Sporting Blogs
The Hunt goes on...
Friday 19th February 2010 Posted by David Welch
The most intriguing aspect of the proposed new BBC film exploring the lives and conflicts of Steve Ovett and Sebastian Coe is just who will play the part of the affable, former, racing editor of the Daily Telegraph, Adrian Hunt.
Some way into enjoying lavish hospitality at Ascot racecourse a year or two back, Hunt was informed that, among fellow guests of the newspaper, was Britain’s greatest ever Olympic gold-medal-winning middle-distance runner.
Swiftly negotiating a few hurdles in his path, Hunt shot across the room and made himself known. "Steve, I’m really, really, pleased to meet you." he said "I’ve always admired you, and always thought you were a much better runner. Actually, I never could stand that pompous little shit, Coe".
Sadly for Adrian, Steve was probably many miles away at the time in Australia, while Seb, on the other hand, smiled obligingly and, with admirable good grace, returned to studying form for the 4.20...
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A positive feeling about the year ahead...
Saturday 2nd January 2010 Posted by Lisa Dobriskey
Well 2009 certainly ended very differently to how it had begun.
December proved to be quite a month with the wedding, honeymoon, my birthday, and Christmas all packed in... ending with New Year's Eve which was also my new sister-in-law's 18th birthday. So nothing was done by halves.
As exciting as it's all been, I'm glad to now be back in Loughborough, and back to some sort of normality (although it does suddenly feel a bit flat with all the celebrations over).
Ricky and I continued training whilst on our honeymoon in Italy - although some of it was disrupted by catching a cold (but this is normal for this time of year).
We are usually on a lighter programme over the Christmas period anyway as we use it as a bit of a recuperation phase to be ready for the next training block in the New Year. I've really enjoyed my running over the past few weeks - particularly as we were able to run as and when we wanted to.
The informality of the programme makes it refreshing mentally as well as physically. We just have to go out and run. We take out circuits, weights and sessions and just work on building an aerobic base. It means I'm aerobically fit, but not quite as race ready as I'd like to be (particularly with the forthcoming Great North Cross Country on 9th January. But it will only take a few weeks of routine training before I feel like a proper athlete again.
Although December was such a great month we had some very sad news early on. Peter Holmes - a friend and training partner - tragically died whilst snowshoeing in Canada where he had been working for a while now. Whilst at Loughborough, Pete was pretty much the backbone of the Loughborough student Athletic Club, and one of the friendliest people you could meet. He helped me out many times in training sessions, dropping back to shout me on when I was struggling on those final reps. He was a real inspiration and will be very sorely missed.
As for 2010...well it's all come round so fast and I know it won't be long before the next track season is here. I certainly hope this year will be a lot less stressful and go a bit more smoothly than the last one!
I'm really excited by the European championships in the summer, but, firstly, I have the delights of cross country to look forward to. I will admit I'm not the world's greatest cross country fan, but it's good to take yourself outside of your comfort zone once in a while.
I hope to compete in some indoor races too, but these will be off a very limited preparation and used as training rather than provide specific targets. My main aim for this summer is to run under four minutes consistently... but, more importantly, not to get injured! This year, though, is off to a far more positive start than the last, so let's hope this continues! A Happy New Year to you all.
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Cross trainer points to rift...
Monday 9th November 2009 Posted by Lisa Dobriskey
After being in Kenya for two weeks now, I've fallen totally in love with the place and the people. It has been an incredible experience - both in training and in lifestyle.
We all seem to have adapted to the altitude, but the undulating trails and weather still make every run a challenge. I've brought my cross trainer with me to supplement my training so have been also spending plenty of time on that in order to prevent my getting injured!
Cross training outside - overlooking the rift valley - is far more inspiring than staring at a blank wall for an hour at home - so I'm not too sure how I'll cope with that when I get back.
On our rest day we took a trip into Eldoret which is the main town outside of Iten (where we are staying), and it was great to have a good look round and escape from our little "bubble" on the mountain. It was very busy to say the least, and a very bumpy road trip - but again we were welcomed by the locals and had a terrific time.
Since then it's simply been a case of: train, eat and sleep with the exception of an evening salsa dance class led by our physio Mateio which was so much fun (even though, with the odd exception, we were all terrible!!).
As for the rest of our time here... we now only have one week to go and, with our coach, George Gandy, leaving today, it'll just be us athletes left. The training routine makes the time fly by, but I'm hoping it won't pass too quickly as I really don't feel ready to leave just yet!
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Slow progress...but not for the Kenyan youngsters...
Thursday 29th October 2009 Posted by Lisa Dobriskey
With the track season well and truly over, and my two-week break now behind me, I'm easing back into what will become the long hard slog of winter training. In Kenya. The first few weeks are always nice and gentle. It's a long winter and I learnt the hard way last year how important it is to progress gradually and allow the body time to adapt.
The winter programme is the backbone of the summer ahead. It's the time to build a base which will include higher mileage and an increased focus on weights, drills and general conditioning.
This year we've decided to try a slightly different approach by coming away to a Kenyan altitude training camp. The big mistake I made 12 months ago was rushing myself back to fitness. So coming to altitude forces me to take my time and run more slowly. I've been to altitude once before - in 2005 - but where we are now, in Eldoret, is much higher and as it is a different time of the year we are at a different phase in the training programme.
We arrived here on Tuesday after a very bumpy road journey from Eldoret airport and are based at the top of the rift valley. The views are out of this world. It's such a peaceful place and the lifestyle is so different from back home. Running is so much a part of the culture here that on our first run we were joined by several groups of children running to school in bare feet. They must have been around six years old yet were able to keep up with us for quite a while!
Runners are everywhere, and athletes from all nations come here to train.To be able to do so in the same environment and in the presence of some of the world's greatest ever distance runners is truly inspiring. Saying that, the first couple of runs have been quite frustrating...
Its important to run very easy and at a low heart rate for the first few days at this altitude - which means running painfully slowly! The lifestyle is equally slow and its hard to adapt to such a pace of life by just sleeping, eating and running. It's something I think I can get used to, though, and a dream lifestyle for an athlete! I think I might come out of this trip with a lot more patience.
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New York rounds off memorable season...
Sunday 20th September 2009 Posted by Lisa Dobriskey
The past few weeks have flown by in a bit of a blur, but there's no doubt that the highlights were winning a silver medal at the World Championships, and, five days later, running sub four minutes for the first time over 1500m.
This was followed by two wins; one in front of a wonderfully receptive home crowd at Gateshead, the second in Rieti where I narrowly beat reigning world Champion, Maraym Jamal.
Sadly, I was then brought back down to earth with something of a thud at the World Athletics Final in Thessaloniki, trailing home in eighth in what was a very tactical race. It was disappointing to underperform on such a big stage - but there wasn't very much left in my legs, and emotionally I felt completley drained. However, I raced in Poland three days later, and was much happier with my performance.
The Pedros Cup meeting in Poland was a very special one as my fiance, Ricky Soos, ran 1.49 in the 800m. It was a long-awaited return to the track after five years of injury. Although his time was somewhat shy of his pb, 1.45, it's a huge step forward and gives him a lot of hope for next year.
Although each of us has been to an Olympics we have never been on the same team as senior internationals so, hopefully, we'll be able to manage that next year (fingers crossed!). We're off to New York to compete in the Continental Fifth Avenue road mile next and are both really looking forward to visiting the City where we are then planning on spending a couple of extra days at the start of my official break from training!!!
It's been a great season and I've learned so much from all the ups and downs. I feel I've really broken through into the top echelon and am really excited about the forthcoming years-especially a certain event in 2012!!
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Opening a new chapter...
Friday 31st July 2009 Posted by Lisa Dobriskey
Before this week, the last time I was in the Monaco stadium was on Boxing Day 2008 but, rather than running, I was in the pool for the first of my many aqua-jogging sessions. I'd just been diagnosed with a sacral stress fracture of the back when I should have been on a flight to New York to race... so the mood was pretty low.
To return seven months later for the Athletics Super Grand Prix, therefore, was so exciting and I appreciated every second of it. In finishing fifth in the race won by reigning World Champion Jamal, I ran 4.02.28, my third fastest time ever and close to my legal personal best which I set in Beijing last year.
I had hoped for anywhere between 4.03 and 4.05 given the amount of training I've missed, so to exceed my expectations has given me a huge lift. Tuesday turned out to be a good day as I also heard of my selection for the World Championships.
What a relief!
It's been difficult having four girls and only three places on the team, but it's generated healthy competition between us. Tuesday's race saw both Steph Twell (who was also named in the team) and Hannah England (who, unfortunately, was the one to miss out) run PBs. Between us we seem to keep raising the standard and, with 2012 looming, I feel that the event in Great Britain can only continue to go from strength to strength.
After my race I spent some time with my parents and youngest brother who all live close to Nice. My mum flew home with me on Wednesday night (arranged by Dad as a suprise) so I had a couple of days to unwind around some light training.
I must admit the past few weeks have really been stressful so just having some time to relax a bit has left me feeling refreshed and ready for the coming weeks ahead. I'm off to Portugal for the holding camp next Thursday (6th August) but I still have a couple of sessions left in the cold before I leave. It seems amazing how things have turned around in just one week. I feel I have now closed the chapter on 'the comeback phase' and can now begin one centred around 'the World Championships'.
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Stepping up the pace in Monaco...
Tuesday 26th July 2009 Posted by Lisa Dobriskey
Finally, the 25th July has been and gone. The day had been looming over me for the past four weeks as I raced against the clock to regain competitive fitness.
With the Crystal Palace Grand Prix now completed, I must admit to feeling a lot happier and far more relaxed than I have done for
some time.
Although we are still unsure where I stand in terms of selection for the World Championships, I can only hope that being the first Brit home, and a third-place finish will be enough. It's up to the selectors now.
I feel as though I gave a good account of myself and was reasonably pleased with my performance. It wasn't anything special, but I think it's fair to say it was solid...and indicated that there is more to come. The early pace was surprisingly slow and I was happy with how I responded to the changes in pace. I thought this would be my main area of weakness with so few races
behind me.
On Tuesday night I shall be racing in Monaco which - in contrast to Crystal Palace - should be a fast-paced race with a very strong field, so another good test.
I feel a lot more at ease going into this race with two solid performances behind me, and a lot less vulnerable. It's going to be a real examination, but I hope it will tell me a lot more about my fitness...
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On track and ready for the showdown...
Tuesday 21st July 2009 Posted by Lisa Dobriskey
After a difficult six months, things are finally starting to pick up. The past four weeks have been very positive in terms of training and in making progress from my most recent injury.
I've had to make significant adaptations to my training programme, but, having a coach as meticulous as George (Gandy) gives me confidence that I'm as fit as I possibly can be in the circumstances.
The physio and medical support I've received has been fantastic... so I guess now it just boils down to my doing the best job I can.
After racing in Lucerne last Wednesday I feel I have a fresh perspective on everything and I'm really excited to be racing in the Grand Prix meeting at Crystal Palace on Saturday.
Although the 1500 has turned into something of a showdown - with three athletes racing for two places on the British team heading for Berlin - I am just grateful to be racing uninjured, and to be feeling as though I am ready to do myself justice.
Watching the trials on TV was something I never want to have to do again. It was harder than any training session. Being at the World Championships is so important to me as I really believe I still have time to build on my performances of last year.
Obviously, there are feelings of apprehension and the inevitable nerves, but the race is almost a relief from the stress of the year so far. These races are what I train for and the challenges that come with them are what drive me forward.
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A legitimate target....
Monday 11th May 2009 Posted by David Welch
There is still no disputing it. Even after days of reflection. TV pictures clearly show that four outstanding goal-scoring opportunities were missed because of one man's lamentable display. A sorry, costly draw was the result, rather than a comfortable victory.
And, sad though it is to admit, fans and players alike were entitled to voice their disgust and to swear into the cameras. Police escorts would rightly be on stand-by in the event of death-threats; you might even forgive anyone's misplaced talk of corruption given how this experienced professional had so desperately under-performed on such an important occasion.
Yet....none of this actually happened. Why? Because, this time we were not witnessing the annihilation of a referee asked to shoulder the blame for a team's failure, but the performance of Sunderland's hapless striker, Kieran Richardson. In the crucial relegation battle against Bolton on Saturday he demonstrated laughable levels of accuracy in his finishing on at least four occasions in the 'highlights' programme alone. No protests. No outcry. No lynchings.
When over-protected, pampered footballers paid fortunes to perfect (or, at least, improve) their skills actually achieve a consistency of performance that stops costing their teams matches, they might be entitled to respond in Drogba-like fashion when they feel so let down by the officials. Until then, they should take the money and think themselves lucky that the hype surrounding the game generally results in their being subjected to the same levels of objective scrutiny as an MP's expense form.
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Facing facts and the drop....
Friday 1st May 2009 Posted by Laura Williamson
You would think a siege mentality would suit Hull City. After all, people living in that particular part of East Yorkshire pride themselves on the fact that league table's lie. Hull may have the worst-performing schools in the country, but you get a cracking view of the Humber Bridge when the sun’s shining.
Yet the Tigers haven’t coped at all well with their fall from grace. The balmy days of October when City were everyone’s second-favourite top-flight team, are well and truly gone. They can’t buy a win for love nor money (Jimmy Bullard didn't really work out, did he?), and are making enemies as readily as Ian Ashbee gives away free kicks.
Phil Brown was a breath of fresh air in the first half of the season, a perma-tanned maverick with no regard for reputation and possessing a team hell bent on proving their doubters wrong. His histrionics on the touchline were passion personified, and his ever-present ear piece was quite endearing.
But, by December, Brown was delivering half-time team talks on the pitch and talking about himself in the third person. Suddenly that earpiece looked more Girls Aloud than serious managerial apparel.
And then came that FA Cup clash with Arsenal. A feisty post-match interview, allegations that the Gunners’ club captain, Cesc Fabregas, spat at the feat of Brian Horton, that Arsene Wenger wouldn’t shake his hand., that Arsenal’s goal was offside. I could go on.
Hull City were no longer the underdogs that everyone wanted to see do well. They were moaners. A team who had finally got their come-uppance.
But it’s not time to jump off the Humber Bridge just yet. Hull City have four games to turn defence into attack and play with the chip-on-the-shoulder attitude that could keep them in the Premier League. Because, in this case, the table certainly will not lie.
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Lost in the Post....
Monday 6th April, 2009 Posted by David Welch
Is it really any surprise that bankers, council chiefs, entertainers, Premiership footballers and MPs have secured for themselves vastly inflated financial packages, ever more divorcing them from reality, and the expectations and living standards of the normal working man and woman?
Does anyone, any more, ever question anything financial in advance, or supply a meaningful interpretation before the apologists are allowed to distort the real picture?
We have just witnessed a 100-1 winner of the Grand National in Mon Mome and, with incredulous spin (even in these head-spinning times), the victory is recorded today by the country's only racing newspaper as an: "Amazing windfall for racing".
Not, you might note - following the runaway, unquestioned success of an unfancied horse beaten 57 lengths when tailed off on his previous run at Uttoxeter three weeks earlier - as a "Devastating blow for punters".
The Racing Post goes on to add that: "Upbeat bookmakers also anticipated a beneficial spin-off next year, with more once-a-year punters attracted by the chance of backing a 100-1 winner"
Let's be grateful for that opportunity. And let's raise a glass to Sir Fred Goodwin, Jonathan Ross, Alistair Darling and Ashley Cole while we are at it. It's all very positive stuff. Those dependant on racing for a living (according to the Post) should be on a high today (along with the bookmakers, of course) and we are invited to celebrate with them.
But wait...by its own published figures, a tax 'windfall' of 20 million pounds for racing means bookmakers are estimated to have won at least 180 million pounds on the race.
Unlikely perhaps...but should the Post be comfortable implying this is 'good' news when any such profit inevitably means that punters - whom they purport to represent - will have LOST 180 million? The same punters, incidentally, on whom the Post depend for their sales, and whom they did their best to advise where they should place their money on the race. None of the Post columnists mentioned Mon Mome.
'Never mind' they might be saying - perhaps in an attempt to avoid any costly backlash on the paper or the gaming industry - 'our advice could have played a small part in your having lost over 180 million pounds in one day, but it was a heart-warming story, and your money has gone to a good cause'.
Now where has this tactic of presenting a significant, sensitive, financial issue in such an up-beat, self-serving fashion been employed before?
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Faint recollections....
Wednesday 25th March, 2009 Posted by David Welch
So just who were the 'faint-hearts' desperately in need of 'persuasion' when it came to ensuring that the Government backed London's proposed bid for the Olympics back in 2003?
With a self-satisfied smile, Tessa Jowell informed us last week on Question Time that we didn't realise how hard she had had to work to take others along with her in the days when Tony Blair (and, more particularly, Gordon Brown) was far from certain to support the BOA-inspired enterprise.
Perhaps she had in mind the then Minister for Culture, Media and Sport whose performance in the crucial Commons debate on the subject was so beautifully described by Giles Smith in the Telegraph on January 16, 2003...
"The Culture Secretary's ambition seemed to be to make the afternoon as forgettable as possible, in the hope perhaps, that everyone who ever thought about pitching London as an Olympic host would simply wake up the next day and not remember anything about it.
"Each time someone interjected on a note of anxiety....the Culture Secretary tried not to look too eager about conceding that they had a point, before concluding: ' Every pound spent on an Olympics is a pound that won't be spent on schools, hospitals and grass roots sporting developments throughout the country'
"It was our choice for 2012, the Culture Secrtary seemed to be saying: world-class pole vault facilities in Bow, or somewhere to go to die".
With that degree of 'faint-heartedness' right at the centre of Government, it is a wonder the Prime Minister gave the proposal a second thought. And it is, therefore, no shock that bid supporters had to 'work hard' to win over the doubters.
And just who was the Culture Secretary at the time? Oh, that was current Olympics Minister, Tessa Jowell.
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After the event...
Thursday 8th January 2009 Posted by Sue Mott
It makes perfect sense that Kevin Pietersen should be forced to resign as England captain. He is not ideally suited for the task, being an apparently self-absorbed egotist with no great urge to place a motherly arm round his team-mates. He is not a leader, we are now told, he is a individualist. Rugged, self-obsessed and South African. Oh.
It turns out his former countrymen call him The Ego. The Australians have nicknamed him “Figjam”, the abbreviated form for "F*** I’m Good, Just Ask Me."
Funny then that he was appointed in the first place to a torrent of flashbulbs and cries of "Long Live King Kev." He said he was going to captain by “gut feeling” and the cricket world, largely, liked the idea. He scored a first century in his first Test as captain against the South Africans and so began the white-water ride of uncritical approval.
He was complimented in his handling of the press, he was lauded for possessing a good cricket brain and even when his captaincy was visibly unravelling - a smackdown in the Caribbean in the ill- conceived Stanford match and a 0-5 one-day mauling in India - the ratings remained unaccountably high. At one stage he was hailed as "the most powerful England captain for a generation."
Criticism was slight and sporadic. Duncan Fletcher, the former England coach, voiced doubt but his was a lone voice in the praise that accompanied Pietersen when he led the team back to India following the Mumbai atrocity. That was indeed a brave act. He was a man leading men, which is not to be confused with a captain leading a cricket team.
Now we are told, he was an accident waiting to happen. The volte face could give you whiplash. He was wrong from the start. Too selfish, too cavalier, too unsympathetic to others. Like Roy Keane, his doom was in his DNA.
That is not his fault. The fault lies in those who appointed him in those circumstances and those who slavishly worshipped the King Kev line only to be tutting “I told you it was a mistake” as the executioners axe glistened through the air. It is amazing how many people show great judgement...but only after the event.
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Time to go, Joe...
Saturday 15th November 2008 Posted by Ben Jacobs
Boxing rarely provides fairytale endings, so it's time for the undefeated Joe Calzaghe to quit. He's beaten two legends: Bernard Hopkins in Vegas & Roy Jones Jr at Madison Square Garden in New York. Jones Jr was demolished & The Welsh Dragon didn't even need Kryptonite gloves to beat the self-appointed "Superman".
True, the fight went the distance, but don't let that fool you. Calzaghe reduced Jones Jr to a Cyclops: for half the bout the American's eye was locked-shut, spewing more blood than The Godfather. The fight should have been stopped, but liberal referee, Billy Connelly, turned a blind eye to, well...Jones Jr's blind eye, perhaps because Calzaghe consciously eased-off (he was "enjoying it too much to finish it").
So Jones, spared the embarrassment of a knock-out, gingerly laboured to the final bell.
Five years ago, Calzaghe-Jones Jr would have been the fight of the year, but, here, both men were clearly past their best. No, Calzaghe isn't at his peak - that came against Mikkel Kessler last November. There has been a subtle decline since then. The worrying first-round knock-downs to both Hopkins & Jones are testament to this. The once fastest hands in boxing are discernibly slower. To crawl-up off the deck and win both fights is impressive, but the victories shouldn't masque the message - hang-up your gloves Joe.
Joe's dad and trainer, Enzo says a "big-money" offer or "sheer boredom" may stop his son retiring. Nonsense. Joe won't quit. The post-fight twitter is just a ploy to publicise a real finale at Cardiff's Millennium Stadium.
Calzaghe wants £15 million for this, but I fear greed could dish him a first defeat, unless he picks a Micky Mouse opponent. "The Executioner" Hopkins wants a re-match. The pair appear to despise each other and it could almost be a street-fight which Calzaghe would struggle to win.
The point is, Calzaghe either takes on a viable opponent and runs the risk of retiring in defeat, or fights another Jones Jr has-been and bows-out rich, but on an anti-climax.
Joe should stop. He still has his looks and senses and, in the ring, very little to prove.
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No defence this time...
Thursday 30th October, 2008 Posted by Sue Mott
I never thought I’d say this. Please, Arsenal, be less beautiful. The joys of an eight-goal collision at the Emirates between the two North London rivals, featuring a "Superman" goal, scoring centre halves, capering keepers and as preposterous an ending as a Marple rewrite was hard to appreciate in a liberal, even-handed sort of way while screaming with rage into a cushion.
Arsenal 4 Tottenham 4 was both a travesty and entirely predictable. Arsenal were the better team, of course. They played the better football, of course. And yet they conjured a draw having led 4-2 in the 89th minute because...they defend like the cast of the Nutcracker. Come to think of it, Darcey Bussell is better in the air.
By the final whistle Arsene Wenger was crouched like a frog in his technical area - a literal not a racist observation, by the way - unable to bear the sight of his naive, innocent and bumbling defenders giving the game away. But, in a crucial way, he carries the responsibility.
It is all very well creating a team that dance like motes of light across the field of his dreams. Yet what use is all that quick-stepping glory and forward thrust, if the back line can’t kick a ball out of the danger zone. A rival arrives in their half and they welcome him, like a maitre d’ with a napkin over his arm, to help themselves to the goal area. "A 40-yard volley, Sir? Lovely. Will that be with a garnish of a Gael Clichy slip and deftly prodded equalizer off the goalpost? Certainly Sir. Coming right up".
Aged Arsenal supporters are beginning to fantasize about George Graham’s defensive drilling. When the back four were knowingly drained of whimsy and individuality and bloody well stuck to their task. Do not mock. Wenger won his first Double with that defence.
Arsenal’s current manager, a sage and prophet of the glorious game, seems philosophically - even spiritually - unable to embrace such grim task mastering. All his defenders go forward. Two centre backs, Gallas and Silvestre, scored half the Arsenal goals on the fateful night. But in terms of locking the gates, manning the barricades, fending off the hoards they are utterly and totally hapless. It confounded their season just gone, having led the Premiership by miles at Christmas. It threatens to engulf their progress this season. You fear a time when the best footballing team in the country do not make the Champions League because of this strange, aversion to calculated defending.
Can Wenger change? Can we buy a ball-belting, order-bawling, commanding defender with no ambition to score the goal of the season? Please, Arsenal, for all the beauty, can you not become just a little crude and cynical again.
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What not to wear...
Friday 3rd October, 2008 Posted by David Welch
Hull fans are barely able to contain themselves. Newcastle supporters continue to believe their side should be title contenders. Both (...sorry, Laura) face impossible tasks.
Some will assume this is because of lack of investment, the influx of foreign owners and players, or failing facilities.
The real reason is much closer to home. Much more basic - and much cheaper to remedy: they are wearing the wrong shirts. Any decent sports psychologist would be able to make a convincing case against the sporting of stripes.
Somehow, in this country, this look manages to convey a second-rate, brawn-based, unsophisticated and uncultured image which has long been outdated. Just ask yourself when a team wearing stripes last won top league honours.
Unsuccessful in 16 years of Premiership football, we must go back to before the Second World War to find (believe it, or not) Sunderland lifting the trophy. That's more than 70 years ago.
This season? Hull (6th) lead the way from Wigan (10th), WBA (12th), Sunderland (13th), Stoke (18th) and Newcastle (19th). Meanwhile, the sleek, smooth, streamlined superstars of the country's leading clubs who wouldn't be seen dead in such old-fashioned kit, continue to set the pace.
The throw-backs might win the odd Cup or two along the way, but if its Premiership glory they are after, Newcastle's potential new owners would do well to stop worrying about the likes of Keegan, Venables and 30 million pound signings. Just lose the stripes.
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When You're Smiling...
Monday 29th September 2008 Posted by Laura Williamson
Well, well, well. Would you believe it?
Arsenal 1 Hull City 2.
It does make you chuckle, doesn't it? There's a certain deliciousness in seeing such an utterly ridiculous score line.
Unless you're an Arsenal fan, of course. Then you would lament the missed opportunities, the bad luck in hitting the bar and the resilience of the City back four.
But everyone else will just smile.
Phil Brown had the audacity, the sheer cheek, to play 4-3-3 at the home of flowing football and it paid off.
The mid-week chat was of bullishness and physicality, but City stuck to their game plan, closed Arsenal down in the final third and took their chances.
The Brazilian everyone was talking about played in black and amber, not sky blue - the recalled Geovanni was wily, industrious and his superb strike brought City level at the Emirates.
Ashbee versus Fabregas (even the names sound worlds apart) was a battle of substance versus style. And substance won.
Yes, it's Roy of the Rovers stuff, but who cares? There is something wonderfully honest about City's refusal to conform to the pre-season predictions of the pundits.
Tiger, tiger, burning bright.
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No time to choke...
Thursday 18th September 2008 Posted by Paul Hayward
Muhammad Ali's plight could reduce anyone to tears, but none of us expected Captain Faldo to reinvent himself as Captain Kleenex as he announced the first of the Ryder Cup pairings.
All week here in Louisville we'd been jousting in the interview marquee with Europe's leader. It hadn't been going well. When I asked him about his ego perhaps distorting his judgement he flinched and became dismissive. The next day he was downright rude as he dealt with the excitement generated by Sky's TV pictures showing the pairings he had jotted on a scrap of paper.
Faldo is here to represent European golf. He's its ambassador and figurehead. He appeared to mistake a ceremonial role for a chance to be prickly with Danish journalists asking about Soren Hansen.
Then, three hours before the opening ceremony, somebody mentioned Muhammad Ali. My colleague Brian Woolnough, in fact, who has grilled a few England managers in his time. Faldo's eyes filled with tears and words deserted him. But that was just the start. A follow-up unleashed more emotion. Raising his hand to his forehead, he said: "I've had everything up to there this week, so it was bound to come out."
Vulnerability had not been his most obvious trait. The only way the average journalist might have wanted to hug him was by the throat. Suddenly, Captain Combative seemed on the verge of being snapped in two by the pressure of this 37th Ryder Cup.
Later he explained that it was merely the anguish of seeing Ali in such a reduced state.
Reporters raced from the chamber to start punching lap-top keys.
The Ryder Cup isn't the Nick Faldo show. He won't swing a club. But still you sense he's capable of winning or losing it for the Europeans.
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Spoiling the script...
Monday 15th September 2008 Posted by Laura Williamson
Nestled in St James’s Park stand amidst a festering, turbulent sea of black and white, I watched Newcastle hearts shattered on Saturday afternoon.
The Premier League’s new boys, Hull City, were supposed to be the side show, a mere obstacle to be surmounted in an afternoon of demonstrations and unrest.
The Tigers are managed by a Mackem, for heaven’s sake; a lad from South Shields sporting a ridiculous moustache and goatee, who learnt his craft from that Bolton bloke who had a go at managing the Magpies before the Messiah commeth again.
But Hull City were in no mood to make up the numbers.
Still seething from their 5-0 drubbing at the hands of Wigan, Phil Brown’s men played focussed, intelligent, determined football and simply outclassed Newcastle.
I kept my Yorkshire accent quiet as the bloke next to me, dressed like an extra from Auf Wiedersehen Pet in head-to-toe denim, became increasingly vitriolic in his cries of "H’way man! Use ya heeds."
Geordie fanaticism made way for an outpouring of hurt and passion as a banner bearing the sentiment "Cockney mafia out" was paraded around the ground to thunderous applause.
Tactful as ever and jubilant with their 2-1 victory, the City faithful chanted: "Keegan, give us a wave" and "Are you Grimsby in disguise?"
There’s nothing like rubbing salt in the wounds.
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Murray still misjudged...
Wednesday, September 12th 2008 Posted by Sue Mott
It’s funny...the more Andy Murray wins, the prettier he gets. At the start of the year, he was this weedy, obnoxious, grunge-wearing brat with Scottish nationalist tendencies who had let down the British people by refusing to play Davis Cup. By Wimbledon, courtesy of a death-defying five-set, fourth-round victory against the Frenchman Richard Gasquet, he was creeping into the nation’s affections.
But, post his fabulous run in the US Open, thrashing the world number one Rafa Nadal and only losing in the final, with some gallantry, to no less a god than Roger Federer, we are beginning to seriously appreciate his virtues. Never mind his dress sense, what about that forehand slice?
The British number one is not weedy any more. He has biceps. He has a following. He - the crux of the matter - has a serious possibility of being the first British male to win a Grand Slam tennis event since 1936. In the circumstances, the nation is willing to overlook his unapproachable personality.
This is an irony. He has a lovely personality, something few have been able to detect given the fractured and fractious nature of his relationship with the media since his arrival on the scene, aged 17. For various reasons: part-stitch up, part-bloody-minded teenage awkwardness, the best of Murray’s nature has yet to be revealed. His immediate post-match speech in New York provided a clue, paying homage to the victor, honour to the crowd and, rather sweetly, saying it had been the best week of his life.
Sooner or later, those firmly grounded in the antipathy brigade will put aside their dislike of his sideburns, baseball cap and aggravated suspicion of fame, and see the charming young man he is. This will be when he wins this first Grand Slam. So 2010 at the latest.
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Pears'd off...
Wednesday 10th September 2008 Posted by Ben Jacobs
When Nigel Pearson - the chubby Buzz Lightyear of football - took over, I thought (my team) Leicester were 'taking the Pears'. And, despite an unbeaten start, it still wouldn't surprise me if our Championship push goes Pear-shaped.
Milan Mandarich promised a "world class" manager to replace Ollie the Wally (or Ian Holloway as I'm told he prefers to be called). He then had the commendable audacity to approach Paul Ince.
...a week later and Nigel Pearson arrives (sighs)... the one manager who, bar Leicester's own Basil Fawlty incompetence, combined with a drab final-day stalemate at Stoke and Southampton's own scrappy 3-2 win over Sheffield United, would have taken another ex-Premier League giant down.
Pearson's appointment was no Cilla Black surprise. It came just days after ex-Saints' Chief Executive, Lee Hoos, arrived at The Walkers. Hoos reminds me of the Roman Emperor, Caligula. No... he's not an imperious mastermind. Caligula, like Hoos, took charge and promptly appointed his best friend as lead consul. The only problem - his top chum Incitatus was ...a horse.
So far, Pearson is proving me wrong, but, by May, I predict Milan might have sent him to pasture.
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No time to waste...
Monday 25th August, 2008 Posted by David Welch
It could be close deciding on the most deserving British casualty of an otherwise splendid Games in Beijing: the tourist chief apparently responsible for allowing Myra Hindley a cameo role in the London hand-over; Leona Lewis' dress designer; or the performance director of British athletics, Dave Collins.
The awarding of the Games was always going to prove a catalyst for improved sporting performance in this country. That it has not yet happened in athletics - while other sports have responded magnificently - is of serious concern.
Just as the Olympics provide a non-negotiable deadline for the delivery of facilities, financing and development, so they leave no room for continued talk of near-misses and excuses on the field of play.
With more than 140 medals available (if you don't drop the baton), the British athletics team failed to reach their unchallenging target of just five in Beijing. Would that meagre 3.5% return...or even six, seven or eight medals have justified the sport's management team escaping scrutiny?
Higher targets should be aspired to, and athletes will have to be convinced that domestic success and subsequent financial security is not what drives on the Jamaicans, Kenyans, Australians, Americans, Russians and Chinese.
Our other sports have already embraced this. There will never be a greater incentive than a home Olympics, and athletics has the best chance it will ever have of repairing the damage done by years of scandal, neglect and mal-administration. Change at the top is needed now.
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To Hull and back
Sunday 24th August 2008 Posted by Laura Williamson
IT'S a common joke amongst my brunch-eating friends from the South that, if I can't be bothered to talk to someone, I can shut them up in three, monosyllabic words.
"I'm from Hull."
It works a treat. People start looking at you as if you have two heads and are the offspring of an unhealthy liaison between cousins in a flooded bedsit.
The thing is, not many people have actually been to Kingston-upon-Hull. Many leading sports journalists certainly haven't had the pleasure.
"I'm sure I passed through Hull, once," they say.
No, you didn't. You have to make a conscious effort to get to Hull, and it involves driving around 40 miles east of Leeds.
But all this will change.
It took 104 years but, with four Premier League points already in the bag, Hull City is now firmly on the football map.
The pack had better learn how to get here. Quick.
Or they could opt for the direct train from Kings Cross, which will whisk you to the heart of the city in just over two hours.
Just make sure you don't end up in Bransholme – you'll be pregnant or delinquent before the final whistle blows.
"New voice saying new words at a new speed," wrote one of Hull's most famous sons, Philip Larkin.
I doubt he was directly referring to Gary Lineker on Match of the Day, but we'll celebrate it nevertheless.
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