6pm kick offs - just not fair, surely?

Hey, 

Rangers played their rearranged match with St. Johnstone in Perth on Tuesday. Playing a midweek match, on its own, is nothing new. However, what makes this particularly newsworthy is that the match kicked-off at 6pm, in order to allow it to be screened on television and not to clash with the night’s Champions League fixtures in Madrid and Milan.

The decision to push the kick-off back by roughly two hours represents, yet again, the wishes of fans being ignored. Perth is 60 miles away from Glasgow and, combined with rush-hour traffic, the 6pm kick-off was tough for away fans – and indeed many of the St. Johnstone fans also – to make. If decisions were made in the interest of fans, such kick-off times would be unheard of, however we all know that this is not the case. The money received from television money is in many aspects the life-support of many clubs, and the scars of the collapse of Setanta Sports have yet to heal. The SPL are keen to not bite the hand that feeds, and if that means working yesterday’s match around Inter Milan versus and Shalke – a match where a clash in of interests does not seem likely – to keep Sky and ESPN happy, then it is something that has to be done.

Of course these arguments about the interests of fans being ignored are very much regurgitated ones. It was only a matter of months ago in which Henry McLeish’s report on the state of Scottish football was published. The report, which was highly critical, proposed an expansion of the Scottish Premier League from its current twelve to fourteen or sixteen. This idea was popular amongst fans; it eliminated the prospect of boredom that a small league can create, such as travelling to away grounds two or three times a season. Bizarre scenarios which have occurred this season in which Celtic will meet Rangers seven times would be all but removed if they were meeting each other less in the league. Needless to say, these proposals were popular with Strathclyde Police also; fewer matches would lead to, theoretically, less violence, or at least less opportunities for violence.

When the SPL teams met to discuss such proposals however a different conclusion was reached. Most of the clubs declared a preference for the opposite of what the fans wanted, and that they wanted a smaller, ten-team top tier rather than an enlargement. Doing this would allow four guaranteed fixtures of the “big” games in the SPL, such as the Old Firm, Edinburgh derbies and such like. As a commercial product for television rights, four Old Firm derbies are easier to sell than two, especially with the bad-blood following last month’s match. Although this is not what fans want, those in favour believe a smaller league is more sustainable, since attendances in Scotland aren’t great. But surely if the league reflected the wants of the fans, a rise in attendances (and subsequently gate receipts) would follow?

Although no decisions have been made at the top table on such proposals yet, it highlights the cruel reality of football not just in Scotland but elsewhere; money talks. This is not new, but hopefully Tuesday’s 6pm start is just a one-off due to a cramped fixture schedule following the harsh winter postponing fixtures. But one worries that it can become common practice, the way it has been done in the Europa League. 

DC 

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Alternative Sports Personality of the Year 2010

Hey,

So, a jockey won Sports Personality of the Year then. Much has been said about this, as many have questioned if he was really the deserving winner. Even more has been said about the justification of Phil Taylor coming second for dominating a game which is best suited for the pub.

I'm going to avoid these arguments, for I do not see the point of Sports Personality of the Year anyway. For you see, the awards aren't for Sports Personality as such, merely it is a trophy for the person who has won the most trophies. You can be a dour sod, the physical conception of the colour beige, and still be Sports Personality of the Year. It has nothing to do with personality at all, or how an athlete entertained the public, making them laugh, cry or moan - examples of a personality, you could argue.

We don't look back at past winners with fondness, but with a shrug. Zara Phillips? Meh. Ryan Giggs? Aye he's good at football, but have you seen him with an autocue? It's awkward. I have nothing against Giggs or Phillips, they are great atheletes. But are they great personalities?

With this in mind I propose my own Sports Personality of the Year Awards...

Young Sports Personality of the Year: Mohammed Amir

Amir is only 18, but he is a bloody good cricketer. So good infact that he is Pakistan's main seam bowler and in the summer he was dismantling the English top-order with so much ease comparisons to Wasim Akram were flying about.

Unfortunately for Amir, he had many talents. Like Ricky Wong in "We Can Be Heroes" who was both a world-class actor and a Ph.D student of physics, Amir also enjoys acting. So much so that in a match against England he performed a no-ball. On purpose. For Money. It was showmanship that many theatre veterens (and book makers) loved. The boy has potential, but like Wong, he will have to choose soon between acting and cricket - otherwise things, as we have seen with this little stunt, will get really complicated.

Team of the Year: Stjarnan FC

Who, I hear you ask? Well, as soon as you read a bit more you impatient little fiend it will all make sense.

Stjarnan FC are an Icelandic football team who became an overnight sensation with their goal celebrations. To put simply, they are superb (I recommend the fish and the toilet celebrations). In a year in which Coca-Cola tried to attach themselves to the concept of celebrations in cringe-worthy adverts which show Roger Milla parading about with a bottle of Coke and no teeth (coincidence?) the have been refreshing and a source of inspiration for many celebration ideas. Trust me, the fish celebration is very difficult to do.

Overseas Personality of the Year: Mother Russia!

They haven't really done anything great,nor do they really deserve it. But they paid me an awful lot of money to get this, and they threatened to break my legs, too. Putin knows judo. So hail to Russia, the worthy winners!

Sports Personality of the Year: Paul Gascoigne

Any footballer who can get himself inadvertently involved in the biggest man-hunt this country has seen in recent times aimed with chicken, lager and fishing rods is the only real candidate for Sports Personality of the Year. Incidentally, he won it in 1990, and we all love an anniversary don't we?

And the World Cup goes to... The Highest Bidder!

Hey, 


So, England's bid wasn't good enough for the 2018 World Cup. Or was it? No, no it wasn't. They lost.


We can look at the factors for the reasons why this was the case; the Panorama program "exposing" the "shocking" nature of how Fifa is run (this is not old news; Andrew Jennings' book on Fifa's corruption deals with the same issues as the BBC program did on Monday evening and was first published in 2006); the choice of people to speak in Zurich for the presentation - selecting David Beckham to speak (like, in sentences and that) is like asking a racehorse to prepare a three-course meal; 


There are a few things which I don't get; firstly, everyone seems surprised that the two countries with the most money/oil/contacts won (the great footballing nation of Qatar got the 2022 World Cup). Red-tops (and worryingly, some broadsheets) shouted 'fix' because England didn't win. Although England's bid was technically sound, it lacked the prime objective which Fifa tournaments - and especially Sepp Blatter - crave; a legacy. 


It's always been a "thing" of Sepp Blatter's, this legacy idea. For Blatter, a World Cup should be more than a summer football tournament. The French World Cup of 1998 unified a country dealing with racial tension thanks to Zinedine Zidane's efforts for the hosts. In 2002, South Korea and Japan hosted the first World Cup to happen in Asia. This summer was the African equivalent in South Africa, and 2018 will be the first World Cup for a post-Soviet nation. Qatar will be the first Islamic state to stage the tournament. To put briefly, Blatter wants a lasting legacy for the countries involved, but this cannot apply to a first world country like England. Perhaps more significantly, Blatter wants a legacy for himself too. 

That's not to say money is  not important, because it bloody is. Fifa spin as much money out of these tournaments as they can; merchandise, sponsorship, television rights and ticket sales, for instance. They expect all this whilst contributing nothing towards the infrastructures needed for hosting a competition as big as the World Cup; transport links, accommodation and security are all expected to be covered for by the national Government. Fifa love football. But they love profit too. And so do the members of their board, it seems. Bribery and what not, dare I say, are not unusual in the corridors of power in Zurich. It may be just a coincidence Russia was branded a "mafia state" by the WikiLeaks scandal they same day their bid won. Of course, it may not be, because everyone loves a conspiracy.


England's bid wasn't exactly squeaky-clean either. In fact, the campaign team's treatment of the influential Jack Warner is no different to the way Vladimir Putin has been accused of treating Silvio Berlusconi in the recent WikiLeaks scandal. The FA, apparently, lavished him and his wife with gifts to help "persuade" him to vote for the English bid. Remember England playing that rather pointless friendly against Trinidad and Tobago in 2008? Probably not, it's not memorable and if memory serves me right it was unofficial to everyone except Dean Ashton, who still believes he has an England cap. Either way, the English bid wasn't as perfect as everyone says it is, it's just that it used its influence in the wrong way. What you need is a Prime Minister who knows judo. And Gazprom. That helps too.


DC 
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Shift of emphasis a must for change.

Hey,

So, another World Cup, another defeat then for Ingerland. One thing which seems different this time around is that the ready-made scapegoat, Frank Lampard's clear goal, has been kept in it's box. Heck, I doubt they are even going to take it out of it's packaging. No point, really. Germany were youthful, vibrant, energetic and creative. I don't think any of those words could be applied to England yesterday. What is important is that, rather than blame isolated incidents on failure, English football has had to re-evaluate it's position in the world of football. The best league in the world? Possibly, but is a poor national side a price worth paying? Fans probably wouldn't mind seeing chances given to younger players, but one would wonder if investors would feel the same. The bleak reality is, as much as we would like to believe, football is not about the supporters anymore, it is about the chequebook. Or chip and pin, I guess, if you hate outdated clichés. You know, like "England are the better team on paper". For more information, see Alan Hansen.

We speak of grass-roots football, yet we continue to play during the time of year in which, ironically, there is not much grass to play on at all. The continuation of the football calendar throughout the frankly awful months of December and January is holding English (and Scottish I must add) back. I can only think of two reasons why they continue to play throughout the worst of winter; nostalgia for the FA Cup third round and money. Stupid, stupid money.

Now, The FA and others will disagree with the final point, for it is that the football calendar is simply too congested to allow a four-week break in the middle of it. But I reckon I have a solution, or at least, a possible solution; The Carling Cup. If a Conservative administration were to start slashing the FA, I'm pretty convinced that the Carling Cup would face the metaphorical axe. The reasons are as follows;

1) It takes it up time.
From late September onwards, the Carling Cup takes up most of the English non-European midweek slots. To compound this the semi-finals, more often than not competed amongst "bigger teams", are over two-legs, taking up even more time as well as the final on a Sunday. These mid-week slots could be used for League matches, to maintain the tradition of FA Cup matches being played on a Saturday. Or whenever the television channels says.

2) Does anyone actually like it?
I'm not too sure if anyone actually takes the Carling Cup seriously. We know Arsene Wenger doesn't, judging from his team selection in recent seasons. Unlike the FA Cup, which has a heritage to cling on to, the Carling Cup simply doesn't have that much of a history. Formed in 1960, no one can really think of a "classic" League Cup moment. Leicester won it a couple of times, I think? A final at Wembley is nice, but the reward for winning the trophy is a place in the Europa League. If they had the choice between a lump sum and a place in the Europa League, I'm pretty sure most teams would take the money.

3) We shouldn't be scared of change.
If UEFA can change the final of the Champions League to a Saturday, introduce extra officials and dissolve the Cup Winners' Cup (remember that?) then stopping the Carling Cup doesn't seem that big a deal. Other countries, like Italy, Spain and Germany (ironic) only have the one major domestic cup competition. It just makes sense.

Overall, I understand the hypocrisy of using the Carling Cup as a scapegoat for England's demise, when I started my argument by saying that this blame culture was over. Yet, to me, it would emphasise a change in priorities from the money men to the what the FA should care the most about, their national team.

DC
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England are poor. But at least they aren't French.

Hey,

So the World Cup is going on the now and, if we are honest, it's been a bit shit. It's not been bad, but when a tournament recieves as much hype as this one has, you hope for better. Even Brazil play with two holding midfielders. Of course, they bloody go and score three against Ivory Coast, contradicting everything I have/will write in this blog. But I'm going to carry on regardless of what Luis Fabiano decides to do.

England have been poor, and because I'm Scottish I should be really happy about this shouldn't I? Well, no. Personally, I don't like this "A.B.E." (Anyone But England) attitude that many in this country has. It's embarassing, really, this mindset. It's embedded in our culture, in our national anthem. Is it really bad for a nation to build it's identity around the hatred of another country? That answer should be rhetorical.

Rather, I fall under the term "Semi Final Scot". No, it's a form of erectile disfunction. Rather, it means to support England to a certain extent, but cannot bare the prospect of hearing about it for the rest of their lives if they did what now appears to be unlikely; to win the World Cup. After all, I am a quarter English (Childs, surprisingly, doesn't have a tartan). England still have this imperialist attitude, that it is somehow all about them, this World Cup included. It is not like this., They should have realised when distance from goal became metres and not yards. Does any other country use yards anymore? Only on a football pitch, I suspect.

The most annoying thing about the World Cup for me hasn't been the vuvuzelas, or the ball (which, just for the record, is just a ball) or defence's victory over attack, but it has been France. In a nutshell, they have been, well, French really. Argumentative, incompetent, selfish and lazy are just some of the words that can be used to describe the team in the tournament. What's worst about it is that France are their at Ireland's expense, unfairly too. The irony, that they lost to Mexico who play in emerald green, is not lost on me. The sooner their flight to France to join Nicholas Anelka, the better I say.

At the same time, when it's over, I'm going to miss it. When the World Cup is on you take it for granted; not only are you watching some of the best footballers in the world, but there is just so much of it. Three games a day is not a right, it's a privelege. Even if it is Honduras versus Switzerland. Even if it's France.

DC
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Have you ever heard of a politician from Ghana?

I don't know if you listen to Radio 5live or not. If you don't, I recommend you do, as it is probably the best radio station for sport and what not.

Yesterday they had somebody in a village in the Ethiopian Highlands, who asked the local boys, probably no older than ten years old, about football. Although their English wasn't the best and despite living in a remote part of Africa, they knew an awful lot about football. They knew that Terry's form wasn't great recently, Drogba plays better for Chelsea than the Ivory Coast and that Mourinho was the reason that Inter won the Champions League.

It was incredible to hear these kids on the radio. People say that football is just a game, and in many respects they are right; noone dies because a team has won or lost, and, dare I say it, there are more important things in the world other that football. But at the same time football has a way to connect people together the way not much else can. Whilst in Italy recently I couldn't speak a word of the native tongue, yet I had a twenty minute conversation (no exaggeration) about Eto'o and Scottish teams. I doubt I could have an argument regarding the economy with these locals. Simon Barnes, in his book "The Meaning of Sport", he argues the significance of football. How many people can name a politician in Ghana? But how many people know who Michael Essien is? Bad role models they may be labelled, but footballers can do alot more work for charities and general diplomacy than a poet could. The success of Soccer Aid on Sunday proves this. It just makes you wonder, however, how much more footballers could do? I'm pretty sure somebody who even donated half of their year salary to UNICEF would be in contention for very high praise. Even John Terry.

Can Neil Lennon be Celtic's David Miliband?

With the appointment of Neil Lennon as Celtic's latest manger today, one begins to see startling similarities between the fortunes of the Glasgow club, and the Labour Party. Although it is purely coincidental Celtic play in the city where Labour are at their strongest (during the electioneering Gordon Brown received hero-like status on a trip to the city) the links between the two institutions are often merged. 

Dr John Reid, former Home Secretary under the last Labour Administration recently became chairman of Celtic. But there is much more to it than that. Firstly, both the party and the football team have similar origins; to help those of poorer backrounds. Celtic were a charity formed by Brother Walfred for Irish economic migrants to the city, and Labour have always been strongest in working-class areas such as Glasgow. The Celtic ethos, that of a united "family" epitomised through the huddle, echoes the definition of socialism, even if it is slightly.

At their peak, in the 1960s, Celtic were one of the best teams in the world. The "Lisbon Lions" who won the European Cup in 1967 and nine league titles under Jock Stein. They were formidable. Post-war society was also blooming, with the strength of the Welfare State in the UK and Socialism proving to be a serious alternative to Capitalism in the Soviet Union under Khrushchev. 

Celtic's worse period in history was the late 80s and early 90s, when not much went right for The Hoops. Rangers domination of the domestic game cultivated in their famous "nine in a row", matching the feat of Jock Stein's team earlier on in the century. Finances were in disarray, teetering on administration with the prospect of renaming the club to Celtic United a possibility, had it not been for Fergus McCann. Celtic Park and the infamous "Jungle" part of the ground was dangerously outdated in the post-Hillsborough climate. It feels more than coincidental that this all happened during Thatcherism, and that Celtic stopped Rangers achieving ten league titles in 1997/98, the year New Labour came into power.

Bar the 1999/2000 season, which involved as many disasters as a dodgy dossier, the past decade had been kind to Celtic. League titles were regular, and when they weren't it was down to the last game of the season. European football was frequent, including an European final. And yet this season was so, so bad. Lowlights such as the 4-0 defeat to St.Mirren has meant a change, a revamp for Celtic. Replace "Celtic" with "Labour" and "4-0 defeat to St.Mirren" with "lost a general election" and the lines between the two begin to blur.

That they have gone for Neil Lennon is interesting; a young man who lacks experience as a leader but knows the institution well and has plenty experience in European competitions. It sounds a bit like David Miliband, doesn't it? Whilst the Conservatives and Rangers sort out their finances, it will be intriguing to see how it all figures out for Celtic and Labour who are both missing the power they once had.

Remember when Scotland qualified for World Cups?

Unfortunately for me due to my nation's shocking recent form and and my date of birth, I have only seen Scotland in one major tournament. To compound that, I was only seven at the time and in primary two, meaning the grandness of the occasion was frankly lost on me.

What this has meant, as a result, is that Scotland hasn't had a World Cup song in a long time. Which is a shame because our last one was actually pretty good. "Don't Come Home Too Soon" by Del Amitri sums up Scottish attitude to near enough anything and it's modesty is refreshing compared to the more recent the-trophy-belongs-to-us mentality of English attempts.

Del Amitri - "Don't Come Home Too Soon"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9Lf6P_zPO4

At the same time, this is an example of when World Cup songs are as misleading as North Korean match highlights...

Ally's Army - 1978

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipGLYAxcenQ

English attempts at World Cup songs tend to be poor, a musical equivalent of a cheap St.George flag flying outside a taxi. It might be because of Capello's modesty, or a general rejection of crap music by the public (Simon Cowell not getting Christmas Number 1 this year and Eurovision being, well, Eurovision) that this year Dizzee Rascal, a professional musician, has taken Tears For Fears "Shout" and enhanced it. Good work Mr Rascal.

"Shout" - Dizzee Rascal and James Corden

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IGrqjZJxQfM

Happy birthday Blog! Have some cake or something.

Hey,

So, ultimately I didn't go to RockNess at the weekend, which means this anniversary edition of the blog is not nearly as interesting as perhaps it should have been. In all honesty, the thought of being drunk in a field fails to gain attractiveness. I know there is more to it than that, but if you really like a band why don't you just go and buy a ticket for a tour or something along those lines. Pendulum were really good, but we all knew that they would be. I know because I saw them a year or so ago in Glasgow with the added bonus of having a bed to go to at the end of the night. The fact that it was raining on the Sunday was the final nail in my coffin of decision making. Am I a size 12 blouse, or just a cynical old man? I'm going to go for cynical old git, I don't suit blouses.

Speaking of cynical folk, somebody who I write about often, Charlie Brooker is getting married. This is surprising for many reasons;

* His apparent ease with bachelorhood which, if anything, has grown to define him
* Rumours of him being supposedly being homosexual, backed up with his fashionable, if not ridiculous, haircut
* His fiancée being Konnie Huq

That's right. Konnie. Fucking. Huq. I have nothing against her, just for the record; she was one of the many faces of my childhood, along with Jason from Power Rangers, the bald guy from Crystal Maze and the creepy one from "Shakespeare's Sister". I actually met Konnie Huq once, when I was nine, and she was really nice. Couldn't pronounce "Lochaber" (for some reason English folk always add an unnecessary "r" into the equation). It's just really, really weird is all. Brooker taught me how to criticise television and the like; Huq taught me how to build a Tracey Island replica from washing up bottles. It's just odd, I suppose.

The World Cup is going on, as you probably know, and it's been a bit shit. I'm surprised I'm saying this, because I love football. It's good, normally, but a few things are getting in the way. Or should I say, ears.

That's right, vuvuzelas. Apparently, "vuvuzela" is Afrikaans for "really annoying trumpety thing". It's such a nuisance. If a goal is scored you hear "ERH!!". Someone sent off? "ERH!!". Somebody just completed a game of tetris? "ERH!!".  What has kept me going through the tournament (for which I see most games due to bar work but, thankfully I do not hear) is the prospect of North Korea playing and it's purely for political reasons. Basically, throughout my life I have only known democracy/capitalism and all that it brings. For this, I blame Gorbachev. So now, anything that differs from the norm I am intrigued in. The secrecy surrounding them made them appealing, I guess. So in a way, I was impressed by their performance tonight. I wanted to buy their jersey but I can not find it anywhere. I had to settle for a Partick Thistle shirt instead, because I'm really rebelious. Let's see how I fare getting through customs with a Jags top on eh!

Before I go, happy birthday blog! It's pretty weird that this is a year gone-by, it has just flown by! I promise to keep writing when I go back to Glasgow in September this time. Promise!

Thanks for reading it so far,

DC
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A Political Football.

Hey,

So, I was on twitter the other day, as you do, when I noticed this tweet, regarding Chelsea winning the Premiership. It read like this;

"Congrats to Chelsea tho Im just not sure First Past the Post is the best system for the Premiership any more".

A funny tweet it was, but it made me think (which is worrying in its own accord). Sporting clichés and metaphors have been exhausted in this campaign. In his opinion piece in The Times Frank Skinner suggested that undecided voters should imagine the Conservatives as Chelsea and Labour as Portsmouth in the FA Cup final. Days before the election Sir Alex Ferguson compared it the end of season race for the Premiership.

I'm guilty of using these clichés; in a previous blog entry I likened the resurrection of Labour (or the fall of the Conservatives, depending on your outlook) with a Rocky movie. The coverage of the events, in particular the debates, has been equal to that of a Champions League match, with the option of even watching it in HD (thanks, Sky). I can't quite see the appeal of seeing Adam Boulton's bead of sweat fall down the right side of his face. But it's nice I have the option to do so. Monday night football has been replaced with Thursday night debate, albeit it may be temporary. The last time I had stayed up to watch TV before the election was when England were playing in Australia. In many senses politics went through a sort of "sportification" if you will during this election; parties were seen more as "teams" as such. Could the Liberal Democrats break into the Champions League places? Could the Tories win thanks to their millionaire backer, Roman Abramashcroft? Will the BNP ever change their transfer policy regarding foreign players?

But what is interesting is that, despite this, sport hasn't really been the focus of policy scrutiny, when perhaps it should of been. The next Government, regardless of who it is, will have the Olympics, the Commonwealth Games, an Ashes series and a Champions League final at Wembley. All of these events have impacts on people and the economy; after all, what will the new Olympic Stadium be used for post-2012? West Ham might buy it, but that's only a might. Does Glasgow really need a velodrome in the east end of the city? Should the Ashes be screened on terrestrial TV, the way Wimbledon is and the way it used to be?

Now I know you will argue that there were other priorities in this election, such as the economy, the NHS, the deficit. And you are right. They are more important. But in an election in which a woman who doesn't know where Eastern European's are "flocking from" (the clue is in the name, Mrs Duffy) it should have been given greater precedent. Duffy-gate, ironically, could be compared to a third-round FA Cup upset away to Rochdale for Manchester United, if you are still lapping up the Sun-level puns on show. You are? Grand.

DC

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Fort in doing-ok-shock!

Fort William had traditionally been seen as a bit of a joke when it came to football. A dead weight at the bottom of the Highland League and a seasonal goal difference of minus-100 or more, they have struggled to be taken seriously. Even a plan for an American reality TV show about the club was scrapped.



Yet in November last year Fort William travelled to Turniff United – and won 2-1. To everyone who follows the Highland League this was a major surprise; not only was this three points, but it was also three points away from their fortress (for want of a better word) of Claggan Park. A fluke it was, many argued. For Fort William to win a match was merely a case of mathematical probabilities.



The formbook suggested otherwise, however. “The Fort” were losing more games than winning as before, but instead of losing 10-0, 9-1, 7-0, they were losing by smaller margins. Most defeats were by the odd-goal, or from losing a late goal whilst pushing for an equaliser. For the first time in years Fort William were being competitive, and not looking like the misfits they had been branded before.



And then, in the middle of April, it all clicked. A deserved 3-1 win away at Huntly was followed by a 2-0 win away to Brora Rangers four days later. Due to the vastness of the Highland region, the team bus clocked up 476 miles in search of these victories, a possible reason for losing their next game 4-1 at home to Formartine United. They bounced back to win 3-2 on Saturday at home to Inverurie Locos, a decent outfit from the north east of Scotland who reached the fourth round of the Scottish Cup last season. With three games to play Fort William are sitting a vertigo-inducing third from bottom of the Highland League, with five wins and fifteen more points than last season already; they have sixteen points.



Why Fort William have done better this season could be down to many reasons; Calum MacLean, the long-suffering manager, has been given time to get things right with a small group of players (Fort William have a budget roughly a quarter the size of most Highland League clubs). The finding of a striker with some potency in the Inverness amateur ranks, Sam Urquhart, has helped strengthen the team also. What can be deemed a factor is the expansion of the league from fifteen to eighteen teams (Turniff United, Strathspey Thistle and Formartine United the new teams) with Strathspey sitting below Fort William in the division. The recovery of Fort William is all of their own doing.



With Fort William doing so average just now (trust me, it’s a compliment) the only downside is that the television cameras may never return to Claggan Park in search of diabolical football. The middle of the table is where the team set their sights for next season, and no one is complaining. 

"The Celtic Way" or "The Winning Way"?

Hey,

I love living in Glasgow for many reasons, one of which is how you can "star" spot some fairly low-level celebrities. It's actually really fun when you notice them in public, because it takes a second to fully appreciate what you are seeing. That "and then it clicks" moment is something that seldom happens in Fort William, unless you consider Steve Peat a celebrity. And I don't. No offence.

I've actually spotted a few faces since I've been here, the list consisting of (drum-roll please):

*David Weir

*The drummer from Franz Ferdinand, you know, the one with bad teeth?

*Shaun Maloney

*Neil Lennon

*The lead from Twin Atlantic and today

*Bobby the bar man from "Still Game" (he has a name, no doubt, but if I just said his name it would be fairly insignificant. Then again, "Still Game" hasn't been on for years. The point is I would see anyone like this in Fort William, ok?)

It's quite interesting that Neil Lennon is on that list considering it is unlikely I'll be seeing Tony Mowbray in my jaunts around Glasgow. Mowbray was sacked by Celtic after "that" defeat to St. Mirren (see previous blog) which was the icing on a cake consisting of bad defending, poor tactics and an absence of luck. The caretaker manager for now is Neil Lennon.

Watching his first press interview today was interesting. Lennon is the only figurehead left from the Martin O'Neill era, and it showed during the press conference. He referred to the current team as being soft and sensitive, and answered the question of playing football "the Celtic way". "The Celtic way" of playing football, apparently, is to not only win football matches, but to win them with style and flair. This mentally is counter-productive, since it's tough to play beautiful football with the players Celtic can afford these days. Also, this way of football has never truly been successful since Jock Stein, whose superb team was an one-off and a reminder of just drastically football has changed in the last forty years.

When asked about the "Celtic way" Lennon simply said "the Celtic way is to win", and he is right. Under O'Neill Celtic could play decent football, but first and foremost they were tough. Really tough. The defence had the metaphorical height of the Alps, with Bobo Balde, Stan Varga and even Ulrik Laursen and the midfield had Paul Lambert and Lennon himself (who were strong in the tackle and in the shoulder). With the brilliance of Henrik Larsson was Chris Sutton or John Hartson, who would bully defences with their physical presence. Much of Rangers' success under Walter Smith has been with similar tactics. This is not to say Celtic weren't skilful either back then (Petrov, Thompson, Larsson, Moravcik etc) but they just had more of a spine than what the current squad have, although the budgets between now and 2000 are vastly different.

I don't know how well Lennon will do as caretaker manager, I'm quite sure he doesn't know either. But if there is one thing Celtic are lacking the now it is leadership, which I'm sure he can provide.

DC

x

Celtic, Cider, Crap.

Hey,

Sometimes I wish I was more cultured. When I (seldom) go to exhibits or museums I feel like I should be more impressed than what I am by what is on display. I know a drawing should be able to blow me away, and I can understand the difficulties in creating a masterpiece, but I have never been able to gasp with astonishment at a portrait the way I could gasp at say a football stadium. As much as I loved my trip to London last year, the highlight was not going to a West End production but to seeing the Emirates Stadium. When I buy a broadsheet I read the Sports, News and Opinions (in that order). The quaint supplements provided with the paper - " 2 or what have you - is almost always ignored.

This is a very fanciful (and in many factual instances wrong) introduction to the point that I wish Celtic would stop losing. I am a Celtic fan, a pretty big follower I like to think. But this evening they lost again. This time it was bad. Really bad. 4-0 to St. Mirren to be precise, possibly the worst defeat since the 5-0 defeat to Artmedia Bratislava (who?) in 2005.

I should maybe rephrase all that. I do not regret being a Celtic fan; it consumed my childhood and I loved it. I still do love those big European nights, I still swear like hell at Kyle Lafferty, I still remember all the useless trivia. It's just when you are use to your team being successful, to lose on a seemingly regular occurrence just hurts really, really badly. Almost as badly as today's Budget.

Now that is an exaggeration for which I apologise for. Alistair Darling's Budget today was for the most part fairly solid I thought, and it ticked most of my boxes. Bar one. The tax increase on cider. Why cider? Why me? Why not Buckfast? Why not fags again? Why?

I'm not the only one feeling like this; I have trending topics on Twitter and Facebook petitions to back me up and everything. I doubt I've never felt so British as when I saw "White Lightening" trending above Alistair Darling. I've never felt so proud to British for so many reasons, most noticeably the spelling mistakes.

However I am also realistic: 10% is not that much of an increase, really, it's just the principle of it. And besides, it would take prohibition and copious amounts Meow (don't know what it is? Follow the link at the bottom) to change my vote in May.

Night night.

http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=brass+eye+cake&page=&utm_source=opensearch

DC
x

The demise of Portsmouth, lessons that could be learned?

Hey,

I see Portsmouth have fallen into administration, yet I do not feel sorry for them at all, really. Not because of my family ties to Southampton, though that has meant I have always found a reason to not like Portsmouth, but because their demise seems fitting a punishment for what was essentially cheating. By vastly over-spending on players they could not afford, Portsmouth for a year or two lived the dream. Winning the FA Cup was arguably the best day in the club's history, as were the consequences of winning the Cup. Their entry into the UEFA Cup granted Portsmouth a glamorous visit from AC Milan.

Obviously one feels sympathy for the Portsmouth fans - I know if Celtic were in a similar mess I would be devastated - but the fact is the ambition (or greed, dependant on your outlook) was not victimless. For a start, Cardiff City were denied winning the FA Cup because of the unfair playing field. Should they be given the trophy retrospectively, such as the case in Italy after the match-fixing scandal? It would be pointless. Portsmouth FC may be ruined but the memories can never be taken away. You can give Cardiff the trophy but you can't give them that European night when Ronaldinho and Kaka went to Cardiff can you?

The debt of the Premiership - which by all accounts is extraordinary - is frustrating because of the unfair playing field it creates. The crisis of Portsmouth is, albeit more extreme, similar to the financial worries of Rangers up here in Scotland. Rangers are effectively being controlled by Lloyds TSB, with the entire squad effectively up for sale. It seems they too are paying the price for the over-zealous buying under Dick Advocaat in the late 1990/early 2000s. Looking back, the purchases of Advocaat - £12 million for Tore Andre Flo, £6 million for Michael Ball - are, for want of a better word, stupid.

But what makes the situation most annoying is that Rangers' debt, by comparison to those in England is small. Rangers were as good as put up for sale by Lloyds TSB because of a debt of £30 million which is a lot of money by anyone's reckoning. Yet Everton, a team who's bank balances are admired by most in England as being stable for a Premiership team, are also £30 million.

I hate money in football. It makes everything unfair. It means that a team can, under the right process, buy success. I know it is not as easy as that (ie Manchester City, QPR, Hoffenheim, Gretna) but it does certainly help. In 1967, Celtic won the European Cup, Rangers got to the an European final and Kilmarnock (yes, Kilmarnock) got to a semi-final. Today, this would never happen. How can there be equality in football when England has four teams in the "Champions" League? I am going off on a tangent here, but the point is football - like banks - should really ought to be regulated. Self-regulation, as we have seen with Portsmouth and Leeds, simply does not work.

There are many ways this could be done; transfer limits, price caps etc. It will never happen though, which really is a shame. As most Portsmouth fans are probably feeling the pain of their club's over-ambition.

DC x

Sleeping Sickness

Hey,

One thing I hate about being student (though there aren't many things I hate to be fair) is the sleeping pattern that one experiences, especially a social science such as myself. I am writing this blog entry at 00:52 on Thursday morning. A year ago, to be awake at this time on a school night would be unimaginable; now it's the norm.

It's due mainly I think to my timetable, which is very generous regarding when I actually have to be in Uni. For example, Tuesday is my earliest start. I start at midday on a Tuesday. This is great for nights out and the like, but I secretly (well, not secretly anymore, I've just wrote it in a blog for goodness sake) would like a return to a normal pattern. I miss being tired before the end of Question Time. I miss having lunch at lunchtime instead of breakfast. The irony is that the only time I had a return to this body clock was at Christmas when I worked in Morrisons. Do I have to compromise my mental state in exchange for a standard nine hours sleep? It's quite an interesting dilemma. On the face of it, I would not swap the life I've got right now; I play hockey with some great people, doing a course I really enjoy and have met some really good people since I've moved to Glasgow, a city which is so vibrant with terrific night life and a football stadium literally yards away from my Halls.

On the other hand, I miss Ben Shepherd's face in the morning. I cannot pin-point why I miss GMTV. It's not that great a television show (excluding the regular appearances of Dappy, which are always both bizarre and fantastic), and the bits I feel the urge to slag off (Lorraine Kelly, no offence) I can't because I've never seen them due to the show's regular time table. It just provided a clear structure to my day, an introduction. In Glasgow I wake up at random times and (occasionally) places.

I could make a compromise. I could just get up early, get the best of both worlds. But I struggle getting up with my alarm clock ("Riverside, Motherfukkkkkkka!!" if you are interested) in the morning as it is. Oh well, I'll just wait until the summer where work is back to normal, none of this degree nonsense.

In other news, my day was improved on Sunday by a reply on Twitter by Dave Gorman. Cool eh? If you don't know who he is, he's a comedian and a funny one too. The transcript of said tweets between me and Gorman are actually fairly dull, but if you want to see them go on my twitter. It's next to this article. Which is quite handy.

Remember the piece I wrote about the Superbowl? Well, if you go to Glasgow Uni feel free to pick up a copy of the Glasgow Guardian where you'll find it in this week's edition! I had to trim it a wee bit, a thousand words on American football was a bit much, but even so, it's good to be published. The copies are being posted the grandparents, obviously.

The Winter Olympics is fast becoming similar to the bag full of washing lying in the corner of my bedroom. I know I should deal with it, ultimately doing it would improve my life, albeit in the short term. Yet I just cannot get into watching it. I could watch clips of it on Youtube, but to be honest I just do not find it interesting. Which annoys me. Speaking to Nordic people in one of my classes the other day who loved ice hockey just made me wonder if I am the only one who just doesn't care about these games? I've started calling it the "Eurosport Games" as opposed to the Winter Olympics, for in my opinion it is just the sports you get on channel 410 (is it still that on Sky? It has been a while) that you flick past automatically, only to be annoyed because it is on HD too and your channel flicking process is temporarily stalled. That could just be me.

Anyways, I'm going to get some sleep now, or at least try to. It's 01:12, the day is still young...

DC x

Goodnight, Irene.

Hey,

You probably did not get the reference in the title, did you? I thought not. You're so ignorant. I don't know why I bother sometimes.

Wait come back. I was clearly joking, because "Goodnight Irene" is the anthem of the lesser known football team I support. The mighty Bristol Rovers FC. Surprisingly, they are not that well known, especially up here in Scotland. Surprising, because they are the second best team in Bristol, albeit out of two. They play in the third tier of English football and very seldom get on air time or even column inches. Even on my blog. Even Scouting For Girls have been on my blog.

But last night was different; infront of a packed Memorial Stadium Rovers' home match versus Charlton was screened on Sky Sports One. this in itself is a minor miracle as we (I shall refer to Bristol Rovers as "we" now) have not been on TV for two years. And unlike the other team I support, Celtic (who?) they actually won! I cheered so loud when they scored my flatmate thought something wrong had happened becasue she overheard. This story deserves far more detail then I am supplying, but I am in a rush because the Milan-Manchester United game is about to start! Hopefully this is not the last time I write about Rovers, and hopefully it's the last time time I write about Scouting For Girls.

Sorry by the way Scouting For Girls, nothing personal. Honestly.

DC x

Superbawl.

Hey,

So then, Superbowl XLIV. Did you watch it? If so, did you know exactly what was going on, or did you just look in to see what the fuss was going on? I was a mixture of both; I had a fair grasp of the rules of American Football, courtesy of owing NFL Madden 2000 on the Playstation and that sleep had deserted me on Sunday night / Monday morning.

The Superbowl is like the finale of a television show which you have never seen before. You know that it is big in the US, and that from all reports is kind of a big deal so you should really watch it so you have a vague idea of what had happened, thus ensuring that you aren’t the idiot who doesn’t have a clue on what happened when you go to your lectures on Monday. In that regard it is a bit like Glee. However, like watching a TV show from cold, it takes a while to warm to the main characters. For instance, it is hard to feel any strong emotions towards Patton Manning, until you realise he is the latest in a family famous for quarter backs and is in search of his fourth Superbowl winner’s ring (let’s face it, a winner’s ring is far cooler than a medal; you can’t exactly wear a medal to work can you? Trust me, I’ve tried).

In some aspects, the Superbowl is the essence of “the American Dream”; it’s brash, loud, super-sized and commercialised (a thirty second advert during the game is estimated to cost $2.6 million). The half-time show is worth staying up to 1am on its own. This year, The Who played during the interval. The Who for crying out loud! Imagine if the Champions League final had a brief interlude with a set from The Rolling Stones? It’s unimaginable, and it just wouldn’t feel right. The mind wanders to the Twenty20 Cup final which had a half-time show performed by the Sugababes (old Sugababes, you know when at least one of the original members was there, I forgot who though). It was just a bit bizarre when you realise they are a warm-up act for the Surrey Brown Caps chasing 130 on a flat track.

Yet the Superbowl spectacle is possibly one which we sceptical British folk can relate to if only we can admit to it. For a start, unlike all the other major sports in the US, the Superbowl is a final and not a “best of” series such as the World Series in baseball or the Stanley Cup in Ice Hockey. This brings it in line with “our” (I use the term “our” loosely to describe rugby, football etc) sports, which focus on a grand finale of such.

Watching the national anthem at the beginning of the game instantly brought my mind back to rugby union, with the coincidental start of the Six Nations on the same weekend. The pride and patriotism from the fans in Miami was not too dissimilar to hearing a packed Millennium Stadium singing “Land of My Fathers” or hearing “Flower of Scotland” sung by 65, 000 Scots in unison. Superbowl brings the country together the way a big international football match brings a nation together, and this can’t be a bad thing, can it?

To joke about the blatant advertising in the Superbowl (which is brought to you by Bridgestone, by the way) seems to be a touch hypocritical when “our” sports appear to be just as bad; e.g the Heineken Cup or the Coca Cola League Championship. It is even subtle for goodness sake. What is interesting to note is that the player kits worn by both teams and all NFL franchises have no sponsorships on them, unlike football shirts which are now effectively mobile billboards.

Of course, the sport does itself no favours having “franchises” as opposed to teams. Those who simply do not like NFL can criticise its flexibility that the Colts simply picked up sticks one day and moved from Baltimore to Indianapolis. Apparently, this means a franchise is devoid of history, of roots to a city to the way a football club has. But really, who needs history? If the Premiership could be as flexible as the NFL it would be. The desire for a “39th Game” abroad was inspired by the NFL’s annual international game in London, and shot down by our ugly British scepticism. American Football, of course, is not restricted to America; as well as NFL Europe - a league which was graced by the presence of the Scottish Claymores until a few years ago – the international game at Wembley is a huge event. For the 2009 game between the Saints and the Chargers the first 45,000 tickets available sold out in just ninety minutes.

The game itself was actually very interesting, despite my increasing tiredness creeping in. Complicated, yes, but interesting nonetheless. It is a game of strategy, tactics and planning, just like football or rugby or cricket. Just because I did not know the technical terms and the ins and outs (I will probably never know what “unnecessary roughness” is) it didn’t fail to spoil my enjoyment.

So, at the end of a long night, it was the New Orleans Saints who were triumphant, winning 31-17. What the night proved for me though is that this game is a) immensely popular and b) far more entertaining than I thought it would be (though the performance by The Who helped a wee bit). It made me wonder, is it us who are the ignorant ones for not taking this game as seriously as we should?

DC x

Deadline Day; Call the Masses.

Hey,

I know I know I know I KNOW I said I would try and write this blog daily. Circumstances (broken laptop) have meant that I couldn't. With that excuse gone it may appear that I have failed on this promise. But technically, I havent, for you see I started this blog on Monday 1st February, so make of this what you will. Not as if it matters, in the grand scheme of things. If I did not write this blog civilisation would still function. I would still function. What is the point of this?

A bit downbeat? Yeah, sorry. I don't really feel like that, it is just an introduction for today's blog. Not that much has happened since we last met; I caught up with Glee, followed by four hours of vomiting/crying. Whichever is more manly, because Glee doesn't produce that sort of reaction out of me. More a feeling of discontent, cringe and at best, an admiration of Sue's tracksuits. Adidas Original will always be cool.

Today though was the last day of the January transfer window. Anyone with an eagle eye will have noticed however that today is the start of February. It makes no sense, right? As a Celtic fan (don't judge) transfer windows generally mean a relatively empty month, with nothing but jealousy of the spending power of Stoke and Bolton to feed on. But this year has been different; players have been bought, sold to Middlesbrough (contender to be the new Coventry, possibly?) and it has all been very exciting. Especially the signing of Robbie Keane.

Good news, yes, but the messiah no he is not. The reaction of the Celtic fans is on a similar scale to said Monty Python sketch. But yet hundreds, literally hundreds of fans have turned up at the gates of Celtic Park to see him. It all reminds me of Newcastle so much when Kevin Keegan was signed/sacked/signed again/sacked again. Ultimately, Keane, like all of us, is human. Any less than a Keane-inspired league trophy will be seen as a disappointment.

To conclude, I should really be going to bed. University is tomorrow and I am tired from my hockey exploits. On the other hand, my flatmates are out tonight, I am tempted to stay up and laugh at drunk people. Heck, they have done it to me enough times...

DC x

Typical drab 4-4 draw then, aye?

Before I burn my eyes with said episodes of said US show I actually forgot to mention that I actually did interesting things the last couple of days. None more as interesting as Saturday's events at the News of the World, with sports journalist John McGarry. I shadowed him as he reported on the match between Kilmarnock and Dundee United. The paltry attendance at the match (just under 5000, in a stadium with a capacity of at least three times this) gives a rough indication of what could've been expected. How wrong the fine people of Ayrshire were.

The match finished 4-4. Now, for non-football followers this will mean little to you. I could say any combination of numbers (19-3, x-3, $34-5%) and would expect the similar reply of "Oh, that's nice. I don't really get football". But the match I was lucky to attend (and also have free access to what are regarded as the best pies in the country) was stupendous.

I use stupendous in the good way, of course, although the defending by both teams was sometimes on parallel to that of a fairly idiotic child, wandering the playground not smart enough to be interested in the sciences but not athletic enough to even attempt sports. Everyone knows a guy like this, right? I'm moving away from the subject here. The point was the standard of defending was dismal, but equally the attacking prowess - of Dundee United especially - was quite satisfying. Craig Conway scored a delicious volley and a wonderful chip within the space of five minutes. Kevin Kyle, who is in essence a big lump of a striker, is actually quite good at being a big lump whilst still maintaining some elements of skill. Say, like Peter Crouch if he was a)ate more porridge and b)a bit worse, I mean, he plays for Kilmarnock after all.

The one player which amused me on the pitch though was a man with an unfortunate surname. For once, this wasn't the Dundee United striker David Goodwillie, who must surely win said award every other match he will ever play in, but a character by the name of Danny Invincible.

Now, with a name like Danny Invincible, you are always heading for a fall. For Invincible not to survive a nuclear holocaust would still be a surprise, purely because of his name. Well, a surprise before the same mushroom cloud quickly turned us into puddles of messiness, but a surprise nonetheless. A name like Invincible should be saved for a Nobel prize winner, not a Kilmarnock midfielder. But blessed with this name he has been, and it's a name he lives with. The ultimate shame is that it doesn't resemble his talents. At all. I feel for him, because I know it can't be fun having a surname which can be joked with. "Childs" has more ammunition than Iraq didn't.

Overall though, I really enjoyed the day. The pre-match build up, the game itself, the pies (very good, but in my personal opinion not the same as those of Firhill "Arena" as Glasgow Warriors insist on calling it), the post-match interviews with the managers and the general combination of my two favourite things; sport and writing. The only problem is that I fear that I will probably never get that dream job I want; written media is dying from 24-hour news channels and the internet. Local newspapers are dying, jobs aren't getting replaced when people retire and there are generally few jobs available. Apparently in the time between my two visits to the News of the World (three years) not one person has been hired. Add a recession into the equation and it all starts to look bleak. Perhaps I was too hasty to leave the fish counter...

Finally, I see that Andy Murray lost. Which I am genuinely gutted about. I don't get Murray-haters, I really do not. We have been blessed with what is - and I use this term in the highest form of respect possible - a sporting freak of nature. A man, who is number three in the world and the future winner of Grand Slams, has come from Scotland. We should be proud of him, not angry because he doesn't smile as much as we would like. He is a genuine national treasure like Susan Boyle or the new Scottish Power Ranger (seriously, there is a Scottish Power Ranger. Unfortunately, his catch phrase is not "I'll set aboot ye!"). We should be treasure him.

DC x

Footbawl.

Hey,

For the first time in literally months I played football today. Five-a-sides, astroturf, in the centre of Glasgow. Due to my absence from any football pitch recently, this also meant the hasty purchase of astroturf trainers. I went to Sports Direct/ Sport Soccer/ Soccer Sport/ Soccer Direct/ Direct Soccer/ Direct Sports or whatever the bloody hell it is called to buy the cheapest pair of size 9s in stock. Done.

I'll be honest with you, playing football today was actually magic. Not Paul Daniels magic. Not even Jack Daniels magic. But it was 'proper' magic. I might start doing it more often. Just to be kicking a ball again was nice. And I scored twice. And that rhymed. Score.

The football finished at two, which meant Craig and I were cutting it fine in reaching football part two; Partick Thistle vs Dunfermline. As a newly converted Jags fan today should've been a nightmare, with Partick losing 4-1. But to be honest I was pleased just to see some goals for once, even if they were in the wrong goal. Part Three of the football was at Curlers to watch the Spurs vs Leeds match. Cracking match, but was ruined by a) the pub having subtitles on and b)said subtitles being completely wrong and useless. "Crutch and Defoe are scored goals". What?

I can't finish today's blog without a brief review of "Mock the Week" which I watched on iPlayer last night. It wasn't that bad, it just missed the constant West of Scotland-abusive-anti-Kerry Katona/Michael Jackson-quick wittiness of Frankie Boyle. Then again, so is Panorama but you'll seldom see to anyone complain about it, do you?

DC x

ps Five songs I recommend loads eh;

1)Idea for a Story - Bloc Party
2)You've Got Everything Now - The Smiths
3)A Thing For Me - Metronomy
4)Liquid Lives (Noisia Remix) - Hadouken!
5)Heartbreaker - MSTRKRFT