No time for Olympianism?

I had a very pleasant evening at Wembley Stadium yesterday, watching the USA play Japan in the women's football final.

The football was good; creative and attacking and the crowd was excited and very happy to be there.

The organisation at the stadium, and (especially) the transport after the game was a triumph. There were 80,000 people there yet from leaving my seat, to getting on a tube train at no time did I actually have to stop walking - though I was going slowly at times.

It was unfortunate though, that after the match, as the Japanese team  lined up in a very dignified fashion, after their 2-1 defeat, on both side of the pitch to bow to the crowd, that the Stadium announcer chose to play the Queen song 'We are the Champions'.

It might seems fitting for a final, and I'm sure the victorious USA team loved it, but watching the runners up acknowledge the supporters with such grace as the hateful, and totally un-Olympian line: "No time for losers, for we are the Champions" rang out was the worst thing about the whole night.

Women's sport could be the BBC's legacy from these games

Lizzie Armitstead, Etienne Stott, Kristian Thomas, Gemma Gibbons, Sophie Hoskings, and 24 other (currently) are household names in Britain.

They are the country’s Olympic medallists, we’ve watched them yell and sob and answer inane questions on the BBC’s sofas. They are our heroes and heroines.

But within, oh, a couple of months, most will be forgotten. Some we will remember again when they reappear in Rio in four years, while others will slip back to the near total obscurity, whence they have so recently emerged.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

The BBC is a wonderful broadcaster, and it is busy slathering itself in glory like sunscreen during these Olympics. It is a home games, and the organization made an excellent decision to show every minute of every event on two main channels, 24 extra feeds and three radio stations.  And it has proved that the British public love sport; all sport.

We roared Mo Farah home, yes, but we’ve also gone mad for scullers, cyclists following a moped, whitewater canoers and clay pigeon shooters.

The Beeb has come under a lot of flak for not being able to compete with the commercial behemoth of Sky for the rights to premiership football, test cricket, rugby league, Ryder Cup golf and many more.

It shouldn’t try.

It would be an act of wonderful public service broadcasting to commit itself to showing both minority sports and, especially, women’s sport.

The BBC could resurrect its Saturday afternoon sports magazine Grandstand and show us more sailing, kayaking, judo, handball, volleyball; the list is nearly endless.

To be fair, since Britain started to dominate in rowing and track cycling, the corporation’s coverage of those sports has been excellent. And that includes women’s events. But I suspect if Victoria Pendleton was not competing at the same time as Chris Hoy, if Katherine Grainger wasn’t at the same regatta as Andrew Triggs-Hodge, we would barely hear of them.  The BBC can do more for women.

There is an appetite in the British public to watch and learn about minor sports, and particularly women’s sport. The belief that we only care about (men’s) football is not true; it’s just that, pretty much, it is all we are offered, by television and  newspapers.

But half a million people lined the roads of London and Surrey for  the men’s cycling roadrace; a million came out for the Tour de France  in 2007.  The Tour’s organizers were astonished at the numbers and enthusiasm and have promised to return.

More importantly, 300,000 people stood in pouring rain to cheer the women’s road race. There is no bump from the glamour of European pro racing for that event. Nicole Cooke, one of Britain’s truly great athletes of either sex over the last 10 years could walk down unrecognized in any street. But Brits want to watch her, and her colleagues race, and they proved it last Sunday.

The publicly funded BBC should use the example of the judo players Gemma Gibson and Karina Bryant and use its commercial opponents' strength against them. Let Sky have the Premier League, let it have Test cricket, let it have Six Nations rugby if it must.

But the BBC can afford the rights for women’s cycling, for downhill canoeing, for netball, for women’s golf, for women’s football, for archery, for all of it. I suspect that if a free-to-air broadcaster wanted to show, say, archery to the nation on a Saturday afternoon, it could probably get the rights for free.

The BBC could show us a different side to sport, the good stuff; the ordinary people trying their best, aiming for glory, accepting defeat with courage and taking victory with grace.  A contrast to over-pampered millionaires, baby Bentley’s and racial abuse.

More importantly it could inspire all people, and critically, young women and girls to take up sport and a love of physical activity. It could show them that life can be about striving and achievement, not about worrying about their appearance for the approval of others.

Now, that would be a legacy.

Whatever you do, Keep Calm

Keep Calm and Carry On was a British government wartime poster. It's not now. I've started collecting the things it adorns, and the variations on the meme.

Keep Calm and Carry On
(Printed over a picture of Sid James- Brighton)

Keep Calm, It's Only Jubilee
(Bunting, Brighton)

Keep Calm and Get the Beers In
(Man's T-shirt, Soho)

Keep Calm and Carry On testing
(Woman's T-shirt, Westfield Shopping Centre)

Keep Calm and Soldier On
(Militaria stall, Hastings)

Keep Calm and Reign On
(Mug commemorating the Queen's Jubilee, Brighton)

Keep Calm and Carry on
(On the placard round a 'Banksy monkey's' neck printed on a  cushion, Brighton)

Keep Calm and Make Love
(Brighton)

Keep Calm, It's Only A Wedding
(Greetings card, Brighton)

Keep Calm and Drink Wine
Keep Calm and Eat Cupcakes
(Mugs, both in a homeware shop, Brighton)

Keep Calm and Support England
(RFU shop, Twickenham)

Keep Calm and SUFTUM
(Stand Up for the Ulster men - Ulster Rugby supporter's T-shirt, Heineken Cup Final Twickenham)

How Shane Williams helped win the 2012 Grand Slam

The Wales rugby team has just won a Grand Slam, winning all its games in the 2012 Six Nations.  Former winger Shane Williams did not play one minute of the tournament, did not take a pass or make a tackle, let alone score a try.

 Yet I believe a lot of the credit for the Wales team’s triumph should go to Williams who played his last international game in a defeat against Australia last December.

In the World Cup in New Zealand last year, Wales played Samoa in their second group game, having already lost to World Champions South Africa.  With 66 minutes gone, Wales had a narrow lead at 12-10.  Wing Leigh Halfpenny found himself under pressure in his own half, but managed to slip a tackle and broke downfield, passing to young centre Jonathan Davies.  Davies ran close to the Samoan line, and tried to make a return pass to Halfpenny, to put him in for a try.  Unfortunately his pass was woefully bad, and was heading into touch when Shane Williams who had been following play, picked it up and skated over the line for the last score of the game. Wales won 17-10. 

They then went on to defeat Namibia and Fiji, then Ireland in the quarter finals before a 14-man team pushed France all the way in the semi, losing by one point.

But what if that terrible overhand pass from Jonathan Davies had not been picked up by Williams for a try?  It’s all speculation, of course, but let’s imagine.

Wales may well not have won that game. Their being five points ahead with time running out forced Samoa to seek a converted try; if the difference had been two then the pacific Islanders could have won the game with a penalty or drop goal.

If that had been the case then Wales would not have qualified for the quarter finals. They would return home after the group phase for the second World Cup in a row.

The coach Warren Gatland went into the World Cup with a contract  to see him to the next, but he was under pressure. Despite a Grand Slam in 2008, Wales had performed poorly in subsequent years. His lieutenant Shaun Edwards’ contract with the WRU finished at the end of the World Cup.

An early return would have seen a clamour for Gatland to be paid off and fired by the WRU. Edwards would certainly have left, plenty of English teams, including the national srt-up, would love to have him on the books. And he would have been glad to escape the inevitable anger and bickering of a Welsh rugby media and public that has often been called a goldfish bowl

The players would have come back terribly demoralised. They went to New Zealand as a very young squad, discovered almost by accident; Rhys Priestland got his chance at 10 when first choice, Stephen Jones was injured just a month before the start of the championship. Toby Faletau’s first cap came in June  2011, Sam Warburton was made captain only because Matthew Rees’ neck injury ruled him out from the World Cup.

Instead of returning home, disappointed, proud and determined, these young men would have been failures. Lacking morale, labeled losers, they would have come back to regional teams in crisis, and that crisis would have deepened as much of the Welsh rugby public turned its back on the game.

The qualities that have won Wales its third Grand Slam have been high degree of both skill and physicality. But the most remarkable thing about the campaign has been the mental strength, confidence and self-belief in the squad.

They were man down, and six points behind with five minutes to play in their first match against Ireland. And they scored a try and marched down the field to gain the winning penalty.  Against England, they again lost a man but controlled the ball for more than eight of the 10 minutes and the net points loss was nil.  In the last 10 minutes Scott Williams ripped the ball from a lock for a try and then three backs raced to prevent what looked a certain try in the corner.

When France insisted on the roof being open on Saturday, and the heavens opened, Wales were unfazed. France came to spoil, so Wales tackled, contained and once they got ahead simply challenged France, Priestland and the back three kicked well and kicked long to the French 22, and the whole team trusted its defence. They fronted up to France as if to say: “You want an arm wrestle? We’ll beat you that way as well.”

All of this shows tremendous belief in their own abilities as individuals and a real  sense of togetherness, of playing for each other and their coaches. Look at Ryan Jones; two Grand Slams to his name already, once as captain. He was replaced as captain rather ignominiously after a draw at home to Fiji, and he has been asked to play this campaign as lock, number 8, and on both flanks of the scrum. Without a word of complaint; he has done so. He’s an elder statesman of the team yet seems to be willing to do whatever is required of him , and his delight in the victories is palpable.

This is a team that seems to love being together and has learned to win in the clutch; and it wants to win more.  That is it challenge.

But I can’t help thinking none of this might have happened if that terrible pass from Jonathan Davies hadn’t been picked up by Shane Williams, if it had dribbled into touch. Another Wales chance missed. So, for that, I say a part of this latest triumph is his.

5 February

A hot-dog vendor
cooks his onions in wine.
Sums Islington up.

4 February

Snow in North London
blown sideways by the East wind.
I'm snug in the pub.

3 February

Forgot my password.
A problem for the modern
writer of haikus.

2 February Robin (part two)

Even though I know it's
A song of aggressive threat,
I need the solace.

1 February Robin (part one)

A robin's singing
convinces me Spring will come.
I'm grateful for that.

31 January

My resolution
holds, one month later; next year
I'll say I won't eat.

30 January

Full of painkillers
And lacking sleep, I won't write
a haiku today.

29 January

It is surprising
Just how many things I do,
That need two good arms.

28 January

I've hurt my shoulder.
I've never thought about it, but,
it seems, it's crucial

27 January

Friday evening;
two days of fun stretch ahead,
unless you're working.

26 January

The overnight sponge
helps you make bread and is not
a contraceptive.

25 January

I typed lots today.
About half of it was trash.
And so was the rest.

24 January

A man on the tube
was rude to me. My comeback
would have been so good.

23 January

That play I woke for
was terrific; really funny.
James Corden's a star.

22 January

Bitter rivals fight
each other to a standstill.
I'm neutral. I win.

21 January

Saturday morning,
coffee, croissant, more coffee.
Papers, kip, then tea.

20 January

Asleep in a chair,
woken to go see a play.
This better be good.

19 January

A winter canal,
flat calm but holding still a
memory of ice.

18 January

A man I respect
tells me my haikus are wrong.
I think. I'll plough on.

17 January

Today's my birthday.
I'm one year nearer the grave.
I hope there'll be cake.

16 January Aliums (part two)

The answer revealed:
Do them in their skins. Shallots,
I mean. Not people.

15 January Aliums

Roasting shallots well
appears as simple a trick
as splitting atoms.

14 January Writer (part three)

An eight-year-old girl,
brought by her mother to hear
him, ate a fruit bun.

13 January Writer (part two)

A latecomer sat down
on the man in front's green scarf.
He fretted for hours.

12 January Writer (part one)

Very excited
to meet a famous writer.
Though, not of haikus.

11 January Argument (part two)

They're Colombian
(I think). She says England's
More than grey enough.

10 January Argument (part one)

Couple on the train
arguing. She won't have a
grey-painted bathroom.

9 January

Ten of us typing
loudly in the library.
No-one shushes us.

8 January

Done-with Christmas trees
lie on the pavement like a
horizontal wood.

7 January (On Twitter and politics)

Someone said something.
Others confect an anger.
Repeat until sick.

6 January

The haiku I write,
 recommended on Twitter.
 Praise and pressure mixed.

5 January

A walk in the park.
Then sofa and a blanket.
Life's not bad. Sometimes.

An unpopular defence of a woman with a disability

Like most people in this country I don’t know, and I have never met, Heather Mills.  As a result I have no real view on her character or morals, which seemingly puts me in a minority in the UK.

But, for the sake of this piece alone, let’s assume that she is as venal and self-obsessed as she is portrayed.

It seems unlikely, but let’s pretend she’s really, really awful. That still wouldn’t justify making jokes about her having lost a leg.

When someone makes a joke about Ms Mills having only one leg, or about her prosthesis (and we’ve all heard them), what they are doing is poking fun at a disabled woman because of her disability.

It’s laughing at a cripple, to be brutal about it.

I have had this argument before, in person, with a colleague who made such a joke. He didn’t care for my objection. His position was that he was making a joke about a horrible woman, a spoiled gold-digger; a deserving target for his ridicule.

See the disclaimer at the top of the piece. If Ms Mills is that awful, then yes, perhaps she does deserve ridicule, and vituperation.

But not for losing a leg.  To suffer such an injury in a car accident, or any other way, is worthy only of sympathy.  And I have a degree of admiration for her for overcoming such a setback, particularly in appearing on Dancing With The Stars on US TV.

But that’s not important. The point is, it’s not funny and it’s not right to make jokes about her disability. 

When Jeremy Clarkson called then PM Gordon Brown “a one-eyed Scottish idiot”, he was rightly criticized for using Brown’s disability against him. And he apologized.  When serial offender Jeremy Clarkson understands that making jokes about illness or disability is beyond the pale, then it can’t be that difficult to comprehend.

But to make it plainer. Let’s assume Heather Mills was not one-legged, but, say, black.  Same person, same character and (supposed) moral flaws. But with two legs and black.  Still deserving then of ridicule for venality, pomposity and all that. 

But would those jokes focus on her ethnicity? The colour of her skin, or her hair, or whatever other racist tropes there might be? Would we all gladly laugh along when some comic on a panel show makes a little crack about nasty, greedy Heather Mills and her love of watermelon?  No.

So please, if you want to make jokes about a woman you don’t know because you’ve heard she’s awful, then go ahead. But don’t poke fun at her because she’s disabled.

That just isn’t nice.

4 January

This early year drags.
I've a birthday coming soon.
I wish it was Spring.

3 January

An English park sign:
Do not feet the pelicans.
I never dreamt I could.

2 January

Sunshine. I'm indoors.
Got soaked outside yesterday.
Bloody typical.

Resolution

Ev'ry day this year
I'll try to write a haiku.
Wonder when I'll give up.