Tag Archives: football

Devil Dog Goes Nuts

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It’s three days since my last post, give or take a few hours. This is handy because it is half the previous lapse and makes it look like I’m making progress.

England lost 2-1 tonight and Argentina paraded round the pitch afterwards with a political banner. It was against FIFA regulations on such things, it’s not a classy way to celebrate a win, but that’s football for you.

Anyway, given that Donald Trump seems to consider himself a personal friend of the King, and an expert on football, I’m tending to think of the result as 2-1 (subject to official confirmation by President Trump).

That is my nod to world events of historical note.

Now, how about this. If you think you had a bad day, see what Billy Mann has been up to today.

You will then understand my title. And Billy’s anguish.

(Warning: Not for the Faint-Hearted)

Meanwhile, my day progressed quite well. After a major breakdown of my email system, and needing to use it quite urgently as I had two submissions to make, I resorted to the BT help bot.

Pigs and flowers

This consisted of a circular system where the questions always came back to the same answer – “Many customers with this problem found that resetting their password solved the problem”. Well it didn’t solve mine, because to reset the password you have to be able to progress further than it was allowing me to go. Absolutely useless. Useless email, useless help system. I will be resetting my password, but I will be resetting it using a different provider. I’m not looking forward to changing, but I’m not sure how long I can carry on with the shoddy service either.

I did eventually get the two submissions sent off in time and then did a third one, which will surprise the editor, who is more used to me submitting with only hours to spare.

Finally, another acceptance for a tanka prose and a request via the Military History Group for use of another of my articles. Looks like I’m doing something right.

Meadow flowers at East Leake

The Days Pass

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It is now six days since my last post. They slip by so, easily in my days spent sitting by fans sipping cold water and eating ice cream. That’s not my entire day, of course, Julia is rationing me to one ice cream a day. It is for the best. I’ve been out a few times but returned to shade and fans as soon as possible. We have had a builder  in doing more jobs that should have been done years ago. We still have jobs that need doing too. It never ends . . .

Several notable people have died in this period, including a politician who seems to have been murdered and a TV presenter who was my age when he died. I could, I suppose, offer some commentary on the events but all I would be doing would be voicing an opinion based on what I have seen of them on TV. They both seemed OK and I’m sorry they died sooner than they, and their families would have wanted. These days I tend to think of people in relation to our ages – one was 11 years older than me, one was my age. Any sadness I may feel at their passing would be heavily intertwined with thoughts on my life expectancy.

I also try to avoid the modern curse of thinking I know people after reading Wikipedia, an obituary and a scattering of internet gossip.

I see one of our national football team has just referred to him and his team mates putting in a “hard shift”. Shifts tend to be eight hours long, depressing, tedious and poorly paid. It’s not how I would describe the life of a professional footballer.

I just checked up on my views to see if I was being fair and accurate. It seems they start their training  days “early” and “often around 7:30 or 8am”. I can’t help feeling that this says as much about the life of a journalist as it does about the life of a footballer, as most of the working world doesn’t see this as early. Nor do we start the day with a light breakfast of low fat and high protein ingredients. Employers generally expect you to have eaten before you arrive.

However, like members of the Royal Family, footballers are easy targets, as they are so divorced from the realities of life. I will, therefore, desist, though I will link to the doings of the Royals. Prince Harry, in his campaign against the press, seems to have come unstuck this week and he and his celebrity mates failed to carry any of their points in the recent court case. Yes, I admit that it must be irritating to have the press pursuing you, but you can’t have press coverage when it suits you and turn it off when it doesn’t. Anyway, none of the people that joined him in the case were particulalrly interesting, so either way, it’s no interest to me, apart from a variety of public figures being told to grow up.

I’m very conflicted with this case. Yes, I’m glad the celebrities lost, but I don’t really like the press winning, and I certainly don’t like the idea of the lawyers making money from it. In the world of cosmic balance it feels like we all lost a little bit this week.

In poetry terms I have had either one (or two) acceptances (I’m not quite sure when I last reported on this) and a rejection. I’m about to start submitting, as there are some things I need to get in before the 15th. I meant to do them last week but I just ignored them and sat in front of a fan. That, I think, is where I began, so it’s now time to go.

Lightweight Political Commentary

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Poppy

What is different today compared to yesterday?  Well, the new government rhetoric is dying down a bit as I expect the excitement is dying down and the reality of the task becomes clear. After all the speeches and promises of the last few days we had a new minister on TV, and that new minister began the familiar pattern of dodging questions and refusing to talk specifics. This doesn’t make him a bad man, or his party a bad party. What it does do is reveal that no matter how enthusiastic and positive a party may be, they are still constrained by reality. We have an expensive war on the doorstep, we have a broken society (which isn’t a new thing) and we don’t have enough money. Welcome to government, all you happy, smiley people, and welcome to reality.

Meanwhile the French are rioting in the streets again after a coalition of moderates managed to avoid a move to the extreme right, a Turkish football player is under investigation for making a fascist  salute as part of his goal celebrations, and a German poll reveals that 20% of the population would like to see more white players in the team. Looks a bit like the whole of Europe is broken, not just Britain. Strangely, as Europe moves to the right, the UK has just moved to the left.

Welsh Poppy

Those few superficial observations on politics. I looked into the world of the Grey Wolves and the Armenian genocide and decided not to delve deeper. I have enough anxiety without adding to it. To save you the trouble of looking into the links, I will summarise by saying that this is what some Turkish youths supposedly does in search of national identity (note I am not saying that this is more than a small minority, as I try not to exaggerate or stereotype). This is what the British do in search of their national identity, when they aren’t drinking warm beer and chanting “Football’s coming home.” in an effort to make it come true. (I linked to an article about the song rather than the song itself, which I’ve always found a bit arrogant, particularly as it’s now nearly sixty years since we have won a major trophy.)

Poppy and chamomile

Thoughts on Sport and National Anthems

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I’ve just been reading an internet article on the singing of National Anthems by teams before international sporting events. This, it seems, was the reason for the United States Women’s team leaving the FIFA World Cup early.

I have news for all Americans here. It doesn’t matter. If you ever watch an English team at the start of am international match you will note that many of them don’t sing the National Anthem. That’s because most of us don’t know the words. And, in the case of football players, because some of the words have more than two syllables. We don’t I admit, win many big international competitions but the failure is down to arrogance, lack of preparation, money, tactical shortcomings and a plethora of other things, which all came into play during the rest of the article discussing the American women. At least they won four World Cups before the press turned on them, our men have only won one and our women haven’t won one yet.

The National Anthem isn’t a big thing in the UK, it’s just a dirge of a tune, with a history going back to, possibly, the 16th Century. It has had many verses and, like most things in the country, it fails to reflect the modern world. We are only allowed to sing two verses now, as dismissive references to foreigners and Scots are, due to modern sensibilities, not allowed. And, most importantly, it isn’t official, it just became the National Anthem because people sang it at times when other countries sang national anthems.

The American National Anthem has an interesting history too and was officially adopted in 1931 after many attempts. The music is by an Englishman. Interestingly, the music to another contender (My Country ’tis of Thee) is said to have music which is “identical to the music of God Save the King”. They can’t quite bring themselves to say that it is identical because it is the same music.

There are translations of the American National Anthem into many languages, including a French version for Americans of French descent (one of whom is amongst my readers) whereas we don’t bother with that sort of stuff in the UK, as we expect the rest of the world to learn English.

And there you go, a post that was going to discuss the evils of football and football journalism, turned out to be a post about National Anthems.

 

 

 

PW Crigglestone

Day 211

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Despite my dislike of most modern sport, I have been drawn to the Commonwealth games. They are slightly different from the slick World Championships (as seen last week) or the massive political  production that is the Olympics.

This morning we had an English gymnast clinging on grimly to take silver despite injury, the English pairs were the first home in the Triathlon (Visually Impaired), with Northern Ireland taking 2nd and 4th in the Women’s event (they are twins). Wales took 4th in the Men’s event and an English pair were fifth despite having to repair a puncture in the cycling section.  The male winners were unplaced at the Olympics after their chain snapped and the woman VI runner had a painful stitch during the running phase, which she ran off.

That’s a lot of news, plenty of drama and some human interest.

You know what the main story was on the news? Football. More particularly, our women footballers who are playing tonight. As usual, football trumps all other sports. As usual, I am tempted into making a number of comments on football being bad for sport in general, and for the moral health of the country.

A&BC Gum Football cards 1970

When my Dad died we were severely limited as to who could attend, and we had to sit apart, even though we had sat next to each other in the car for 60 miles, and we weren’t allowed to sing – we had to have recorded music. However, football fans were allowed to sit together in pubs to watch matches, hug each other and sing in each others faces. Two rules . One, strict, rule for a grieving family. One, relaxed, rule for football supporters. It’s a bread and circuses sort of situation isn’t it, with Princes and politicians  all pretending to be football supporters when it suits them.

One of my kids went to a holiday football camp some years ago. He went because his mates were going and because he liked all sports. He was laughed at by other kids for his boots (they were rugby boots but still did the job) and criticised by the people running the course (all part-time players from the lower leagues) because he would never be good enough to be professional. What sort of people treat a ten-year-old like that?

Sorry about the photos, I don’t have many relating to sport.

Topical Times Football Cards

 

Odds and Sods

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The header picture is a sunset and thistles in the car park near the Scallop at Aldeburgh. Here’s another one, plus a lamp post shot from Aldeburgh. It seems a shame to waste a sunset when you have a camera in your hand. There’s a cobweb in there somewhere too.

 

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According to this article the pub sign – The Magpie at Little Stonham on the A140 in Suffolk – is unique in the UK for having a gallows sign across the road.

 

The Magpie, Little Stonham, Suffolk
The Magpie, Little Stonham, Suffolk

 

Having recently driven under the sign for The George in Stamford and The Green Man and Black’s Head in Ashbourne I can confidently say that if “unique” means “one of at least three” the article is correct. If, however, “unique” still retains its original meaning, then the article’s research is incredibly sloppy.

Why is it that some people can get published when others (no matter how handsome, charismatic and talented) can’t? Not that I’m bitter or anything.

Finally, a football card. I’ve been putting them on  eBay.  Enter 45 names and numbers, take 45 photos, rotate and tidy 45 photos…

It’s Duncan Edwards.  He was selected for the National Morris and Sword Dancing Festival whilst at school, but went to a football trial instead. The rest is history.

Duncan Edwards

Duncan Edwards – Manchester United

 

 

Jute, Jam and Journalism

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Today, I’ll start with DD4.

DD is Dundee, and Dundee is famous for the three things in the title. We went there on holiday just over ten years ago and I feel quite nostalgic about it. The kids were still young enough to like their parents and used to enjoy seeing new things. The wilderness years of teenagery and rebellion were still in the future.

We missed the Keiller factory, though we did see fields of fruit canes, which took care of the “jam” element. D C Thomson, publishers of many famous comics and annuals, are also based there. I say “famous” rather than “comprehensible” because it includes Scottish classics such as Oor Wullie and The Broons, which are distinctively Scottish in language. It’s a bit like reading Burns, but with the bonus of pictures.

We did, however, see the “jute“. In fact we saw a lot more jute than we wanted to, as we were forced to endure a lengthy film and display by a stern woman who seemed unwilling to let us go without forcing us full of information on jute. I suspect she’d once been a Gauleiter in the Jute Information Board or some such body.

Though we were interested in the jute, we were actually there for the Tay Bridge and the Discovery.

I’m not sure exactly which postcode it all fell under but Dundee is DD1 to DD4 so it will do. With hindsight we should have spent more than just one day in Dundee as there’s a lot to see.

It was a great holiday in some ways, and a low point in another. At the time someone owed me £1,200, and the recovery process wasn’t going well. After one particular phone call I made life hell for everyone, which really wasn’t fair. It’s one of those things that comes back to haunt me – bad parent, bad husband. Fortunately it was only for part of a day.

The debtor eventually came up with £600. Then he died, with no assets and a gambling problem I’d been unaware of.

He drowned after falling into a ditch and whilst in drink. (Gambling wasn’t his only problem).  There was some talk about a car being seen speeding away from the area where he was found. There was also a suggestion that I’d been involved. And that was why I sometimes tell people I was a suspect in a murder case. (I wasn’t, because the police never contacted me, but it makes me sound more interesting).

The interesting fact about DD4?

Er…

There are three towns in the UK with football stadiums less than a mile apart.

At three – Liverpool and Everton. Under a mile apart.

At two – Nottingham Forest and Notts County – the closest football league grounds in England, just 300 yards apart.

At one – Dundee and Dundee United – the closest in the UK – just 100 yards apart. Look at the map and gasp in wonder. They are close.

 

 

 

Frank Soo

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I was entering pre-war football cards onto eBay, specifically the large sized Topical Times series from the 1930’s. I find them awkward to work with and tricky to photograph, because they are nearly ten inches long with a tendency to curl. I’ve mainly used the scanner, because it flattens them nicely for the picture.

Yes, I’ve finally worked out how to use the scanner properly, though you can only fit two of these monster cards on at a time.

Tom Gardner – Aston Villa
Frank Boulton – Derby County
James Beattie – Portsmouth

Ears, as you can see from the photographs, were worn larger in the 1930’s.

When I started on the colour cards, which are much less harrowing than the black and white images, I found Frank Soo.

Topical Times coloured cards
Frank Soo

 

The combination of name and slightly oriental features made me look again.

Frank Soo, was the first man of Chines heritage to become a professional footballer and first man of non-white heritage to play for England (in nine wartime Internationals). He went on to manage a number of teams in Sacandinavia, Italy and Scunthorpe. As a collector of trivia, I’m ashamed to say I’d never heard of him.

His brother Ronald flew with the RAF in the war (Frank served in the RAF in a technical capacity) and was shot down and killed as a Lancaster air-gunner in 1944.

It’s amazing what you can learn if you keep your eyes open.

Football, a Spider and an Educational Parcel

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We didn’t have much to do in the way of packing parcels this morning, or much activity from customers, so I was able to continue with the soul-crushing task of compiling a drop-down menu of Topical Times football cards for the eBay shop.

They aren’t like normal cards, which had to fit in a cigarette packet or pack of gum, these were given away with a magazine. The ones I did this morning are the miniature size – as wide as a cigarette card but about twice as high. This makes them difficult to photograph efficiently as they need cropping whichever way you do them. They are also in black and white, which makes them look very similar – I’m used to a world where football shirts come in different colours, not just black, white and grey.

Having said that, they had better names in 1938.

James Argue - Chelsea FC

James Argue – Chelsea FC

 

Sam Barkas - four of his brothers were also professional footballers, as was his cousin Billy Felton

Sam Barkas  – Manchester City

There were five Barkas brothers, all professional footballers. Sam and his cousin Tommy Felton both played for England.

We were lucky during the week when a lady rang up with a few things to sell – I checked if she had anything else and was able to buy some WW2 propaganda leaflets and wartime maps. They had belonged to her late father. but she was (quite rightly) keeping his DFC and other medals. More of this later.

Towards the end of the afternoon we had a number of sales, which we packed ready for Monday morning.

I scanned some of the propaganda leaflets ready for auction next week. This, though tatty, is probably the best of the lot – a magnificently evil Nazi spider with Hitler’s face.

WW2 propaganda leaflet

WW2 propaganda leaflet

My Greek was weak in the 1970s when I actually made a serious effort. It’s worse now.

I’m still good at sticking stamps on envelopes though, as you can see here.

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£3.95 – absolute bargain!

History, nature, Christmas, royalty – it’s not an envelope, it’s an education. The Winston Churchill stamp provides balance to the Nazi spider.

Boredom, what Boredom?

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Yes, I’ve been doing cards again. I’ve done Star Trek, The Beatles and yet more A&BC football cards (the orange and red backs from 1972-3). Thanks to an informative website I’m now in possession of much more knowledge than I really need on this subject.

I think my brain may be grinding to a halt, but I think I’ve isolated the point when the rot set into football. The 1970 set shows footballers with serviceable haircuts and quite a few broken noses. The 1972-3 set shows straighter noses and shocking haircuts. That three year window was the thin end of the wedge, and look where we ended up – diving, spray foam and perms.

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Look at that haircut…

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…and that moustache.

I grew my first moustache in 1975. It wasn’t a success. In truth they rarely are. Some things from the past should be left there – moustaches, I feel, are one of those things. As are rickets, platform soles and The King’s Evil.

For those of you interested in why one photo is upside down I have to confess that I don’t know. I struggled with a glitchy internet last night and had problems with a lot of photographs being upside down on the photo card. Eventually I just used two that seemed to be cooperative.

This morning I found that the post hadn’t actually loaded and one of the photos was upside down again.

So I gave up and loaded the post again with extra lines to explain the upside down photograph.

For those of you more arty types it’s an ironic take on the topsy-turvey nature of modern sport.

For the others, it’s what happens when you hand modern technology to a man who is barely past the crayon stage of artistic evolution.