Love, Life, Art and Cricket

I Am Not Irish

2010-11-22T23:41:00.000-08:00

True story. I'm not. Neither am I Scottish. English is PERHAPS a better guess - I try to speak more clearly in Holland - but equally wrong. I am, however, British - but that's because Liz let me join her gang a little while ago, and I achieved that by jumping through bureaucratic hoops, not by being born.

I do have red hair, though. As Nick Earls writes of Richard Derrington's doctor in Zigzag Street, one of my favourite books, I am "profoundly ginger". Quite how this means that people should mistake me for being from Ireland I have no idea, though - it's not as though I SOUND Irish. At all!

Lately however, people have begun conversations with me by saying "are you Irish?", or even "what part of Scotland are you from?", and I have to admit that it's beginning to give me the shits. Yes, I live in the Netherlands where everyone speaks English as a second or third language so I can't expect people to be good at picking accents, but you'd think that they might know that, too. Ask me to tell the difference between a Belgian or Dutch accent, or a German, Austrian or Swiss one, and I wouldn't be at all confident that I'd get it right. I might have a GO at it, but I wouldn't just plow in there and say "you must be Bavarian!", because 1) they'd probably be freakin' Antarctican for all I know, and 2) people can get offended when you get it wrong, so it's best not to tempt fate.

Being mistaken for an Irishman or Scot is not the worst thing in the world of course - but that doesn't mean it's not ignorant. There are more places in the world that breed the occasional red-head than Ireland and Scotland! The thinking that goes with "he's got red hair, he must be Irish" is pretty much the same line of thinking as assuming that if someone's black they must be from Africa. Try that in the East End and see how far you get!

The correct question is, of course, "where are you from?" and then you can go from there. Otherwise you just end up looking like a prize pillock. Or worse, annoying me!

Starting again

2010-11-22T23:06:00.000-08:00

Well, it's been awhile. Over a year, in fact! Thanks to Carl, though - see comments here, my attention has been drawn back to this blog, and I think I'll try to make more of an effort with it.

Part of my problem with being a regular blogger was running out of ideas. I wanted my blog to be a semi-regular opinion column in a vaguely journalistic way, but after a decent enough start I began to lack the discipline to put together anything really meaningful, and ended up with a bunch of half-written articles that started out ok but sort of meandered off into nothing. I didn't want to post bad material, so didn't, and then got out of the habit of writing things in the first place. After that I had the idea that I would only post things when I really felt inspired, but just.... didn't end up doing it. Perhaps I only liked the IDEA of being a writer, as opposed to actually enjoying writing. I know a lot of singers like that. It makes me realise how difficult being a full-time columnist must be from time-to-time - you've got to produce something interesting and readable every time, no matter how mundane your life seems to be on that given day or week. I suppose, like most things, money makes a difference. With all of the artistic integrity in the world (and I'd like to think that I have a fair amount), I'm sure I wouldn't work as hard on my singing if I wasn't being paid for it - I can crap on about art with a capital "A" all I like, but one of the real incentives to work hard and be the best singer I can be is so that I can pay the rent!

Anyway. We'll see what I come up with.

We apologise for this short delay in transmission, and will be with you shortly. Do not adjust your set.

It's A-gas.

2009-10-28T10:35:00.001-07:00

So the world's sporting headlines are bursting at the seams because Andre Agassi took crystal meth. Quelle horreur.

Can someone explain to me why crystal meth is a banned substance in sport, and why it's tested for in the first place? Same questions for any drugs that fall under the category of "recreational"? Why should the various anti-doping agencies, who came into being purely to make sure that athletes are not cheating by taking performance enhancing drugs, give a damn about whether they're taking something that actually has the opposite effect? If Tony Adams can play for Arsenal as an alcoholic, then why shouldn't Adrian Mutu do the odd line, or Andre Agassi hoover garbage up his snout if he wants to?

The hypocrisy of it all, and dare I say it the invasion of athletes' civil liberties when it comes to it, is astounding. Because the obvious answer to my questions is the tired old "because it sets a bad example for the kiddies back home". Which is balls! Nothing gives me the shits more than the idea that because some idiot is overpaid to kick a bit of leather around a field that he has some sort of moral obligation to be Mother Theresa as well. What's worse is when we don't just expect it, we ASSUME it, usually through some sort of ridiculous idea (and I'm talking particularly to the Australians amongst us) that if you're good enough to play sport professionally then you're obviously a better grade of person. It's made all the more ridiculous when in many, many cases - witness various of the drug scandals in AFL, the sex scandals in the NRL, the sort of reputations that Premier League footballers have - the truth is far from that anyway. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that in the highly-paid, ultra-professional, hugely-competitive-by-nature industry that modern sport has become, being an entirely dislikable bastard is probably not a bad attribute for an athlete to have! As soon as the world stops expecting athletes to be 1st-class citizens, the better.

All that said, I think most sport fans know this anyway. Go up to some guy in a pub and say "Ricky Ponting's a hard-nosed, ruthless bastard. He probably wouldn't have time for you or me", their response would be "Yeah? And?"

So why the moral judgements on drugs? Why are sporting agencies so obsessed with maintaining a squeaky-clean image? It's self-defeating. The more stringent the standards are, the more scandals there will be, and the more cynical we'll get. Andre Agassi taking crystal meth when he was at a low point of his career should not be any cause for alarm, and you and I don't need to know about it. Have YOU ever taken recreational drugs? Statistics tell us that it's probably quite likely. Why should we expect Agassi to be any different? Are you going to turn up to the office on Monday only to be told that because you smoked some weed on Friday night that you're going to be banned from working for a set period? Of course not - and your reaction, quite rightly, will be that smoking a joint the other night has no effect whatsoever on your ability to do your job, and until such time as it does, management can mind their own business.

And if you're going to say that athletes are in the public eye and that increases reponsibility, then you're just being naive. Politicians, anyone?

The only people that athletes should be answerable to if they take recreational drugs is the police if they get caught. Anything else is a whole lot of hot air - or in this case, publicity for book sales.

Things Have Changed.

2009-07-30T07:34:00.000-07:00

Just 'cos.

Death of a Salesman

2009-07-25T02:30:00.001-07:00

On July 25th 2008, exactly one year ago, I left my job to take up full-time singing. It's a decision that I haven't regretted for one, solitary moment. Since that time, several things have happened.

I've lost weight
I've stopped biting my fingernails
My hair has gone curly again
I no longer have habitual diarrhoea
It's rare that I don't sleep well
I no longer walk into rooms feeling like I have to apologise before I've even said anything
My hands don't shake anymore.

There's a lot of it that is still with me that I wish would go away. I still think of it much more than I should. I still re-live arguments that I had with people years ago. I still think about friends that I lost, and wish that things had been different. I still deal with any sort of political subterfuge and betrayal very badly. It's only quite recently that I stopped having bad dreams about people having a go at me.

I will remember the two and a half years that spenned March 2006 to July 2008 as the unhappiest and most stressful period of my life to date. I cannot remember a time when I felt so alone, and I cannot remember a time when I was ever more disappointed with the world and those in it. I spoke to a friend about it awhile ago, and talked about how it's only now that I feel so much more happy and whole that I can appreciate how awful the situation was, and that I feel like I've woken up from a long and restless sleep. She had been through a similar situation herself, and said "yes - it's like being dead'. I couldn't have agreed more.

This post probably breaks the house rules. But I can think of no better way to put down a permanent marker that I'll be able to re-visit easily to remind myself of what it was like. Something that will be able to tell me years later that yes, it really was as bad as all that, and that I shouldn't allow time to rose-tint any of it.

I'm never, ever, ever allowing myself to feel that way again. Not under any circumstances.

Best day's play ever?

2009-07-19T12:40:00.000-07:00

No matter what happens tomorrow, Day 4 of the 2nd Ashes Test at Lord's, 19th July 2009 will go down as one of the best day's cricket I have ever seen. I wish I was there to see it live.

This is why the Ashes is such a great spectacle. Ever since 2005, when England breathed life back into Ashes cricket with their famous 2-1 win, I have followed every ball I can of England-Australia series. Unlike the previous seventeen years when England looked beaten before they even set foot on the field, since 2005 there has been a belief to their game that has made each test well worth watching. Even the 2006/7 series in Australia was a fantastic series in my book - despite the fact that Australia won 5-0, England were "in" every game except for Brisbane, but just couldn't land the killer blows when they counted. None more so than in Adelaide which they came oh-so-close to winning, but somehow contrived to lose.

As I type, Adelaide is on my mind, for more than one reason. First and foremost is the result, with Australia winning from a seemingly unwinnable position. The other is because of what I can remember as possibly the greatest partnership I've ever seen, in the form of the 192-run stand between Ricky Ponting and Mike Hussey, that took Australia from the absolute brink at 3/65 to the relative comfort of 4/257. I watched nearly all of it before I couldn't keep my eyes open - I was watching it in England - but can remember watching every ball, completely riveted, and marvelling at both players' powers of concentration. Even though good batting was still to come in the form of Clarke and Gilchrist, you knew that if another partnership failed Australia were surely doomed, and so every single ball counted. Both players played within themselves and scored runs when they were available - the only thing that disappointed me was that Hussey didn't reach the ton he so deserved. Ponting said afterwards that his innings was "not one of his best" or similar, and that it was more about occupation than anything else - for the very reason that he had to play against his natural attacking instincts and still succeeded, I thought it was an absolute masterclass and his best innings to date.

There was similar feel to today's 185-run stand between Michael Clarke and Brad Haddin, although there was no sense of Australia being doomed if this partnership failed - it was clear that they were already doomed, and any sort of a resistance was only going to delay the inevitable. Clarke started brightly and dominated the strike, and when he saw the ball Haddin played well - but the talk was still about poor umpiring and how Australia were going to bounce back from what was obviously going to be a humiliating defeat. Mike Atherton, who has recently shed his dry impartiality for a one-eyedness that I'm finding very disappointing, even started talking about Ricky Ponting's future as captain.

And yet the partnership carried on, and seemingly without anyone noticing, started to become quite significant. 50 runs were brought up in 58 balls. 100 in 157. 150 in 242, until finally when bad light was called, 185 had been racked up in 47.2 overs at a rate of 3.90 an over. Utterly phenomenal when you consider that next-highest Australian partnership for the entire match was 93, and that the entire Australian team could only manage 215 for the first innings. Michael Clarke, not my favourite player and someone who I've thought has underachieved in his career to date, seemed not to put a foot wrong and played brilliantly for his 125 n.o., and Haddin, some late risk-taking aside, was equally impressive with his 80. They have now batted Australia into a situation whereby victory is not inconceivable - unthinkable when they came to the crease at 128/5.

Naturally, the day wasn't all about Clarke and Haddin, even though they played together for more than half of it. You can't talk about Day 4 without bringing up Katich, Hughes and Hussey, and the diabolical luck they had. Hughes in particular has got to be wondering what he can do in England so far this series - a bottom-edge in Cardiff, the unluckiest of dismissals down the legside in the first innings at Lord's, and now the catch that wasn't in the second. I've posted it below - I don't know how long it will be before someone takes it down, but here it is in glorious technicolour. The title is not mine, nor are the speech bubbles.

I for one don't happen to think that Andrew Strauss cheated anyone. I think you can see why he thought it was out. Essentially, the ball met the ground at the same time his hands did, and to him it felt like a catch. The other, and more obvious reason I don't think he cheated is because he's not that stupid - just the same as any international cricketer worth his salt. Why would you claim a catch like that when there are cameras everywhere, unless you really thought it was a clean catch? You'd get run out of town - and he still might. I doubt it, though - his name isn't Ricky Ponting (more on that in a later post).

All of that said, I don't think it was out. There's no way a third umpire would gave given it, and as Shane Warne says in the clip, how can Billy Doctrove, from 40 metres away, POSSIBLY say it was out? The umpiring has been shocking all match, and this is the worst example of it. It's so disappointing when things like this happen, and for three bad decisions to go against the Australians in what was a fantastic day's play was hugely frustrating. I'll be the first to stick my hand up and say that with or without Haddin and Clarke's partnership, England have been the best team in this match and daylight has been second - but that doesn't mean that things like this should happen. The only thing to say apart from "arse" or similar, is that in pressure situations, umpiring decisions will tend go with the run of play. 2005 taught us that if nothing else.

What I loved about today though was that it was ALL on a knife-edge, and every ball mattered. Even the above controversies contributed to that. I was enthralled when Katich and Hughes started the innings, I was enthralled when Ponting came to the wicket, I was enthralled (and incensed) when Hughes was dismissed, and.... well, you make up the rest. And when Clarke and Haddin batted so well in the last session, I can't remember being as excited watching a game of cricket in a long time. Maybe Langer and Gilchrist's partnership against Pakistan at Hobart comes close.

I'm actually seldom more interested in a game of (Test) cricket unless Australia is losing. I take no pleasure from it you understand - but its purely because of the occasional bolt of brilliance like these partnerships that make me want to watch it more. When Australia lost to South Africa in Australia late last year I was in the UK and watched nearly every ball. As it was, South Africa won easily. But they might not have. Something INCREDIBLE could have happened to turn around the game - and I never want to miss that.

And the best thing about the current situation is that it's not finished!! Anything could happen from here - it could still rain, and we'll get a draw! I really hope it doesn't rain, though - I want to see this to the bitter end. I just hate to think what will happen if we lose a wicket with about 150 runs to go, and then someone has to bat with Johnson, and then the tail. What if we need, say, 40 runs, and it's Johnson and Hilfenhaus at the crease? Will we see another Edgbaston?

Anyone got a spare defibrillator?

1st Test Reflections

2009-07-14T13:48:00.001-07:00

Right, well - the most obvious point - the English team are lucky, lucky boys. Australia did nearly everything they could have possibly done to win that test, but somehow ended up walking away, on the wrong side of a 0-0 scoreline. Although possibly not as much on the wrong side as England were. Although England will be VERY relieved that it's still 0-0 - which might mean that they're not really on the wrong side of it at all. Errr - ok then.

So. I'm not going to go into a blow-by-blow description of what actually happened - there are more prolific bloggers than me that have already done that - but the salient facts are that Australia outplayed England by just about the greatest margin you would ever see in a match without winning the match. With the bat, Ponting and Haddin were impressive, as were Katich and North if unspectacular. With the ball Hilfenhaus was very good, Siddle was very good (the spell to Swann on the 5th day was great stuff), Hauritz was much better than expected, and Johnson was bloody ordinary but somehow ended up with four wickets.

England looked largely listless and underdone. I'll start with the bowling because that's what we saw the most of - Broad in particular was rubbish all match. Anderson looked like the Anderson of old - i.e. crap. Flintoff impressed at times but was a work-horse at best for the rest of it. Monty- crap. Swann - crap. It's quite remarkable how Haruitz's match figures of 61 overs 6/158 compare to Penesar's and Swann's - a combined tally of 73 overs, 1/253. Ouch - and EVERYONE was queuing up to say how crap Hauritz was before the match started. With the bat they looked ok in the first innings but basically pretty woeful in the second, and have a lot to thank Collingwood for. I think it's amazing how he seems to be playing for his spot every third or fourth match and yet still does ok. He's actually got a pretty good record now - 49 matches, 9 hundreds, 15 fifties, 3453 runs at an average of almost 45 is pretty good going for someone so allegedly lacking in talent.

The one thing that particularly struck me though, was the teams' attitudes to the game. Australia bossed nearly all of it - and looked psychologically strong for its entirety, even during the few patches that England did well in the first innings. England were very, very ordinary in that department however, and particularly on the fourth day when Australia were piling on the runs. Everyone was talking about the likelihood of rain, it was supposed to arrive at lunchtime, and it was palpable that England were playing for the weather from ball one. It didn't arrive until tea by which time Australia had declared 239 runs in front and taken two English wickets - which served England right as far as I'm concerned. I'll say this about the English team - I have seen Australia lose, I have seen Australia play badly, but I have NEVER seen them play like that - nor seen an Australian captain allow it. How a team of highly-paid international cricketers can be allowed to go through the motions on account of a few clouds on the horizon I will never know. I think it speaks of a poor set-up in the team, and if they do that again this series it will come back to bite them. The first session of Day 4 is where England "lost" the match as far as I'm concerned, and they were very lucky it didn't actually happen properly.

I still think this series will be close, though - and I'm still going with my 2-1 margin. For all England's poor cricket and poor attitude, their tail-end batting showed a lot of application on Day 5, and it's just great to see players playing as though their lives count on it again - you only get that in the Ashes these days. Graeme Swann in particular batted very well, even in the face of one of the more frightening overs I have seen for a long time from Peter Siddle, and I really hope we get to see more of that as the series goes on. I also have the sneaking suspicion that Australia won't have it all their own way all the time - you're not going to have four of your top six scoring hundreds in the same innings every time, for starters. Unless England really are that ordinary. Which, after all, they might be.

Hope not, though.

Ashes predictions.

2009-07-06T10:12:00.001-07:00

OK, here goes, drum roll........

I'm predicting a tense-ish 2-1 victory for Australia.

Although when you think about it, this is just a spot away from the most blatant fence-sitting you're likely to see - within that 2-1 I'm declaring that two tests will be draws, and I'm allowing for England to win one as well. It also suggests that I think the better side will win, but that it might be closer than it really should be. If I was going to make a remark about what I think really SHOULD happen, I would say 3-1 Australia, but somehow I think we're going to make hard work of this one. Essentially I think that lightning might come CLOSE to striking twice, but that it won't in the end and Australia will win - and we'll be watching a good series and no question.

So. Here are the reasons why I'm thinking this way.

Perhaps surprisingly enough to some, this isn't coloured by the 2005 result at all. There is no superstition in this. It's purely based on my feeling about the sides and how they'll play.

At the end of the day, Australia will win because they're just plain better. In (nearly) every department they are the better team, but what particularly sets them apart is their ability to play an enterprising brand of cricket when it's required, particularly with the bat. I have lost count of the times I have seen England grind away, bat too slowly, and let the opposition back into the game when they should have shut them out long ago. This always frustrates me immensely, even as someone who would rather see England lose than not, because their cautious, play to the percentages attitude often reveals such a poor mental approach to the game which I just have no time at all for. As a spectator I want to see domination, humiliation, strength and assertion of will, flair, arrogance, guts, determination, competitiveness beyond all measure and above all, contest - conservatism just doesn't belong in any of that, and England are too often too conservative a side. I've never worked out quite why that is, because in England you MUST make the most of good conditions when you have them, because things can change so quickly. A comfortable session at 2.5 runs an over just isn't good enough when the clouds set in and the ball starts nipping about, and I've seen the English do exactly that so often.

That to me is the story of the batting line-ups. The only player in the English side that ever shows any inclination to take the bowling by the scruff of the neck is Kevin "Wanker" Pieterson, and even he doesn't do it much anymore these days. A top 6 that includes Strauss, Cook, Bell and Collingwood just isn't going to frighten anyone at all - there's just not enough fire-power there. Don't get me wrong, they're good players and are all capable of scoring hard runs when needed, but there is too much emphasis on accumulation than showing the bastards who's boss. We'll see if Bell plays of course, and I haven't included any mention of Bopara because as far as I'm concerned he's still an unknown quantity - but either way, they just do not stack up against Katich, Hughes, Ponting, Clarke, Hussey and North for sheer willingness to get on with it, and I am convinced that it is that factor that makes Australia successful more often than not. You could argue that Prior and Flintoff make up for some of that, but Flintoff hasn't scored any meaningful runs for a LONG time, and Australia have Haddin and Johnson to cancel them out anyway.

As far as the new ball is concerned I think it's even more clear that Australia are the better side. With or without the injured Lee, Johnson, Siddle and Clark are a better unit than Flintoff, Anderson and Onions/Broad. I'm sure England's seamers will take wickets, though - Anderson has been impressive for the past year or so and Flintoff is always good (when fit) but I think that whichever of Onions or Broad plays will get found out. I can't see a Kasprowicz/Gillespie situation occuring to Australia the same way it did in 2005, and yet I can definitely see Flintoff getting injured and/or not playing fully fit, and someone else going for a LOT of runs.

Spin is naturally the area of concern for Australia however, and definitely England's trump card. I don't know what's happening to Australia's batting lately, but for some reason we seemed to have developed a real weakness to frankly bloody ordinary fingerspinners like Graham Swann. Yes you can argue that he's had a great start to his Test career and that it's probably not down to luck, but jeez - aren't there more talented spinners around than him? And yet his is just the sort of bowling for which we seem to have problems with - rancid bloody straight-up-and-down fingerspin. And it's just HORRIBLE to watch - I've never had a problem when Australians get out to the likes of a Harbajahn or a Kumble - even Vettori on his day - but seeing us get out to the likes of Ashley Giles or Paul Harris has given me cricketing nightmares, and I have a nasty feeling that Harris is going to hurt us in this series. He is the reason I've given England a win in my predictions, and I think if I'm wrong and England are to win, he will have a lot to say about it.

Captaincy. Hmmm. OK - I'm going to stick my neck out here and claim that it's not going to be that much of a factor. I know that it's probably heresy to suggest this, but I'm not actually sure if it's as much of a factor in Test cricket as people think anyway - and that coming from someone who understands the importance of man-management implicitly. People like to bitch about Ponting but at the end of the day he's not the one with the ball in his hand, is he? Every single time we have lost a series and people have reviled his captaincy there have been about a thousand other reasons why we lost besides any poor decision-making on his part. 2005 Ashes? Yes we should have batted at Edgbaston - but that wasn't the reason why McGrath stepped on that ball, and no-one could have predicted that Gillespie would bowl so badly after bowling so well in India the series before. India in India, 2008? Yes he shouldn't have worried about over-rates so much, but it's not his fault we didn't (and still don't) have a spinner that can offer us any sort of consistency. South Africa in Australia 2008/9? Did anyone blame him for that anyway? We just weren't good enough, end of story. .... And you know what? That's IT. Those are Ponting's only series losses - and he's been at the helm since 2004. No-one can boast his sort of record - a record which is always talked down by the fact that he had McGrath and Warne and Langer and Hayden and all the rest of them available - but I don't see why that should mean that we discount his record during that period. It's pretty bloody stupid to suggest that Ponting's statistics don't count until after he lost those players - if his record doesn't count then, then it shouldn't count now either. I haven't heard anyone shouting about how great Strauss is, anyway. AND I think Vaughan was over-rated, so there.

Right! So. That's what I think. 2-1 Australia, should be 3-1 but we can't play spin, England to be boring, Australia to be less so, the end.

Let's see what happens.

Why it would be great if Newcastle United got relegated.

2009-05-02T05:23:00.001-07:00

.... or how the hell have the managed to get themselves into this situation in the first place??

OK, so there are five games of this Premier League season to go. Newcastle are currently in 18th spot, on 31 points, three from safety. They really need a win, but there's no telling where it's coming from - they're playing Liverpool away today, Middlesbrough at home next week who are in the same position and will be fighting for all they're worth, then Fulham away after that who have the 3rd best home record in the league, and then Aston Villa away, who might still be having to scrap to get a European place. I can see them losing all of those matches - or at least losing most of them and getting a draw or two from the others, which won't be good enough. If they draw or lose against Middlesbrough next week they're sunk, I think. And if I were a betting man, that's exactly where I'd be putting my money. .... Which would then by consequence guarantee a 15-0 win for someone, which is why I'm not a betting man.

Anyway. The thing about Newcastle's plight that really strikes me is that they really do epitomise - or SHOULD epitomise - the expression "too good to go down". Have a look at their team. Michael Owen, Alan Smith, Damien Duff, Joey Barton, Mark Viduka, Kevin Nolan, Nicky Butt, Shola Ameobi and Njitab Geremi to name no fewer than nine players who are household names in any football supporter's house - and within that a good three or four in anyone else's house for that matter as well. Madness. You look at that team at the start of the year and you think "there's a lot of quality there, they should score a lot of goals, guaranteed top half of the table finish, probably pushing for Europe as well". And yet there they are, down in 19th.

What this does is really point out to me that all the money in the world won't get you anywhere if you don't have good management - and good management WILL get you anywhere with surprisingly little expenditure. Look at Fulham. 7th place, Europe looking entirely possible. Last year seemed down and out, but a change of coach, change of SOME of the personnel, and hey, presto, top-half finish. And conversely, look at Man City. A license to print money by their new oil-rich Arabian owners, and have struggled to be mid-table.

But I can't believe that the evidence of that would be so stark when it comes to Newcastle. Because there really are some great players in there. It makes you wonder what would happen to Arsenal or Manchester United if Wenger or Ferguson needed mid-season heart surgery like Newcastles's ex-boss, Kinnear did. Would their absence produce a similar fall from grace, and possible regulation? The mind boggles.

To explain the headline of this post, though - I would LOVE to see Newcastle go down. Not because I have any great dislike of them, but just to see what would happen to their squad. There would be a lot of players looking for new clubs at the end of the season, and a lot of them would be offering fantastic value for money in transfer fees by consequence. What chance me going to the Cottage next season to see Michael Owen up front for Fulham? Well - probably not. But there's every chance of seeing someone like Mark Viduka, or Shola Ameobi - or any one of the others, for that matter. What a fantastic prospect!

... to be honest, though - can't really see it happening. They'll probably bore everyone stupid and stay up on the last day. Care of an away victory against Fulham the week before....

Cantata No. 42 in Heerhugowaard

2009-04-18T10:11:00.000-07:00

Right, so lately this blog has been less about love, life, art and cricket, and more A Diary of an Australian Tenor in Holland, but there we are - I'm sure I'll address the others in due course.

Had a rehearsal today for a gig that I'm singing tomorrow. It's in the middle of bloody nowhere - Heerhugowaard, which is an hour and a half by train from The Hague and then another ten minutes by car, so over three hours' travel there and back. I didn't know that it would take that long when I took the gig, and neither did I realise that they wouldn't be re-imbursing my travel expenses, either. Makes the €75 that they're paying me look even more paltry - I'm going to end up about €40 in front, and given the morning rehearsal and morning service, I'm foregoing two badly-needed sleep-ins as well. Hmph. Oh well - such is the life of a newly-arrived-on-the-scene singer: I'm loathe at this stage to turn anything down, particularly if it's a solo gig (which this is), because you never know who you're going to meet, and what sort of fabulous work you'll get from doing it. Today's €75 gig less travel expenses could be tomorrow's large-scale tour, recording deal and snorting crack off super-models' backsides.

Still, I continue to be impressed by what I see in this country, and continue to find very good answers when people ask me, round-eyed, "why did you want to leave Australia to come HERE???" - which happens more than you'd think. Heerhugowaard is NOWHERE, and I'm not kidding. It's a back-of-beyond, uninteresting, sparsely-populated, nothing sort of a place - an agricultural town that was established on account of the local cabbage-growing industry, or so the elderly parisioner that ferried me to and from the church proudly proclaimed. Population: fuck-all. Certainly no more than a couple of thousand, if that. And yet, despite all of this, they're remarkably well-equipped to put on Bach cantatas. The church boasted a very nice little organ, a harpsichord, a perfectly competent parish choir, and a small orchestra, who were probably all being paid but were all still local. And were playing on period instruments, for crying out loud.

This is pretty incredible, really, and more so when you consider that there are probably hundreds of churches just like this throughout the Netherlands, Belgium and Germany. Can my Australian readers imagine this? No matter how healthy a parish is in a country town in Australia, you'd be lucky to find someone there who even knew what a harpsichord was, let alone for the place to actually have one. Things are better in the UK, but not much, really. This is the equivalent of someone turning up in the equivalent country town in Australia wondering if anyone plays AFL, and finding not only a club but a well-maintained ground, training facilities and a whole bunch of professional and semi-profesional players.

(.... Actually come to think of it, this probably isn't the greatest comparison. There are probably any number of places like that in Australia, and the same with football in the UK, that boast this sort of thing. But maybe it IS a useful comparison anyway, because you can see that the Dutch attachment to classical music is more or less the equal to the Anglo-Saxon attachment to sport.)

Classical music is just part of people's vocabulary here. Not EVERYONE's vocabulary, you understand - the Dutch do white trash just as well as anyone else - but it is very much part of the fabric of the community. That's why when I sang eighteen St Matthew Passions that almost all of them were sold-out, despite the fact that they're mass-produced and badly-directed. THIS IS WHY I CAME HERE. Not for the under-paid gigs that require lots of travelling nor for the bad direction of course, but for a world where classical music is part of everyone's vocabulary. A world where if I tell the man in the pub what I do for a living I don't reveal myself either as a "girl", "poofter", or at the very best, quaint oddity with the unusual taste in vocational activities, who then has to justify his career-choices to everyone. It's almost like presenting art and music actually holds relevance, somehow, as opposed being part of some sort of obscure niche.

I gotta tell you, it's awfully refreshing.

Over-heard in a rehearsal break

2009-04-16T15:05:00.000-07:00

Swiss soprano: This conductor seems quite good. He's very efficient.

Me: Sure. A friend told me that he's a bit shifty, though. Not sure why she told me that, mind you - don't know why it should be relevant in this context.

SS: Shifty? What does that mean? You mean he moves the tempo around a lot or something?

Me: Well, no - "shifty" means not particularly trust-worthy. A bit dishonest.

At that precise moment, said conductor walked into the canteen, helped himself to a Coke from the fridge, and took off without paying for it.

True story.

On Rehearsal Technique

2009-04-16T13:16:00.001-07:00

This may not be that interesting to some. It's a real occupational hazard for me, though, so it's fairly close to my heart.

If I ever grow even more grizzled and cranky than I already am, and decide that music just isn't for me after all, it will probably be because of singers' bad rehearsal technique. To echo some of the remarks I made in in this post, you get the idea that when you reach a certain level that some things will become easier, better, and more professional, and you can tear your hair out when the opposite occurs. Below is a short list.

1. Talking in rehearsals.

This is my number one bugbear, and a genuine case where it seems to definitely get worse the more professional the context is. Being quiet, unfortunately, runs against the grain of many singers, who quite often have very short attention spans and are the worst kind of attention-seekers. Actors are very much the same, of course. Any lull in the action is an opportunity to draw attention to yourself, usually by the most inane means possible (I'm a bad, bad man for saying this, but I tend to find that gay men are particularly bad at this and a certain brand of particularly effeminite gay man will stretch "inane" to its absolute breaking point. Tell me I'm a homophobe, but I figure that if I'm prepared to admit that tenors are annoying, then I've won myself some license). This is, of course, completely counter-productive, and it ends up making everyone's job that much harder. Having to wait for everyone to shut up so you can hear what the conductor is trying to say make EVERY FUCKING TIME THE MUSIC STOPS can just do your head in. I have learnt lately that the best way to deal with the situation is to not talk to anyone at all, ever, unless it's about the music. I genuinely ignore half the things that are said to me. I'm sure people think I'm an absolute arse for doing it, but it makes them stop talking to me. And hey, if you're the sort of cretin that dribbles inane bullshit when you should be concentrating on the music, I don't want to be friends with you anyway.

2. Talking when the orchestra is tuning (you know what this is. It's the "whhhheeeeeeeeeeooooooooorrreeeeaaaaaaaaeeeee" noise they all make before concerts).

This is every bit as annoying as the first, but it doesn't happen as much, so it comes second. I never want to cringe more when I'm in a chorus and no-one can sit still for 30 seconds whilst the orchestra tune - something that the entire ensemble relies on for a successful rehearsal/performance. At some point I'm going to make a sign that says "IS NOT TALKING OR MAKING UNNECESSARY NOISE" and hold it up whilst the orchestra tune. How some instrumentalists don't become violent over this, I will never know. I would.

Here's an exercise that might help illustrate my point. Get a few mates together. Get one of you to hum a note. Something that's not too high or low. Get everyone to sing EXACTLY the same note - no approximations. Involve women and men, and women and men with high and low speaking voices so that people are singing at different registers. Now do it with 40 people. Still singing exactly the same note? Not when there are another forty people sitting behind you talking shit and making stupid extraneous noise, you're not!

3. One-upmanship.

"You're getting that bit wrong!!!" Oh! Oh really? Well, whilst we're making observations, isn't it also true that I just punched you in the face?

Anyone that has ever done this deserves.... well, you get the idea. I will never understand why complete strangers, or at least passing acquaintances, think that it's appropriate to point out their colleagues' mistakes. It seems that some people keep a running tally. To be honest, I will never understand how they even NOTICE, most of the time. When I'm rehearsing difficult music, particularly when I'm singing it for the first time, I'm often so wrapped up in what I'm doing that bothering to listen to what the guy beside me is doing is the last thing I do. Of course you HEAR the mistakes - but finding the energy to actually make the mental note of "Carrot got that wrong!"whilst the music is going on, so you can go back to it later and smarmily point it out to him is going the extra yard, don't you think? ... Or maybe it's just really, really stupid and petty.

Of course there's a line, and quietly talking to someone when they're obviously a little confused and would actually appreciate the help is fine, but - that's not what a lot of people are about. Today's rehearsal involved me sitting next to a guy who obviously had it in his head that he was going to be quality control for our section - the section of him and me. To cover up his insecurities, he had obviously taken the attitude that I was going to be the brawn (i.e. I could actually sing) and he was going to be the brain (because he can't), and point out my every mistake. This culminated in an amusing piece of by-play about pronunciation - after the first run through of a particular piece, when the word in question came up only twice -

Him: It's "feste"

Me: Yes, that's right.

Him: Well, you're not getting it right.

We sang it again.

Him: It's fesTE!

Me: That's what I'm singing!

Him: No, you're singing something different.

Me: Look mate, it's "feste al Nume santo" and the "te-al" is on a quaver. you're probably hearing me sing "te-al".

Him: .... Oh.

Me: And by the way, you can barely sing above an F, you've got a shitty technique, you're always late, and that beret makes you look ridiculous. Get a life.

Didn't say the last part.

Should've.

To sum up, though, the thing that bothers me most about rehearsing is that everyone seems to miss the point. Isn't the whole idea to concentrate together and try and make the most progress? You're at WORK - you're not there to impress your mates, that's for the breaks (or the post-concert pint - which no-one seems to do in Holland, *sobs*!). And so annoying, asinine dickheads that refuse to concentrate, talk shit through the entire process, and/or try to set themselves up as the arbiter of all standards and mistake-filters really piss me off. I suppose, like in any number of things, I should just learn to chill out a bit more. But just like Richie in his lunch with David in "The Final Dig"-

It just really shits me.

Injuries

2009-04-12T06:18:00.000-07:00

I bought a book yesterday. It's called "Why Don't Penguins' Feet Freeze?" and it's a compilation of letters that have been sent to the New Scientist magazine as part of the "Last Word" column - a forum for readers to send in scientific questions that fellow readers then answer. It's great - it's full of all sorts of useless stuff, like "what time is it in the North Pole", "why does clingfilm stick to glass but not metal", "why does hot water freeze faster than cold (apparently it's true, and no-one's come up with a definitive answer yet)", "why is snot green (a personal favourite)", "what is the diameter of a bolt of lightning" and so on and so forth. It's great for train journeys to gigs - not sure it was worth €14.99 though.

It's good material for a blogger to read, because everything's bite-sized, and very little of it is straight-forward, so there's often lengthy discourse and hypothesising from the respondants. They're the sort of questions that children ask (and in fact some of them ARE asked by children, which is why I now know why sea-water is salty) to really wind their parents up at inopportune moments. Above all though, it invites people to crap on endlessly about their pet subjects with the view to convincing everyone how clever and interesting they are, as though anyone cares less (sound familiar?), and I kept getting the image of the people who asked the question writing back and saying "yeah ok, thanks, but did you have to be such a tosser about it?" Anyway, it's all very much like blogging, so it kinda puts you in the mood to write something.

It might sound a little sophomoric, but whilst I was reading all of this, and being invited to look at my world in a slightly more enquiring way, I began to consider the topic of human emotion, and emotional pain/loss in particular. I half expected someone to have written in asking for a psychological and/or physiological explanation for how broken hearts work (haven't come across it yet, but I'm only two-thirds of the way through). I came up with the following.

I've often considered that the word "injury" in its generic sense is used a little too sparingly. As a singer, I often think that it should be used to describe vocal problems more. We should be able to say "can't sing - injured", as opposed to "I have a cold/infection/nasty rash, pus-oozing nodules on my perineum, my budgie died, it's the worst thing in the world, how will I survive, waffle, waffle, waffle, why, why why?" and so forth. Not only does "injured" save everyone valuable time and patience, I think it sums up the situation quite well, too, I think. Much the same as when an athlete is injured, the injury at the very best inhibits the person from doing what they by definition are supposed to do - and often stops them from doing it completely. Consequently, an injured athlete to a point actually becomes an ex-athlete, or depending on the severity of the ailment, a temporary non-athlete. The same applies to a singer - if you can't sing, what are you, then? And this is why being injured is a rotten state to be in for either individual - it can seem like you're missing something hard to define but quintessentially YOU - and somehow you are less of yourself by consequence.

I have been feeling the same way about emotional pain, grief, and loss, and that "injured" might just as easily sum up that situation as well. When you're down, and particularly when you're down about a specific thing or person, you don't feel yourself then, either. You wander through life lacking energy or drive, and the most mundane tasks seem that much more difficult. Nothing is much fun, everything's a bit wan and colourless and essentially you are less of yourself. It can seem to both you and others that until whatever/whoever it is that was taken away returns, you won't quite be the same. The connection is not completely seamless of course - a runner with a bad hamstring can't run, a singer with layrngitis can't sing, a person with a broken heart can't - what? Live? Not really, but I guess the answer is live successfully and happily, and that's what we're all here for, after all. So it still works. And as with all other injuries, the most important thing is to give yourself time and rest. Unfortunately it's pretty difficult to rest from being you - but that's probably why emotional pain is so difficult to deal with.

There would be other benefits to thinking about it in these terms, namely that it would save everyone a lot of awkwardness. I've found that as a man, despite what the post-feminist world tells me, talking about any sort of angst or pain, no matter how genuine, is a good recipe for people to start shuffling their feet and looking for the nearest exit. As a hot-blooded, Alpha-male ever alert to the call to action, you're supposed to be off slaying mammoth and doing stock-market deals, not fannying about talking about your FEELINGS, for crying out loud. It just makes people uncomfortable. I can't count the amount of times I've witnessed women do it, though - it's just one of life's little double-standards. So I think that if we could just describe ourselves as being "injured" it would make things a whole lot easier. The below (very hypothetical) conversation might help illustrate my point:

A: Hi mate. How are you doing?
B: Not so great. Broke up with my girl over the weekend.
A: Jeez.
B: Yeah. I'm not really coping that well, to be honest. Never realised it could feel this bad! I just.... don't know why it didn't work out, you know? And now I can't eat, or sleep, I've got no energy, everything's gone to shit, I can't concentrate on my work - I wish she'd just come back to me, but she won't, and..... well, things aren't so great. It's really tough. If you've got any advice, let me know.
A: Well, you could start by getting a grip on yourself, ya big poof!!

OR

A: Hi mate. How are you doing?
B: Not so great. Carrying a bit of an injury at the moment.
A: Ah. That's no good! Went throught the same thing myself last year. Do you want to go and get drunk?
B: Great! Is there any football on?

Now doesn't that just seem easier?

The Toothpaste Files, continued.

2009-04-07T16:58:00.000-07:00

Remember this post? My wilful boasting that after months of practice I'd finally mastered the art of brushing my teeth, Dutch style? My tips on tube storage? Saving time in the mornings? The Dutch Toothpaste Principle? Well, just when you think you've checked all the boxes of one of life's little questionnaires, bugger me if there isn't an entirely seperate section over the page that you hadn't noticed.

I haven't been sleeping very well lately. This isn't unusual - when I'm really busy performing, switching off at night is pretty difficult. The same thing happened before Christmas with the hundreds of Messiahs that I sang in, and it's happened now with the several million Passions that I've already written about. When this happens I usually have to give up on school for a bit - which is actually kinda satisfying, really - makes me feel like being a real singer, as opposed to a music student. There is another reason why getting shut-eye has been difficult, though.

Went out the other day to do a shop, as you do. Had run out of toothpaste. The fact that my flat-mate seemed to have hidden his from view was probably a tip-off that he was sick of me helping myself to his and that I should get some of my own. Visited the toiletries section of my local Albert Heijn (the Dutch equivalent of Sainsbury's although not as good), cursed the fact that they had run out of disposable razors AGAIN, and picked out a tube. It was very attractively packaged - all primary colours, called "Parodontax", and it boasted "Natuurlijk actief voor tand en tandvlees!!" in big red letters along the side of the bottle. I had no idea what that meant, but still, I was impressed - "that looks like the toothpaste of any discerning gentleman!" I cried, and added it to my shopping basket. Couldn't wait to get it home and test it out.

Went through my usual beddy-byes routine that evening- finished off my cup of hot cocoa, put my jimmy-jams on, made sure that Frederick the Bear was comfortable and in a good position to oversee my prayers on my return, and went to clean the ol' dentures. Opened the tube and squeezed a bit onto my brush. First impression was not that good to be honest - it was a sort of ugly reddish-brown colour. I don't know about you, but reddish-brown does not make my top five expected toothpaste colours - in fact maybe not even the top ten. I was willing to give it a go, though - using Dutch toothpaste had already proven to be such a growthful and rewarding experience that I wasn't going to dismiss my newest purchase on colour alone. Sadly though, worse was to come - it tasted HORRIBLE. It was SALTY.

Salty toothpaste? I mean, what the fuck???? What sort of evil mastermind thought that would be a good idea??? Just ...... THINK about that for a second.

Salty.

Toothpaste.

Those two words go together like "safari" and "suit", like "folk" and "dancing", like "parents" and "sex" like..... oh, I dunno..... "Kaspar" and "Bepke (hahahaha, in-joke)!!"

It's BAD, it's EVIL, it's all seven shades of wrong, with a few more thrown in for good measure.

And after I used it, I couldn't sleep! It was like I'd gone out and had a skinful, and helped myself to the word's biggest, saltiest kebab or Mcpolyunsaturated Fat Pizza on the way home, and then couldn't sleep because I was dehydrated, but without the fun part. And that's not the worst of it - I actually persevered with the stuff for four days, because I couldn't get to the shop! Throw in some St Matthew Passion-induced insomnia, and you have a recipe for a Kranky Karrot in the morning, I can tell you - no matter how much crappy Dutch coffee I injected intraveneously.

Thought I was getting the hang of this place. Think I've gone back to square one. They use salty toothpaste, I mean honestly. What sort of a country have a landed in???

Passionate madness

2009-04-03T14:44:00.000-07:00

It's Passiontide in Holland, hurrah! And don't the Dutch just love their Passions. I managed to get myself signed up for a "tour" of Holland - a tour that involves me clocking up enough miles to get to Australia and back, but invariably leaves me sleeping in my own bed every night. This can be a mixed blessing, Holland is a small place - not small enough that crossing the entire country doesn't take awhile, but small enough that a company can just about get away with not providing transport or accommodation during an eighteen-concert season. This can become pretty tiring, particularly when the eighteen concerts are thinly spread over twenty-two days. I'm thirteen concerts in, and at the moment I'm in that fabulous state of being too tired to sleep. Wonderful.

Not that I'm not having fun, though. It's a fabulous piece of music and it's no wonder that some people devote their entire careers to performing Bach. I've been keen to learn the Evangelist role for some time now as well, so listening to it eighteen times is a pretty good way to get a feel for it! The thing is that as tired as I am, and as tired as the people around me are, you do end up zoning out quite a bit, and short of something memorable happening, one concert can blend into another to an extent.

But that's where we come to the fun part. You see, in an eighteen-concert run, memorable things DO happen, and being tired and zoned-out as you are, fits of giggles amongst the choir and orchestra are not unusual. It's that particularly awful sort of giggling though - the "I know I shouldn't, but that was REALLY funny, oh my God keep a straight face, bite the cheek, lip, fist, anything, hahaha snnngggrrrrkkk" sort of laughter that ends up sounding like you're having an aneurism. Like that completely insane moment in the headmaster's office with your mates and he's going mental at you and then you notice that his flies are undone and you lose it.

There have been several moments like that lately - they seem to have happened more often as we get closer to the end. I'm not sure whether it's because we're tired and a bit mad and so small things seem funnier, but over the past week there's been loads of them. Some of them are pretty simple - someone comes in early, someone's chair collapses, an instrumentalist drops something noisy at an inopportune moment - but two in particular stick in my memory.

Utrecht, 27th of March. Concert number 7. Sight-gag. Depending on the church, our soloists sometimes sit in the front row of the audience. In our rather generously-proportioned soprano's first aria, she walked on stage and turned around and I noticed that something had happened to her jacket. There were two symmetrical white stripes across the back of it, almost like the reflecting strips that a cyclist would wear. "That's weird", I thought - and then one after the other, they fell off and fluttered to the ground for all the world to see. They were the "Reserved for the soloists" signs from her seat. Gold. Hahahaha- snnngrrrrggk.

Hoogland, 29th of March. Concert number 9. Comedic timing verging on genius. For those of you who aren't familiar with what the Passions are, they're basically the story of the death of Jesus Christ set to music. The whole piece runs from the betrayal, arrest, trial by Pilate, angry mobs, crucifixion, death and aftermath. As you can imagine, the moment of His death is pretty significant - in a piece that was written with gravitas in mind, this is grativas times a thousand. He cries out in a loud voice, and then as some translations have it "gives up the ghost". It's sung and/or narrated by the Evangelist, and our Evangelist as got that bit down pat - he draws everyone in, pauses for dramatic effect, decrescendos dramatically, sings so quietly that you can barely hear him, and then stops. The whole world holds its breath for a few moments - everyone communes with their innermost being, confesses their sins, tries to remember what they had for breakfast that day, that sort of thing - and then the piece goes on. So as an audience-member, you'd think that would be a bad time to blow your nose, huh? Well - you'd be wrong. "Und vershied [and died]".... PARP!!!! Right on cue. One of those farty, raspberry nose-blows too, the sort of violent emission that only dainty old ladies seem to be capable of, from someone's granny in the front row. Don't think I've ever seen anyone up-staged by nasal congestion before! Fits. Of. Giggles.

Some of these anxious moments aren't always caused by others, though - sometimes they're caused by me. The St Matthew Passion makes me fart. Don't know why, it just does. It's probably because I haven't been eating very well for the past few weeks, but for some unknown and very inconvenient reason it seems to manifest most when we're on stage. And trying to keep my own badly-timed violent emissions down to a dull roar can be pretty difficult!

If you've got any of your own onstage bloopers that you think worth sharing, feel free to put them in the comments.

AYALAC's take on the Stanford Debacle

2009-02-25T09:10:00.000-08:00

This is great - and one of the reasons why the World of Blog can be so fantastic.

The Atheist is probably no more qualified to write about cricket than I am - it's probably statistically unlikely that he could be quite as bad at the game as me, but just like me he is cursed with an obsession of the game since whenever and likes to write about it in his free time. He writes well, it's funny, and always worth a look, which is why he's on my list of followed blogs. But that's pretty much it - I wouldn't have particularly thought that he could give me any insight into the game that I couldn't have figured out on my own - until today, on account of what he does for a living. The Atheist is a Financial/Banking Type Guy, and so he has a completely unique perspective on the Stanford Debacle that we haven't seen anywhere else - all the reporting so far has been from the usual sport journos, who almost without exception are ex-players. And not one of them have been able to tell me anything that I didn't already know, on account of being qualified to talk about one subject and one subject alone - sport. All the Angus Frasers and Peter Roebucks and Jonathan Agnews can speculate endlessly about what a prawn Giles Clarke is and how stupid the ECB were in having anything to do with Stanford from the start, but the opinion I really want to hear is from someone involved in the world of finance. And there aren't too many of them writing cricket stories for the Times or the Telegraph, now are there? Now I really know just how stupid and/or corrupt the whole thing was.

Only a blog could provide me with this sort of unique standpoint. And this is why blogs, despite not being edited or vetted, or written by experts in their fields, are definitely a legitimate voice and a worthwhile source of journalistic opinion. So there!

I know I'm preaching to the choir here - you're reading a blog after all! This might as well all be aimed at my mother, who is an academic and writer, and was appalled when I told her that I was writing one. Blogs are apparently the realm of the feeble-minded, are mostly compiled by people without a valid opinion that can't get a real gig in the writing world, and yet no matter how flawed and/or bigoted their thoughts are are able to broadcast them to an audience of millions and by consequence take money out of actual writers' pockets. The world would be a better place if we all went out and got some fresh air instead. All valid opinions, really - but having read this today I'm pleased to have an argument next time the topic comes up. And besides - NO-ONE goes out for fresh air in a Dutch February.

It almost makes me think that even I could be of use to the cricketing world at some point, beyond batting at number 11 and scoring for the Barnes Sunday XI. SURELY there must be a lucrative journalism contract out there for a lyric tenor with a cricket fetish??

I can dream.

Toothpaste!

2009-02-14T11:34:00.000-08:00

Ladies and gentleman and far-flung followers, I have a proud announcement to make.

I understand Dutch toothpaste. That's right! It's taken me five and a half months, but I Get It Now. I'm practically a native!!

Y'see, Dutch toothpaste isn't like regular or garden-variety Australian or British toothpaste. It tends to be runnier for starters, but mostly significantly it comes in a different tube. It has a bigger, stubbier lid, and more closely resembles your average shampoo bottle.

Consider, if you will, your regular tube of toothpaste. Your everyday (well, preferably TWICE a day) tube of Colgate. It can be minty fresh, it can be gel, it can be for Extra Whitening! - that stuff doesn't matter. The important thing to consider is how it WORKS. British and Australian toothpaste works in a vacuum. When you squeeze, no air comes back in, and you make a mark in the tube that stays there. That's why, unless you're a complete arsehole, you squeeze it from the BOTTOM (those that don't will not be saved), so that next time it's all up close to the top of the tube ready to go.

Dutch toothpaste doesn't work like that. There's air in the tube, and air comes back in after you squeeze it. No matter how empty the tube, it always retains its shape. Which, if you don't understand the Dutch Toothpaste Principle, can be a right pain in the arse, because every morning you waste valuable seconds trying to get some out, particularly if it's on the empty side. It's like the almost-empty tomato sauce bottle. And we all know how annoying THAT is.

But that's just it - Dutch toothpaste IS like the almost-empty tomato sauce bottle in principle, for pretty much its entire lifespan. And what, boys and girls, do we do with almost-empty tomato sauce bottles? That's right, we store it upside down, ON ITS LID. That way, you don't have to swear and curse and shake it and wait five minutes for it all to come out in a rush and drown your bangers. If you store it upside down, it's all there, ready to go, all it takes is quick removal of the lid and there it is.

THAT'S why Dutch toothpaste has a bigger lid, and THAT'S how it works!! You store it vertically! All the time! And never EVER on its side. You read it here first.

I'm taking little steps here. Chips and mayonnaise (it's true). In fact, mayonnaise on everything. Toothpaste. In a little while I may even learn some of the language.

You know what the funny thing about Europe is? The little differences.

Vincent Vega, Pulp Fiction

People in the arts give me the shits sometimes

2009-02-12T13:53:00.000-08:00

..... Which is kind've an empty statement, really. I mean, who doesn't get the shits from people they work with from time to time? I must admit, though, that the METHOD in which I'm given the shits from arts-based people is more than a little strange, and worth remarking upon on that basis.

A little while ago before Christmas I was singing in a Messiah. Awhile before the concert started, I was stopped by the soprano soloist, a Reasonably Well-Known Figure (names have been concealed to protect the fucking annoying). We had a good chat. She knew that I was Australian, knew that I was studying, and was full of questions about why I'd chosen to move to Holland, and what my performing history was. I thought it was all just meaningless small-talk, until she let slip that she was the Artistic Director of Reasonably Well-Known Dutch Opera Company, and would I be interested in auditioning for her - she's always after tenors to do small roles. Fantastic, I thought - maybe signing up for all these crappy gigs has actually led me towards something useful. Of course I was interested, and after she'd sworn me to secrecy (it doesn't do to be seen poaching singers from one group to another, particularly tenors) I took her contact details and said that I'd send her an email with a CV as soon as I could get to it.

The next week or so was pretty busy - I was singing with this group just about every night, and there was school to think about as well, so I didn't manage to get to sending anything straightaway. But I spoke with her quite a bit during the course of that week - more about Australia, more about opera, and quite a bit about big-band jazz, which we shared an interest in. And every now and again she'd remind me to send her "that" email.

So, one evening when I had a spare couple of hours, I sat down and did a proper going-over of my CV, and sent it off to her with a fairly extensive covering email. Was quite pleased with what I came up with - still am. And heard precisely fuck-all back for a week and a half. Thought "oh well, maybe she's busy" and thought I'd wait until after Christmas to talk about it with her again - January 2nd, to be precise.

Me: "Hi, Reasonably Well-Known Soprano, Happy New Year!"
RSWKS: "And same to you. Did you have a good Christmas?"
Me: "Not bad. Think I might have found that Mel Tormé recording you were talking about".
RSWKS: "Oh that's good! It's great, isn't it?"
Me: "Yes - fantastic! By the way, did you get my email?"
RSWKS [looks uncomfortable]: "What email?"
Me: "You know - you asked me to send you a CV and other bits and pieces about my singing".
RSWKS: "Oh! Er - oh! Oh! Was it YOU that sent me that! I was wondering who sent me that! Oh, er - right! [backs away slowly, hands move unconsciously towards the purse, presumably looking for the rape alarm]".

So I'm left standing there, feeling like a prize dick, wondering how I could possibly have mis-read the situation. But then I realised that I HADN'T - not at all, in fact. It was HER that introduced herself to ME - and she already knew a little about me. It was HER that asked me to send her the CV - and then SHE reminded me! So what gives?

I'd been air-kissed. There are thousands of air-kissers in the music world, and loads in the arts in general. I've run afoul of a few in my time. I was once approached in much the same way to do do some gigs by another reasonably well-known figure - this time an Australian - only for all my phonecalls to go unanswered and for the gigs to never materialise, resulting in me spending a Christmas in Sydney alone when I could have gone home to Perth. I've come across casting and theatrical agents who've done the same thing. Even in my publishing career - ESPECIALLY in my publishing career. The theme is always the same - YOU get approached for something, you do everything right, and then YOU'RE the one left looking like a dickhead when nothing happens. I've even had people having a go at me in these situations, like it was my fault that they got in contact in the first place.

Basically, as Bill Watterson remarked and I echoed in an earlier post, art is great, but it sure does attract its fair-share of pretentious blow-hards. People that like to get off on their own sense of power. People that like to play stupid pecking-order games. People that are basically complete morons. "This young kid in the tenor section has barely looked in my direction! He needs to think that I'm important. I know - I'll make up some bogus story about an audition so that he feels the need to impress me".

What a load of bullshit, eh? And completely counter-productive - all that I've taken from it is that I think she's a complete idiot! One thing's for sure - when I get to being Important, I'll be saving my best back-handers for any of my colleagues who act like that. It's just bloody stupid!! I'm sure I'll get my fair-few more bum steers before I get to that stage, though.....

This post is dedicated to Anonymous.

This is not an ex-blog

2009-01-04T15:07:00.000-08:00

Hello, hello, Seasons Greetings, Happy New Year, Happy Birthday, Hunnakah, Hallowe'en and Passover - GERDAY.

Sorry to not have posted for so long. I'm not sure who I'm apologising to mind you - the last time I wrote anything meaningful (and I use that term loosely) was November 24th, so you've probably all long since gone elsewhere. I am resolving to turn over a new leaf from now on, though. And no, that isn't a New Year's Resolution - "must blog more in 2009" is just lame - but whenever possible, and when my schedule permits, I will do my best to post more often. It was the music that was definitely a large contributor to my absence - I finished my 23rd concert in the space of a month this afternoon, but I also classes, a somewhat turbulent social life and a brief visit to London since I last posted, so it's been a pretty eventful time. Eventful, but fun, and interesting, and .... oh well, y'know, stuff. You'll probably read about it later on.

So anyway - Happy 2009, hope you enjoy what's to come!

A Win At Last?

2008-11-24T06:35:00.001-08:00

Well, we beat New Zealand. Good. Brendan McCullum said before the start of the match that it was a good time to play Australia. By the end of the first day that looked to be true, but if we're honest, it was really a good time for Australia to play New Zealand. We needed a win, and they were just the team to provide it.

New Zealand frustrate me at times. They really should be better than they are! By and large, they are a team with some talent, but for some reason they can't ever seem to get it together when it counts. Don't get me wrong, I didn't say BRIMMING with talent, they do have Aaron Redmund opening the batting after all, and the seam attack is ok but not fantastic - but in Ryder, Taylor, McCullum, Vettori, Southee, Flynn and even How on his day, they definitely have some good players. Gone are the days when you had the idea that the NZ side were park cricketers with the odd Hadlee or Crowe thrown in - these days, by and large, they have the look of good, solid, first-class cricketers. Throw in Oram when he's fit and you've definitely got a side that can make runs and take wickets.

And yet no matter what happens, they always, somehow, contrive to lose. They should have beaten England at home earlier in the year. They should have beaten them in England last summer, too. But ended up losing both series at a canter - 1-2 and 2-0. It was the Manchester test that really frustrated me, and pretty much sums up what I'm talking about. 381 in the first innings with a cracking knock from Ross Taylor, and then bowled out England for 202. Great! 179-run lead, thanks very much! Fait d'accompli, I hear you cry. But no. They slump to 114 all out in the second dig, which still leaves England with a still tricky-looking chase of 293, but they never look like threatening and England get there with six wickets to spare. An AWFUL result. I was appalled, and appalled in much the same way that I was (genuinely) after THAT result in Adelaide in 2006. Yes, it's great to beat England. It's good to humiliate England, too. But, dammit, isn't it better to beat a side when they're actually playing well, as opposed to having brain explosions in un-losable situations? I want to see GOOD cricket, not bad.

And this is why New Zealand disappoint me. They dine out on the under-estimate-us-at-your-peril-we'll-always-punch-above-our-weight thing, and sure it sometimes means that they'll do something unexpected, but nothing that's ever enough to win a Test match, or, heaven forbid, an actual series. It seems as though they enjoy annoying sides rather than actually beating them. And the recent test at the 'Gabba seemed to me to be a prime example - yes, the result was convincing in the end, and they did provide us with a pretty stern test, but how many times was Clarke dropped in the first innings? And the same with Katich in the second? It should have been so much closer, and therefore much more interesting, than it was.

What really irks me above all about this result is that every Kiwi cricket fan, and probably pundit, on the face of the planet will now be saying "oh well, we gave them a run for their money, we were never expected to win, anyway, well done, lads." Not good enough! What they should be saying is that they cannot be content with marks for effort, a loss is a loss no matter how wide the margin, and if they'd believed in themselves more they would have won. Nothing annoys me more than an inferiority complexes, and it seems that as a cricketing nation, New Zealand have one in spades.

In other breaking news, the Zimbos just lost to the Shrees in a thriller. Bad luck, fellahs - and I'm allowing myself to say that, because these guys really ARE park cricketers.

Everything I know about singing I learnt from cricket.

2008-11-18T09:37:00.001-08:00

Or..... everything I know about cricket I learnt from singing.

Isn't this exciting? A post involving cricket AND Life, Love and Art. How post-modern of me. I shall have to try to make it a recurring theme.

OK. So. Cricket and singing. Might seem a bridge too far. But bear with me, 'cos all of this is true.

There are various elements of the game and the artform that are inextricably linked, as far as I'm concerned. All those fat blokes singing the same thing over and over? Cricket. Same with the sheilas with horns. All those funny little men in white with the cucumber sandwiches on the village green on British summer afternoons? Singing. And ergo with the hard, Australian men trying to kill each other in 40-degree heat. They might not know it, but it's ALL THE SAME THING. I don't think it was an accident. Pavarotti wasn't a Juventus fan - he supported Middlesex and the Bangalore Royal Challengers.

Here's why.

Cricket is a stage.

I'm not a singer that often takes a tremendous amount of inspiration from singers themselves. My knowledge of the great tenors (let alone the sopranos, mezzos and bass-baritones) is pretty lamentable, if I'm being kind. I get more of my inspiration from the the abstract. Sport. Business. Stand-up comedy (yes, really - but more on that later). And cricket is perfect to draw from, because it is often so focussed on the individual. When you've seen the likes of Sachin Tendulkar, Viv Richards and Shane Warne play the game you've seen theatre of the highest calibre. They don't just walk onto the ground, they OWN it. Having long since convinced themselves and others of their genius, they exude self-belief, pride, ability. They take the focus, they take the momentum, they carry all before them and they take charge. Just like a great character actor, or singer. It is so often this quality that makes a stage performer great - and sometimes all the ability in the world just isn't enough without it.

They both require discipline, technique and mental strength.

From the cricketing side of the argument, I have four words and a date. Steve Waugh, West Indies, 1995. When you are carrying the hopes of a nation and a 6 foot 7-inch Antiguan is LITERALLY TRYING TO KILL YOU you've got to have all these things. And it's got to be instinctive. There's no time to think when Curtly Ambrose is bowling at 95 miles an hour at your throat. It's exactly the same with singing - there is no time to think when you walk onto a stage and strip yourself bare in front of several thousand people, either. There is no turning back - you're either up for it, or you're not. An old singing teacher once said to me that singing is a blood sport. He's dead right.

They both mess with your head.

Oh boy, this one's my favourite. How many fabulously talented cricketers are there that didn't ever make the most of their potential? Ramprakash. Hick. Hooper. How many times has that talented player worried himself out before he's even faced a ball? Got the yips and started bowling wides when yesterday he had it on a string? Doubt, and fear of failure are insiduous things. They creep up on you when you least expect it. I'm not good enough/I don't deserve to be here/Do I really want it after all? has gone through everyone's head at some point. It's what you do when you're there that makes the difference - and that doesn't often have much to do with ability.

You've got to have a ruthless, combative streak to succeed.

This is the easiest one of the lot. Any sport is like this - you're consistently required to perform in the face of any number of opposition whose very presence by definition is to make you fail, and sometimes in front of audiences of billions who want the same. Singing requires you to sacrifice everything. Leave your family. Friends. Move to the other side of the world. End relationships if they're not compatible with it. Maybe even give up on the idea of having children, if you're female. It's just something that you HAVE to do. Why do I sing? I have no choice but to. It's that simple. I can't not. Nothing else that matters matters as much as that, and no sacrifice is too great.

You're never bigger than the game.

Another personal favourite. All the Shane Warnes and Viv Richards and Don Bradmans in the world are never bigger than the game. None of the Roberto Alagnas, Angela Georghius or Luciano Pavarottis are, either. At every concievable level, you are part of something bigger than you. If you don't respect that, and those around you, ultimately it comes back to bite you. Be a force for the good, not the bad. Create, don't destroy. I try to keep these at the fore-front of my mind at all times. Will I be proven right? Who knows. But I'm convinced that I will be.

You've got to really want it.

Duh. This barely needs explaining. No-one made it to La Scala or a Lord's Test by just being good. Unless they were queuing up outside for tickets.

And - well, that's it, basically. I may think of more, there's bound to be a few out there. The trouble is that I don't know that many singers that are cricketers - and even fewer cricketers that are singers, so I can't really ask anyone else! I guess you'll just have to take my word for the fact that I'm right, and I really am the world's leading opinion on Love, Life, Art and Cricket.

And after all, what did you expect? Humility??? Pah - you're reading the wrong blog!

The Matrix Runs On Windows

2008-11-17T14:20:00.000-08:00

Hahahahaha!! The guys at College Humour don't always get it right, but this is great.

And for all you Minesweeper fans - this one's for you!

- Why are you really here?
- I want to make this ledge safe!
- Why are you here, soldier???
- I'm here because I'm bored!!!

Priceless! It's just a pity no-one's done anything for Hearts - which if anyone's interested, is what I get up to when Clancy of The Overflow disappears without re-setting his modem.

And yes, I do get out from time-to-time, just in case you were wondering!

And now on a slightly lighter note....

2008-11-14T13:13:00.000-08:00

Continuing my recent Youtube theme, I found this the other day.

"The Contest" has to be one of the funniest and most cleverly-written pieces of television I have ever seen, or am likely to ever see for that matter. It's pure genius from start to finish. The script, timing and concept are just pure gold.

You can read more about it here, although bear in mind my usual Wikipedia disclaimer - not everything from Wikipedia can be trusted, the sources are dubious and it's not written, vetted or edited by experts, etc, etc, etc.

I must admit that until recently I had sort've forgotten that Seinfeld existed. I know that probably sounds utterly incomprehensible to many, but the thing is that neither he nor the show are popular in the UK at all, and so hadn't been on my radar for quite some time. I quite often search for comedians on Youtube though, and the other day I recalled Seinfeld and his stand-up routines and tried to find some. Typed "Seinfeld" into the search bar and came up with about a thousand bits of episodes, and amongst them that clip. Watched it about a hundred times, rolled around on the floor laughing, watched it about a hundred more. I wish I had access to the full episode.

Can you remember where you were when Kennedy got shot? When the Twin Towers fell? When Australia and South Africa tied in the '99 Cricket World Cup semi-final? Well - I can remember where I was when I first saw this episode.

I used to attend a performing arts high-school in Sydney. Given that I was from Perth, I lived in the boarding house. Not your usual boarding-house you understand - this was not the domain of your inbred country boy with the two-word vocabulary and hobbies that included thumping the red-haired kid whenever he spoke, moved or breathed, oh no - that was my FIRST boarding school. This place was entirely different. There were only twenty-five or so students, and at the time, the end of Year 10, I was one of only four boys. All the students were either ballet dancers, contemporary dancers, actors, musicians, emotional misfits, junkies, or sometimes a heady cocktail of all of them at once.

In December each year when exams were over and preperation for the end-of-year performances began, the no-tv-on-weeknights rule was rescinded. Which meant that at 7pm every evening, Seinfeld ruled the roost. I had gathered with half-a-dozen or so of the Year 11 and 12 ladies, several of whom were actually decent human beings without eating disorders or drug habits, and in walks George into the diner, and utters those four little words. "My mother caught me". From that moment until the end of the show I was in absolute hysterics. And the thing is that none of my fellow audience-members understood. Through my tears I had to explain it to them - these aloof, supposedly worldy young women, who as a rule tolerated my 15-year old nerdiness but made it pretty clear who was in charge. I turned the tables on them that night, though. Maybe it was because like every 15 year-old boy, I knew a thing or two about the subject at hand (so to speak!)!

Just found the following, too, which isn't included in the first clip.

Try and find a better-written and delivered line than the one at 0:37. I think you'll be looking awhile!

I can't take it any more! She's drivin' my crazy, I can't sleep, I can't leave the house, and I'm here climbin' the walls - meanwhile I'm datin' a virgin and I'm in this contest, somethin's gotta give!

And they don't mention "the word" at any stage throughout the episode. Gold. Class. Genius.

This is for a friend.

2008-11-14T10:29:00.000-08:00

I hope she's doing ok.

Maestro, a little break-up music, if you please....

2008-11-11T03:34:00.000-08:00

It occurs to me that I need to even the balance of cricket versus love, life and art if I am to remain true to my mission statement.

So, if you will, please turn your attention to the below - if you have the time, all 9 minutes 35 seconds of it.

If you finish it, here's the album version.

I can remember listening to this song with my Dad in the car when I was little, and liking it, but not understanding it - I recall asking how wind can be stupid, but how do you explain what the song is about to a seven-year-old?

I think it's a remarkable song. It comes from my favourite Dylan period, from Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid (1973) through Infidels (1980). In the sixties there was genius, but in the mid-seventies through early eighties we got that plus humanity, confusion, and pain, which is much more interesting. Later this gave way in the 1980s to a treadmill of slightly laboured material that began with Empire Burlesque (1985) and finished with Under The Red Sky (1990), and since 1997 we've had this old bluesman who I have to admit I can't really relate to - maybe I'm just too young to understand what he's on about.

What stands out for me in both these versions of "Idiot Wind" is the energy he generates. The album version in particular just seems to spit with hatred, rage and self-loathing. Go to 2:40 and have a listen.

You hurt the ones that I love best
And cover up the truth with lies.
One day you'll be in the ditch,
Flies buzzin' around your eyes,
Blood on your saddle....

and at 4:11

I noticed at the ceremony,
Your corrupt ways had finally made you blind.
I can't remember your face anymore,
You mouth has changed, your eyes don't look into mine.

Pretty evocative lines it's true, but it's the vocal delivery that really gets me. Anyone who tells me that Dylan couldn't sing (I'm not going to dispute the fact that he can't anymore) needs to listen to this song. It's a remarkable performance - all of it is just so committed, so much so that it's a little confronting. It's just so raw, you know? Dylan has apparently denied that the songs in the album are auto-biographical but popular opinion goes against this - he wrote it during a seperation from his wife, Sara, who later divorced him, and as far as I'm concerned I don't think that you could really write something like this objectively, anyway. He is alleged to have said something else that rings pretty true, though, in a radio interview with Mary Travers:

A lot of people tell me they enjoy that album. It's hard for me to relate to that. I mean, it, you know, people enjoying the type of pain, you know?

Hear, hear!

(NB - I say "alleged" because I'm getting a lot of this from Wikipedia, which as we all know isn't always reliable. This particular quote wasn't referenced or even dated.)

The live performance is also fantastic version, and shows up all those who think that he isn't a good musician, too. I particularly like the punchy, rhythmic riff he uses earlier on and then after each stanza. I always like it when artists quote themselves, and this is taken verbatim from Pat Garrett & Billy The Kid, where it is sung with a "Nah nah, nah-nah, nah", and is also reminiscent of material in Desire, which uses the same sort of Latin/Gypsy feel.

Speaking of the gypsy feel - I think it's really funny how assurred he looks in that headscarf in the live version, and yet the bandmembers that are wearing the same thing all look vaguely ridiculous. Is "gypsy" the right word, though? What are those things? They could just as easily be Arabian keffiyehs, which would be pretty funny given the fact that Dylan is Jewish. Either way, it's clear that style is not something that everything can do!

Where would we be without Dylan? It almost seems at times that anything I can feel he's felt ten times more, and expresses it in the most perfect manner imaginable. Usually people just say that he does this with his lyrics. I like the above because he does it musically, vocally, AND in line. That's pretty extraordinary. For his ability to do this (and he doesn't only do it with this song) he's got to go down as one of the most accomplished Artists we've known. And no, I'm not restricting that to pop artists.

And somewhat more flippantly - where would we be without Youtube? Every day I seem to find something on it I'd long since forgotten about. It's great.

Next up - just what are we going to do with Ricky Ponting? Stay tuned....

Gautem's Gambit

2008-11-04T14:00:00.000-08:00

You've just got to love Inja versus 'Stra, don't you? Never a match goes by without some sort of Controversy. Someone says something in the heat of the moment, someone else gets upset, someone gets a ban..... And just when you already thought it was loads of fun as it was, the BCCI make it genuine theatre by dusting off their Sunday-best siege-mentality, their favourite dummy-spit, and calling everyone a racist. And once Spanky Roebuck gets involved you know you're REALLY in for a show. Get some popcorn, subscribe to Tony's comments, and laugh yourself stupid, it's great stuff. Not that that's QUITE happened quite yet, though - but just give it time.

Not seen the footage yet? Some bright spark has put it on Youtube. You'll find the incident in question at around the 1:30 mark.

Is it just me, or is there really nothing to it? He runs past Watson, and sort of leaves his elbow trailing. Was it deliberate? You betcha. Was there any weight behind it? Not much. Was it hard? Please. When placed next to incidents involving Lillee, Thomson, Croft - even McGrath, it barely seems worth talking about.

If anything, all it points out is what a bunch of schoolboys cricketers can be - and that ultimately they're all as bad as each other. Katich and Gambir getting all hot under the collar is just priceless - you can almost, but not quite, lip-read the "Yeah? So's your Mum!" remarks. In fact, in the comments - oh the comments, find it and read the comments, they're GOLD - someone's had a go at doing just that.

Naturally, Gambir's tried to play the role of the injured party, and the Ugly Australians card. All the way through the transcript of the appeal it comes up again and again - "I was sworn at," "but he was bigger than me!" "but it's not FAIR!", and inevitably, "they started it!!" What seems more likely to me, however, is that it's probably just as likely that it WASN'T the Australians that began the exchanges - you can see from Watson that somewhere along the line Gambir has well-and-truly got under his skin, and the same can be said for Katich.

To that end, going back to the transcript, second last paragraph - to whom should this remark really be applied?

Constant verbal assaults are also unbecoming, and also bring the game into disrepute, the more so if their intention is to break the player's concentration and provoke a loss of temper.

Not that I'm defending the Australians at all - if anything, they definitely come off second-best in that video. They take the tack of a team that has used all its cards and is now resorting to petty abuse. Hardly the approach of the seasoned professional. Gambir had them exactly where he wanted, and should have recognised it.

One thing's for sure, it's going to make the 4th Test an interesting one. India are without their player of the series so far, and yet another bad-tempered incident has marred an Indian-Australian series. I hadn't been enjoying it so far - now I'm glued to it.

Naturally though, given the nationalities involved in the disciplinary hearing, you can draw now other conclusion from this other that Gambir's suspension is the result of an Australian, English and South African plot to destroy Indian cricket. Racists. Racists! One and all.

You read it here first....

3rd Test 4th day report

2008-11-01T10:45:00.000-07:00

OK, interesting.

Australia made 577 in respone to India's 613/7 declared, India are 43/2 at stumps on the 4th day and lead by 79 with a day to play.

This has been a massive couple of days for Australian cricket. And I have to say that I'm impressed. We got done in Mohali - absolutely destroyed, if truth be told - and after conceding 613 in the first innings every non-Australian cricket journalist was pulling out the old "end of an era for Australian dominance" chestnut.

But we stood up. We not only avoided the follow-on, but we actually challenged the Indian total - were it not for my mozz in Tony's comments (scroll down to about a third of the way down), we could have passed it. And we did it not by dominating, but by grinding out a total. We batted as a team, no-one came to our rescue particularly (there's an argument for Michael Clarke there, but he didn't score that many more than Ponting or Hayden), we made good partnerships, and everyone contributed. What more can you ask for? Now we're actually in a position where we have not only saved the game, but we're the only team that can win it, too. At the end of Day 2 no-one would have expected that to happen. This is a fantastic result for a side that have been on the back foot for just about nine straight days of Test cricket, and a massive psychological achievement in the context of the rest of the series. Save this one? We can still draw the series and retain the trophy. Even if we only draw the next match, a series loss of 1-0 to India on their own turf for a side without a full-time spinner is pretty decent going.

There's no question that we are not as good a side as we were a few years ago. The likes of White, Haddin, Johnson and Watson just do not stack up against names like McGrath, Warne, Gilchrist and Langer. But performances like this show that there's no reason to expect it all to come crashing down any time soon. I have every confidence that we will continue to be very hard to beat, and a very tough, professional unit. We will continue to win matches any other side would draw, and we will continue to draw matches we should really be losing. We're not going to be as spectacular, but we're still going to win more often than not, have no doubt.

And that's the way I like it.

You little bewdy, back in business!!!

2008-10-31T14:01:00.000-07:00

Which continues my recent classical allusions theme. Pat managed to pick "Clancy of the Overflow" below - although I must admit, I thought it was by Kevin "Bloody" Wilson - let's see who can pick this one!

Right! So the prodigal flatmate has returned and re-booted his modem. Thankfully he didn't notice my attempt to break into his room with a kitchen knife the other night. I now have access to all the internet I can handle!

It has been awhile, and no question. A pity, because it's been an interesting few weeks. In no particular order, since I last posted -

- Australia have drawn a test they should have won, were completely pummelled in the next, and are probably on their way to saving another as I type. They have also picked one of the most unlikely (and arguably one of the worst) players to ever pull on the baggy green in Cameron White. I refuse to discuss the Stanford Debacle on principle.
- I have become the only person on the face of the earth to benefit from the global economic crisis, care-of a tracker mortgage and plummeting interest rates. Hooray.
- Fulham FC have lost a few, drawn a few and won once. They will lose this weekend at Everton. Hull FC went bananas for awhile. Liverpool ended Chelsea's 86-match unbeaten stretch at Stanford Bridge and are top of the league with the equal-best start to a Premiership campaign ever, but they'll choke - they always do.
- Dabbling in Art is agreeing with me.
- I went back to London for a few days and realised that it's actually quite a nice place when you're not working for dickheads and stressed out of your mind.
- Am enjoying living in Holland. The Dutch are a nice bunch, and the (many) other nationalities in my course are pretty well-represented, too. Have realised after seeing quite a bit of the place that I live in the ugliest city in it, though! Oh well.

Which more or less brings us up to date... not the most fascinating of re-entries I know - but I'll see what I can do about that anon.

Oh - almost forgot! Despite being less than prolific recently, I have been Discovered! Head-hunted! Scouted! To whit, another blog wants me to write for them. Ain't that nice? Unfortunately I probably won't be allowed to write about cricket, and I might even have to write under another name - apparently this one is a bit obvious for their readership, *sigh*. Carrot - the man of a thousand faces.

And speaking of which - whaddaya think of the new profile pic?

Annoyed!!

2008-10-09T07:59:00.000-07:00

No freakin' internet, hence no posts.

Not happy. Flatmate with the broken modem's gone to Queensland drovin', and we don't know where 'ee are.

Anyone that can guess where that's from WITHOUT putting it into google will impress me.

At least the cricket's going well.

Toodle-oo....

Missing something?

2008-09-27T12:25:00.000-07:00

Right, well after I had scored quite freely off the new ball, it seems that I've got a bit bogged down in the middle overs. To whit, not many posts recently. There's a reason for that.

THERE'S NO BLOODY CRICKET ON.

A blog cannot live on love, life and art alone.

AND we're going to have to wait. The first test against the Injuns doesn't start until October 9th! Which means that the only thing we're going to read about in the coming weeks is Hayden's achilles tendon, McGain's shoulder and whether the Indian middle-order can cut it anymore. I really don't have the patience for any of that, and that's why this isn't purely a cricket blog. F'rinstance I know that the biggest news at the moment is that Durham have won their first County Championship, but I don't think I could blog about county cricket and stay sane.

Lately, the internet has been for email, Skype and football. I am now counting the days until it can be used for what is was intended.

And no, stop sniggering up the back, I do NOT mean porn.

12 days to go.

West Hammered

2008-09-26T14:57:00.001-07:00

The entire West Ham set-up can go take a long walk off a short pier, as far as I'm concerned. All of them! Players, staff, supporters, catering staff, the lot. The fact that they escaped with only a £5.5 million fine after they fielded an ineligible player in Carlos Tevez affair in 2006/07 was a complete joke, particularly in light of the £25 million television deal that was struck that year. I'm more than pleased that Sheffield United have managed to win their case through the recent independent commissions' findings. They're after £30 million, but that's yet to be confirmed. I hope they get it all, AND the Hammers get docked points like they always should have. It looks like some of the Sheffield United players are going to sue as well! To be honest, I'm just a bit annoyed that other clubs like Fulham and Wigan withdrew their threats to take legal action as soon as they realised they weren't going to suffer through West Ham staying up. I guess this shows the darker side of commerce and sport - when football is run purely by money, there's no room for integrity or loyalty anywhere. IPL/ICL, anyone?

There is another reason. Bastards. I really hate it when we lose at home!

Holland Hijinks

2008-09-22T08:22:00.001-07:00

OK, so I managed to get through the weekend without going online. I was surprised at how little seemed to happen whilst I was away. There was some sport played. There was a fair amount of column inches dedicated to the economic crisis, and when I got home I had seventeen emails. But really, nothing much happened. Probably proof that the internet isn't quite as essential to my life as I'd thought.

Had a great time away, actually. I was taking part in an orientation weekend for first-year students at my school. I had thought that it would be mostly attended by undergrads but that there would be a sprinkling of postgrad students and therefore people in their twenties, too, but when I got drafted into the "getting-to-know-you" games I realised my mistake. Most of the group I was with were just out of high school, and I was older than them by at least ten years! Whoops. Dancing with 18 year-old girls made me feel like just a BIT of a dirty old man, as did being part of the judging of the 1980s-inspired catwalk competition (yes really), but after I realised that the only person worried about my age was me, I decided to just go with it and enjoy myself.

As the weekend progressed I realised that my impression of what a weekend like this would entail was probably entirely based upon my experiences at home. Having attended a university college, as a rule, anything involving the word "orientation" also involved the words "kegs" and "sex". Yep, that's right, pretty much the Australian version of a fraternity. And even now I've realised that my image of how people get to know one another is based almost purely on this alcohol-fuelled, sexually aggressive, Australian model. Now I'm not for a moment suggesting that your average Australian goes to university and is met at the door with a slab of beer and a packet of condoms, but that's certainly what it felt like to me. And it certainly made me feel pretty darn out of place, not to mention inadequate, when at every social event imaginable all the talk was about who just had a "vom" and who just picked up, and that it was pretty clear if you weren't able to participate in either event you might not fit in. Thankfully, a fair amount of participation in the former was good enough to ensure that I wasn't a complete social pariah, but the latter left me completely cold - I just wasn't ready for it, for one thing.

So imagine my surprise when a bunch of 45 students headed to the woods for a good dollop of orientation, only to discover a virtual absence of all these things. Where was the double-fisted binge-drinking? The skolling competitions? The public chundering? The hip-grinding on the dancefloor and face-eating competitions? What was wrong with these kids? Didn't they know how to have fun? What were they, a bunch of poofters or something?

At no point did I see anyone more than merry. I think I witnessed ONE couple share a kiss - and do you know what they did? They left the dance floor and went outside, away from public view. I only saw it because I was on the way back from the bathroom. There was no machismo. No ritualistic, competitive drinking. No elbowing people aside to get to that "hot" girl who was momentarily without a dancing partner. No social heirarchy of who was good-looking and cool and who wasn't. It was almost like..... having a good time. It was NICE. It was FUN. It was CIVILISED. Who'd've thunk it.

I've thought a bit about it since (as you can probably tell), and tried to compare it to my own experience, and the reasons why it was so different from this. Is an Australian versus European comparison actually valid? Was my experience not a little more contextual than that? Is comparing three years at university college with an orientation weekend for a bunch of musicians really fair?

I think that there's something in those questions - but still, the cultural element cannot be ignored. And any sort of socio-ecomomic analysis will probably produce almost identical results for both sides. My college was VERY exclusive - it was the domain of the upper-middle class private schoolkid, who graduated with excellent marks. Talented, bright students from good families. And yet something in their make up meant that when you handed them a beer and said "have fun, kids" that they drank themselves into the gutter and slept around.

Maybe there really is something in the "cultural significance of alcohol in Europe" diatribe that we hear all the time. I don't know. Either way - I know where I would have preferred to have been eighteen!

The Day Carrot Went Out For Some Fresh Air

2008-09-19T04:24:00.001-07:00

I have been spending an in-ordinate amount of time online lately. I'm kind've stuck in limbo, really - until some very important documents arrive from Australia, I can't finalise my enrolment, which means that I can't get a student card. Without a student card I can't do any singing practice, so I'm cooling my heels a fair bit, and spending an in-ordinate amount of time online! Thankfully I'm going away for the weekend, so I'll get to spend some time out of the house and away from my laptop. In fact, I'm going to see if I can impose a 48-hour internet ban on myself by consequence. So no sneaking off to the intenet terminal where I'm staying to check email, facebook or football scores, either. Wonder if I'll make it.

Since moving to Holland and using the internet a lot more, it's struck me how extraordinary it is, and how it's changed our lives remarkably in a very short space of time. In the past 24 hours I have -

- communicated with poeple all over the world
- watched and shared movie clips online
- had numerous (spoken) discussions online, also with people all over the world, including a forty-minute conversation with my bank in Australia, for free
- checked my bank balances in two separate countries, and I'll soon have the opportunity to do it in three
- organised international bank transfers between the same
- given 200+ people an instant update what I'm up to (facebook)
- published my ramblings to a potential audience of billions
- received complex electronically coded documentation by email
- looked at and shared photographs

Think that's the lot! And the remarkable thing is that all this is now so mundane. Remember when fax machines and mobiles were cool? No wonder I've spent so much time online - there's so much to do!

That said, if in ten years I can go from "the internet's for nerds" to it running my life for me, I hate to think what will happen in the next ten years. Maybe I really DO need some fresh air - I'd better stock up on it while I can!

See you in a day or two!

Robbo's Rant

2008-09-18T14:27:00.000-07:00

Just for the record, I agree with just about every word of this.

At the risk of paraphrasing the man, what is it with Newcastle United? It feels like the go through managers once every six months or so. Why do people even bother signing up? It's a revolving door! Can't their board see that that's no way to run a business - much less a football club?

Had a bit of a giggle at the mention of the lack of silverware. Even Fulham won the Intertoto Cup in 2002! And before the last eight years we hadn't been in Top Flight football since the 60s!

(Although a quick browse on Wikipedia tells me that Newcastle won the Intertoto in 2001, too - but y'know, whatever. We haven't gone through six managers in five years.)

And despite this, the constant obsession people have with describing Newcastle as a "big club", implying that they should consistently be in the top four, always makes me laugh as well - for a club that should be top four, they've not done that much recently, have they? And the last man that got them there was Sir Bobby Robson, and what did they do to him? Sacked him, surprise, surprise, and at the beginning of a season after a 5th-place finish the year before.

Wouldn't it be funny to see them go down? I used to like them, but now, probably along with everyone else, I think they're a laughing stock.

In other breaking news, ADO Den Haag are top of the Dutch League! Wow. What a great start to the season. I'm right behind you, boys!

I didn't even know this team existed before last week. I don't even know where they play.

Spanky speaks!

2008-09-17T12:17:00.001-07:00

Here's a turn-up - a Peter Roebuck article with a surprising lack of wankery.

In fact, you have to go to the fourth paragraph before you find any.

"But it is a mistake to curse the game with all its warts, for then one damns oneself."

And the sixteenth before you find a classical allusion!

"He had been a Gulliver tied up in doubt."

This IS an improvement.

Piss-taking aside, I think it's actually quite a good piece. Spanky presumes to know what's going in in Symonds' head a lot which I'm not sure he actually does, and I'm not quite sure that Symonds fishes with QUITE as much love-lorn poetry as Spanky thinks - "it is also part of his search for peace, outward and inward. Of course fishing does not bring inner peace as much as quietness" but on the whole, I agree with him on most counts. "Ask any captain worth his salt to choose between inflexible discipline and a maverick match-winner, and he'll find a way to accommodate the player. Of course it is not a carte blanche, but Symonds is a long way from becoming more trouble than he is worth" is a pretty decent summing-up of the situation, I'd say.

Well done, Spanky. Carry on like this, and you might even become readable.

Just for the record, I don't have QUITE as much of a fascination with Andrew Symonds as it might appear, but there's bugger-all else to write about cricket-wise at the moment, is there? I SUPPOSE I could write about the recent Bangladeshi ICL defection - but really - "Bangladesh team get even worse" is not that much of an interesting topic, now is it.

Men

2008-09-17T07:03:00.000-07:00

OK, this is very interesting.

I've been reading Belle de Jour's blog for awhile. It might interest some to see that I'm prepared to advertise the fact that I read a blog by an ex-prostitute. I would answer that by saying that it's not WHAT she is that makes her interesting, but WHO she is. Both those terms are pretty much inter-changeable I know, but you'll understand once I've explained.

Belle is a real, honest, warts-and-all person, obviously highly intelligent, well-educated, and extremely intellectual. She has some really interesting things to say about sex, sexual identity, love, feminism, and what she thinks of societal and/or the media's views on the same. I will admit that when I first visited her site I was probably drawn there by a sense of voyeuristic interest rather than an intellectual one, but it has most definitely been the latter that has made me keep reading. I am not interested in her relationships, I'm not interested in the occasional blow-by-blow description of what she gets up to with the lights off, and neither am I interested in her show (and it's interesting that in the same post I've linked to she says that she wouldn't otherwise be, either). What I am interested in is her honesty, integrity, self-knowledge and above all willingness, without prejudice, to tell things how they are, based upon the breadth of her experience - which almost by definition is bound to be pretty eclectic.

I think that we would learn a lot by speaking more to sex-workers, and giving more people like Belle a legitimate voice. If you want to learn something about men and sex, speak to their wives. If you want to learn more, speak to prostitutes. Let's not forget that Belle described herself as a "high-class hooker" - i.e. one that caters for those that can afford it. And that doesn't just mean footballers and rock stars, either. It means your Dad. Your brother. Your boss. Middle-class men. Educated men. The so-called pillars of society.

(That's not to say that everyone visits prostitutes, of course. I haven't. But some have. And some will. If they didn't, people like Belle would have found a different line of work long ago).

What particularly interested me about this post was her closing remarks.

"Whatever else happens after this point T will always be in the category of Man to me - no, it's not simply about having the appropriate equipment. A Man does the right thing and has the right attitude and buys you a beer after a shite day and does not expect a fucking medal for emptying the rubbish. Sure they cry, but never for attention. They were my history teacher at school and my housemate at uni. They are not perfect and make no apologies for that. They are the ones played in films by Clive Owen and Shah Rukh Khan. They do what they say on the tin."

I think it might have been the Clive Owen reference that really sold me to her point. I had no idea who Shah Rukh Khan is, had to wikipedia him - but I know exactly what she means. I've seen Owen in a lot of his movies - Croupier, Gosford Park, Sin City, The Bourne Identity, Inside Man and Chidren of Men (think that's the lot), and without question what links them is directness, honesty, grounding, and unashamed masculinity. They know who they are, they know what they want, and they do it without apologising. In some cases, as is the case with the character in "Closer", this occasionally pushes the boundaries of what is acceptable, but in all cases "they do exactly what they say on the tin".

And they are Men! Male adults. Grown-ups. Mature, upright, self-aware human beings. And they don't compromise - this is not to say that they are action heroes that always know what the next move is - but they are decisive, and completely lacking in any self-consciousness. They are them, and no-one else.

Unfortunately this image has been allowed to become clouded in a post-feminist world (and this is no-one's fault, I'm not starting a gender debate here). No wonder, as Belle implies, there aren't very many of them about - it's bloody difficult! We are so self-acknowledging now, and there are so many rules, that it becomes very difficult to become a Man - or an adult at all, for that matter. Decisiveness has become ruthlessness. Self-awareness has become ego-centricity. Groundedness has become arrogance. Masculinity has become aggression. All the things that seem to make Man what he is have been re-shaped and re-named in the most pejorative way. It's no wonder Men are rare.

This segues nicely into some previously un-voiced thoughts on the Andrew Symonds affair. I think, to a point, that Symonds and his ilk are a refreshing change for the world, but don't let me make you think that he's worth emulating, or that the model I'm aspiring to is all hard-edged testosterone and physicality. What works for Clive Owen workd for Clive Owen - it might not work for you and me. What I'm looking for is honesty and forthrightness, and Symonds has very little of that. Symonds' persona is a sham. A fiction. It's not the real thing. It smacks of "I'm big, I'm Aussie, and I play cricket, therefore I must act in a certain way". No wonder he flies off the handle all the time - he can't keep up with himself! His is a classic case of over-compensation.

This is where Belle comes in again - "sure they cry, but never for attention." A good line. Again, the key word here is honesty - and integrity too, I think. This is another paradox of modern masculinity - we're SUPPOSED to talk about our feelings, and cry like big, sissy girls - but watch everyone's face drop when you do. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable is just as difficult as being prepared to stick to who you are in the face of condemnation. And there's plenty of that about - solid, grounded people are confronting. They can challenge and intimidate people just by being in the room, and people don't like it.

Belle's model of what Man is might be completely different to mine, for all I know. I'm glad that she's found something she likes, though - although it might be interesting to see if she can allow herself to do it. Falling in love for people in her line of work - or her previous line of work - is an occupational hazard to be avoided, and that's probably where her self-confessed "wall" comes from. No doubt, separating the real Belle from the working girl Belle will prove very difficult.

I'm reminded of a line that a friend uses as the sign-off on his email, and not just because of Belle. It's from The Princess Bride, of all places. "Beware! People in masks cannot be trusted".

It's Started

2008-09-15T09:12:00.000-07:00

*Sigh*. England. Why are they ever thus? They win a couple of unimportant matches and all of a sudden they're World Champion Contenders.

The leading story on the smh website at the moment is an article by Scyld Berry, accompanied by a photo of Ricky Ponting in his best "Dubya" pose, with "Worried Man... Ricky Ponting" as the caption. Oh sure. I BET he's worried. Because after all, England have done SO well, lately, haven't they?

I was a little taken aback by the tone of the article, given that it's in the smh, until I finished it and saw "The Telegraph, London" as its source. So I went to The Telegraph website and found this, as well. Apparently Symonds was only getting his come-uppance when Harbhajan "called" him a monkey! Take that, boy! And back to the plantation where you belong.... I fail to see how you can hedge your bets on what was said and what wasn't, and then use it as justification for the behaviour. "We don't know what was said!! But he deserved it, either way!!!" Honestly. I expected better from a broadsheet. The first of the comments says it all - this is the sort of one-eyed, gutter journalism that England are reknowned for.

Let's examine the facts of England's so-called resurgance, shall we?

England are in rude health, to quote Berry in the Telegraph/smh. Riiiight. They lost this summer's Test series, their most successful captain ever, and their second in five years. Their new captain has won a dead-rubber Test, and the one-dayers against a depleted RSA side. Before that, they've lost home and away series pretty consistently since THAT 2005 series, and have basically been pretty ordinary for a long time. And what does precedence tell us about the side they've got at the moment? Flintoff is probably five minutes' away from his next injury. Harmison is probably 30 seconds away from his next crisis of confidence, and another form slump. These things might not happen - but my point is, let's see if they can keep the same XI on the field for more than one Test before they start crowing about how great they look.

An obvious implication is that they look great under Kevin Pieterson. Who has been captain for about five minutes, and more or less completely unproven. This is what the British press do, of course. They hover insanely between condemnation and hero-worship, and nothing in between. Someone new to the scene does well, and all of a sudden they're the Next Big Thing. You only need to look at what they've done with their 'keepers to see that. Each of Jones, Prior and Ambrose (and to a point, Nixon and Mustard) have been feted beyond measure after a handful of matches. And then, one-by-one they've disappointed, and become villians. I actually hope that Pieterson doesn't suffer the same fate, because I'm going to really look forward to us feeding his ego to him next summer. THEN they can do it to him.

Australia, meanwhile, haven't lost a series since 2005. The last one before that was in 2001. Regardless of whether you think we're worse off without Warne and McGrath, there has been no tangible difference in the results since they left. 2-0 against Sri Lanka. 2-1 against India. 3-0 against the Windies. No matter which way you look at it, the results favour Australia.

Next. Berry again, the IPL, and Australia's over-crowded schedule? Please. The IPL is Twenty20! Bowlers bowl four overs each, if that. Batsmen hit a few boundaries and get out. It's not physically demanding. Wear and tear does not come into it. Hayden's injury probably could have happened carrying the groceries as much as for his "demanding schedule". As for the rest, he fails to address the point that you don't need to use the same XI for every match.

What I love about both these articles is that they've taken complete red herrings and used them as justification for why England are going to win. England winning a one-day series? Symonds being (rightly) disciplined? Australia's "prissy" correctness? The schedule? Come on. As if any of those things are going to make a shred of difference.

I don't have a crystal ball. In fairness, though, neither do they. And it's just this sort of assumptive journalism that makes England such satisfying opponents to beat. For the record, I think it's going to be a good series, and I'm going to look forward to seeing it - but based on the sort of flimsy evidence that both these journos have given us, England are not, and cannot, in any way, shape or form, be seen as anything LIKE favourites at this point. One month does not a good team make.

There's one in every crowd

2008-09-15T03:38:00.001-07:00

I like singing in choirs. It's not something that I want to do ALL the time, and I'd prefer to avoid being pigeon-holed as a choral singer if I can avoid it, but I've sung in choirs since I was seven years old, it's something I'm familiar with, and something that I enjoy, most of the time.

For awhile I avoided them. I was trying to find my "own" sound, and given that ensemble singing obliges you to blend and fit in with those around you, finding that in a choral situation is difficult. Choral singing also exercises a different part of your brain, too - it's very much a left-brain exercise that requires a lot of problem-solving (count, intonate, watch the conductor, let's see if we can decipher that tricky bit with the syncopation etc) and solo singing is very right-brain - it's almost closer to being an actor than it is being a musican. In solo singing you're communicating, emoting, maybe moving about on stage, and all the nuts and bolts of actually getting the notes right should be so well-learned that it's almost instinctual. Thus, I've found that choral singing, when you're learning how to be a right-brain singer as opposed to a left-brain one, can mess with you a bit. I guess a good analogy is trying to perform a task with your weaker hand. Until you've mastered it you probably don't want to do it with your stronger one, because you can confuse yourself, and next time you try to do it the other way around you've forgotten some of what you've learned.

Clear as mud? Thought so.

Anyway. Lately, I've found another reason why singing in choirs isn't always a good idea. To whit, THERE'S ALWAYS ONE DICKHEAD WHO TALKS TOO MUCH. Always. Without fail, there's some guy who sits there with his thumb up his arse and a self-righteous expression on his face, trying to give the impression that he knows everything. And I say "he" because that's nearly always the case as well. It's nearly always a man, and nearly always a tenor, as well. He asks questions designed to show everyone how clever he is. He second-guesses the conductor. He points out others' mistakes. He makes little self-depracating remarks that are designed to make you notice him. He's like the guy in the meeting who sits there and nods and goes "Mmm!" whenever the boss says anything. Ever wanted to punch that guy? REALLY hard? Oh my God, I have. Just SHUT THE FUCK UP, ALREADY.

I think it's borne out of a need for self-justification. Particularly in an artistic situation like a Conservatoire, people can be desperate to prove to others that they deserve to be there. Or that not only do they deserve to be there, but maybe that they're so Goddamned fantastic that they SHOULDN'T be there, because this is all so elementary to them. I think it's also driven by the fact that the arts are seen to be an "elite" past-time, so you attract people to it that use their singing (or acting or dancing or whatever) as some sort of exercise in self-grandiosement. "Look at me! I'm SINGING. And I know stuff! Aren't I clever?" And you'd think that when things get close to being at a professional level that people would learn to leave that sort of thing at the door a bit more. Unfortunately not. Sometimes it's worse.

I think it was Bill Watterson, of Calvin & Hobbes fame, who said "I like art. But it sure as hell attracts its fair share of pretentious blow-hards".

Hear bloody hear!

And on the seventh day, they rested

2008-09-15T03:36:00.001-07:00

No-one posts on Sundays, or so it would seem! None of the blogs I follow did - not even the more prolific ones. So I didn't, either.

Un-written rule? Co-incidence?

Either way, it's kinda cool.

Fulham report

2008-09-13T09:10:00.000-07:00

6th place with a rocket, you little ripper!! AND with a game in hand. That's away against United mind you, so let's not get too excited about that, and if Villa beat Tottenham away on Monday they'll take the place off us. But still, 6th place, you little ripper! Can't remember the last time we were in that high a position, not even early in the season. It doesn't help that we've started our last three seasons away from home and lost all three of them, of course.

A 2-1 victory over Bolton at home was enough to give us that. We were always going to beat Bolton - they haven't beaten us at home in the league since 1952 or something ridiculous, and we've beaten them seven times out of the last eight matches in all competitions. If it wasn't for teams like Bolton and Everton being utterly incapable of beating us away, we'd have gone down long ago I'm sure.

Still, I think that's four in a row at home in all competitions, which is a fair effort - could we be looking at Fortress Fulham once more? Now that Hodgson seems to have managed to break our away-fom-home bogey, we might just do ok this season. We've certainly got a big enough squad - 31 at last count, which is a far cry from the "bring your boots, you might get a game" days under Chris Coleman. We don't have very many internationals, either, which always helps.

Next game: away at Blackburn. That might be a bit of an ask, they just got creamed by Arsenal 4-0 at home and will be looking to bounce back. We got a point last time we played there, though - I reckon we'll do the same again.

Overall feelings? Cautiously optomistic.

And as if to prove my point....

2008-09-12T05:39:00.000-07:00

This is published. If that doesn't give you a good insight into what the guy is like, then I don't know what does. You've got to be careful with these sorts of pieces as sometimes they can go with the tide of opinion (i.e. if public and journalistic opinion was behind Symonds there might have been a different take on it), but really - the guy's a dick.

It's interesting that he should be prepared to act in such a (self) destructive fashion after such a stop-start to his career. Just as he's done the hard work and learned how to be a successful player at all levels, he obviously feels entitled to throw his weight around. What chance a little humility, or dare I say it, professionalism? Lalor's article has it right, though - "He is also discovering that no matter how many runs you make or save, no matter how many wickets you take or defend, that your place in the Australian side is never a given." This is a very good thing, and something that has been at the core of all successful Australian sides. Recent history has shown that if you're not prepared to fit in with the team then you won't stay in it very long, either. Dean Jones and Stuart MacGill are similar examples.

It's interesting, too, to note the tone of the comments, and how quickly people's opinion can change. There's the odd "ya can't do this to Symmo!" remark, but on the whole, people are very critical. Australians can't stand people that put themselves ahead of the team. If the tall poppy syndrome wasn't coined with us in mind, it should have been! Probably the more intelligent comments are from those that are critical of his behaviour, but hope that he gets it together soon because he is a great talent.

I'd go along with that. I'm not so sure that he's that indispensable, though. There are others that can hit a cricket ball a long way, and whole careers have been forged around being good team men - just look at Andy Bichel.

With thanks to Tony for seeing it first.

Stop Press!

2008-09-11T16:16:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, SOMETHING SHORTER.

My take on the Andrew Symonds affair

2008-09-11T15:45:00.001-07:00

Right, so my first cricket post. There's nothing else going on in cricket at the moment - probably why this is still making headlines.

I get the feeling that if you met Andrew Symonds, you probably wouldn't like him. There's no doubt in my mind that what makes Roy "Roy" is the sort of Aussie boof-headery that is charming when played out with a bat in his hand in front of 80,000 people at the MCG, but is genuinely obnoxious off it. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if he turned out to be your basic, pig-ignorant dickhead.

Sure, he's everyone's favourite action hero. The dreads, the zinc-cream, the swash, the buckle, the derring-do, the sheer bulk of him. He doesn't just hit a cricket ball to the fence, he beats it into submission. Even his forward defence carries a certain amount of menace, and it’s exactly this sort of physicality, his artlessness, and his single-minded aggression that make up someone that, if popular opinion is to be believed, is just about the most Australian man alive, and hugely popular on that basis.

But it’s not just the cricket, or the way he goes around it, is it. It’s the whole package. It’s the tall stories about fishing trips with Matt Hayden. The larrikin streak. The brushes with authority. And doesn’t the world just LOVE the fact that when “Symmo” gets in trouble it’s for having a few too many in Cardiff, or more recently for fishing, for crying out loud. How Australian is that? When AFL footballers are getting done for repeat drug abuse and involvement with organised crime (Ben Cousins take a bow), Symonds’ indiscretions seem like good, clean fun.

You only need to look at Jamie Pandaram’s article in the Age to get an idea of how he’s received. You can’t drop Roy! Roy’s a legend! A man’s man! A true Aussie battler! Etc! And naturally, Michael Clarke only disciplined him (the obvious implication being that he did it alone and uni-laterally, which is far from the truth) because he’s trying to make a name for himself, what with his tatts and his earring and peroxide blonde hair. The girl. And it’s just the sort of one-eyed parochialism that really annoys me.

Alex Brown, in his excellent article in Saturday’s SMH has a much more balanced view, in my book. There are a few lines that stick out for me.

"… at the opposite end of the spectrum, the more sinister side of this double-edged sword, goodwill is harder to detect. There, Symonds is a sook, a brute, a character for the too-hard basket. And in that pigeonhole he will stay - until his next century."

and

"Many - journalists, in particular - have witnessed his leery, bullying side at pubs and nightclubs, where alcohol and testosterone have contributed to open hostility. But it has been the Harbhajan Singh affair that has most embittered Symonds. The sense of betrayal at Cricket Australia's supposed lack of support during the Monkeygate controversy has consumed him, resulting in a lingering anger that has eroded his passion for the game."

Let’s have a look at these points one by one, shall we?

First of all, a sook? Our Roy? Surely not! Never in a million years!

Actually, I have no difficulty believing this at all. It was probably Uncle JRod who best summed up Symonds’ hypocrisy about the now-cancelled ICC Champions Trophy. It WAS just a bit interesting that he was perfectly happy to go to be paid in spades to go to India for the IPL, and play in Mumbai, a recent terrorist target - but as soon as the words “Pakistan” and “security” get mentioned, out came the statements to the press. JRod brings up the key word “Muslim” and someone else “no beer” which may or may not be being overly cynical, but you make your own mind up. Whatever his motives, he was going to kick up as much of a stink as he could.

Second, and by far the easiest to believe – “brute”, “leery, bullying side”, “open hostility”. You only have to look at the below to see that.

And just in case you think that I’m a COMPLETE prude, yeah, I laughed, too. It’s funny. I don’t have a great amount of sympathy for the guy, either – he probably doesn’t even want any. When you run naked onto the ‘Gabba in front of 40,000 people, you get all that you deserve. But all that said, it’s assault, isn’t it? I’m sure you wouldn’t find it anywhere in the players’ manual. The manner in which Symonds took that guy out smacks of exactly the sort of aggressive behaviour to which Brown refers. If he’s prepared to do that and nonchalantly lean on his bat like it’s all in a day’s work when he’s stone cold sober, imagine what he’s like with a few beers in him.

And finally, Monkeygate. What a can of worms that was! A real watershed moment – it even made the normally football-mad British tabloids sit up and take notice. I was actually at the game that day – not that I noticed it happen. I was probably at the bar.

Is this relevant to today’s situation? Brown obviously thinks it is. Cricinfo thinks it is. Just about every news story you come across mentions it. I suppose it must be – surely he wouldn’t be to all intents and purposes ruling himself out of the tour to India just because he’s been disciplined for missing a team meeting. Has he been betrayed, though? At the end of the day, no-one could prove anything! He and his mates got their day in court, it was his word against Harbhajan’s, and the ICC’s John Hansen ruled that the case couldn’t be proven. Surely Cricket Australia had done all they could to make sure that justice was done. There wasn’t much they COULD have done - it was out of their hands after all, and the BCCI’s posturing about calling off the tour was nothing more than that in my book and had nothing to do with Hansen’s ruling.

Does this not support the first point, then? If Symonds is still ticked off about Monkeygate, nine months on and after a full tour of the West Indies, surely this is sulking at its best? Was he genuinely waiting for his next disciplinary infringement before he showed the world how hard-done by he was? Is this not complete opportunism by that token?

I’ve worked with people like that. In any team, there are people that are prepared to take the rough with the smooth, and there are those that are not, and throw the toys out of the pram and scream “conspiracy!” at the slightest hint of injustice. Good management and communication are important at those times, but in an administration that seems outwardly as well-run as Cricket Australia, I can’t imagine that they didn’t go out of their way to talk to Symonds about the events after the Sydney Test and make sure that he wasn’t feeling too disenfranchised. After that it’s up to Symonds – and he might win a few cheap points with his fan-base and the more populist media by going into this hole that he’s put himself in, but he’s not fooling me, and I very much doubt that he’s fooling the Australian team, either.

As far as I’m concerned, just for the moment, they’re better off without him.

Carrot on Carrot

2008-09-10T14:08:00.000-07:00

OK. So, me and blogging.

The blog: this is not a cricket blog per se. I will write a lot about cricket, I'm sure, given that I've been obsessed with it ever since I can remember, but I'll be writing about a lot more than just cricket.

Me: I'm in my late twenties, Australian, and currently a music student. I just started a postgraduate (of a sort) course in singing in a Dutch conservatoire. I'm a lyric tenor, and hope that doing this will lead to a stage career singing Monteverdi, Bach, Handel and Mozart, and maybe the likes of Rossini and Donizetti later on.

I've spent a fair amount of time in London, and up until recently had a high-pressure, full-time job in the West End that went pretty close to driving me insane, and ushered on the career-change that I've now embarked upon. Office jobs are good as a means to an end, but I don't think anyone really entered an office environment thinking "this is what I really want to do". Certainly not me, anyway. The endless pursuit of money, power and political gain are not things that sit easily with me, either. Greed is not good. I might elaborate on this later on - I might not.

I like just about every mainstream British or Australian sport you'd care to name, with the possible exception of AFL and Rugby League - I'll still watch them if you put them in front of me, though. I like how sport reflects life. I like how it takes talent, but above all how generally speaking, it takes determination, character, technique and discipline to succeed in it. Sport often helps me with my singing, and I find that as a performer, musician and artist that there are parallels with sport to be found in abundance. I'm a pretty poor sportsman myself, although growing up in Australia you don't get much choice but to play every sport under the sun, and I'm loosely capable of not embarassing myself at squash, tennis, basketball, swimming, hockey - usually anything that isn't a contact sport. Best sports are cricket, which I am fair to middling at, and golf, which if I played enough I could probably be quite good at. But, generally speaking, as a sportsman I'm a good spectator. It's the psychology, aesthetics and statistical analysis of sport that usually interest me. Oh, and I'm a Fulham FC fan.

Why a blog? I've always wanted one, actually, but until I quit my job I didn't have the time or the energy. Ever since a mate started and aborted one that Tony linked to in 2002, I've been a regular in the comments on aftergrogblog, and particularly when it's cricket-related. Even got my own, post once. Had to go to Moscow to do it, though!

I'm also kinda keen on the idea of becoming world-famous and being paid to write a blog, like dooce, but in all honesty, all this is is a chance to write down some ramblings. There's writing in the family - I'm pretty closely related to George Bernard Shaw and more distantly to Walter Scott, so maybe that has something to do with it.

And since I got gagged after the urbanfeminist disabled anonymous comments, she'd better watch out!

My promise to you, as a loyal reader: This blog is not an exercise in ego-centricity. I've written all of the above for context, and nothing else. Neither is this some sort of e-journal. I probably do enough soul-searching as it is, and don't need to inflict it on you. I'd also like to stay anonymous, within reason.

'Nuff said? Right. On with the show then.

Blogsville. Population: me (and a few others).

2008-09-09T13:50:00.000-07:00

Right. If I remember my aftergrogblog correctly (the great-grandaddy of them all), the best way to start up one of these things is as follows.

Blogging.....

Blogging....

BLOG.

Ha-hah! Yes, that's right, finally got me a weblog. I tend to be amongst the last to catch on to teckanogical advances (only got my first i-pod last December), but I get there in the end.

So! I'm going to have to tinker with this a little, but I'm sure I'll become all-too prolific very soon, and be annoying the shit out of the viewers in no time (which, for those who didn't share my adolescence, is a 12th Man quote. More on him later).

In the interim, sit down, relax, put your feet up - make a comment (are they enabled, yet? Who knows?), pour yourself a drink and make yourself at home. I'll be with you shortly.