All the while I was worried about hot water I missed the fact that James Callaghan died.
He was 92.
He is survived by a son and two daughters.
He was the first Prime Minister that I actually remember.
He was also known as 'Sunny Jim'.
Beneath his avuncular exterior was a tough strategic mind and a skilled political leader.
There's a website where you can see a picture of 'Sunny Jim' on a skateboard. It's called statesman or skatesman. google it.
S'pose Michael Foot will be next.
nb. I once taught a kid called James Callaghan. His mother was very keen for us all to know that they were not Labour supporters.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
There's probably some blasphemy in here but hey, but hey?
The dog, the homework, etc.
Right, apologies for being a litle slow in returning to the world of blog. There are a few ridiculously down to earth reasons for this. In no particular order they are, our apt lost the ability to produce hot water for the shower, washing machine and dishwasher. This has been fixed (as of Wednesday afternoon) but it still meant two days of boiling lobster pots on the stove to fill the bathtub. This was mildly annoying but little more for myself as I'm on spring break but it was a righteous trauma for Ms Random Doubt as she has a proper job and had to rise an hour earlier than usual to stoke the fires and heat water. I now see why olden day types didn't wash as much as we do. It's a right hassle heating even a small bath tub worth of water. Needless to say we have restored full services witthout having to call City Hall and are now all clean and lovely.
Alongside very real issues with water and related hygiene I have had a very 'blippy' time with the trusty laptop. To be a little more precise our internet connection has been mysteriously wobbly and each time I tried to blog, check emails or even look for fun things to do on my days off the page would as likely disappear and leave me. I can see why people may think that the water thing might be troublesome but not entirely blog relevant, I'll explain. Hygiene is important to me (wasn't always), so when I find something stands between me and my morning shower I get emotional. I didn't want my blog chums to see me in this state, it would have made you doubt the Random Doubter you thought you knew. I couldn't allow that.
Onto other things, Running.
I love to run. This began a few years ago during one of my ill fated attempts to give up smoking. I actually did very well and running became the new smoking. I ran up hill and down dale, over farmland and down to the pub, I ran everywhere. Two hospitalising knee injuries later I am running again (by running I mean actually going outside and pounding the streets , not running on a treadmill in a gym, I do that during the winter and whilst it's a great way to watch VH1 and listen to music it's not quite the same).
Today I tackled the beast.
Today I ran across the Brooklyn Bridge.
Well, to be completely honest I walked to the bridge (in the form of the all important warm up) and ran across it. I then walked back.
It's like this, running is hard, punishing work. It's so very much easier inside a warm gym on a treadmill with plenty of 'give'. It's another to crunch those knee joints along the wonky Brooklyn sidewalk, to dodge idiot tourists who get in your way and finally realise that you've over enthused yourself and are risking complete collapse in front of all the aforementioned tourist types.
Still, I was pretty pleased with the effort. I could have just stayed indoors and read or watched TV. I could have gone down the pub. Instead I got my stuff on and went for a trot.
Why though? Why not just stick to the gym? It's warm and safe and friendly. If I really were to risk injury I could get immediate medical attention without fuss or worry. Why take the chance and hit the streets?
I guess partly because it's there. The outside world is a lot more interesting than the gym. I don't run to compete with anyone (only myself, I time my distances and seek improvement or at least consistency). I run to get out there, to look around, to take in the air. I generally try to look really cool as I run past people yet by the time I get to a quiet, secluded spot I pant and wheeze and choke. Today, as I was walking back home across the bridge it occurred to me that it was one of the few times that I had strolled across the old thing alone, alone without needing to offer commentary to some visitor, alone without being locked in conversation with Ms Random Doubts, just alone. As well as being alone (I abhore running with others, I am firmly in the camp of the lonely long distance runner) I find that running makes me very observant. It opens the lungs and the soul. I started to notice things as I walked back, I noticed cars on the BQE, I noticed tourists doing their thing, I noticed Brooklynites doing theirs. I saw a couple at the park by Cadman Plaza. They had just walked the bridge and were clearly looking for evidence of this mystical place called 'Brooklyn'. She was looking for cute bistros and stores, he for great pubs with pool tables and excellent jukeboxes. They were confronted by the housing blocks at the bottom end of Henry Street. As I walked through the blocks (noticing but disregarding the wierdos sitting around) I saw the couple head towards the A/C subway at High Street, looking a bit dissapointed. "So this is Brooklyn?" they must have thought (You could see it in their faces). It was only as I got onto the sidewalk at Henry Street and saw the little pubs and cafes, the movie theatre and the people bobbing about, going about their day that It occured to me, I should have gone over and helped them out, "look" I would have said, "I know this looks shit but if you duck round this corner and stroll a few blocks past all those awfully tedious yet deeply historic churches and stores and elderly lanes and Brownstones, well, you might find what you want". I guess they went back to Manhattan.
Apologies for the ramble. I'm back.
Just one more thing.
Do you want to know how much of a true geek I really am?
When running I often inspire myself with some oft quoted song lyric or line of classic poetry. I also have a secret weapon. It's from an interview Al Gore gave during the 2000 campaign. It's nothing really but when asked about President Clinton's contribution to his development as a human being, Gore (who was trying to distance himself from Clinton- like I need to explain this to Americans?) responded that Clinton's greatest skill was the ability to prevail. I've never been entirely sure what Gore was getting at (then, now, ever) but I liked the idea. Prevail.
I use it when running. Prevail.
I find it helps. Prevail.
Right, apologies for being a litle slow in returning to the world of blog. There are a few ridiculously down to earth reasons for this. In no particular order they are, our apt lost the ability to produce hot water for the shower, washing machine and dishwasher. This has been fixed (as of Wednesday afternoon) but it still meant two days of boiling lobster pots on the stove to fill the bathtub. This was mildly annoying but little more for myself as I'm on spring break but it was a righteous trauma for Ms Random Doubt as she has a proper job and had to rise an hour earlier than usual to stoke the fires and heat water. I now see why olden day types didn't wash as much as we do. It's a right hassle heating even a small bath tub worth of water. Needless to say we have restored full services witthout having to call City Hall and are now all clean and lovely.
Alongside very real issues with water and related hygiene I have had a very 'blippy' time with the trusty laptop. To be a little more precise our internet connection has been mysteriously wobbly and each time I tried to blog, check emails or even look for fun things to do on my days off the page would as likely disappear and leave me. I can see why people may think that the water thing might be troublesome but not entirely blog relevant, I'll explain. Hygiene is important to me (wasn't always), so when I find something stands between me and my morning shower I get emotional. I didn't want my blog chums to see me in this state, it would have made you doubt the Random Doubter you thought you knew. I couldn't allow that.
Onto other things, Running.
I love to run. This began a few years ago during one of my ill fated attempts to give up smoking. I actually did very well and running became the new smoking. I ran up hill and down dale, over farmland and down to the pub, I ran everywhere. Two hospitalising knee injuries later I am running again (by running I mean actually going outside and pounding the streets , not running on a treadmill in a gym, I do that during the winter and whilst it's a great way to watch VH1 and listen to music it's not quite the same).
Today I tackled the beast.
Today I ran across the Brooklyn Bridge.
Well, to be completely honest I walked to the bridge (in the form of the all important warm up) and ran across it. I then walked back.
It's like this, running is hard, punishing work. It's so very much easier inside a warm gym on a treadmill with plenty of 'give'. It's another to crunch those knee joints along the wonky Brooklyn sidewalk, to dodge idiot tourists who get in your way and finally realise that you've over enthused yourself and are risking complete collapse in front of all the aforementioned tourist types.
Still, I was pretty pleased with the effort. I could have just stayed indoors and read or watched TV. I could have gone down the pub. Instead I got my stuff on and went for a trot.
Why though? Why not just stick to the gym? It's warm and safe and friendly. If I really were to risk injury I could get immediate medical attention without fuss or worry. Why take the chance and hit the streets?
I guess partly because it's there. The outside world is a lot more interesting than the gym. I don't run to compete with anyone (only myself, I time my distances and seek improvement or at least consistency). I run to get out there, to look around, to take in the air. I generally try to look really cool as I run past people yet by the time I get to a quiet, secluded spot I pant and wheeze and choke. Today, as I was walking back home across the bridge it occurred to me that it was one of the few times that I had strolled across the old thing alone, alone without needing to offer commentary to some visitor, alone without being locked in conversation with Ms Random Doubts, just alone. As well as being alone (I abhore running with others, I am firmly in the camp of the lonely long distance runner) I find that running makes me very observant. It opens the lungs and the soul. I started to notice things as I walked back, I noticed cars on the BQE, I noticed tourists doing their thing, I noticed Brooklynites doing theirs. I saw a couple at the park by Cadman Plaza. They had just walked the bridge and were clearly looking for evidence of this mystical place called 'Brooklyn'. She was looking for cute bistros and stores, he for great pubs with pool tables and excellent jukeboxes. They were confronted by the housing blocks at the bottom end of Henry Street. As I walked through the blocks (noticing but disregarding the wierdos sitting around) I saw the couple head towards the A/C subway at High Street, looking a bit dissapointed. "So this is Brooklyn?" they must have thought (You could see it in their faces). It was only as I got onto the sidewalk at Henry Street and saw the little pubs and cafes, the movie theatre and the people bobbing about, going about their day that It occured to me, I should have gone over and helped them out, "look" I would have said, "I know this looks shit but if you duck round this corner and stroll a few blocks past all those awfully tedious yet deeply historic churches and stores and elderly lanes and Brownstones, well, you might find what you want". I guess they went back to Manhattan.
Apologies for the ramble. I'm back.
Just one more thing.
Do you want to know how much of a true geek I really am?
When running I often inspire myself with some oft quoted song lyric or line of classic poetry. I also have a secret weapon. It's from an interview Al Gore gave during the 2000 campaign. It's nothing really but when asked about President Clinton's contribution to his development as a human being, Gore (who was trying to distance himself from Clinton- like I need to explain this to Americans?) responded that Clinton's greatest skill was the ability to prevail. I've never been entirely sure what Gore was getting at (then, now, ever) but I liked the idea. Prevail.
I use it when running. Prevail.
I find it helps. Prevail.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
An impossible task
Someone just told me that i should write a list of everybook I've ever read. I know that 'Unwellness' is considering this. I just cant, it's not in my nature. A vague, rambling, mumbly chat about books is fine but a precise, analytical list of books read through A-Z just isn't. It doesn't fit with the bigger picture, broadstroke that is Bowles (I would have died a horrible death in the Carter White House, all that micro management of tennis court schedules?). I could tell you about some of the good stuff that I have read in the last 30 odd years and enjoyed as well as some of the stuff that has passed me by.
Some books i have liked....
You see? I just cant think. I'm going to take two weeks off from blogging. I shall return to this blog on Monday, March 28th.
Some books i have liked....
You see? I just cant think. I'm going to take two weeks off from blogging. I shall return to this blog on Monday, March 28th.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Hats and scarves.
This was written way back in November for the NYCanaries website (see link at right). It's written for an English audience and most visitors to Mondale will have already read it. Why re publish? I was a bit perturbed that the NYCanaries website wasn't maintaining an archives and when I found this on my computer. I thought why not? I don't really like republishing stuff from elsewhere but I'm a bit low on inspiration right now and wanted to preserve this within a domain of my own controlling. If you've seen it already, apologies. If not, check it out.
Hats and scarves.
Down the years many people have made good livings out of drawing comparisons between different cultures. To some extent that's one of the key reasons for the existence of NY Canaries. We are from another culture and yet we live here in the great melting pot, New York. Norwich fans are perhaps just another of the many ethnic groups with a furrowed brow and impenetrable accent. OK, we aren’t suffering from some wave of economic or political misfortune, we have not been forced to flee sunny Norfolk due to war or famine but we do have our problems.
At the time of writing we have yet to win a game in the premiership.
That’s why, in the absence of any good news from Blighty I've decided to think long and hard about some of the little differences between this sporting life, here in the US and there in the UK.
As we are all only too well aware there is only really one sport of any significance in the UK. That's right, football. I lived in the West country for eight years and have learned to love cricket and can sit through a rugby match without too much pain but for me, and millions like me it's football that matters, it's just the way I was brought up. That's probably why, upon meeting another 'Brit' I tend to get to the point, "What's your team?" most people have an answer and if they don't then you have to find another means with which to build trust. (Of course we are all caught in that embarrassing trap if the response is along the lines of "well, being born in Stowmarket I often used to find myself at Portman road")
Here in the States it's a bit different. Baseball is still the venerable uncle of American sport with tales of glory and sepia tinted memories but it really can't claim to be the universal American pastime that it once was. Nowadays it competes with football (the gridiron version), basketball and hockey. Accordingly it's much trickier with Americans, first you have to navigate through "what’s your game?" before you can find out if someone is a Met or Yankee, a Giant or a Jet even an Islander or a Ranger.
I have to admit that I've never been to a football game, a basketball game or a hockey game but I have been to plenty of ball games. That's where my comparisons are going to be drawn from.
Surprisingly, I think that football and baseball have more in common than one would think at first.
Many of the franchises are pretty old. OK, my team, the New York Mets is only 42 years old but they are in some sense the heirs of some of the tradition of the defunct Brooklyn Dodgers.
(I was once working with a Holocaust survivor who was telling me about her husband, "Oh you think I’ve suffered? He was a Brooklyn Dodgers fan, that's suffering") Baseball as an organized sport is very much a game of the people hence the nickname, "America's pastime". Both are solid, working class games. A friend recently described the Boston Red Sox as a "good, honest blue collar franchise".
It's also, in its organized form about the same age as organized football is in the UK In fact; the Cincinnati reds were the first professional team in 1869. The first FA cup final was in 1872.
The seasons differ. As football fans are becoming experts in the brain twisting math of promotion and relegation, here in the US April brings opening day. A day that up here in New York rarely rises above 45 degrees and completely blows the myth that baseball is a balmy sport played in the midsummer heat. Around the time that City are bowing gracefully out of the Carling cup the baseball postseason begins. The playoffs are arguably the most exciting aspect of either sport (although I’m sure we'll all agree that it's more fun to win the thing outright). playoffs are obligatory in US sport. They certainly spice up the end of any season but I would be a bit freaked out if my team won the division, sitting on top of the league only to find that we had to go and play again for the chance to play for the title (But then as a Mets fan, that’s not a common occurrence). It's a bit like ending the football season and putting the top eight into the sixth round of the cup.
No relegation. As they say in New York "don’t even go there". That's great news for us Mets fans as it means that it can never happen to us. I do not want to talk about this, it's hard enough to even write the word but it's true. No relegation in American sport. Weird?
Americans seem much more able to transfer their allegiance. I know lots of people who have moved from place to place and whilst holding a soft spot for their 'home' team they are able to aggressively support their 'new' team. Now I do have a weak spot for Bristol Rovers (if only because they made me grateful for City's first division mediocrity back in the mid nineties) but nothing, ever, not ever would question my passion for all things yellow and green. I've lived over a third of my life away from Norfolk but changing teams? Not gonna happen.
Along side the whole baseball thing you can spend the winter months following a football team. I don't really do this although if push came to absolute shove I guess I would have to root for the Jets (rhymes with Mets you see).
It's agreeable enough to watch this stuff on a Sunday afternoon and I recently found myself watching a whole Saturday of college football and sort of understanding and enjoying it but as a man who puts rugby quite a way down his list of sport to watch and play (bowling is higher) It's unlikely that this game will ever hook me.
Hockey? Clueless, although it’s an invasion game with goalies and strikers and all that but my heart has been lost to baseball.
Basketball is incredibly fast and exciting and it's certainly the game that you will see most of when you wander the neighborhoods of this city. I do have a passing interest but no, it's proper football then baseball.
The singing at ball games, whilst fun can be a bit lacking in the lyrics department. Most teams will have something along the lines of "Let’s Go Mets" (replace team names as appropriate) There is quite a bit of banter as there is no segregation at games. I recently watched game 6 of the American league championship in the bleachers at Yankee stadium. I hate the Yankees and was rooting for the RedSox but I had to keep my sweet little mouth tight shut. The banter/abuse that was being dished out to RedSox fans was pretty funny but all the same I'm glad it wasn’t me getting the treatment. I do yearn for a sweet rendition of 'On the ball City' or even 'If I had the wings of a sparrow'. I have been known to intimidate others. Once at Yankee stadium (I don’t know, I just seem to end up there) I was watching the Baltimore Orieles with a friend. We were so loud in our support for the Orieles that we actually managed to scare some Yankee fans away. A proud moment, almost as proud as the time I single handedly started a chorus of "On the ball city" at Highbury back in the days of the old clock end and when it was still called Highbury.
The food at an American ballpark is pretty bad. For a nation that prides itself on the ability to eat really bad food really well the sporting event is the place to be. I'm not talking about the tailgating that goes on when people get out the grills and roast half a cow before a football game. I would like some of that, no, I'm talking about dodgy hotdogs, cotton candy and pissy, overpriced beer (although another moment of some pride involves getting a beer vendor to spot me in a crowded Shea stadium at 100 yards. Yes, he was 100 yards away and he saw me waving madly and came right over to satisfy my thirst). Now listen, no one would ever drag me to an English league ground for a romantic meal with one, obvious exception( thanks Delia) and at least you can get a bit beered up inside an American sports event but then again an American sports event can last for 3 or 4 hours and has lots of breaks during which you can go pee or buy more beer. A football game has one break during which time your fellow fans are also trying to use the loo or buy food, I've never really understood the desperate need for a pint of warm draught flow Courage beer during the 15 minutes of half time underneath the Barclay. I once saw a chap trying to enter the upper Barclay with his gal. They were holding pints. They were turned away. I don't suppose that would happen at a rugby match. Norwich is full of truly delightful pubs (and some even have tellys so you can watch results and highlights), why not wait an hour and get a decent pint in a comfortable atmosphere?
So there are some cultural differences and many similarities between the two countries. It has to be said that both places do love their sport and take it very seriously. The fans (that's us) provide as much of the amusement and spectacle as the teams.
One final thought.
I think it comes down to hats and scarves.
Baseball caps have been fashionable in the UK for a few years now but they aren't really traditional football gear. On the other hand I can't see Americans getting into scarves as a token of allegiance. When push comes to shove I think it's all about hats and scarves. That's why, on a chilly day in Brooklyn I can be found sporting both a city scarf and a Mets cap
Hats and scarves.
Down the years many people have made good livings out of drawing comparisons between different cultures. To some extent that's one of the key reasons for the existence of NY Canaries. We are from another culture and yet we live here in the great melting pot, New York. Norwich fans are perhaps just another of the many ethnic groups with a furrowed brow and impenetrable accent. OK, we aren’t suffering from some wave of economic or political misfortune, we have not been forced to flee sunny Norfolk due to war or famine but we do have our problems.
At the time of writing we have yet to win a game in the premiership.
That’s why, in the absence of any good news from Blighty I've decided to think long and hard about some of the little differences between this sporting life, here in the US and there in the UK.
As we are all only too well aware there is only really one sport of any significance in the UK. That's right, football. I lived in the West country for eight years and have learned to love cricket and can sit through a rugby match without too much pain but for me, and millions like me it's football that matters, it's just the way I was brought up. That's probably why, upon meeting another 'Brit' I tend to get to the point, "What's your team?" most people have an answer and if they don't then you have to find another means with which to build trust. (Of course we are all caught in that embarrassing trap if the response is along the lines of "well, being born in Stowmarket I often used to find myself at Portman road")
Here in the States it's a bit different. Baseball is still the venerable uncle of American sport with tales of glory and sepia tinted memories but it really can't claim to be the universal American pastime that it once was. Nowadays it competes with football (the gridiron version), basketball and hockey. Accordingly it's much trickier with Americans, first you have to navigate through "what’s your game?" before you can find out if someone is a Met or Yankee, a Giant or a Jet even an Islander or a Ranger.
I have to admit that I've never been to a football game, a basketball game or a hockey game but I have been to plenty of ball games. That's where my comparisons are going to be drawn from.
Surprisingly, I think that football and baseball have more in common than one would think at first.
Many of the franchises are pretty old. OK, my team, the New York Mets is only 42 years old but they are in some sense the heirs of some of the tradition of the defunct Brooklyn Dodgers.
(I was once working with a Holocaust survivor who was telling me about her husband, "Oh you think I’ve suffered? He was a Brooklyn Dodgers fan, that's suffering") Baseball as an organized sport is very much a game of the people hence the nickname, "America's pastime". Both are solid, working class games. A friend recently described the Boston Red Sox as a "good, honest blue collar franchise".
It's also, in its organized form about the same age as organized football is in the UK In fact; the Cincinnati reds were the first professional team in 1869. The first FA cup final was in 1872.
The seasons differ. As football fans are becoming experts in the brain twisting math of promotion and relegation, here in the US April brings opening day. A day that up here in New York rarely rises above 45 degrees and completely blows the myth that baseball is a balmy sport played in the midsummer heat. Around the time that City are bowing gracefully out of the Carling cup the baseball postseason begins. The playoffs are arguably the most exciting aspect of either sport (although I’m sure we'll all agree that it's more fun to win the thing outright). playoffs are obligatory in US sport. They certainly spice up the end of any season but I would be a bit freaked out if my team won the division, sitting on top of the league only to find that we had to go and play again for the chance to play for the title (But then as a Mets fan, that’s not a common occurrence). It's a bit like ending the football season and putting the top eight into the sixth round of the cup.
No relegation. As they say in New York "don’t even go there". That's great news for us Mets fans as it means that it can never happen to us. I do not want to talk about this, it's hard enough to even write the word but it's true. No relegation in American sport. Weird?
Americans seem much more able to transfer their allegiance. I know lots of people who have moved from place to place and whilst holding a soft spot for their 'home' team they are able to aggressively support their 'new' team. Now I do have a weak spot for Bristol Rovers (if only because they made me grateful for City's first division mediocrity back in the mid nineties) but nothing, ever, not ever would question my passion for all things yellow and green. I've lived over a third of my life away from Norfolk but changing teams? Not gonna happen.
Along side the whole baseball thing you can spend the winter months following a football team. I don't really do this although if push came to absolute shove I guess I would have to root for the Jets (rhymes with Mets you see).
It's agreeable enough to watch this stuff on a Sunday afternoon and I recently found myself watching a whole Saturday of college football and sort of understanding and enjoying it but as a man who puts rugby quite a way down his list of sport to watch and play (bowling is higher) It's unlikely that this game will ever hook me.
Hockey? Clueless, although it’s an invasion game with goalies and strikers and all that but my heart has been lost to baseball.
Basketball is incredibly fast and exciting and it's certainly the game that you will see most of when you wander the neighborhoods of this city. I do have a passing interest but no, it's proper football then baseball.
The singing at ball games, whilst fun can be a bit lacking in the lyrics department. Most teams will have something along the lines of "Let’s Go Mets" (replace team names as appropriate) There is quite a bit of banter as there is no segregation at games. I recently watched game 6 of the American league championship in the bleachers at Yankee stadium. I hate the Yankees and was rooting for the RedSox but I had to keep my sweet little mouth tight shut. The banter/abuse that was being dished out to RedSox fans was pretty funny but all the same I'm glad it wasn’t me getting the treatment. I do yearn for a sweet rendition of 'On the ball City' or even 'If I had the wings of a sparrow'. I have been known to intimidate others. Once at Yankee stadium (I don’t know, I just seem to end up there) I was watching the Baltimore Orieles with a friend. We were so loud in our support for the Orieles that we actually managed to scare some Yankee fans away. A proud moment, almost as proud as the time I single handedly started a chorus of "On the ball city" at Highbury back in the days of the old clock end and when it was still called Highbury.
The food at an American ballpark is pretty bad. For a nation that prides itself on the ability to eat really bad food really well the sporting event is the place to be. I'm not talking about the tailgating that goes on when people get out the grills and roast half a cow before a football game. I would like some of that, no, I'm talking about dodgy hotdogs, cotton candy and pissy, overpriced beer (although another moment of some pride involves getting a beer vendor to spot me in a crowded Shea stadium at 100 yards. Yes, he was 100 yards away and he saw me waving madly and came right over to satisfy my thirst). Now listen, no one would ever drag me to an English league ground for a romantic meal with one, obvious exception( thanks Delia) and at least you can get a bit beered up inside an American sports event but then again an American sports event can last for 3 or 4 hours and has lots of breaks during which you can go pee or buy more beer. A football game has one break during which time your fellow fans are also trying to use the loo or buy food, I've never really understood the desperate need for a pint of warm draught flow Courage beer during the 15 minutes of half time underneath the Barclay. I once saw a chap trying to enter the upper Barclay with his gal. They were holding pints. They were turned away. I don't suppose that would happen at a rugby match. Norwich is full of truly delightful pubs (and some even have tellys so you can watch results and highlights), why not wait an hour and get a decent pint in a comfortable atmosphere?
So there are some cultural differences and many similarities between the two countries. It has to be said that both places do love their sport and take it very seriously. The fans (that's us) provide as much of the amusement and spectacle as the teams.
One final thought.
I think it comes down to hats and scarves.
Baseball caps have been fashionable in the UK for a few years now but they aren't really traditional football gear. On the other hand I can't see Americans getting into scarves as a token of allegiance. When push comes to shove I think it's all about hats and scarves. That's why, on a chilly day in Brooklyn I can be found sporting both a city scarf and a Mets cap
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
random thoughts from a random doubter.
It's time to put sentimental things aside and update you, my blog faithful on what i've been up to in the last few days.
*Coming to terms with the impending relegation of my beloved 'City'
*Hoity toitying about Manhattan last Sunday thus causing a tremendous sense of fatigue on Monday.
*Becoming more and more of a delicious misanthrope just in time for spring to burst forth and for me to return to being a delighted spectator of all things human and their silly little ways.
*Reading blogs every other day, That way I get less disapointed when bloggers don't update every thirty seconds.
* Reading a rather marvellous book about cricket. It's "The Art of Captaincy" by Mike Brearley. It should really be called "Cricket, the human soul and how to rule the world by being really super nice".
* Slightly disapointed that North America doesn't play, understand or even televise cricket.
* Considering a move to India or South Africa where much cricket would be played, understood and televised, constantly.
*Discounting Australia and New Zealand from the list of Cricketing nations I wouldn't mind living in as the former is annoying and the latter is just a bit too far away (although delightful I'm told).
* Wondering if I'll get a game in this summer when I visit England.
*Realising it's time for me to tidy up and make my way into the glorious third part of the day. It's the bit where the kids have gone and I can actually get stuff done. By stuff I mean sneaking off to the movie theatre to watch "Downfall". More often than not this part of the day is full of meetings or work which tends to cramp the glorious nature of it. Today I reclaim my fun time.
*Coming to terms with the impending relegation of my beloved 'City'
*Hoity toitying about Manhattan last Sunday thus causing a tremendous sense of fatigue on Monday.
*Becoming more and more of a delicious misanthrope just in time for spring to burst forth and for me to return to being a delighted spectator of all things human and their silly little ways.
*Reading blogs every other day, That way I get less disapointed when bloggers don't update every thirty seconds.
* Reading a rather marvellous book about cricket. It's "The Art of Captaincy" by Mike Brearley. It should really be called "Cricket, the human soul and how to rule the world by being really super nice".
* Slightly disapointed that North America doesn't play, understand or even televise cricket.
* Considering a move to India or South Africa where much cricket would be played, understood and televised, constantly.
*Discounting Australia and New Zealand from the list of Cricketing nations I wouldn't mind living in as the former is annoying and the latter is just a bit too far away (although delightful I'm told).
* Wondering if I'll get a game in this summer when I visit England.
*Realising it's time for me to tidy up and make my way into the glorious third part of the day. It's the bit where the kids have gone and I can actually get stuff done. By stuff I mean sneaking off to the movie theatre to watch "Downfall". More often than not this part of the day is full of meetings or work which tends to cramp the glorious nature of it. Today I reclaim my fun time.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
England, my England.
Me and the wife just took a crazy and spontaneous long weekend trip to England. Just so you know it's not all about fox hunting, bigotry and violence I enclose a few pictures from one of our delightful strolls through the landscape of my childhood. Enjoy.
Wicklewood rise
This is one of my favourite views, the clear line of the field against the crispy cold sky, ahhh.
estate path
The secret path to a world of snow, mud and adventure, just along the end there, on the left, through the gate.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
thebigball
It's time to welcome another new blog (linked at the bottom). This is Henry from across the harbor in Jersey. It's got to be said that not a great deal has happened yet on 'thebigball' but it's got a great title and lots of potential. As for Henry? He's a good man and I should know, he's on my netflix friends list and I spent most of a Saturday morning at the car pound waiting for the release of his honda civic. I don't do that for just anyone.
To be honest, I'd have a glance and see what you think, then return to it in a few days. I started out with awkward fumblings about playing golf and facial hair yet rose to become the best blog in the entire world with 'Walter Mondale' in it's title.
To be honest, I'd have a glance and see what you think, then return to it in a few days. I started out with awkward fumblings about playing golf and facial hair yet rose to become the best blog in the entire world with 'Walter Mondale' in it's title.
Saturday, February 12, 2005
book learning
In January 2004 I made the only NYresolution that has actually worked. I resolved to either read a book from cover to cover and enjoy it or put the thing down and choose another. No more literary sluttery. I was tired of the pile of books beside the bed. I was tired of not really remembering the books that I had 'read'. I was feeling cheap and used, washed up and adulterous.
So just over a year ago I changed course. It worked. Now I have another problem, (the path of the righteous is never easy). I am approaching the end of a great book "Armageddon" by Max Hastings. I am trying to think ahead about what I should read next. I have read non stop since the age of six. I always face this curious dilemma. Elizabeth has suggested "Testament of Youth" by Vera Brittan. We both agreed that after reading an account of the Allied destruction of the Third Reich I should lighten up a bit. Perhaps I'll read a detective novel set in Botswana? I liked the sound of "The God of small things" until I looked closer. I need Bowles appropriate stuff, light but thoughtful. I've just trudged across Western Europe and defeated the nazis.
Any ideas? recommendations?
So just over a year ago I changed course. It worked. Now I have another problem, (the path of the righteous is never easy). I am approaching the end of a great book "Armageddon" by Max Hastings. I am trying to think ahead about what I should read next. I have read non stop since the age of six. I always face this curious dilemma. Elizabeth has suggested "Testament of Youth" by Vera Brittan. We both agreed that after reading an account of the Allied destruction of the Third Reich I should lighten up a bit. Perhaps I'll read a detective novel set in Botswana? I liked the sound of "The God of small things" until I looked closer. I need Bowles appropriate stuff, light but thoughtful. I've just trudged across Western Europe and defeated the nazis.
Any ideas? recommendations?
Friday, February 04, 2005
fridays are cool.
Fridays can be great. Within a single ten minute period Listmaker and I
experienced the following.
*I ruined his birthday gift surprise (twice in as many years that i have done
this).
*I almost made him cry.
*He almost cried in front of me.
*I told him that if he cried in front of me I'd have to hit him.
*He assumed that Weasel is an uptight New Englander "He's English and lives
in New England"
*He assumed that I was an anti semite because I'm not a huge Larry David fan
(Seinfeld yes, Curb your enthusiasm umm, maybe).
*He admitted to being a crap jew (as in not that knowledgable or practising,
not crap as in worthless or horrid)
There then followed a bizarre moment where, inspired by a Rufus Wainwright
dvd we argued in favour of flamboyant gayness, asthetic decadance and
charming brilliance, should either of us ever actually become gay.
This is unlikely.
We both then got wierded out.
Later in the day two kids constructed a tower of dictionaries which rested upon a base of dominoes. Fantastic!
experienced the following.
*I ruined his birthday gift surprise (twice in as many years that i have done
this).
*I almost made him cry.
*He almost cried in front of me.
*I told him that if he cried in front of me I'd have to hit him.
*He assumed that Weasel is an uptight New Englander "He's English and lives
in New England"
*He assumed that I was an anti semite because I'm not a huge Larry David fan
(Seinfeld yes, Curb your enthusiasm umm, maybe).
*He admitted to being a crap jew (as in not that knowledgable or practising,
not crap as in worthless or horrid)
There then followed a bizarre moment where, inspired by a Rufus Wainwright
dvd we argued in favour of flamboyant gayness, asthetic decadance and
charming brilliance, should either of us ever actually become gay.
This is unlikely.
We both then got wierded out.
Later in the day two kids constructed a tower of dictionaries which rested upon a base of dominoes. Fantastic!
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Pat Kiernan! Pat Kiernan!
So if I write about everyone's favourite Canadian anchor do you think he'll comment on my blog?
Saturday, January 22, 2005
Walter Mondale.
Does Walter Mondale ever read this site?
If he does I'd be delighted to know.
All the best,
Bowles.
If he does I'd be delighted to know.
All the best,
Bowles.
Friday, January 21, 2005
The gathering clouds.
They say a Nor'easter is on it's way.
I'm reading a terrific book about WW2 ('Armageddon' by Max Hastings).
I've just netflixed all the 'Band of Brothers' dvds.
Mayhew is in town over the weekend (but fortunately he has no need to do any 'sights')
Just had a load of firewood delivered.
It's pretty safe to say that I'm going nowhere for a day or two.
I do love a good winter storm!
I'm reading a terrific book about WW2 ('Armageddon' by Max Hastings).
I've just netflixed all the 'Band of Brothers' dvds.
Mayhew is in town over the weekend (but fortunately he has no need to do any 'sights')
Just had a load of firewood delivered.
It's pretty safe to say that I'm going nowhere for a day or two.
I do love a good winter storm!
Monday, January 17, 2005
Oh Janus.
God of openings and doorways.
Patron of entrances and beginnings.
First month of the year, Janus. You have been with us for seventeen days and during that time I have had some cautious sensations regarding the dawn of 2005.
On Saturday a little part of me came to terms with the prospect of relegation. I know, this is just sport, not life and death but it is something that I fear I will have to embrace come May. I watched Norwich get beaten by Aston Villa 3-0. We were taken apart, ever so nicely, and left by the wayside.
You see, I cannot write such words as these on the NYCanaries website.
That is the place for stoic loyalty and bravehearted, grim witted optimism.
I would rather wax lyrical about past glories or amusing run ins with celebrities than confront the slow, inoxerable misery of relegation.
Like the Romans of old, we curse or praise our gods depending upon the fortune they place upon us.
At this time we know not what such fortune is to be.
Patron of entrances and beginnings.
First month of the year, Janus. You have been with us for seventeen days and during that time I have had some cautious sensations regarding the dawn of 2005.
On Saturday a little part of me came to terms with the prospect of relegation. I know, this is just sport, not life and death but it is something that I fear I will have to embrace come May. I watched Norwich get beaten by Aston Villa 3-0. We were taken apart, ever so nicely, and left by the wayside.
You see, I cannot write such words as these on the NYCanaries website.
That is the place for stoic loyalty and bravehearted, grim witted optimism.
I would rather wax lyrical about past glories or amusing run ins with celebrities than confront the slow, inoxerable misery of relegation.
Like the Romans of old, we curse or praise our gods depending upon the fortune they place upon us.
At this time we know not what such fortune is to be.
editing.
If you're really interested I have edited "up for the cup#2" to remove all the eastern european spellings and stuff. If so inclined scroll down to check it out. Thank you
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