Yesterday evening saw the 2nd meeting of the new Bedford CC board and, unlike last time, I was more prepared. Last time out I was drowned by the concept of the meeting, the agendas, and bearing in mind I took no notes, not enough brain capacity to take in everything that was said. This time, with the meeting taking place in the arctic temperatures of the pavilion, I had prepared a bit more thoroughly. Relevant paperwork, a pad to take notes in and although I nearly forgot it, a pen! I know. Sometimes you just forget the obvious in these sorts of situations!
First though, we had a meeting with a pair of ex-members who were interested in coming back to the fray and get involved on all fronts. Playing, coaching and everything that comes with it. I've had more enquiries than I expected given the popular news that our ex-Chairman has left, meaning next season is looking a far more rosy affair. I am trying my upmost to keep our members updated on the goings on at the club, as one of the main issues from that fractious meeting a while back was that the membership didn't know anything of what was going on. My responsibility, as Director of Adult Cricket, is to run the adult section and during the Winter, contact can be lost due to inactivity. From September to January/February, not a lot happens in terms of matches (obviously), training and the like, so to keep everyone informed of the decisions we make is paramount, and I am trying to do so as much as I can.
As for the meeting itself, I once again felt like I took a bit of a back seat as much of the talk was about funds, accounts and property which is an area I have next to no knowledge in. I am still young, and haven't been in a position where I've had to discuss accounts before, so I am learning a lot throughout this experience. It's excellent for my own personal development, and given that it is in a voluntary capacity means there is little pressure from anyone to do a sterling job. I'd like to of course, but at the moment, we are just trying to rebuild a broken ship. Fix the hole that the iceberg left. All in all however, we've made fantastic progress ahead of the upcoming AGM where my position gets ratified along with everyone else's.
I do feel as if I've got the toughest challenge out of all though. The club was in a dangerous position under the new regime, but the junior section is already there and already successful. At the top of their divisions year in, year out - the junior age groups have a fantastic foundation in which to progress on. Our adult section is, quite literally, starting afresh. We need new members, new players, more quality and a new culture which I am heading up and it is quite a challenge. As someone pointed out, being part of a cricket club is much more than just the cricket. We need a new social side to our club, making the team feel more part of a team, instead of just rocking up twenty minutes before the start and swanning off again as soon as the last wicket falls. I need a team around me to help bring that new culture to the club, and I am very hopeful and optimistic that people will want to help all they can. We're hopefully getting a new club logo and a new kit to bring in the new era aswell, really starting again. I really am glad I stuck it out and put up with the old regime allowing me to be in this position, and proud of standing up at "that" meeting and saying my bit. And now the real work begins.
Leading up to Christmas, I am going to be busy at work as everyone wants to send presents and cards here, there and everywhere. Maybe this is a good thing, as it will make the Winter go quicker and next season can come around fast. Frankly, I'm already bouncing off the walls. I want to score runs...
Friday 26 October 2012
Sunday 21 October 2012
The World Drives Me Insane Sometimes...
I'm going to save my Twitter feed from probable explosion and rant to kingdom come in here. And I'm most probably going to detract from the fluent writing style I used in the post before and go full-on "teenager" when describing what my current annoyances are. There are so many things that have come to light this weekend that just drives me up the wall. Where shall I start?
Well, where better to start than my favourite topic of the moment. Racism in football. Skip to the next paragraph if you've had enough of me talking about this, but the problem persists and will not go away. This weekend saw the beginning of the 'Kick It Out' campaign that started with professional players wearing t-shirts in support of kicking racism out of football. Apart from being a toothless gesture of nonsense, that didn't actually do anything, the real story lay with those who boycotted it. Sorry, but since when did others have the right to tell others what to do? Sir Alex Ferguson publicly denounced Rio Ferdinand for refusing to wear a t-shirt. What the actual fuck? Apart from the fact that 'Kick It Out' has been around for 9 years, and the problem has probably got worse, what right does Ferguson have to say that? If anything, the boycott has probably done a better job than those stupid t-shirts ever would have done!
Secondly, "public relationships". Not in the way some of you may think. I'm all for public outpourings of love and affection. I think it's good to spread love and happiness that has eminated from your own personal relationships, but My God, please please please please please take your domestics OFF Facebook and Twitter and have them in the privacy of your own home. Why do people feel the need to publicise the ins and outs of their so-called "private" relationship, when it gives people the opportunity to pitch in and comment on things they have no right to comment on. At this current moment, I am witnessing a relationship unravel on Facebook, simply because the man put a status about his trouble with the woman and then his "lad mates" put some probably false comments and all of a sudden it's dominoed into a virtual fracas. Some would say he deserves it, for being clueless enough to put what he put, where anyone can see it, but most would say it's escalated into something that should never have begun at all. Hopefully he's learnt a lesson.
I mean, why would ANYONE put particularly hazardous comments on social networking sites, that have the ability to be reported to anyone at all, resulting in a harsh punishment for the author of the comment? .................... Oh yeah.
Thirdly, The X Factor. Now, usually I put a couple of comments on Twitter about how much I despise it and people think, "There he goes again!", so today I'm going to inundate you lot with my despise of this ugly, over the top program. Believe it or not, I quite like the idea. Giving someone an opportunity in the high-flying world of the music business is a fantastic concept, but seriously, how they come to that conclusion is unbelievably gut-wrenching. Looking past the rehearsal stage, where every year you get a collection of people who are willing to be embarrassed on national TV, amongst a selection of producers who clearly don't give a damn about how any of the contestants are perceived by the public, the live shows are watched by people who are CONVINCED that every weekend, there is some sort of fix going on. Excuse me? Every weekend, I see literally hundreds of people complain that the program is fixed, despite the obvious fact that ITV wouldn't get away with fixing the program, in fear of large fines and prosecution along with the programme facing a probable axing. Don't people think about these things before typing such outrageous claims?
Next? Opinions. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. I have my own opinions, (clearly), on pretty much everything going. I express them at my own will, and am welcome to debates with anyone who disagrees. What I don't do however, is claim that this person's opinion is wrong. The main thing is that it is still here. Debates on Twitter and especially YouTube are ones to avoid aswell, as keyboard warriors take effect, and begin hurling insults at you when they believe their argument has run out of legs. There is no need to be personal when coming to reasoned debate. Yet some people believe that is the way forward. Also, especially this week, I have found that people get involved in debates that they know nothing about. Why? Every Sunday, I see mounteneous views from NFL fans. Why would I then go and point out I have a dislike of Tampa Bay Buccaneers? (I don't. I have no idea about any NFL team). I probably class myself as "agnostic" when it comes to religion, if you care at all. Frankly, I don't give one jot about how the world started. I have no interest in it, so why would I get into a debate about it? Some people have been doing the equivalent all week, then realise they know nothing, and hurl insults. Some people have no concept of humility.
I could go on, but I might well be here all night. This weekend has gone rather quickly, and has been rather eventful but for reasons that are not good. I didn't feel at all well on Friday night, culminating in roughly 40 minutes sleep before the most surreal shift on Saturday morning. Since then, I have been catching up on lost sleep and before you know what's happened, the cold walls of Monday morning have crept up on you. Never mind. Onwards!
Well, where better to start than my favourite topic of the moment. Racism in football. Skip to the next paragraph if you've had enough of me talking about this, but the problem persists and will not go away. This weekend saw the beginning of the 'Kick It Out' campaign that started with professional players wearing t-shirts in support of kicking racism out of football. Apart from being a toothless gesture of nonsense, that didn't actually do anything, the real story lay with those who boycotted it. Sorry, but since when did others have the right to tell others what to do? Sir Alex Ferguson publicly denounced Rio Ferdinand for refusing to wear a t-shirt. What the actual fuck? Apart from the fact that 'Kick It Out' has been around for 9 years, and the problem has probably got worse, what right does Ferguson have to say that? If anything, the boycott has probably done a better job than those stupid t-shirts ever would have done!
Secondly, "public relationships". Not in the way some of you may think. I'm all for public outpourings of love and affection. I think it's good to spread love and happiness that has eminated from your own personal relationships, but My God, please please please please please take your domestics OFF Facebook and Twitter and have them in the privacy of your own home. Why do people feel the need to publicise the ins and outs of their so-called "private" relationship, when it gives people the opportunity to pitch in and comment on things they have no right to comment on. At this current moment, I am witnessing a relationship unravel on Facebook, simply because the man put a status about his trouble with the woman and then his "lad mates" put some probably false comments and all of a sudden it's dominoed into a virtual fracas. Some would say he deserves it, for being clueless enough to put what he put, where anyone can see it, but most would say it's escalated into something that should never have begun at all. Hopefully he's learnt a lesson.
I mean, why would ANYONE put particularly hazardous comments on social networking sites, that have the ability to be reported to anyone at all, resulting in a harsh punishment for the author of the comment? .................... Oh yeah.
Thirdly, The X Factor. Now, usually I put a couple of comments on Twitter about how much I despise it and people think, "There he goes again!", so today I'm going to inundate you lot with my despise of this ugly, over the top program. Believe it or not, I quite like the idea. Giving someone an opportunity in the high-flying world of the music business is a fantastic concept, but seriously, how they come to that conclusion is unbelievably gut-wrenching. Looking past the rehearsal stage, where every year you get a collection of people who are willing to be embarrassed on national TV, amongst a selection of producers who clearly don't give a damn about how any of the contestants are perceived by the public, the live shows are watched by people who are CONVINCED that every weekend, there is some sort of fix going on. Excuse me? Every weekend, I see literally hundreds of people complain that the program is fixed, despite the obvious fact that ITV wouldn't get away with fixing the program, in fear of large fines and prosecution along with the programme facing a probable axing. Don't people think about these things before typing such outrageous claims?
Next? Opinions. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. I have my own opinions, (clearly), on pretty much everything going. I express them at my own will, and am welcome to debates with anyone who disagrees. What I don't do however, is claim that this person's opinion is wrong. The main thing is that it is still here. Debates on Twitter and especially YouTube are ones to avoid aswell, as keyboard warriors take effect, and begin hurling insults at you when they believe their argument has run out of legs. There is no need to be personal when coming to reasoned debate. Yet some people believe that is the way forward. Also, especially this week, I have found that people get involved in debates that they know nothing about. Why? Every Sunday, I see mounteneous views from NFL fans. Why would I then go and point out I have a dislike of Tampa Bay Buccaneers? (I don't. I have no idea about any NFL team). I probably class myself as "agnostic" when it comes to religion, if you care at all. Frankly, I don't give one jot about how the world started. I have no interest in it, so why would I get into a debate about it? Some people have been doing the equivalent all week, then realise they know nothing, and hurl insults. Some people have no concept of humility.
I could go on, but I might well be here all night. This weekend has gone rather quickly, and has been rather eventful but for reasons that are not good. I didn't feel at all well on Friday night, culminating in roughly 40 minutes sleep before the most surreal shift on Saturday morning. Since then, I have been catching up on lost sleep and before you know what's happened, the cold walls of Monday morning have crept up on you. Never mind. Onwards!
Tuesday 16 October 2012
The Monster Under the Bed
There's an element of the 8-year old in that title...
It's been a difficult day. I now appreciate that these do happen, but earlier, the world was caving in and I was in that darkest place. It's almost impossible to explain, at least using words, what that place is like unless you've visited yourself. It's currently gone 3am. I've just received a drunken phone call from Mr. Field and the world is regaining some sort of normality. Irrationality has been replaced by calmness and some perspective. I sit here listening to the Les Miserables soundtrack, which has the ironic ability to bring a smile to my face, as I remember the good days in which I was the lighting co-director for the school production, back in the day.
But instead of ignoring the phase I've just been through, I'm going to attempt to describe what it feels like, with the best of the apparent writing ability I possess. I didn't feel well this morning. I could hardly get out of bed, and this isn't down to laziness. It was almost a state of living rigamortis. The feeling of facing the world is one of absolute dread when the darkness has descended. There is science behind that somewhere, but I don't really understand it. I spent the whole day at work on the verge of tears as the thoughts built up into a chasm of unrest and unwanted hatred. I couldn't even be bothered to grace my Twitter feed with the thoughts of an opinionated individual, which is what I usually do during the quiet periods instead of twiddling my thumbs, staring at the assortment of birthday cards that sit on the other side of the glass screen in front of me. The clock was seemingly going backwards, the customers who are usually greeted with a smile and endless equanimity were instead welcomed with a grunt and a point towards the new contactless card reader. Most elderly customers need constant directions on how to use it. Usually, I repeat them countless times with the patience and grace that I pride myself on, but not today. I didn't have the composure or the intestinal fortitude to willingly endure such nonsense. I wasn't rude or boorish, just... unforbearing.
I can't do it. I can't explain what it feels like without going off on a tangent. It's like a fog has clouded your brain, making you blind to why you are even bothering to exist. What exactly is the point in being here? That's what I think when I find myself in the midst of the impenetrable murkiness of my own brain. For that is what I do. I sit and think. But instead of think about good things - like fun parties I've been to, or that header I scored as an 11 year old to take us to the cup final or that monologue I FINALLY managed to get out on stage after 2 failed attempts, I think about ... other things. I don't want to talk about them, as I said I never would again. I'd just start to cry.
But what can you do? There are going to be bad days, and amazingly enough, I acknowledged that fact whilst huddled in the middle of my duvet at 7pm this very evening. "This will go away, just hang on in there". This cimmerian shade of uselessness will soon be replaced by the person I love. I like who I am when I'm happy. I'm fun, active and a little bit of a weird bloke - which is always a good thing. I have a knack of surprising people with things that people say they'll do one day but never actually do it. People say they'll do it, but don't.
I do. I enjoy the adventure of doing strange things. I once spontaneously turned up on Beddoe's doorstep, 200 miles away in Manchester. He never knew I was coming, I just turned up. A few weeks ago, I bought a shot of sambuca for the whole of the front row of people waiting at the bar. I didn't know them, but it bought a smile to everyone's face, so why not? I once bought a homeless man a baguette and a cake from Greggs because he looked sad. How many people can say they've done that?
And oh, I do complain a lot, but that's easy to get past I think.
But that is replaced by someone I am not when something I don't know about takes effect in my brain. Like I say, I don't know the science behind it that well. I hardly talk, and when I do, it takes an effort of monumental proportions to even say "yes" or "ok". I change into someone else, and that is a scary thought, is it not?
I'm afraid there are going to a few posts like this during the coming Winter months. There always seems to be, but I need to get these thoughts out in one of the few methods I know how. I ask for your patience if you come across me during a bad stage, but they do pass. Also, I'd love a bit of (honest) feedback on what I write, as it means a lot to me. This blog has been running for almost 3 years... Quite an amazing feat, if I may say so myself. It's almost 4am, and despite having the sleeping pattern of a rampant hedgehog, I must concede that sleep wouldn't be the worst idea right now.
I'm in a reflective mood...
It's been a difficult day. I now appreciate that these do happen, but earlier, the world was caving in and I was in that darkest place. It's almost impossible to explain, at least using words, what that place is like unless you've visited yourself. It's currently gone 3am. I've just received a drunken phone call from Mr. Field and the world is regaining some sort of normality. Irrationality has been replaced by calmness and some perspective. I sit here listening to the Les Miserables soundtrack, which has the ironic ability to bring a smile to my face, as I remember the good days in which I was the lighting co-director for the school production, back in the day.
But instead of ignoring the phase I've just been through, I'm going to attempt to describe what it feels like, with the best of the apparent writing ability I possess. I didn't feel well this morning. I could hardly get out of bed, and this isn't down to laziness. It was almost a state of living rigamortis. The feeling of facing the world is one of absolute dread when the darkness has descended. There is science behind that somewhere, but I don't really understand it. I spent the whole day at work on the verge of tears as the thoughts built up into a chasm of unrest and unwanted hatred. I couldn't even be bothered to grace my Twitter feed with the thoughts of an opinionated individual, which is what I usually do during the quiet periods instead of twiddling my thumbs, staring at the assortment of birthday cards that sit on the other side of the glass screen in front of me. The clock was seemingly going backwards, the customers who are usually greeted with a smile and endless equanimity were instead welcomed with a grunt and a point towards the new contactless card reader. Most elderly customers need constant directions on how to use it. Usually, I repeat them countless times with the patience and grace that I pride myself on, but not today. I didn't have the composure or the intestinal fortitude to willingly endure such nonsense. I wasn't rude or boorish, just... unforbearing.
I can't do it. I can't explain what it feels like without going off on a tangent. It's like a fog has clouded your brain, making you blind to why you are even bothering to exist. What exactly is the point in being here? That's what I think when I find myself in the midst of the impenetrable murkiness of my own brain. For that is what I do. I sit and think. But instead of think about good things - like fun parties I've been to, or that header I scored as an 11 year old to take us to the cup final or that monologue I FINALLY managed to get out on stage after 2 failed attempts, I think about ... other things. I don't want to talk about them, as I said I never would again. I'd just start to cry.
But what can you do? There are going to be bad days, and amazingly enough, I acknowledged that fact whilst huddled in the middle of my duvet at 7pm this very evening. "This will go away, just hang on in there". This cimmerian shade of uselessness will soon be replaced by the person I love. I like who I am when I'm happy. I'm fun, active and a little bit of a weird bloke - which is always a good thing. I have a knack of surprising people with things that people say they'll do one day but never actually do it. People say they'll do it, but don't.
I do. I enjoy the adventure of doing strange things. I once spontaneously turned up on Beddoe's doorstep, 200 miles away in Manchester. He never knew I was coming, I just turned up. A few weeks ago, I bought a shot of sambuca for the whole of the front row of people waiting at the bar. I didn't know them, but it bought a smile to everyone's face, so why not? I once bought a homeless man a baguette and a cake from Greggs because he looked sad. How many people can say they've done that?
And oh, I do complain a lot, but that's easy to get past I think.
But that is replaced by someone I am not when something I don't know about takes effect in my brain. Like I say, I don't know the science behind it that well. I hardly talk, and when I do, it takes an effort of monumental proportions to even say "yes" or "ok". I change into someone else, and that is a scary thought, is it not?
I'm afraid there are going to a few posts like this during the coming Winter months. There always seems to be, but I need to get these thoughts out in one of the few methods I know how. I ask for your patience if you come across me during a bad stage, but they do pass. Also, I'd love a bit of (honest) feedback on what I write, as it means a lot to me. This blog has been running for almost 3 years... Quite an amazing feat, if I may say so myself. It's almost 4am, and despite having the sleeping pattern of a rampant hedgehog, I must concede that sleep wouldn't be the worst idea right now.
I'm in a reflective mood...
Friday 12 October 2012
The Cost
I read a news story earlier. One of many. But it was about a toddler being served whisky in a Frankie and Benny's. Start 'em early! But someone asked me an interesting related question yesterday.
"How much do you think you've spent on alcohol since you turned 18?"
Very interesting.. It's difficult to put a number on it, but I spent a lot of time yesterday evening trying to arrive at an approximate figure. It is no secret now that I like a tipple once in a while, (to be generous), but how much have I really spent? Hundreds? Thousands? Bearing in mind there have been nights where I've spent £150+... Last Saturday night, I spent about £80 in Nottingham, although I had won £95 from Coral - so that didn't really matter!
You're probably looking at a person who has spent thousands on alcohol. As silly as it sounds, in 3 and a half years, I must have spent £2-3k. Simply on nights out, JD, vodka, cider, amaretto, sambuca and even a few quid on the dreaded Wray and Nephews. It's hard to imagine that figure being spent solely on drink, but building up over 3 years of solid partying and drinking, plus recently the cost of drinking Jack Daniels at home, just socially, whilst watching the TV. It all adds up. It makes me sound like an alcoholic, doesn't it?
But I don't regret it. Of course I don't. You could use the same method of working out how much money you wasted as a kid, buying those Panini football stickers, or Pokemon cards that you used to badger your parents into buying constantly, at every given opportunity. Or Christmas presents that, once opened, you never used and they just sat up in the cupboard gathering dust. We've all used money in the past that ultimately ended up as wasted. Except buying literally garage loads of alcohol over the years have given something in return. Something priceless. Memories.
Stories that have the ability to keep you warm on a cold Winter's evening. Down the pub, JD and coke in hand, (it goes without saying - obviously!), one can spend literally hours reminiscing about the jokes, banter and downright dangerous things we've done as a group of friends. You can't put a price on memories. You really can't.
Shall I....?
There's so many to choose from... I don't know if I have a favourite story, but there are certainly a few worth telling.
Most of them are in the depths of this blog, somewhere. Somewhere deep in these 470 posts, are the most outrageous stories that eminate from a night out on the razzmatazz. There is of course, "that night in Manchester", but I wouldn't particularly class that as a "good" memory. But a memory none the less...
Everything from "Is that a woman or a man?" to hot tubs to pulling sickies to attend Lottie's house parties, (Yeah - I did). From The Joker in Newcastle to The Barmaid Scam to the Bognor Beach madness... From the unspeakable night in Cardiff not so long ago to the Debenhams Window Assault to the Bouncy Castle Boxing Ring... Then you've got those nights where you just dance for hours and hours and hours... You can't put a price on these moments, and however much money you spend on reaching that level of drunk where you're the most perfectly happy you've ever been... You can't beat that. Oh, to be young and carefree...
In a week where the sadness has seeped from the corners of friendship, where life was taken away so wrongly from the same people who had such long lives ahead of them... You have to appreciate the good times. I didn't really know the two chaps who passed away this week. I played in the same cricket team as one once I think, and I had said hello to the other - but even so, watching friends who knew them much better - strong-willed friends - grieve over their loss makes you feel instantly low-spirited. It really does make you think...
And although I barely knew them, it has affected me somewhat. It's difficult to talk about death. It's such a strange and obviously sensitive issue. I wanted to pay my respects, but as someone who hardly knew them, I felt a little like an intruder. The best way to describe them were "friends of friends", so seeing my friends affected so severely by it, affects me. It just makes you reflect on what you have, and what you take for granted day in, day out.
It's just cruel. When my Grandmother died in 2010, she was 83. She'd lived a strong and successful life, and although it's sad, it wasn't entirely unexpected. Tragedies such as this, are unexpected and you can feel the shock. It makes me very sad, but I feel like I shouldn't be sad because I hardly knew them. Does that make sense?
I digress. The point I'm trying to make is this... Memories are to be treasured. More than material wealth, or power - you have to cherish the good times. Whether fuelled by alcohol or not. The times where you can laugh uncontrollably at, where a stranger would simply sit and wonder what on Earth you're talking about. Those "You Had to Be There" moments.
Cherish them, because you just don't know what lays around the corner...
"How much do you think you've spent on alcohol since you turned 18?"
Very interesting.. It's difficult to put a number on it, but I spent a lot of time yesterday evening trying to arrive at an approximate figure. It is no secret now that I like a tipple once in a while, (to be generous), but how much have I really spent? Hundreds? Thousands? Bearing in mind there have been nights where I've spent £150+... Last Saturday night, I spent about £80 in Nottingham, although I had won £95 from Coral - so that didn't really matter!
You're probably looking at a person who has spent thousands on alcohol. As silly as it sounds, in 3 and a half years, I must have spent £2-3k. Simply on nights out, JD, vodka, cider, amaretto, sambuca and even a few quid on the dreaded Wray and Nephews. It's hard to imagine that figure being spent solely on drink, but building up over 3 years of solid partying and drinking, plus recently the cost of drinking Jack Daniels at home, just socially, whilst watching the TV. It all adds up. It makes me sound like an alcoholic, doesn't it?
But I don't regret it. Of course I don't. You could use the same method of working out how much money you wasted as a kid, buying those Panini football stickers, or Pokemon cards that you used to badger your parents into buying constantly, at every given opportunity. Or Christmas presents that, once opened, you never used and they just sat up in the cupboard gathering dust. We've all used money in the past that ultimately ended up as wasted. Except buying literally garage loads of alcohol over the years have given something in return. Something priceless. Memories.
Stories that have the ability to keep you warm on a cold Winter's evening. Down the pub, JD and coke in hand, (it goes without saying - obviously!), one can spend literally hours reminiscing about the jokes, banter and downright dangerous things we've done as a group of friends. You can't put a price on memories. You really can't.
Shall I....?
There's so many to choose from... I don't know if I have a favourite story, but there are certainly a few worth telling.
Most of them are in the depths of this blog, somewhere. Somewhere deep in these 470 posts, are the most outrageous stories that eminate from a night out on the razzmatazz. There is of course, "that night in Manchester", but I wouldn't particularly class that as a "good" memory. But a memory none the less...
Everything from "Is that a woman or a man?" to hot tubs to pulling sickies to attend Lottie's house parties, (Yeah - I did). From The Joker in Newcastle to The Barmaid Scam to the Bognor Beach madness... From the unspeakable night in Cardiff not so long ago to the Debenhams Window Assault to the Bouncy Castle Boxing Ring... Then you've got those nights where you just dance for hours and hours and hours... You can't put a price on these moments, and however much money you spend on reaching that level of drunk where you're the most perfectly happy you've ever been... You can't beat that. Oh, to be young and carefree...
In a week where the sadness has seeped from the corners of friendship, where life was taken away so wrongly from the same people who had such long lives ahead of them... You have to appreciate the good times. I didn't really know the two chaps who passed away this week. I played in the same cricket team as one once I think, and I had said hello to the other - but even so, watching friends who knew them much better - strong-willed friends - grieve over their loss makes you feel instantly low-spirited. It really does make you think...
And although I barely knew them, it has affected me somewhat. It's difficult to talk about death. It's such a strange and obviously sensitive issue. I wanted to pay my respects, but as someone who hardly knew them, I felt a little like an intruder. The best way to describe them were "friends of friends", so seeing my friends affected so severely by it, affects me. It just makes you reflect on what you have, and what you take for granted day in, day out.
It's just cruel. When my Grandmother died in 2010, she was 83. She'd lived a strong and successful life, and although it's sad, it wasn't entirely unexpected. Tragedies such as this, are unexpected and you can feel the shock. It makes me very sad, but I feel like I shouldn't be sad because I hardly knew them. Does that make sense?
I digress. The point I'm trying to make is this... Memories are to be treasured. More than material wealth, or power - you have to cherish the good times. Whether fuelled by alcohol or not. The times where you can laugh uncontrollably at, where a stranger would simply sit and wonder what on Earth you're talking about. Those "You Had to Be There" moments.
Cherish them, because you just don't know what lays around the corner...
Friday 5 October 2012
Caution - No Regrets
I miss refereeing a little bit you know. Just the sound of a whistle, the idea of being in charge of an electric football match, the pressure of a big decision to make... For one, it kept me fit and active, but it also left me with unique stories to tell as not many other people in society are active referees. Plus, people's opinion of you go up as they learn you go out every Saturday afternoon to make unfavourable decisions merely "because you love the game". Lots of people thought I was crazy. They say you've got to be mad to be a goalkeeper, and nuts to be a referee. Bearing in mind I was doing both for a couple of years does say a lot...
I've just been reminiscing this evening about the 7 years I did officiate. All the highs and lows that came with it, the huge decisions I made on various occasions and the 22-man brawl I dealt with over at Hillgrounds one chilly Sunday afternoon. I remember that as clear as day. It was a nothing tackle that started it, just a trip and a free-kick - move on. But as the defensive wall was being built, I noticed a couple of heated words being exchanged and before you knew what was happening, fists were flying and noses were being crunched. After a fair while, 4 reds and 4 yellows were issued and we got on with the rest of the game, surprisingly without incident. Then I was blamed for "ruining the game". Typical.
It's difficult to pinpoint a specific 'best' and 'worst' decision but there are two that stick out in my mind quite clearly. One from each category. One of my best decisions was as an Assistant in a county cup final, in 2007. It was 2-1 to Bedford Town, and they had a free kick about 30 yards out. An audacious shot from the dead ball, floated over the wall and crashed against the crossbar and bounced back out to a striker who was following in who stroked it home. Everyone celebrated, as they thought they had opened up a 2-goal advantage, and probable cup glory. They were cut short by my flag however, as the striker following in was a yard offside as the free kick was struck. It was a very good decision, one that was praised afterwards. Bedford went on to concede not long after and then lost on penalties. A few weeks later, I discovered a YouTube video was made saying that I was wrong and cost them the trophy. The comments underneath were also rather ... interesting...! I also remember fielding some comments from some of the Bedford players as I walked past them in town the week after, so it was quite a pressure-filled situation! But knowing you were right is a huge bonus.
A situation where I wasn't correct at all, was a bog-standard U16 game. On paper, it was a nothing game. Both sides were mid-table, in Division 2 and it should really have been a walk in the park. As soon as you think this, it becomes anything but. I had a red card early in the game for 2 yellows, and there were a few rough challenges going in, but I did really well in controlling it. I was thinking I had had a great game, about 10 seconds before I was going to blow the final whistle. Just at this point, the ball was smacked over the top of the defence and the attacker was running on to it. I was daydreaming, reflecting on a well-managed game, when the keeper came out and took out the attacker. Stonewall penalty. Stonewall red card. And I seem to remember I knew it aswell. But I didn't do anything. It was weird, the whole pitch was screaming at me, and about 10 or 15 seconds passed by with me in a daze. What had just happened? About 20 seconds after the incident, I knew I had cocked up big time, but couldn't go back and give a penalty because that would look ridiculous. I blew the final whistle, knowing exactly what was coming, and then had to try and defend the decision, which was impossible. Still to this day, I've no idea why I didn't give it. It was nasty! I learnt a strong lesson that day. It isn't over until the Fat Mitten sings!
I ended up ringing the manager a couple of hours later and apologising for what was probably the worst decision of my refereeing career. I got a mumble in reply, and he hung up without saying goodbye. Was harsh, but I probably deserved it. I distinctly remember aswell, they had a god-awful run from then until the end of the season, and got relegated to Division 3 by a single point. Which didn't make it any easier!
Yeah, it sure was an interesting 7 years. I still maintain that becoming a referee was the greatest thing I ever did. Those 7 years gave me some sort of backbone, some ability to deal with pressure and criticism on vast scales and it served me well, although for the majority of my short career, I didn't know it.
I can't go back though. I am a man of my word, and I did say I would never represent the Bedfordshire FA, or the FA as it turns out, ever again. I can't. Looking past my despise of both, my career would never get off the ground after all the criticising and complaining I've done. I would be consigned to the lower leagues forever - which isn't such a bad thing as I enjoyed doing that for years anyway. But the main thing is, after all the criticising, I wouldn't have any friends in the refereeing community. Some of my best moments as a referee was when I was working in a team of 3 or 4. Those Thursday nights, refereeing under the floodlights were some of my most enjoyable evenings, not just in refereeing, but in life. I couldn't do that without looking like a serious hypocrite now.
I don't regret it. I don't regret anything I've done since I received "that" letter from Neale Barry at the FA. I don't regret anything I do in life in all honesty. I know what I did was right, and I'm sorry if I inundated you all with the complaints of a person who is bitter. I am bitter, of course I am. My refereeing meant a lot to me, but what is the point of doing it if you're representing an organisation you despise? I couldn't, and still can't look past that. So many people go through life wondering why some people go through all the hassle of fighting a fight that you're not going to win. I know I won't win. The FA or the county will not ring up one day, apologise for being wrong, and invite me back. Of course they won't. But for me, I could not just accept it. It's as simple as that. I knew I was right, and they were wrong, so to fight against it is the natural thing to do, surely? No one got anywhere by staying quiet and not asking questions. No one got anywhere by refusing to fight.
It didn't cost me my working career. It was merely an enjoyable hobby for me, that involved serious character building. I was going for promotion to referee at a higher level yes, and who knows where that might have taken me, but, despite me blogging a nostalgia trip, I don't think there is much point in wondering what could have been. I have a life now, that I'm perfectly content with, and I will move on. Yes, I will still point out every bad news story that comes out of the FA, and yes, I will be incredibly opinionated on footballing matters, because I care.
I don't think there's anything wrong with that.
I've just been reminiscing this evening about the 7 years I did officiate. All the highs and lows that came with it, the huge decisions I made on various occasions and the 22-man brawl I dealt with over at Hillgrounds one chilly Sunday afternoon. I remember that as clear as day. It was a nothing tackle that started it, just a trip and a free-kick - move on. But as the defensive wall was being built, I noticed a couple of heated words being exchanged and before you knew what was happening, fists were flying and noses were being crunched. After a fair while, 4 reds and 4 yellows were issued and we got on with the rest of the game, surprisingly without incident. Then I was blamed for "ruining the game". Typical.
It's difficult to pinpoint a specific 'best' and 'worst' decision but there are two that stick out in my mind quite clearly. One from each category. One of my best decisions was as an Assistant in a county cup final, in 2007. It was 2-1 to Bedford Town, and they had a free kick about 30 yards out. An audacious shot from the dead ball, floated over the wall and crashed against the crossbar and bounced back out to a striker who was following in who stroked it home. Everyone celebrated, as they thought they had opened up a 2-goal advantage, and probable cup glory. They were cut short by my flag however, as the striker following in was a yard offside as the free kick was struck. It was a very good decision, one that was praised afterwards. Bedford went on to concede not long after and then lost on penalties. A few weeks later, I discovered a YouTube video was made saying that I was wrong and cost them the trophy. The comments underneath were also rather ... interesting...! I also remember fielding some comments from some of the Bedford players as I walked past them in town the week after, so it was quite a pressure-filled situation! But knowing you were right is a huge bonus.
A situation where I wasn't correct at all, was a bog-standard U16 game. On paper, it was a nothing game. Both sides were mid-table, in Division 2 and it should really have been a walk in the park. As soon as you think this, it becomes anything but. I had a red card early in the game for 2 yellows, and there were a few rough challenges going in, but I did really well in controlling it. I was thinking I had had a great game, about 10 seconds before I was going to blow the final whistle. Just at this point, the ball was smacked over the top of the defence and the attacker was running on to it. I was daydreaming, reflecting on a well-managed game, when the keeper came out and took out the attacker. Stonewall penalty. Stonewall red card. And I seem to remember I knew it aswell. But I didn't do anything. It was weird, the whole pitch was screaming at me, and about 10 or 15 seconds passed by with me in a daze. What had just happened? About 20 seconds after the incident, I knew I had cocked up big time, but couldn't go back and give a penalty because that would look ridiculous. I blew the final whistle, knowing exactly what was coming, and then had to try and defend the decision, which was impossible. Still to this day, I've no idea why I didn't give it. It was nasty! I learnt a strong lesson that day. It isn't over until the Fat Mitten sings!
I ended up ringing the manager a couple of hours later and apologising for what was probably the worst decision of my refereeing career. I got a mumble in reply, and he hung up without saying goodbye. Was harsh, but I probably deserved it. I distinctly remember aswell, they had a god-awful run from then until the end of the season, and got relegated to Division 3 by a single point. Which didn't make it any easier!
Yeah, it sure was an interesting 7 years. I still maintain that becoming a referee was the greatest thing I ever did. Those 7 years gave me some sort of backbone, some ability to deal with pressure and criticism on vast scales and it served me well, although for the majority of my short career, I didn't know it.
I can't go back though. I am a man of my word, and I did say I would never represent the Bedfordshire FA, or the FA as it turns out, ever again. I can't. Looking past my despise of both, my career would never get off the ground after all the criticising and complaining I've done. I would be consigned to the lower leagues forever - which isn't such a bad thing as I enjoyed doing that for years anyway. But the main thing is, after all the criticising, I wouldn't have any friends in the refereeing community. Some of my best moments as a referee was when I was working in a team of 3 or 4. Those Thursday nights, refereeing under the floodlights were some of my most enjoyable evenings, not just in refereeing, but in life. I couldn't do that without looking like a serious hypocrite now.
I don't regret it. I don't regret anything I've done since I received "that" letter from Neale Barry at the FA. I don't regret anything I do in life in all honesty. I know what I did was right, and I'm sorry if I inundated you all with the complaints of a person who is bitter. I am bitter, of course I am. My refereeing meant a lot to me, but what is the point of doing it if you're representing an organisation you despise? I couldn't, and still can't look past that. So many people go through life wondering why some people go through all the hassle of fighting a fight that you're not going to win. I know I won't win. The FA or the county will not ring up one day, apologise for being wrong, and invite me back. Of course they won't. But for me, I could not just accept it. It's as simple as that. I knew I was right, and they were wrong, so to fight against it is the natural thing to do, surely? No one got anywhere by staying quiet and not asking questions. No one got anywhere by refusing to fight.
It didn't cost me my working career. It was merely an enjoyable hobby for me, that involved serious character building. I was going for promotion to referee at a higher level yes, and who knows where that might have taken me, but, despite me blogging a nostalgia trip, I don't think there is much point in wondering what could have been. I have a life now, that I'm perfectly content with, and I will move on. Yes, I will still point out every bad news story that comes out of the FA, and yes, I will be incredibly opinionated on footballing matters, because I care.
I don't think there's anything wrong with that.
Tuesday 2 October 2012
My Grievances with the FA
I know. I know. Here we are again. It's quite difficult to move on from such a ridiculous situation in which you've been outrageously treated. My attitude towards the Football Association is that of contempt and digust. I do not see how they can get away with some of the things they do, and then why people don't question it.
So here I am, questioning it. A few hours after the John Terry racism decision, I started a letter. This letter will probably make no difference to anything, but I feel I can't just sit back and watch. I had my customary Twitter rant on the situation, and now I'm trying to do something about it. I'm trying to back it up. Yes, I may sound like an old man, who complains way too much, but I feel it's important to stick up for what you believe in. And this is me, sticking up.
----------
Dear Mr.Bernstein,
I am a football fan like any other. I’ve been involved in every aspect of football since the age of 6, (I am now 21), and this sport has been around me for as long as I can remember. I played for 10 years, refereed for 7 years, and was briefly involved in coaching. I never reached any sort of top-class level, but played, officiated and coached at grass roots level because I loved the game. Football is a universal language. It brings people together like nothing else can. Millions of people have the same passion for the game as I do, but the game as we know it is slowly becoming a joke.
I am writing this letter then to let you know, the chairman of the FA, that I am no longer in love with the game. And unfortunately, although I cannot speak for others, I fear others are getting fed up of what our sport of football has become in the UK. The same people I played with as a child, officiated games with and even the children I coached are growing into people who view the FA as an overpowering, inconsistent, disrespectful and frankly nonsensical organisation. I may not be Sir Alex Ferguson, Wayne Rooney or Howard Webb, but what I am is a lover of football like many people in this country. I implore you to listen and take in what I am about to say. I fully expect the result of this letter to amount to nothing, but I feel I cannot sit back and watch our beautiful game become more and more poisoned.
There have been too many examples, in the past couple of years especially, where decisions by “independent panels” have been completely inconsistent with the messages that the FA are trying to communicate. The most important, and arguably most sensitive issue, is racism. I am typing this letter a few days after news reached me that John Terry had been found guilty of “using abusive and/or insulting words and/or behaviour” towards Anton Ferdinand, and there are three main questions that us, the British public, the majority of football fans, would like answers to:
1) Why, if the FA are attempting to “kick out” racism, are players receiving inconsistent bans and fines? In my eyes, and many other people’s eyes, racism is racism. So why has John Terry received a 4-game ban while Luis Suarez received an 8-game ban?
2) If a priority of the FA is to get racism out of our beautiful game, why are charges such as those brought on Joey Barton last year resulting in larger penalties than charges relating to racism? The message you are trying to convey is that “racism is our main focus”, yet you are handing out lower penalties for incidents involving it? Surely the only way to kick racism out is by punishing those responsible for being racist the most severely? By not doing so, you are simply contradicting your own views.
3) Given that the FA are trying to rid racism from the game, shouldn’t the organisation begin by getting rid of racists from within your own organisation? Although I understand he has now retired, I am of course talking of Peter Brown, who was allowed to determine his own future at the FA despite sending racist images involving a black Scottish dog in September 2011, adorned with the FA badge. Am I the only person who thinks this is hugely hypocritical?
The anger from normal supporters and fans of the game is palpable and forever growing, yet the FA continues to ignore lovers of the game in pursuit of its own agenda of looking after themselves and no one else.
Another issue I would like to ask the FA about is their own system when it comes to discipline. Why is there no independent regulatory commission when it comes to discipline? By independent, I mean people who are not involved with the FA in any capacity. Before the John Terry case, 471 out of 473 cases ended in a prosecution in the last 12 months, meaning just 0.5% of cases have finished with a verdict of ‘Not Guilty’. As for the John Terry case specifically, why has the FA taken it upon themselves to undermine the judicial system of our country and hand John Terry a guilty verdict, despite being found not guilty in a court of law? I am as confused as every other fan in this country, and the FA are not doing themselves any favours in trying to build relationships with the British public when they ignore the ruling of a court of law.
- Does the FA think that if they find someone not guilty of something, they will be criticised for being too soft?
- Why does the FA not need “proof beyond reasonable doubt” when a court of law does?
-Criminal and civil courts make rigorous demands of their prosecutors. It seems FA hearings don’t even require any proof. Why?
I am quite confident in saying that the FA merely goes by balance of probability on deciding a verdict. This is what happens when the people doing the prosecuting, get to appoint the judge. I do not see how the FA can expect people to just sit down and accept judgements that finish with a guilty verdict 99.5% of the time, and then not be regulated in any way shape or form by anyone independent. Do you not see the problem?
I would like to draw your attention to a quote from the General Secretary of the FA, Alex Horne:
“It’s something that happened in a match between QPR and Chelsea. ‘That’s a very different process, from my perspective, from our England procedures.”
Why then, did the FA go on to strip John Terry of the England captaincy? If you are trying to be consistent, at least pretend you are trying to be instead of trying to cover your own backs. By doing so, you are beginning to draw mounting criticisms from the people in this sport who matter the most. The fans and the normal, everyday people in this country who love the game.
This is before we reach the highly hypocritical practices that the FA completes in regards to bringing their own staff to task. As a referee, I was highly critical of my Chief Executive at my County FA, Peter Brown, when it came to light that he had been highly offensive whilst in a position at the FA. To let him decide his own future, after sending out racist messages the day before the FA complained to UEFA in regards to being the victims of racism in Bulgaria is just outrageous. I could not believe the hypocrisy involved. To then be fined and banned myself for criticising this on Twitter was the last straw for me personally. Since then, I have read story after story of inconsistencies from the FA and its “independent panels” in regards to issues involving racism, and I, along with many others, have simply had enough.
I do not expect to receive a reply to this letter, as I am led to understand that my views simply don’t matter. If you have it in your heart to stand up and be counted over these issues, providing at least a few answers to my grievances, my own personal view of the FA will not be forever tarnished. However, I cannot just sit back and ignore these problems any longer. For the sake of the sport, I urge you to at least provide answers to the millions of people who are becoming increasingly disillusioned with the management of the sport we love.
Regards,
Tom Carr
So here I am, questioning it. A few hours after the John Terry racism decision, I started a letter. This letter will probably make no difference to anything, but I feel I can't just sit back and watch. I had my customary Twitter rant on the situation, and now I'm trying to do something about it. I'm trying to back it up. Yes, I may sound like an old man, who complains way too much, but I feel it's important to stick up for what you believe in. And this is me, sticking up.
----------
Dear Mr.Bernstein,
I am a football fan like any other. I’ve been involved in every aspect of football since the age of 6, (I am now 21), and this sport has been around me for as long as I can remember. I played for 10 years, refereed for 7 years, and was briefly involved in coaching. I never reached any sort of top-class level, but played, officiated and coached at grass roots level because I loved the game. Football is a universal language. It brings people together like nothing else can. Millions of people have the same passion for the game as I do, but the game as we know it is slowly becoming a joke.
I am writing this letter then to let you know, the chairman of the FA, that I am no longer in love with the game. And unfortunately, although I cannot speak for others, I fear others are getting fed up of what our sport of football has become in the UK. The same people I played with as a child, officiated games with and even the children I coached are growing into people who view the FA as an overpowering, inconsistent, disrespectful and frankly nonsensical organisation. I may not be Sir Alex Ferguson, Wayne Rooney or Howard Webb, but what I am is a lover of football like many people in this country. I implore you to listen and take in what I am about to say. I fully expect the result of this letter to amount to nothing, but I feel I cannot sit back and watch our beautiful game become more and more poisoned.
There have been too many examples, in the past couple of years especially, where decisions by “independent panels” have been completely inconsistent with the messages that the FA are trying to communicate. The most important, and arguably most sensitive issue, is racism. I am typing this letter a few days after news reached me that John Terry had been found guilty of “using abusive and/or insulting words and/or behaviour” towards Anton Ferdinand, and there are three main questions that us, the British public, the majority of football fans, would like answers to:
1) Why, if the FA are attempting to “kick out” racism, are players receiving inconsistent bans and fines? In my eyes, and many other people’s eyes, racism is racism. So why has John Terry received a 4-game ban while Luis Suarez received an 8-game ban?
2) If a priority of the FA is to get racism out of our beautiful game, why are charges such as those brought on Joey Barton last year resulting in larger penalties than charges relating to racism? The message you are trying to convey is that “racism is our main focus”, yet you are handing out lower penalties for incidents involving it? Surely the only way to kick racism out is by punishing those responsible for being racist the most severely? By not doing so, you are simply contradicting your own views.
3) Given that the FA are trying to rid racism from the game, shouldn’t the organisation begin by getting rid of racists from within your own organisation? Although I understand he has now retired, I am of course talking of Peter Brown, who was allowed to determine his own future at the FA despite sending racist images involving a black Scottish dog in September 2011, adorned with the FA badge. Am I the only person who thinks this is hugely hypocritical?
The anger from normal supporters and fans of the game is palpable and forever growing, yet the FA continues to ignore lovers of the game in pursuit of its own agenda of looking after themselves and no one else.
Another issue I would like to ask the FA about is their own system when it comes to discipline. Why is there no independent regulatory commission when it comes to discipline? By independent, I mean people who are not involved with the FA in any capacity. Before the John Terry case, 471 out of 473 cases ended in a prosecution in the last 12 months, meaning just 0.5% of cases have finished with a verdict of ‘Not Guilty’. As for the John Terry case specifically, why has the FA taken it upon themselves to undermine the judicial system of our country and hand John Terry a guilty verdict, despite being found not guilty in a court of law? I am as confused as every other fan in this country, and the FA are not doing themselves any favours in trying to build relationships with the British public when they ignore the ruling of a court of law.
- Does the FA think that if they find someone not guilty of something, they will be criticised for being too soft?
- Why does the FA not need “proof beyond reasonable doubt” when a court of law does?
-Criminal and civil courts make rigorous demands of their prosecutors. It seems FA hearings don’t even require any proof. Why?
I am quite confident in saying that the FA merely goes by balance of probability on deciding a verdict. This is what happens when the people doing the prosecuting, get to appoint the judge. I do not see how the FA can expect people to just sit down and accept judgements that finish with a guilty verdict 99.5% of the time, and then not be regulated in any way shape or form by anyone independent. Do you not see the problem?
I would like to draw your attention to a quote from the General Secretary of the FA, Alex Horne:
“It’s something that happened in a match between QPR and Chelsea. ‘That’s a very different process, from my perspective, from our England procedures.”
Why then, did the FA go on to strip John Terry of the England captaincy? If you are trying to be consistent, at least pretend you are trying to be instead of trying to cover your own backs. By doing so, you are beginning to draw mounting criticisms from the people in this sport who matter the most. The fans and the normal, everyday people in this country who love the game.
This is before we reach the highly hypocritical practices that the FA completes in regards to bringing their own staff to task. As a referee, I was highly critical of my Chief Executive at my County FA, Peter Brown, when it came to light that he had been highly offensive whilst in a position at the FA. To let him decide his own future, after sending out racist messages the day before the FA complained to UEFA in regards to being the victims of racism in Bulgaria is just outrageous. I could not believe the hypocrisy involved. To then be fined and banned myself for criticising this on Twitter was the last straw for me personally. Since then, I have read story after story of inconsistencies from the FA and its “independent panels” in regards to issues involving racism, and I, along with many others, have simply had enough.
I do not expect to receive a reply to this letter, as I am led to understand that my views simply don’t matter. If you have it in your heart to stand up and be counted over these issues, providing at least a few answers to my grievances, my own personal view of the FA will not be forever tarnished. However, I cannot just sit back and ignore these problems any longer. For the sake of the sport, I urge you to at least provide answers to the millions of people who are becoming increasingly disillusioned with the management of the sport we love.
Regards,
Tom Carr
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