If I had a fiver for every time that the words 'credit crunch' have been blurted out as the root cause for any of the events of the past year then I would be able to bail out the nation from the aforementioned crunch all on my own and still have enough spare change to purchase an ailing multi-national corporate bank. Am I alone in finding the two word phrase itself more irksome than the implications to the nation's economy? I know the answer to that should be yes, but I am confident I'm not the only easily irritated financial novice out there.
Anyway, to haul this piece back to sport, one of the suggested impacts of the, grrr, credit crunch is a significant reduction in spending on leisure activities. So in theory the steady boost in sporting attendances which this country has seen since the 1980s should this year have begun to wain. Whilst in football at least there are signs that crowds are beginning to level out and or drop. Of the Premier League's top ten supported teams from last season, nine currently have a lower average attendance than last season. Only Manchester City, buoyed by the arrival of Robinho and a truck load of cash, can boast an higher average, albeit only by 1,500.
However, whilst top level football in this country looks to have reached the top of an attendance arc, top level rugby union is continuing to grow in popularity. The Six Nations tournament is a regular sell-out, with supporter demand regularly outstripping availability, and now it seems the increased demand for live rugby union is extending to club level. Numerous Guinness Premiership sides are boasting increased attendances this season, in the case of Saracens that increase means their total home attendance at this point in the season is only one thousand shy of last season's overall total.
Such is the demand for club rugby that Harlequins have reached a deal with Twikenham to stage a league match at the national stadium in each of the next three seasons. The result of their first attempt at this venture was a reduced capacity sell-out of 50,000 for the Quins match with Leicester this week, a club attendance record. North of the border it was a similar story as Edinburgh's own national stadium hosted a club record league crowd for Edinburgh's match against Glasgow.
The Harlequins Chief Executive Mark Evans is confident that come next year Harlequins 'Big Game II' will be a full capacity crowd. "It is about an event, about building a fan-base not just about maximising monetary return," said Evans on the Guinness Premiership website. However his approach to spending may give some indication as to how the nation currently finds itself at this financial point; "If we get 82,000 next year and the profit margin increases, we will just spend it, have more fireworks." Stability will never win out over Catherine Wheels.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Santa's Sack
Back in 2002 their was an uprising in Belgrade. Thousands of Serbians stormed the city's Parliament building, only to be held back by assorted members of the country's police and armed forces. As this stand-off went on those holding back the uprisers realised that they too were Serbian people and that they too had issues with the country's Parliament. The result was the armed forces and police not just relinquishing their guard but turning and joining the masses in their siege of the building. I was reminded of this scene on Boxing Day afternoon, in the less picturesque setting of Nottingham Forest's City Ground.
Ten minutes before half-time Forest trailed 2-0 to Doncaster Rovers who up til that point had propped up the Championship table and failed to score more than a single goal a game in almost eight months. The Rovers fans aimed a chorus of "Sacked in the morning" to the tune of Guantanamera, at Forest boss Colin Calderwood and the nearby Forest fans counter-acted the Rovers' fans' song. Ten minutes on, Richie Wellens' deflected free-kick made it 3-0 and as the Rovers fans piped up again the Forest supporters chose to join them and round on their own, "Sacked in the morning" sang the ground, and the club's board did not even wait that long.
By around 9pm on Boxing Day Colin Calderwood was unemployed, and he wasn't the only former footballer to find himself out of work in the heart of the festive period. Just four days the other side of Christmas Gary McAllister had been sacked by Leeds United, a sacking even more galling for McAllister in that Christmas Day is also his birthday. Football chairman it seems do not embody the true spirit of Christmas, not even in the case of Leeds where Ken Bates actually does have the body of Santa Claus.
"We're in a results business," was the reasoning of Forest chief executive Mark Arthur, whilst statements from both clubs claimed that they had made the dismissal at this time to allow respective successors as much time as possible to achieve their aims for the season. There is however a serious flaw in this logic, in that whoever does replace Calderwood and McAllister will have had significantly less time in the job than their predecessors. If time is so much of the essence, then why the panicked rush to change things instead of giving the current incumbent more of this supposedly precious time.
Of the football league's ninety-two clubs it cannot be of coincidence that those who have retained the services of their manager the longest are generally the more successful. Alex Ferguson's twenty-two years and Arsene Wenger's twelve years at the helm sandwiching the 13 year stint of Graham Turner at Hereford, who, whilst they may not be knocking at the Champions League door, are as high as they have been in the last twenty years.
Had Ferguson begun his management in the modern era its unlikely that he would have lasted beyond those first three trophy-less seasons. Instead he remains with a managerial term of office that will never again be reached again in this country. Sean O'Driscoll, the manager of the Doncaster side who sounded the death knell for Colin Calderwood, is now in the top twenty-five of the league's longest serving bosses. O'Driscoll was appointed just over two years ago... when Ferguson first sat at his Old Trafford desk, O'Driscoll would have struggled to make the the top 90 with a stint so short.
Ten minutes before half-time Forest trailed 2-0 to Doncaster Rovers who up til that point had propped up the Championship table and failed to score more than a single goal a game in almost eight months. The Rovers fans aimed a chorus of "Sacked in the morning" to the tune of Guantanamera, at Forest boss Colin Calderwood and the nearby Forest fans counter-acted the Rovers' fans' song. Ten minutes on, Richie Wellens' deflected free-kick made it 3-0 and as the Rovers fans piped up again the Forest supporters chose to join them and round on their own, "Sacked in the morning" sang the ground, and the club's board did not even wait that long.
By around 9pm on Boxing Day Colin Calderwood was unemployed, and he wasn't the only former footballer to find himself out of work in the heart of the festive period. Just four days the other side of Christmas Gary McAllister had been sacked by Leeds United, a sacking even more galling for McAllister in that Christmas Day is also his birthday. Football chairman it seems do not embody the true spirit of Christmas, not even in the case of Leeds where Ken Bates actually does have the body of Santa Claus.
"We're in a results business," was the reasoning of Forest chief executive Mark Arthur, whilst statements from both clubs claimed that they had made the dismissal at this time to allow respective successors as much time as possible to achieve their aims for the season. There is however a serious flaw in this logic, in that whoever does replace Calderwood and McAllister will have had significantly less time in the job than their predecessors. If time is so much of the essence, then why the panicked rush to change things instead of giving the current incumbent more of this supposedly precious time.
Of the football league's ninety-two clubs it cannot be of coincidence that those who have retained the services of their manager the longest are generally the more successful. Alex Ferguson's twenty-two years and Arsene Wenger's twelve years at the helm sandwiching the 13 year stint of Graham Turner at Hereford, who, whilst they may not be knocking at the Champions League door, are as high as they have been in the last twenty years.
Had Ferguson begun his management in the modern era its unlikely that he would have lasted beyond those first three trophy-less seasons. Instead he remains with a managerial term of office that will never again be reached again in this country. Sean O'Driscoll, the manager of the Doncaster side who sounded the death knell for Colin Calderwood, is now in the top twenty-five of the league's longest serving bosses. O'Driscoll was appointed just over two years ago... when Ferguson first sat at his Old Trafford desk, O'Driscoll would have struggled to make the the top 90 with a stint so short.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Captain Slog
Its probably Bobby Moore's fault. When England's only World Cup winning captain passed away in 1993 many people bemoaned the lack of support Moore had received from the game in the latter stages of his life. After marriage troubles and failed business ventures Moore approached the end of his life penning columns for the Sunday Sport, rather than working in the game he had excelled at. The upshot of this is of course overdue, and sadly post-humous praise for Moore and a disappointing legacy that means England captains from the 1990s onwards have been unashamedly fawned over by the media. You see, just because Moore was a great footballing hero, a role model before the phrase had even come into existence, does not mean that every England captain will be.
Step forward the current incumbent; ladies and gentlemen I give you Mr John Terry. Even despite the continued existence of Neil Warnock, Ken Bates and Peter Kenyon John Terry continues to get my goat at unprecedented levels. The main cause of my distaste of John Terry is only partially his fault as well, as it is centred on the two John Terry's we are presented with; the immaculate heroic England captain we read about in the press, and the witless thug he actually is. Whilst other players are gleefully singled out for their misdemeanours by the national press, Terry's past failings are swept under the carpet, brushed under the sofa, and stuffed in the nearest plant-pot.
Terry's less celebrated history includes a nightclub brawl, and then the drunken hassling of American tourists in an airport bar in the immediate aftermath of the September 11th attacks. He managed to land a hefty stud or six on a Bayern Munich player during a European tie and he retains a handy knack of being the first on the scene to ensure any opportunity for unnecessary light fisticuffs and general footballer chest shoving is taken; like the annoying girlfriend in a pub argument who helpfully yells "Are you gonna stand for that Gaz?" just as folk are returning to their pints. Pleasingly this tendency to whip up a drama out of a non-crisis has this year begun to backfire, as Didier Drogba's sending off in the Champions League Final shows.
The most irritating thing about all of John Terry's misdemeanours though is the fact that he has begun to believe the hype of a fawning media, and so he too now expects to get away with anything he does. In September Terry received his first ever straight red card for hauling down Manchester City's Jo, the card was duly rescinded... how dare Mark Halsey dismiss the England captain. On Monday Phil Dowd also showed John Terry a red card, after the defender had clattered through Leon Osman in the first half of Chelsea's match at Goodison Park. A terrible challenge and yet JT still perfected a jarring look of absolute incredulity as Mr Dowd brandished the red card.
Perhaps even worse than Terry's horror at being dismissed for a terrible foul was the subsequent press coverage. John Edwards of the Daily Mail was the worst culprit, claiming that Terry had been "on the wrong end of [Phil] Dowd’s occasionally erratic officiating". Edwards also suggested that "the inevitable response from home fans and the current climate of such challenges incurring the wrath of the authorities" were the reason for Terry's red card. Would it be so hard to just suggest that Terry had made a poor challenge and been suitably punished instead of making preposterous justifications of a high and late challenge that includes the phrase "for all the absense of malice". And on the same subject, a special mention is reserved for Matt Hughes of The Times who had the gall to use the phrase "although out of character" when referring to the challenge.
Of course JT is simply following a precedent laid down by Alan Shearer. The Match of the Day sofa dweller scored a lot of goals for England, he scored a lot of goals for Newcastle and Blackburn too, but he also got away with a lot as well. In 1998 he was seen on television kicking Neil Lennon in the head and charged with misconduct by the FA, although the subsequent hearing cleared Shearer of all charges. Graham Kelly later claimed that Shearer had threatened to withdraw from the 1998 World Cup squad if found guilty although Shearer claims this is not true. Disappointingly, but predictably, the media by and large decided to accept Shearer's account of events and so this spat went no further. Had it been we could have been faced with the spectre of an argument so dull and monotone that its collected tedium would have broken the space time continuum.
Step forward the current incumbent; ladies and gentlemen I give you Mr John Terry. Even despite the continued existence of Neil Warnock, Ken Bates and Peter Kenyon John Terry continues to get my goat at unprecedented levels. The main cause of my distaste of John Terry is only partially his fault as well, as it is centred on the two John Terry's we are presented with; the immaculate heroic England captain we read about in the press, and the witless thug he actually is. Whilst other players are gleefully singled out for their misdemeanours by the national press, Terry's past failings are swept under the carpet, brushed under the sofa, and stuffed in the nearest plant-pot.
Terry's less celebrated history includes a nightclub brawl, and then the drunken hassling of American tourists in an airport bar in the immediate aftermath of the September 11th attacks. He managed to land a hefty stud or six on a Bayern Munich player during a European tie and he retains a handy knack of being the first on the scene to ensure any opportunity for unnecessary light fisticuffs and general footballer chest shoving is taken; like the annoying girlfriend in a pub argument who helpfully yells "Are you gonna stand for that Gaz?" just as folk are returning to their pints. Pleasingly this tendency to whip up a drama out of a non-crisis has this year begun to backfire, as Didier Drogba's sending off in the Champions League Final shows.
The most irritating thing about all of John Terry's misdemeanours though is the fact that he has begun to believe the hype of a fawning media, and so he too now expects to get away with anything he does. In September Terry received his first ever straight red card for hauling down Manchester City's Jo, the card was duly rescinded... how dare Mark Halsey dismiss the England captain. On Monday Phil Dowd also showed John Terry a red card, after the defender had clattered through Leon Osman in the first half of Chelsea's match at Goodison Park. A terrible challenge and yet JT still perfected a jarring look of absolute incredulity as Mr Dowd brandished the red card.
Perhaps even worse than Terry's horror at being dismissed for a terrible foul was the subsequent press coverage. John Edwards of the Daily Mail was the worst culprit, claiming that Terry had been "on the wrong end of [Phil] Dowd’s occasionally erratic officiating". Edwards also suggested that "the inevitable response from home fans and the current climate of such challenges incurring the wrath of the authorities" were the reason for Terry's red card. Would it be so hard to just suggest that Terry had made a poor challenge and been suitably punished instead of making preposterous justifications of a high and late challenge that includes the phrase "for all the absense of malice". And on the same subject, a special mention is reserved for Matt Hughes of The Times who had the gall to use the phrase "although out of character" when referring to the challenge.
Of course JT is simply following a precedent laid down by Alan Shearer. The Match of the Day sofa dweller scored a lot of goals for England, he scored a lot of goals for Newcastle and Blackburn too, but he also got away with a lot as well. In 1998 he was seen on television kicking Neil Lennon in the head and charged with misconduct by the FA, although the subsequent hearing cleared Shearer of all charges. Graham Kelly later claimed that Shearer had threatened to withdraw from the 1998 World Cup squad if found guilty although Shearer claims this is not true. Disappointingly, but predictably, the media by and large decided to accept Shearer's account of events and so this spat went no further. Had it been we could have been faced with the spectre of an argument so dull and monotone that its collected tedium would have broken the space time continuum.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Is the World Watching?
Football has a long tradition of ultimately pointless cup competions; from the Simod Cup, and the Zenith Data Systems both almost exclusively won by Crystal Palace to the second-tier exclusive Anglo-Italian Cup (last contested between Genoa and Port Vale in 1996) And then of course there is the infamous Anglo-Scottish Challenge Cup, which is technically still being contested by Coventry City and St Mirren. The two sides played out a 1-1 draw in the first leg at Highfield Road in December 1987, the second leg is still, twenty-one years on, yet to be scheduled.
Thankfully, these late 1980s and early 1990s nadirs in domestic cup competition taught the English FA a valuable lesson in footballing overkill; unfinished business aside, all of the above are now thankfully defunct. On the international stage however lessons are yet to be learnt; the Champions League is now so vast that for any champions of the continents 'lesser nations' to win the tournament, they would have to play two games a day from Septmebr through to May. And whilst UEFA may have combined the former Fairs and Cup Winners Cups into the singular UEFA Cup, they have done so in the Ocean Finance mould, and consolidated their two recognisable competitions into one great managable but no longer understandable competition. As such this year's UEFA Cup will be spread over seven years and will accumulate further participants as the years go by until its completion.
FIFA of course excel in the field of pointless cup competitions with a two pronged attack featuring, on the international stage, the Confederations Cup, an excuse to give Canada and New Zealand exposure as fodder to Brazil's latest batch of stars; the footballing equivalent of the Harlem Globestrotters' opponents. Now of course they have the club level equivalent, the Club World Cup. For the past four years this now annual event has pitted the reigning continental champions against one another, albeit in a staggered manner which means the champions of Europe and South America are only thrown into the mix at the semi-final stage. The footballing equivalent of letting a 400metre race get to its half-way stage before releasing Usain Bolt and Michael Johnson for the final bend.
Apparently this year's final was the predictable Bolt vs Johnson affair between Manchester United and Ecuador's Liga Deportiva Universitaria Quito, to use their sadly underused full name. Much to the delight of the Japanese public it was United who triumphed, but the real issue is, does anyone really care? This, theoretically at least, is the pinnacle of the global game at club level. And yet, as United paraded their shiny decanter much more hype was being generated in the British press by the impending Arsenal vs Liverpool league fixture, and also curiously, by the sacking of Gary McAllister... manager of what is, despite their history, a third tier English club.
So understandably, whilst United can call themselves World Champions the debate remains as to what is the biggest prize in football? Thankfully, I can tell you the answer, the holders of the biggest prize in football are not United, nor is it Milan, nor Barcelona. It is in fact Wolverhampton Wanderers. In front of an 80,000 strong Wembley crowd in 1988 Wolves beat Burnley 2-0 to win the Sherpa Van Trophy, and claim the biggest prize in football... their very own Sherpa Van. Take that Ronaldo.
Thankfully, these late 1980s and early 1990s nadirs in domestic cup competition taught the English FA a valuable lesson in footballing overkill; unfinished business aside, all of the above are now thankfully defunct. On the international stage however lessons are yet to be learnt; the Champions League is now so vast that for any champions of the continents 'lesser nations' to win the tournament, they would have to play two games a day from Septmebr through to May. And whilst UEFA may have combined the former Fairs and Cup Winners Cups into the singular UEFA Cup, they have done so in the Ocean Finance mould, and consolidated their two recognisable competitions into one great managable but no longer understandable competition. As such this year's UEFA Cup will be spread over seven years and will accumulate further participants as the years go by until its completion.
FIFA of course excel in the field of pointless cup competitions with a two pronged attack featuring, on the international stage, the Confederations Cup, an excuse to give Canada and New Zealand exposure as fodder to Brazil's latest batch of stars; the footballing equivalent of the Harlem Globestrotters' opponents. Now of course they have the club level equivalent, the Club World Cup. For the past four years this now annual event has pitted the reigning continental champions against one another, albeit in a staggered manner which means the champions of Europe and South America are only thrown into the mix at the semi-final stage. The footballing equivalent of letting a 400metre race get to its half-way stage before releasing Usain Bolt and Michael Johnson for the final bend.
Apparently this year's final was the predictable Bolt vs Johnson affair between Manchester United and Ecuador's Liga Deportiva Universitaria Quito, to use their sadly underused full name. Much to the delight of the Japanese public it was United who triumphed, but the real issue is, does anyone really care? This, theoretically at least, is the pinnacle of the global game at club level. And yet, as United paraded their shiny decanter much more hype was being generated in the British press by the impending Arsenal vs Liverpool league fixture, and also curiously, by the sacking of Gary McAllister... manager of what is, despite their history, a third tier English club.
So understandably, whilst United can call themselves World Champions the debate remains as to what is the biggest prize in football? Thankfully, I can tell you the answer, the holders of the biggest prize in football are not United, nor is it Milan, nor Barcelona. It is in fact Wolverhampton Wanderers. In front of an 80,000 strong Wembley crowd in 1988 Wolves beat Burnley 2-0 to win the Sherpa Van Trophy, and claim the biggest prize in football... their very own Sherpa Van. Take that Ronaldo.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Hero Self-Worship
I thought that I was a big fan of David Healey, but having afforded it more thought I realised that I'm not. I know that as opening paragraphs go that is about as succinct as an improvised speech from Boris Johnson, but it is the truth. The actual fact is that while I am impressed by Healey's goal scoring feats for Northern Ireland I have let my actual appreciation of him blur with my greater appreciation for one of my favourite football chants. It is actually the song that Norn Iron fans sing in tribute to David Healey that I am a big fan of. I was glad of this, particularly in light of the Healey's comments published on the BBC website today which make the striker look like, for want of a more erudite phrase, quite a cock.
According to the BBC Healey responded to Northern Ireland manager Nigel Worthington's criticisms of the fitness of the squad's players by saying; "Nigel basically blamed the players which was disappointing. Is he going to do the unthinkable and leave the hero, the messiah, out?" And yes, it appears that he is talking about himself, in a very reverential third person. There is no doubting that Healey's record of thirty-five international goals for Northern Ireland is impressive, but should be so believing of the hype himself as to begin self-deifying.
Unlike Christianity football is already rich in messiahs, most notably Kevin Keegan who this year already has acheived both the Third Coming and the Third Departing at Newcastle United. So deified was Keegan by Newcastle fans as a Geordie Messiah that the masses managed to overlook the key facts that he was firstly a poor manager, and secondly not actually a Geordie, born and raised in Doncaster. Obviously the birth place of a Messiah is not-predeterminable, but its safe to say that in coal-mining South Yorkshire not only would there have been no room at the Inn, there'd probably have been no windows either.
However, unlike Healey, Keegan did not openly rejoice in his messiah monicker. Thanks to ill-thought remarks on pay from Ashley Cole, and Frank Lampard and the like, John Terry's above the law sanctimony, and plethora of other examples of self-satisfied nouveau-riche players of average ability, top flight footballers rarely come across as the sort of down to earth folk you would like to meet. So for Healey to come out with a comment that makes him seem arrogant and self-inflated in comparion to other footballers is akin to a Daily Mail journalist being known as the paper's right-wing columnist.
So, how do you punish a player for his over-inflated sense of self? A fine is almost meaningless given the amount of money top flight players are on, whilst a match ban of any sort just encourages this sort of player away from the football-ground safe-houses and into the general public where he'll be parking in disabled spaces and pushing in nightclub queues... no-one wants that. I say, hit him where it hurts, and take his chant from him. After all, can a man seemingly so arrogant really be deserving of such brilliant terrace humour as this?
"Away in a manger, no crib for His bed,
The Little Lord Jesus laid down His sweet head.
The stars in the bright sky, looked down where He lay
HEALEY! HEALEY! HEALEY!"
According to the BBC Healey responded to Northern Ireland manager Nigel Worthington's criticisms of the fitness of the squad's players by saying; "Nigel basically blamed the players which was disappointing. Is he going to do the unthinkable and leave the hero, the messiah, out?" And yes, it appears that he is talking about himself, in a very reverential third person. There is no doubting that Healey's record of thirty-five international goals for Northern Ireland is impressive, but should be so believing of the hype himself as to begin self-deifying.
Unlike Christianity football is already rich in messiahs, most notably Kevin Keegan who this year already has acheived both the Third Coming and the Third Departing at Newcastle United. So deified was Keegan by Newcastle fans as a Geordie Messiah that the masses managed to overlook the key facts that he was firstly a poor manager, and secondly not actually a Geordie, born and raised in Doncaster. Obviously the birth place of a Messiah is not-predeterminable, but its safe to say that in coal-mining South Yorkshire not only would there have been no room at the Inn, there'd probably have been no windows either.
However, unlike Healey, Keegan did not openly rejoice in his messiah monicker. Thanks to ill-thought remarks on pay from Ashley Cole, and Frank Lampard and the like, John Terry's above the law sanctimony, and plethora of other examples of self-satisfied nouveau-riche players of average ability, top flight footballers rarely come across as the sort of down to earth folk you would like to meet. So for Healey to come out with a comment that makes him seem arrogant and self-inflated in comparion to other footballers is akin to a Daily Mail journalist being known as the paper's right-wing columnist.
So, how do you punish a player for his over-inflated sense of self? A fine is almost meaningless given the amount of money top flight players are on, whilst a match ban of any sort just encourages this sort of player away from the football-ground safe-houses and into the general public where he'll be parking in disabled spaces and pushing in nightclub queues... no-one wants that. I say, hit him where it hurts, and take his chant from him. After all, can a man seemingly so arrogant really be deserving of such brilliant terrace humour as this?
"Away in a manger, no crib for His bed,
The Little Lord Jesus laid down His sweet head.
The stars in the bright sky, looked down where He lay
HEALEY! HEALEY! HEALEY!"
Varsity Blues
My dad's a PE teacher, so is my sister, its the family trade. I assume this is where my interest in sport comes from. Whilst I watch a lot of sport now, its nothing compared to the interest and zeal I had in sport, any sport, when I was at school. Not only did I have a favourite football team, I had one for every league in Europe. And then there were favourite rugby teams, Union and League, prefered tennis players, County cricket sides, favourite motor racing drivers and the list goes on. However, our house was satelitte dish free and so my sporting interest revolved around what I could watch. If there was sport on one of the four (yes, four) channels I would watch it, from bowls to Touring Car racing. And so when the Boat Race came around, safe to say I was there in front of the television watching the prolonged, drawn out build-up, freakishly posh interviewees, guffawing wine quaffers, the whole lot.
The Boat Race however, was the most anti-climactic of all televisied sporting events, and I used to watch Formula One. Like any young boy I watched motor-racing in the hope of seeing a crash; I could watch cars drive around at the top of our street, but only on tv did they crash. Similarly, in the 'warm-up' to the Boat Race the BBC would always show footage of the Cambridge boat sinking in 1978, a crew of 118 man look-a-likes slowly descending into the Thames, or talk of lightning striking the camera positions before the start of the race. And so I stayed tune in the hope that well, lightning would strike twice, or someone would fall overboard, or a whale would swim up the Thames. Of course nothing even half as exciting as this ever did happen.
Instead, it was, as the name suggested, just a Boat Race, the same two teams battling it out year on year, a lengthy monotonous dirge from start to finish, overhyped by the media, watched avidly and excitedly by two exclusive supporting contingents while the rest of us looked on wondering what all the fuss was about. It is basically the Scotish Premier League on water. So with all this in mind, I was surprised to see how much media had been generated today by the news that ITV have decided not to continue televising the event. According to the Guardian 'The Boat Race is no longer protected under the government's 'crown jewels' legislation' meaning that it is not on the Government produced list of sporting events which must be televised on free-to-air channels.
The question remains, why was it ever on this list? The 'crown jewels' list exists to save sporting fixtures of national interest from pay-per-view channels, on it are, amongst others, Wimbledon, the FA Cup Finals of England and Scotland, the Rugby World Cup, the Grand National and the Rugby League Challenge Cup. All of these, are sporting competitions, with a wide array of possible winners, yes, the Boat Race is has history, but it exists as little more than an Oxbridge folly. "Oh bad luck Mungo, thought you had us this year... still, fancy another go next year?" Do we really need to see that?
The Boat Race however, was the most anti-climactic of all televisied sporting events, and I used to watch Formula One. Like any young boy I watched motor-racing in the hope of seeing a crash; I could watch cars drive around at the top of our street, but only on tv did they crash. Similarly, in the 'warm-up' to the Boat Race the BBC would always show footage of the Cambridge boat sinking in 1978, a crew of 118 man look-a-likes slowly descending into the Thames, or talk of lightning striking the camera positions before the start of the race. And so I stayed tune in the hope that well, lightning would strike twice, or someone would fall overboard, or a whale would swim up the Thames. Of course nothing even half as exciting as this ever did happen.
Instead, it was, as the name suggested, just a Boat Race, the same two teams battling it out year on year, a lengthy monotonous dirge from start to finish, overhyped by the media, watched avidly and excitedly by two exclusive supporting contingents while the rest of us looked on wondering what all the fuss was about. It is basically the Scotish Premier League on water. So with all this in mind, I was surprised to see how much media had been generated today by the news that ITV have decided not to continue televising the event. According to the Guardian 'The Boat Race is no longer protected under the government's 'crown jewels' legislation' meaning that it is not on the Government produced list of sporting events which must be televised on free-to-air channels.
The question remains, why was it ever on this list? The 'crown jewels' list exists to save sporting fixtures of national interest from pay-per-view channels, on it are, amongst others, Wimbledon, the FA Cup Finals of England and Scotland, the Rugby World Cup, the Grand National and the Rugby League Challenge Cup. All of these, are sporting competitions, with a wide array of possible winners, yes, the Boat Race is has history, but it exists as little more than an Oxbridge folly. "Oh bad luck Mungo, thought you had us this year... still, fancy another go next year?" Do we really need to see that?
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
The Choice is Yours
Given the success he has enjoyed since you forget that one of the earliest television airings for Steve Coogan's Alan Partridge character came on someone else's show. And yet I beleive that it was as the hapless sports reporter on The Day Today way back in 1994 that Coogan got the best out of Partridge. There was the World Cup goal montage including infamous commentary lines; "Goal... and another" and "He must have a foot like a traction engine" which still makes me laugh whenever I meandre onto Youtube pretending not to look for it. And then of course there was Alan's 'soccermeter', a useless invention to 'help explain the group stages' which bore no relation to the tournament format and istead just left Alan flumoxed and confused and desperate for a way out.
I was reminded of this specific clip today when looking over the new format for rugby league's Super League play-offs. The play-offs have been increased from six teams to eight in view of the expansion of the League itself, and so I had presumed the knock-out format would take the obvious route of quarter-finals, semi-finals, final. Instead, the RFL has gone all Partridge on us and instead the end of season knock-out features qualifying and elimination play-offs, qualifying and preliminary semi-finals, a Grand Final and presumably a spin-off Saturday evening television series that allows the public to have their say.
And even layed out in text the format still is not quite as black and white as it preturbs to be. This is because the RFL have come up with a unique and equally bizarre format for one of the many semi-final stages. Instead of a draw or a pre-draw to determine the opponents at this stage, the highest ranked team incredibly gets to choose who they play.
Initially your thought process leads you to conclude that they will choose the lowest ranked opponents and progress at will to the next stage. But think of this from he other foot, if you are the chosen opponents, the supposed weakest team of the semi-final stage then presumably you're going to need little more motivation to upset the odds. So, do you choose the statistically weak, or is it more important to choose the mentally weak? And who gets to decide? Rugby League is not a rich game, would a money spinning phone in be the way forward? Or does the decision rest with the team manager?
We could have another Strictly Come Dancing fall-out on our hands as the St Helens coach Daniel Anderson criticises the public for choosing to face Celtic Crusaders rather than going for his prefered option of Hull Kingston Rovers. "It makes a nonsense of the league," Anderson says, "this is about Rugby League not entertainment, the more people vote for Celtic Crusaders the more its unfair on those teams who are putting the work in week in week out" and so on. That said, I'll be first in line when the opportunity arises to select a mystery guest player... in you go John Terry, no you won't need any padding, hey lads, he says you're all northern monkeys.
I was reminded of this specific clip today when looking over the new format for rugby league's Super League play-offs. The play-offs have been increased from six teams to eight in view of the expansion of the League itself, and so I had presumed the knock-out format would take the obvious route of quarter-finals, semi-finals, final. Instead, the RFL has gone all Partridge on us and instead the end of season knock-out features qualifying and elimination play-offs, qualifying and preliminary semi-finals, a Grand Final and presumably a spin-off Saturday evening television series that allows the public to have their say.
And even layed out in text the format still is not quite as black and white as it preturbs to be. This is because the RFL have come up with a unique and equally bizarre format for one of the many semi-final stages. Instead of a draw or a pre-draw to determine the opponents at this stage, the highest ranked team incredibly gets to choose who they play.
Initially your thought process leads you to conclude that they will choose the lowest ranked opponents and progress at will to the next stage. But think of this from he other foot, if you are the chosen opponents, the supposed weakest team of the semi-final stage then presumably you're going to need little more motivation to upset the odds. So, do you choose the statistically weak, or is it more important to choose the mentally weak? And who gets to decide? Rugby League is not a rich game, would a money spinning phone in be the way forward? Or does the decision rest with the team manager?
We could have another Strictly Come Dancing fall-out on our hands as the St Helens coach Daniel Anderson criticises the public for choosing to face Celtic Crusaders rather than going for his prefered option of Hull Kingston Rovers. "It makes a nonsense of the league," Anderson says, "this is about Rugby League not entertainment, the more people vote for Celtic Crusaders the more its unfair on those teams who are putting the work in week in week out" and so on. That said, I'll be first in line when the opportunity arises to select a mystery guest player... in you go John Terry, no you won't need any padding, hey lads, he says you're all northern monkeys.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)