WHY THE GAME IS SOMETIMES CRAP

A Great Team Performance

Well done to the Super Spurs last night. What a great performance. Of course I wasn't at the game but watched the game on my 'free to view, piss off Sky' channel. Well, I watched the first half anyway. A prior appointment meant I missed all of the second and was only aware of the ups and downs of the second half when Trish, watching in the other room, was either yelling blue murder at the suddenly vicious Italians, or celebrating Peter Crouch's winning goal.

Gattuso wants to be a big man

Watching just the first half was interesting. It was a marvellously uplifting affair. Spurs pushed the Italians back and isolated the front men. Not difficult really when one of them was the vastly overated Zlatan 'that can't be a real Swedish name' Ibrohimavic. How the hell that guy has been bought at great expense by various European clubs I have no idea. He is useless. Even though he is tall and can get too crosses earlier than defenders due to the length of his hooter, I have never seen him do the business against decent teams. He scored two against Arsenal last year of course. In fact, I would rather have Tottenham's assistant boss Joe Jordan up front, even now.

Turnip

Joe of course is 59, if he is alive at all. Everytime I see him he looks like the sort of bloke The Grim Reaper has already called up, but has refused to go. Either that or he is The Reaper himself. The Italian captain last night decided to head butt the Spurs coach. Unlike modern day players, Joe didn't go down in a heap as if shot, whilst at the same time keeping a look out for the ref through his fingers. No, Joe, due to his Scots roots, stood there wondering why a piece of cotton wool had brushed his forehead. Surely in Scotland's Home internationals and his time at Leeds and Manchester United, Joe had experienced tougher moments.

Gattuso picks on a 60 year old Scotsman

The fact that Joe didn't make a meal of it, returned me to the Good Old Days, when men were men and sheep were worried. I remember for example Francis Lee and Norman Hunter going at it blow for blow at Wembley. Neither one of them hit the dirt. Nowadays one, if not both would be waving an imaginary red card at the ref, whilst calling their agent on their mobile. This part of the modern game has only come about, together with diving and feigning injury, since the beginning of the Premier League and the influx of foreign players. You only have to watch International Teams in past World Cup or European tournaments to realise that in those competitions, foul play, gamesmanship and timewasting was always the norm. When our domestic football started again after the end of these, you realised how different our game was. Honest violence at least. So, I realised, last night's first and second halves were so like football pre and post Premier League. Honest endevour in the first, and foul, dishonest, violent football in the second.

Well done Super Spurs, you reminded me of those Good Old Days.

Long may it last.

ANOTHER ONE GONE

I just heard the news....Gary Moore has passed away in a hotel in Spain. Although he was not one of my favourites, the concert I went to a few years back with Martin and Steve showed that he was one hell of a player and The Shepherds Bush Empire was rammed to the rafters. What with The Captain a few weeks ago, who the hell will be next? It's worrying when they start to be real contemporaries. That's why I retired early!

Listen to 'Parisienne Walkways' Still Got The Blues' or my all time favourite 'Still In Love With You' to hear him at his best.

NOTHING LIKE SECURITY

How surprised I was yesterday morning to find a body stretched out on the sofa which is one of a pair on the landing outside my bedroom. The body, male, unshaven and snoring peacefully had obviously either lost his key whilst out on the town or was someone who had wandered in off the street pissed and probably could not believe his good fortune when a large leather sofa swum into view. So there he was. As you can imagine he was the talk of the table at breakfast. Luckily our 'rep' arrived mid discussion and upon hearing about the affair promptly informed the hotel manager who sent some poor young waiter to deal with the problem. I can already hear you ask how the dosser managed to evade hotel security in the dead of night. We asked the same question, already knowing the answer....there is no security.

At no time during my stay so far has the front door been locked, and neither has the boot room, leaving hundreds of pounds worth of equipment free to anyone who so wanted it. She then informed us that it was actually our responsibility to make sure the door was locked at all times. I pointed out that this instruction had never been given and would be particularly difficult to achieve with her original request that we leave keys at reception when we went out. This I realised was so that anyone wandering in from the street would not have to suffer the inconvenience of sleeping on a sofa but could actually find a bed to sleep in together with a change of clothes and some cash. The rumours of a first class Austrian social service system based on the famous 'Care In The Community' one we have in good old GB I realise now are true. I am looking forward to my next stay at a Crystal hotel when hopefully Imay get a chance to to do the cooking and cleaning as well as try my hand at security.

ROOM 101

For those readers who know about Room 101 please excuse the explanation for those who do not. Inspired by Orwell's novel 1984, BBC TV decided some years ago to invite celebrities to nominate items for a room where their most loathed things would be put, unlike Orwell's room however, the BBC version gave the option to dispose of the items. In Orwell's creation, the items were used to torture the victim who was locked in Room 101 with them. (I hope I have got these facts right or that well know literary expert and self appointed blog critic, Nick 'I studied literature at Uni' Iddon , will be back on the acerbic warpath.)

Now as you know I could fill Room 101 to bursting point, as the sheer volume of things that annoy me are almost infinite. One such reared it's ugly head yesterday, and that is Design Faults. I always imagine that in offices scattered around the world there are designers, being paid good money, coming up with new and cunning designs which can be foisted upon the unsuspecting consumer. Fair enough, but when these designs are patently (excuse the pun here) CRAP then I get pissed off. Take the one that got me yesterday for example - the Zip Concealment Flap. You know what I mean, that bit of material that conceals the Ugly Zip on clothing (usually) and of course gets caught in the zip and jams it. Many the time during my years as a teacher, has a poor child come to me with the zip stuck on their coat, usually near the top, leaving them no room to pull the coat over their poor head. Many a zip have I broken during these episodes with an apologetic and embarrassing note home to the parents.

So yesterday, as in the picture above, at 1,800 meters atop a snowy mountain, with sub zero temperatures pounding at the snow glove wearing victim (me) the zip on the pocket housing my mobile phone suffered this fate. Try as I may I could not budge it and of course the gap was too small to extricate the phone. And yes of course, there was an important message waiting on it. If only the message had been from a hit man who had found the designer of the Zip Concealment Flap. What he needs doing to him by millions worldwide does not bear thinking about. Bastard!

DEEP FRIED HELL

I can remember when being a vegetarian in Austria was like being an alien from a galaxy far far away. When you uttered the words 'ich kein fleish' you could easily imagine the chef, when told this by the equally hapless waiter, throwing down his chef's hat and heading for the exit. I remember some decidedly unimaginative meals being put in front of me in the eighties for sure, until finally we started to stay at The Enzian in Wagrain every year. The chef was prepared for his Week Of Hell and managed to come up with some inventive dishes, apart from one of his favourites which I hated,-deep fried vegetables.

So what was to be expected this week? I am after all at a new resort and in the modern age I was able to email the rep in situ and pre warn her about the weirdo about to roll into town. She was confident that the hotel would be able to cope. After all it is the 21st century. So last night following a sparse but successful fish dinner on the first,evening I was pretty confident that the gastronomic treat to be placed before me would reflect this the modern age. It was not to be. The Chef had simply caved in at the thought of his first big challenge. Now I like mushrooms, but not deep fried, and not a plate of them with nothing else besides. So while my fellow diners tucked into their spaghetti and goulash sauce, or fried meat, potatoes and a smattering of side vegetables I was sending my mushrooms back to be replaced by a cheese omelette. What a pity there were no mushrooms in it!

DAY 2

Well the day finally came today, the day that confirmed what many of my so called 'friends' had been telling me for years, that I am an old git. It is worth bearing in mind however, that many of these expert advisors such as Nick Iddon, chief 'old gitter' have a less than tenuous association with physical exercise. In fact their idea of active recreation, is a walk to the pub, just down the road, and the lifting of a few pints. However I digress.

For about a year now I have been feeling an acute pain in my right knee, especially when ascending stairs which I do each weekday whilst carrying my bike. And it's been getting worse.This pain does not stop me cycling and indeed if it did I would have done something about it by now. BUT...skiing was coming ever closer and I wondered, more and more often, if I would be able to cruise the multitude of slopes here at Schladming, without feeling the annoying ache. I was not keen to visit the physio when all I was going to hear was 'wear and tear' which I am sure it is.

Marvelous that isn't it? You either sit in the armchair doing nothing for years and drinking beer etc, or you make sure that you exercise for at least the advised hour each day. As you know, cycling is my favourite and I have been doing that since I gave up football 15 years ago. I cycle to and from work, a distance of 12 miles and when I am not working, I get up at the same time and put in an hour's worth of peddling before breakfast. But this it seems, like doing nothing, takes a toll on the body. My knee prior to this week was really becoming annoyingly painful.

So this morning, before skiing I applied the knee support brace. As I did so, I kept telling myself how much better a day I was going to have knowing that my knee would be supported and therefore protected. But I couldn't help feeling that it was the beginning of the end. And what, I hear you ask, effect did it have on the day's skiing? Well despite skiing on almost total artificial snow which in these temperatures is lumpy, bumpy and horrible, I had a great day and as I type with the sun setting on the mountains and Spurs v Man U due any minute on TV, I feel that warm glow inside that a day's strenuous exercise and a hot shower gives you, and yes I feel I have earned the beer that is slipping down very nicely thank you.

SCHLADMING!

After a dead easy travel we (myself,JD and Gwyn) arrived in the World Cup resort of Schladming which is to be our home for a week of skiing. Temperatures are a bit too high for my liking and I knew things were not going to be as perfect sas they can be when our rep, answering the time old quetion about the conditions in resort, said snow was forecast and followed it up with the suggestion we could do a snow dance if we knew one. The town itself is really interesting, with an unusual amount of architecturally interesting churches. I will make sure I post some photos on this blog. We unpacked, collected skis and went for a walk round town. The main attraction here is the finishing stretch, photograph above, of the mens World Cup downhill. It finishes in the middle of the town with a finish area so small it defies belief. The actual race is next week. You wouldn't know it but when the circus moves in the peace is shattered. The photo above does not do the sheer gradient justice. Take it from me, it's steep! We will have a go at it tomorrow or when the snow conditions improve. By the way, in the photo, the car park is part of the finish. Apparantly they will import snow if there is no new by next week. Better get those dances going!