Why do I do it?
Every time we go down under for the Ashes I allow myself some belief that we can win the series down there.
This time, on paper, two pretty evenly matched squads, decent bowling attacks and unknown/unproven/inconsistent batting orders. Of course the problem is that the game is not played on paper but a pitch in harrowing conditions.
To be fair we can’t really even use that as an excuse as the weather hasn’t been that extreme. The ball is very different so you can make some allowances there…anyway, I’m not really writing this to go into the various performances but rather explore the nature of of how we can be manipulated/manipulate ourselves.
I usually sit up as much as my body clock will allow me and work at the same time, doing an impression of Dylan the Rabbit betwixt work and cricket sessions, mainly kipping and the limit of my conversation is about “Like , er yeah man” (there has been some raw work carried out in the name of childrens’ TV over the years but does anyone know what strain of LSD Serge Danot was on when he created that programme? A dog that lives on sugar cubes, a snail, a pink cow, a sleeping, guitar-playing rabbit, a couple of kids, two dodgy bewhiskered old geezers and a red faced, impressively moustachioed freak in a yellow jacket with a giant spring instead of legs who orders everyone to bed. Sounds like the cast of an advert now in these enlightened times of diversity…).
Back to the cricket, the first test you can analyse and say getting used to conditions etc…but the second test…I went from, ‘Forget it I am not wasting my time watching that shower collapse in the middle of the night’, to ,’Well what if I had been one of the great disbelievers on July 20 1981 who had not bothered to tune into the coverage of the final day of the third test at Headingley, how gutted would I be to have missed that great turnaround?’
Of course I stayed up and watched the first wicket given in spite of no hotspot (surprisingly little was made of this in the media) and then Root go and the subsequent world implosion.
And so to bed, annoyed with self for being so naive (hadn’t I had the sense to give up on English football the day Graham “Do I not like that” Taylor was appointed Team Manager?! Brooke you fool!). The trouble with cricket, and the current squad, is that there were sessions where we could have gone on to win, so it gives you false hope.
As for the Third Test…again they give you hope, when have England, or in fact anyone, lost by an innings and forty odd runs when 368/4? Ridiculous, and they’ve all been so naughty that I am going to ignore them now.
This brings me to Roy Moore.
Well self-delusion and a determination to proceed in a direction where all evidence points to the other way.
In case you don’t know, Roy Moore is the Republican Senate candidate who lost by a tiny margin in recent elections.
It was very close and there are some overseas votes to come in but he isn’t going to win.
Roy believes that ‘God is in charge’ – a statement that he made as he refused to accept that he had lost. I acknowledge everyone’s right to believe in a God, but when this statement is prefaced by a diatribe about lost values, referring to abortion, sexuality and what most people would consider pretty basic human rights in 2017, the obvious next question from someone of even limited intelligence must surely be that “If He is charge, how come all of this is happening and it is therefore bad?”
This man was apparently endorsed by the Trump, and is accused of having inappropriate relations with minors. I feel I need say no more about this truly charming individual.
Dovetailing rather beautifully into my third observation, I listened with gathering incredulity to an interview with former Chancellor Nigel Lawson this week who came on to talk about the B-word…I am not going into this part of it for fear of stultifying you all to death.
Now, let’s get this right, Lawson was a pretty good Chancellor in his time and of course should be slapped on the back vigorously for producing Nigella (then slapped around the head for creating that name and giving it to her) but when he starts saying that we should all stop using the internet and social media the man is frankly speaking pure apple sauce.
Regular readers will recognise the fact that I am aghast at the way technology and media is taking over peoples’ lives but this King Canute-like nonsense really does just overwhelm and destroy any credibilty he may have had (Canute was known as ‘Cnut the Great’ and was the son of Sweyn Forkbeard – you couldn’t make it up could you?).
This reminds me of a client in a former life working in a recruitment firm who was a loveable but eccentric Geordie. He was the MD of a successful company, but had some interesting ideas, including the espoused view that the internet was a ‘fad’ and that he would never need a website. Hmm…I could regale you with many ramblings from this great man who actually became a good friend but think maybe it would not be a good idea.
So as you can see drawing a line through me, the lovely Roy Moore, the even nicer Trumpster and my anonymous friend, being old does not necessarily signify wisdom.
Joining this litany of miscreants is the FA of Wales’ Chief Executive Jonathan Ford whose response when asked who the new Welsh Football Manager would be, answered “…somebody said this earlier, Welsh most definitely, foreign possibly, but definitely not English”.
There are two things wrong with this:-
- He was admonished by his own board for being ‘possibly racist’…what? Please stop this nonsense.
- No one English cares or is interested.
Thus, I blot the pad, dry the quill and head up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire, wishing you all seasonal greetings, though, after four weeks of a daily diatribe of Jonah Louis, Noddy Holder and Roy Wood I am ready for Easter.