown can still call the next election during his own honeymoon period. I guess we will wait and see.

As he has not managed to get elected I suppose Jon Chatfield’s mind will be allowed to wander this weekend to the possibility that his beloved Everton could qualifying for the Champion’s League. I sincerely hope they do, for my many Everton acquaintances such as Jon (in Cambridge, via Weymouth), Mike (Cheadle Hulme, via Formby and Canberra), John (Wallasey) and AJE (the blogosphere). I think it is quite right that if the FA have four positions for the competition then they fill them with the top four teams in their premier competition. If UEFA want their champions to appear in their competition, they should change their rules. End of story.

Will City join them in Europe? Well, it is a tough call. By tomorrow the UEFA cup could be out of reach, a slim possibility, or even in our own hands since we play Middlesbrough in out last game. Whatever happens, I think Stuart Pearce has shown enough to get the job permanently. As was said on Occupied Country “all we are saying is give Pearce a chance”. Well, he has had his chance, and I actually feel more confident about City’s progress now than I have done for a while. Off hand, I can’t think of anyone I would prefer to be our manager.

And at the bottom of the table? Well apologies to Saints fans, but I really hope Southampton go down. It is about time. I never used to mind them; they used to have the Le Tissier for one thing; for another, they allowed my ultimate hero, Gio Kinkladze, to carve them open for this goal. However, the very same season that Kinky scored that goal Southampton and Coventry both stayed in the premiership on goal difference while we were relegated. The following season both clubs once more finished just above the relegation places, and I decided they were living on borrowed time. Employing Gordan Strachan as my emissary I despatched him to get both sides relegated. He worked wonders at Coventry, and when he left them for Southampton it all seemed to be falling into place. It was my idea for him to initially be successful at Southampton in order to avoid suspicion; but during the Saints’ “relegation year” he let it slip that he would be leaving at the end of the season; so he was sacked and Southampton survived. With luck, perhaps this season is the time that my thwarted ambitions are finally realised.

So, in this post we’ve had politics, and sport; what about Fimbles? Well, hopefully I will have a few weeks free from their annoying influence. I am off on holiday tomorrow for a fortnight; to Rumbling Bridge in Perthshire for a week, followed by a further week in Bowness on Windermere (picture above). Where I go, I hope Cbeebies can’t follow. As a consequence there will be no blogging from me for the next few weeks, unless I spot a passing Internet café by a lonely tarn, and even then…

I will see you all in a couple of weeks; take care, and look after yourselves.

PostScript: if you are unhappy about a Labour victory in the election, then just look at what you could have won, (via Shot By Both Sides). Not far from the truth, if you ask me (but did you?).

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Monday 14th March 2005

Bye Bye KK

I don’t know; you take a short trip to the Lakes to get away from it all, and on the first morning you are dragged back into the real world when you hear on the radio that the manager of your team has left the club by mutual euphemism. Typical.

I am sad to see Kevin Keegan go, but not surprised. The lesson of Ferguson, Strachan and Robson is that you cannot set a date for your retirement and then see it through; you either have to go early or postpone your retirement. Keegan was always going to go early; it was just a matter of when.

Oh City will be all right, don’t worry about us; but my sympathies are for Keegan at the moment, particularly when you read the various footballing obituaries and profiles of the man. It seems to be a part of media law to refer to his playing days as something like “a triumph of hard work over natural ability”, which is damning him with faint praise when you consider he was probably the most famous footballer in Britain during the Seventies. It suggests we could all be European Footballer of the Year if we just knuckled down a bit.

But it certainly seems agreed that his managerial career suffers by comparison with his playing days. He was often criticised for his sides defensive frailties and for his inability to win a major honour; but personally it is not the allure of a well organised back-four that draws me to a game, and the managers who have won major trophies are in a pretty select club. Overall, his record in management is remarkable.

Taking over Newcastle as they were about to tumble out of the First Division, getting them promoted as Champions the following season, and finishing as runners-up in the Premiership just a few years later is a tremendous achievement. Of course he will probably always be remembered for throwing away a huge lead over Manchester United that season, and for his emotional rant against Alex Ferguson (which you can listen to here, via Anthony at The Filter^); but Ferguson and Wenger have also thrown away leads in their time, and in fact it is unusual for a team to win the title leading from the front. Keegan is still revered on Tyneside, and Newcastle have not hit those heights since.

At Fulham he was also a success, again winning promotion as Champions in his first season in full charge of the team, before leaving for the England job by popular demand. And at the risk of seeming revisionist, it is often forgotten that at England he took over a team going nowhere under Glenn Hoddle, yet we managed to qualify for Euro 2000. The performances in Belgium were poor (despite victory over Germany), but don’t forget we were just a minute away from qualifying for the Quarter Finals before Phil Neville’s intervention inside the 18-yard box. Had we gone through who knows what could have happened? A good performance then would have erased memories of the earlier matches; it is largely on this basis that Messrs. Venables and Robson have a decent reputation with regards their spells in charge of the national team.

So onto City, where he took a side that had just been deservedly relegated from the Premiership (one season after they were fortunate to have been promoted from the First Division under Joe Royle) and turned them into a side that eventually romped away with the League title, brushing teams aside and scoring goals for fun. This was not City’s usual style; we’ve had more than our fair share of promotions, and we usually achieve it by scraping through on the last day of the season; but not under Keegan. On the day we won the Championship I turned to my mate Jim and said, “I don’t think the future has ever looked so bright”, and he agreed.

And in the Premiership we finished a respectable 9th in our first season, flirted with relegation last season (and honestly, we were really unlucky that year; we played far better than our position suggested. We had a positive goal difference for God’s sake, despite finishing 16th), and are now looking at a third season of safe, mid-table mediocrity. Perhaps that doesn’t excite some, but for me, recalling our recent history – having watched us lose at home to Stockport County and being relegated to the division below them; playing Macclesfield on an equal footing in the Second Division; being beaten home and away by Lincoln in the League Cup, watching the second leg at Maine Road in an almost deserted stadium with only blue plastic seats for company – I can take a bit of mid-table mediocrity, to be honest with you.

Yes, Keegan has made some mistakes, and some bad purchases – Vuoso for £4m (yes, you may well ask “who?”), Macken for more than 50 pence – but many signings such as Trevor Sinclair and Steve McManaman were warmly received by most City fans, myself included; no-one expected them to perform so abjectly, as if they had left any semblance of talent at the door. However, I think the good by far outweighs the bad when you look at Keegan’s contribution as a whole; we even have one of the best defensive records in the league this season, for those who get worked up about such things.

To me, Keegan’s overall reputation as being permanently tainted by failure is way harsh. Perhaps if he had left on a high with City after that first barnstorming season then people would view him differently; but had he done so he would just have confirmed some peoples’ opinion that he is a quitter; an unfair allegation when you look at the facts. He is even our longest serving manager since the Seventies; although that probably says more about City than anything else.

But Kevin has now gone, and good luck to him. Fingers crossed that Stuart Pearce can make a good job of it; he has been my choice for a while, especially as there appears to be a queue forming of managers stating they don’t want the job. Keegan’s legacy? Well, a lot of good memories, particularly of the promotion season, and some great performances and results against United. He leaves us as an average team in the Premiership; not perhaps what one dreams about, but still a better position than the club has known for years.

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Thursday 3rd March 2005

Grave Architecture

I have been reading a fascinating book recently, entitled Played in Manchester by Simon Inglis. It is published by English Heritage, and is in effect a history of sport and leisure in the city and surrounding areas. I suppose you don’t have to be a Mancunian to enjoy this book, although it probably helps; however, this is just the first book in the Played in Britain series; further publications on Liverpool, Glasgow and Birmingham are in the pipeline, along with other books covering such subjects as the football stadia designer Archibald Leitch and the best of British lidos. Played in Manchester relies heavily on Francis Frith type photographs to tell its story, and personally I could look at old pictures of the Victorian and Edwardian era all day long, lost imagining others’ lives.

The book reveals countless surprises. I had no idea that the first ice rink (or Glacarium) outside London was built in Rusholme in 1877, cashing in on the craze for “rincomania”. It was John Gamgee’s refrigeration process that allowed skating on real ice during the summer months; a huge improvement on the concoction of crystallised alum, hog’s lard, soda salt and melted sulphur that had been used as one of the earlier substitutes for ice.

I always wondered why Lacrosse was so popular in my local area, when it is virtually ignored elsewhere in the country. It seems to be down to a quirk of fate. Some former members of the Stockport Rugby Club, disbanded in 1876 due to a player’s death, were on a train stuck at signals in Longsight when they saw an exhibition match between the Montreal Club and the Caughnawaga Indians. Fascinated, they decided to try the game out, and Stockport Lacrosse Club was born; it is still the world’s oldest surviving lacrosse club.

The book reveals many lost sporting grounds I didn’t know existed; there is the convoluted history of the Castle Irwell race course, now just wasteland; the White City botanical gardens and amusement park in Stretford, where only a the white entrance arches survive, standing isolated and alone on Chester Road like some sort of folly; the Fallowfield Stadium, accessed via a narrow path off Whitworth Lane, which hosted the 1893 FA Cup final when 45,000 converged on a stadium built for 15,000 (a University Halls of Residence now stands on the site, but there is no memorial plaque).

There are also the tales of the places I do remember such as Victoria Baths, winner of the first BBC Restoration programme. It is a truly beautiful building, with stained glass, mosaics, the words “well loved” emblazoned on its clock tower; yet when I went there as a child I just remember it as being old, cold and dirty. Some things are wasted on the young. Especially evocative is the chapter devoted to Belle Vue, which from memory was like Blackpool Pleasure Beach transported to East Manchester. I know that sounds tacky, but bear in mind there is no such word in a 10 year old’s vocabulary, and I remember it as a wonderful place with its big dipper and lake, its zoo and miniature railway. On my last visit, to the annual circus, I was one of about 3000 cubs who pestered Joe Corrigan for his autograph, poor bloke. Apart from the greyhound stadium, the whole of Belle Vue has now been levelled.

But as Mark E Smith once said, “Vimto and Spangles were always crap / Regardless of the look back bores” and there is more to Played in Manchester than nostalgia. There is a chapter devoted to SportCity, the area redeveloped for the 2002 Commonwealth Games, and Inglis details many of the more recent changes and developments in the region’s sporting grounds. I was particularly struck by the information regarding the redevelopment of Old Trafford football ground that began in 1995; the architects chosen were Atherden Fuller Leng, the same firm who, as Atherden Nutter, had developed OT during the 1960’s. I was impressed that a large public company such as Manchester United had stuck loyally with the same architects over four decades. It seemed a testimony to the firm’s work. Later in the book the author returns to the matter of the work done by Atherden and partners; I continued to read about their designs for stadia throughout the North West and London, including Liverpool’s Anfield ground.

It was reading this piece of information that made me reconsider my opinion of Atherden. Is the word epiphany? Whatever, as soon as I discovered that they had been involved with both the Old Trafford and Anfield redesigns I immediately saw the similarities.

Anfield first. I have only been there once, to watch a 6-0 trouncing at the hands of Liverpool; it was the game where the chant “Alan Ball’s a football genius” made its first appearance. I was sat with a Liverpool supporting friend of mine in the new Centenary stand, and the cartilage in my knees still bears a groove formed by the back of the next seat down. To say the bloke in front of me was close really doesn’t do justice to the whole proximity thing. They really did squeeze us in; next time I will bring a shoehorn. We were sat on the far left side of the stand, right by the Kop; my mate was sat to my right, but the seat to my left was empty which was a good job, as they’d had to slice off one corner of that seat to squeeze it in next to the concrete wall dividing our stand from the Kop. There was even the frame next to that seat presumably with the intention of fitting another spectator in, but they had been unable to make use of it.

Old Trafford is little better. The past few times I have been, borrowing another mate’s season ticket in the K stand, I have had a similarly uncomfortable experience. United fans get a lot of stick from their club for standing up throughout the game, but I don’t blame them; it is the only way to get through the 90 minutes pain free.

Now I am not a particularly big bloke – 5’10, that’s all – so I really pity some people who regularly attend either of these grounds. In contrast City’s ground is great; it may not be perfect – the so-called extra wide concourses are nothing of the kind – but at least you can watch the game in relative comfort. The Kippax where I used to sit at Maine Road was also fine. Hats off to Arup Sport then, designers of the City of Manchester Stadium, showing how it can be done.

Who is to blame? It may be that Atherden have set out their stall as a firm who are happy to undercut their competitors by cramming as many seats as possible into the available area. Perhaps though it is down the football clubs themselves, giving a commission to architects, and telling them not to worry about such quaint notions as deep vein thrombosis and blood circulation. It would be interesting to listen in to the discussions between architect and client when designing a new stadium, to see where the comfort of the paying customers comes into the equation. Unfortunately, I would imagine it will often come pretty low down the pecking order. Football fans blind loyalty leaves us open to exploitation most of the time, I fear.

But with so many new stadia being built at the moment, I will keep my eyes open to see who is getting the contracts, and what the subsequent reaction is from the fans. If your club is getting a new ground, it may be worth asking a few questions, particularly if Atherden Fuller Leng get the job. We may no longer fit 45,000 people into stadia built for 15,000, but perhaps it’s not for the want of trying.

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Monday 14th February 2005

Over Land And Sea And Stretford

City 0-2 United (sigh). Well, it was always expecting too much to think we could manage a hat trick of home wins against the Reds. I don’t really think we deserved to lose, but I am 100% biased, so don’t take my word for it. If only McManaman and Fowler had finished better with their clear chances it may all have been very different, but football is full of “if onlys”. Never mind.

So I am indebted to my wife, again, for presenting me with an unintentional Valentine’s gift; a print of an email she was handed at work. My apologies to anyone who has already seen it, and for any errors I haven’t spotted from my OCB scanning of the document. Also, to make it plain, I make no claim to being the author of the following piece; my thanks to the writer, and I apologise for any copyright infringment. It made me smile, and cheered me up.

Spurs v United – The Rematch
Man Utd graciously agreed to a rematch after Tottenham’s disallowed goal on the 4th of January.The Super Reds went ahead just before the kick-off when Giggs was sent away down the left wing. His cross was handled on the half way line by a Spurs defender and a penalty was awarded for this cynical foul. Paul Scholes stepped up to slot the ball home for United’s 33rd penalty of the season. It was no more than United deserved.

The 15th minute saw the Super,Smashing Reds go two up after Michael Carrick was penalised for coughing just outside the area. Christiano Ronaldo’s resultant free kick was slightly miss-hit, but even if the keeper was not being pinned to the floor by Roy Keane, he would not have saved it. 2-0. It was no more than United deserved.

The 21st minute saw more trouble for Spurs when Erik Edman was sent-off for enquiring about the referee’s Man United shirt. However two minutes after the interval Spurs struck back after an amazing piece of good fortune. The referee’s assistant could only parry Pedro Mendes’ shot and Robbie Keane thumped the ball home. Confusion reigned for 10 minutes as the entire Manchester United squad surrounded the referee, arguing that the referee’s assistant had been fouled 15 minutes earlier. The referee grudgingly had to give the goal even though he racked his brain for a reason to disallow it. Alex Ferguson was furious and rushed down from his seat in the stand to the dugout, knocking over a number of blind, disabled pensioners in wheelchairs on the way down. Fortunately, things settled down again as Paul Scholes took a long-range shot, which deflected off the corner flag but had clearly crossed the line, 3-1. It was no more than United deserved.

Just after the restart, unsportsmanlike Nourredine Naybet was dismissed for making ridiculous claims for a penalty after Roy Keane had nearly decapitated Robbie Keane. The referee and his assistant missed the incident as they were both asking Ryan Giggs for his autograph, but replays showed that Keane’s flying kung-fu kick, followed by a forearm smash was clearly unintentional. Ten minutes later Ferguson took off Giggs and replaced him with Alan Smith, Eric Djemba-Djemba and the suspended Wayne Rooney. Wonderful, wonderful Man United’s 4th came shortly after. Robbie Keane was caught off side just outside the Spurs penalty area and Rooney’s free-kick thundered in after deflecting off the underside of the floodlights. It was no more then United deserved.

The super, marvel, wonder Reds kept the pressure on until the bitter end. In the 98th minute Ledley King conceded a free kick just outside his own area for blatantly glancing at the referee. Ronaldo stepped up and proceeded to chip the ball right into the referee’s path and he made no mistake from 10 yards.Goal number 5 and it was no more than United deserved.

Scholes slotted home number 6 from the penalty spot after Gardner went down with a broken leg. Fortunately Roy Keane was nearby when it happened and, after running 50 yards, he was able to bring the incident to the referee’s attention. Unfazed by Gardner’s cynical tactics, protruding bone and spraying blood, the referee sent him off for diving (and time wasting) and awarded United the penalty. Scholes cheekily chipped the ball over the keeper and the crossbar, but the referee decided that it was a goal, because based on past records, Scholes rarely misses.

When the final whistle went after 33 minutes of injury time, Spurs traipsed off with their heads low, having been taught a footballing lesson by what is by far the greatest team the World has ever seen. As the losers hit the showers, a superb flowing movement by United culminated with a fine diving header by Alex Ferguson and it was 7-1. However the referee decided that it was such a good goal, it should count double. 8-1 then; and it was no more than United deserved.

(If you can’t remember the Roy Carroll blunder that lead to this replay, here is some recent footage which perhaps explains why the linesman gave the wrong decision.)

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Thursday 13th January 2005

What Insight Meant

A rather remarkable event occurred during the Everton v Manchester City game at Goodison Park on Boxing Day; Robbie Fowler, once the most feared English striker in football (and who is still considered – by generous souls who haven’t watched him play for a while – to be the best natural finisher in the game) actually scored a goal. With his head. (Alas it was wasted; City lost the game due to 2 Everton goals scored with ease by players decked in Royal Blue, untroubled by the attentions of City’s defenders) What I want to talk about, however, is what happened immediately after Fowler’s goal.

As the ball hit the back of the Everton net, Fowler set off for the Gladwys Street end where the Everton faithful sit, then ran the full length of the pitch (so showing the sort of stamina which has been missing since his Liverpool days), slapping the top of his head as he did so, before celebrating in front of the travelling City fans. It was a bizarre sight, and what happened next came as no surprise.

Fowler was booked for inciting the crowd, and in this day and age, rightly or wrongly, it is something you have to accept; the referee had no option but to produce the yellow card. There was then a similarly predictable reaction; on Match of the Day the assumption was that Fowler was slapping his head to celebrate the fact he had scored a header, and across the media there was the usual line that his actions in trying to rile the Everton fans were typical of Robbie, and were regrettable. Merseyside Police got involved and asked City manager Kevin Keegan for his comments, which seems a bit of a overreaction but again is not surprising. 3 scenarios present themselves here; that an Everton fan complained to the Police; that the Police felt they had to be seen to take some action; or that a Senior Officer with no idea of what the Police’s priorities should be got involved. I suspect a combination of the three.

A few days later I was chatting to a mate of mine, an Evertonian who had been to the match. I wondered what he had thought? First off, he told me that all the way through the game, Fowler was being targeted by the Everton fans, and taunted with the chant “Smackhead”; this put Fowler’s reaction to his goal in a different light, I thought, and I was quite impressed. To respond to “smackhead” taunts by scoring a header, then celebrating by smacking you head, seems quite inspired; although still bound to attract the attentions of the referee.

“So,” I asked, “ how did the Everton fans react? We’re they appropriately incited?”
“I should say so,” said my mate, Mike, “the crowd went absolutely ballistic; the atmosphere was incredible.”

And this is my point really; Fowler was booked for inciting the crowd; but for inciting them to do what? If they had invaded the pitch, or attacked the City fans, or thrown bricks into the dugout, then Fowler could be said to have instigated something nasty; but was that ever likely to happen? In fact, he wound up the Evertonians so the volume of their singing and chanting increased, inevitably spurring the City fans to do the same, and the atmosphere of the game improved immensely as a result. And isn’t it the atmosphere that we really pay for when we hand over our absurd amounts of money at the Ticket Office?

Sometimes you wonder if sports commentators have any inkling about what fans really feel (the exception to this is the excellent Adrian Chiles on Match of the Day 2). The classic disconnect is on the subject of punch-ups on the field; for the media nothing appals them more than such indiscipline, which sets a bad example to the children watching, brings the games reputation into disrepute, blah blah blah…For a fan, particularly one watching a dull 0-0 stalemate on a cold evening, there is nothing better than a fight, to get the crowds tails up and turn up the volume, to get you supporting your wronged players (even if, secretly, you saw your defender get in that tug which provoked the opposition, and you would have been appalled yourself if the situation had been reversed; only it wasn’t ).

My mate said that it was the most exciting City/Everton game he had seen for ages; and we have seen some pretty bad ones between us over the years. That this game was different was partly due to Robbie Fowler and his incitment of the crowd. For his troubles he received a yellow card; he should have received the Man of the Match award, and our thanks.

UPDATE 15/1/05: Fowler scores again! And has a very good game overall, actually.

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