Archive
Heartbroken
I am concerned for my many Jambo (Supporters of Heart of Midlothian FC) friends, who are facing the prospect of their old club being liquidated, if the administrator can’t sort out a mess that’s complicated by the fact that the unfeasibly large debt is held by two companies in Lithuania which are going down the tubes themselves. I’m concerned also for Scottish football, which can’t afford to lose another biggish club from the top flight. The administrator says he needs to sell 3,000 season tickets to raise working capital. I might even buy one, although I won’t be at many games, and although it will only be a short term fix. As usual there are allegedly willing buyers for the business out there, in addition to a supporters’ group, who’d be any thinking man’s first choice, but only if they could raise the case to fund not only a Creditors’ Voluntary Agreement . . . assuming the Lithuanians and HMRC would accept that . . . but also to keep the club afloat until it attains profitability once more, no easy task in the modern Scottish game.
Piss off, The Donald
In defence of golf
I’m on record as saying that I believe Kenneth Roy to be Scotland’s finest campaigning journalist, but even my idols have feet of clay. I am not entirely sure why he chose to found his lead article in yesterday’s Scottish Review on his vision of the evils of the game of golf, but having done so, his sense of balance seems to have deserted him. When he wrote, ‘in golf, the racist jibe goes unpunished. In golf sexism is positively rewarded’, he let himself down, and he insulted millions of people around the globe who play the game, at all levels, without a racist or sexist bone in their body.
I accept that Sergio Garcia’s ‘fried chicken’ remark was atrocious, even though it was made in response to a light-hearted question by a comedian at European pro golf’s annual hair-down dinner, and was made in his second language, English, not his first, Spanish. Sergio seems to have accepted that himself, going by the speed and apparent sincerity of his public apology. If he has been unable to do so privately, that may not be his fault. Sure, the cynics will say that he was protecting his endorsement earnings, but the warmth of his welcome at the subsequent Wentworth tournament indicated that the golfing galleries have more generosity of spirit than any of the people who write about or comment on the sport.
Far from being racist, golf has become a multiracial sport, as a glance at the world rankings will demonstrate. I cannot recollect any racist slur being directed openly at Vijay Singh, Jeev Milkha Singh, Y. E. Yang, Guan Tianlang, Ryo Ishikawa, Simon Khan, K J Choi, Jason Day, or any other male golfer. As for the female game it is so dominated by the Koreans that the thought would never occur. Apart from Garcia’s unfortunate jibe, the only other high-profile accusation of racism that I can recall in recent years was levelled against Steve Williams, Tiger Woods’ former caddy, and that also involved the Tiger. Could it be that neither remark was in anyway racially motivated but instead flowed from the simple fact that neither Williams nor Garcia like the man? Whether that is the case or not, to condemn golf and by implication its devotees as ‘racist’ on the basis of two isolated incidents is quite ridiculous.
As for the tired old saw of the men only Honourable Company . . . I have lived less than half a mile from Muirfield for over forty years and I have never been aware of a queue of potential lady members stretching along Duncur Road. When the first rejected lady decides to picket the place, I may well join her in support, but I am not polishing my shooting stick in anticipation. Kenneth, its policy may be indefensible to you, but surely you can do better than vaguely raking through the bones of the George Pottinger affair, forty years in the past. And if you must, you should do the late Gianni Manca the courtesy of spelling his name correctly.
For the record, I am a member of Gullane Golf Club, Muirfield’s nearest neighbour, which is also men only. Gullane Ladies Golf Club is a separate associate body, with shared clubhouse facilities, and everyone is quite happy with that arrangement. Like it or loathe it, golf is a game most played by men against men and by women against women, therefore it is quite natural that its club structure should have evolved to mirror that.
The HCEG is an easy target at which to aim, but pretty much impossible to hit, for one very simple reason. Its members own the course. If a majority of their wives demanded that an associate club for ladies be set up, and their husbands knew what was good for them, that might be a possible way forward, but I have heard no whisper of support for that concept.
I am not a Muirfield member, and have never wished to join, but if my wife or my daughter did, I would probably lobby on their behalf. But why should they, when they can join Gullane Ladies instead, and be part of a well-structured, open institution where ladies and gentlemen have their own distinct entities, and which is far more typical of the sport than the place along the road?
Joe Kinnear
My wife is not a great football lover, but she is a Geordie. It took only a few minutes of a radio interview with Newcastle United’s new ‘Director of Football’, Mr Joe Kinnear, in which he poured scorn on the club’s fans, to have her yelling at him to ‘go back to Tottenham’.
For those who would like to hear all fifteen minutes of Joe’s ‘suicide tape’, here’s a link.
You can’t go home again
So Jose’s back at Chelsea. I seem to recall that he was fired last time because his football wasn’t attractive enough. What has changed?
Cuckoo
There is a predator in Scottish football, and it’s called Rangers. I had hoped that last year’s turmoil would have put a little humility in the soul of the newborn club, and that it would be a little more considerate in its treatment of others. In years gone by, the Old Firm have seen the other Scottish clubs as mere breeding grounds. Celtic seem to have moved on from that, but not so New Rangers.
Even though the club is banned from the transfer market until September, pre-contract agreements are in place already with players poached from four Scottish sides. Trust me, there will be more, even though the Ibrox club will play next season in the third tier of the football league. The club was bust last year and it has still to prove that it is financially stable once more, but the old attitudes and practices of the Murray era remain, and money is being spent that only one other Scottish club could match and no Division Two side could possibly justify.
If that sounds bitter and jealous it probably is, but when our national game needs stability and quality more than ever before, it irks me that the bloody great cuckoo in the nest in Edmiston Drive is doing its best to undermine it.
Teeing off
The continuing spat between Sergio Garcia and Tiger Woods, elevated by the former’s unfortunate ‘fried chicken’ remark, has obscured, unfortunately, the fact that this is a very important week for the European Golf Tour, with its flagship event, the PGA Championship, being played at Wentworth. Remarkably, it is the only tour event being played this year in England, and one of very few of any stature that to be staged anywhere in Europe.
The very name ‘Race to Dubai’, under which the European Tour now trades, is a signal that it is no longer what it claims to be. I am assured by those in the know that the sponsors in Britain, Germany, France and Spain just ain’t there any more, but that sits oddly against the fact that the US PGA Tour, in the face of its own national economic slump, is able to offer weekly prize funds in excess of $6m. In any other industry, the executives presiding over such a decline would have been replaced by now, but there is no sign of that happening in European golf. Instead, they are sitting on their hands while the top players defect to America, taking advantage of lax qualification requirements to maintain dual Tour status. The fact is that the majority of last year’s victorious European Ryder Cup team now live and play most of their golf in the US, while in Europe, complacency rules and fans of the game across the continent have little or nothing to go and watch.
(By the way, if Sergio’s wisecrack wasn’t racist, what the hell was it?)
SAF
What’s left to say about Sir Alex? Pretty much nothing, except for me to add to the wave of reminiscence. I saw him play a few times. He was okay, but part of his genius lay in realising early on that he could achieve much more in the dug-out than on the field.
Whither Man U under David Moyes? Time will tell, but I’m hopeful.
Some man, that Jose
Idiotic
When it comes to kicking people when they’re down, the Scottish Football League has few equals, as it proved yesterday.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/0/football/22085474
Its problem is that it is kicking itself. The game is in such a parlous state that if sanctions were applied to every club that is technically bust, there would be only three or four left.
Good cause
For all Gullanites, and anyone else with an interest and a few grand to spare.
Almost there
Thank you David Moyes and Everton, for evening the score.
And ‘Well done you ‘Well last night.
Odds off
I believe that the Cheltenham Gold Cup was run today. That gives me a topical excuse to say something that’s been bothering me for a while now.
As a frequent watcher of TV sport, I am becoming more and more disturbed by the prevalence of betting ads and event sponsorship. Only the BBC is free from Kris Kamara and that fucking little Italian idiot. They’re on every commercial channel, along with those intellectually offensive Paddy Power ads, the unintelligible ravings of the guys in the William Hill commercials, the real Victor Chandler and his imaginary friend Maurice, the Liz Hurley re-modelled, liposuctioned and face-lifted Shane Warne encouraging us all to play poker, and, maybe worst of all, Ray Winstone, besmirching a fine acting career by putting on his best nasal Cockney, and thrusting ‘Live odds now!’ at us in every break. when I was a boy, off-course betting was legal, but only just. The bookie’s in Motherwell was known locally as ‘The Shovel’, a term that went back to the days and when it wasn’t, and the odds were chalked on the back of a shovel or something similar so that the evidence could be wiped off should the polis happen by. The internet has changed all that. It has liberated the gambling industry and given it free rein to pander to one of the most insidious of the seven deadly sins. Greed.
Don’t imagine this is simply a British phenomenon. Spanish TV football is also accompanied by its Bet365 ads, with their Winstone equivalent. Real Madrid’s shirt sponsor is an on-line bookie.
In British society, all forms of cigarette advertising are banned, and the promotion of alcohol is regulated, although not as tightly as once it was. Fags and booze are addictive and can be family wreckers. The same is true of gambling, yet we have reached a point where we seem to be celebrating it.
Howzat?
I’m going to visit a friend this morning. He has been incommunicado, and will be anxious for news of his cricket team. I wish it was better: I may consider lying.
Distraught
I’m still almost speechless after the twilight robbery at Old Trafford last night. The Champions League is meant to be the world’s premier football club competitionl, yet the probable outcome of last night’s match was changed by one decision by a man who would wind up being lynched refereeing in the Scottish Division Three. Anyone who has ever played football (Apart from Roy Keane whose alienation from Man U has developed into open bias) knows that the collision between the two players was completely accidental. It was completely mystifying . . . until I followed a link this morning that took me to the following
Okay, it’s the Daily Star, but even that newspaper has been known not to make things up from time to time. If that story is true, United have a case for going to UEFA and demanding a replay.
Stock Exchange Blues
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-scotland-business-21652353
Another couple of years of this, and it could be back to square one. Hope not.
Who gives one?
One for the more intense followers of Scottish football; Lord Nimmo-Smith (who he?) and his ‘independent’ commission have imposed a fine of £250,000 on a company that is on the verge of liquidation, with minimal assets and a long queue of creditors. My thoughts: 1) Who gives a shit? 2) Was the unc0llectable fine Lord N-S’s way of justifying the costs of his pointless investigation? 3) Can we all get on with our lives now?
Toddlers kept off public beach by elite golf club
This is Gullane West beach; it’s beautiful, it’s public, but it’s a longish walk to reach it and the footpath is rough and very difficult for those with small children. It is possible to reach it by car but the only road runs across land owned by Muirfield Golf Club, and is strictly private. Thus, only members and their kids have easy access. To me, this is unfortunate. Hell, it’s a damned shame; surely it’s time that road was opened up, or another way found of making it more accessible.
Dopes
I’ve thought for some time that WADA needs its wings clipped. Seems that I’m not alone.
Make-under
I cannot be the only red-blooded man in Britain who recoiled in horror after switching to the athletics coverage on BBC1. Diane Lewis, what the hell have you done to yourself? Your hairdresser should go into hiding.
Quintin Jardine's blog 