Grumpyitis

HARD TO BE GRUMPY WITH CHARLOTTE ABOUT, BUT I MANAGE IT

God, I've been busy!
Doing what?
Well, that's what I've been trying to figure out. I'm not entirely sure.
I know that I've been busy with Charlotte. She was two a week or so ago. And I've been very busy picking up all the toys she got for her birthday.
There are some toys she likes less than others. Likes them less, that is, until you try to pick them up to stash them in the attic or somewhere else that isn't the kitchen floor. Then she loves them.
She's growing up really fast. She's even losing interest in Iggle Piggle and the others in the Night Garden. Moved on to Tom and Jerry if you don't mind.


How long before it's Girls Aloud?
So Charlotte has had me busy at least some of the time.
I've been busy working too. Have to earn a crust. And so I'm doing whatever is asked, and what with work and Charlotte, my day seems too short.
That is to say that it's too short for what I really want to do, what I am, apparently, very good at and what, I am often told, is my full time job.
Grumbling. Giving out. Moaning. Whinging. Complaining.
Victor Meldrew, he of One Foot in the Grave is, compared to me, something of a comedian.
I have noticed myself that I am now complaining about just about everything.
I complain about people with no manners.
I complain about litterbugs.
I complain about the people who rip us off.
I complain about politicians.
I complain about reality television.
I complain about football players.
I complain about shop assistants who chat to each other while you're waiting to be served.
I complain about rude waiters.
I complain about lousy food in restaurants.
But then, so do most people.
The problem with me, is that I complain incessantly about other drivers. How dare they park where I wished to. How dare they pass me out even if I am driving slowly. How dare they have bigger, newer cars. In fact, how dare they use to road.
I complain about shop assistants. How dare they serve other people.
I complain, not just about reality television. I essentially complain about all television.
I complain about young people.
But I also complain about old people, middle aged people - all people.
I complain so much that I think it's become a complaint, a medical complaint.
Grumpyitis.
Most men my age seem to have it.
But mine, I fear, is probably incurable.

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Unbridled Joy as England Lose

THERE is a certain type of person, a politically correct type of person, who doesn’t approve of Ireland’s schadenfreude in relation to many things English.
Last night, I tried hard, very hard, to feel sorry for the English soccer team and, indeed, English soccer fans, when they were beaten 2-3 by Croatia at Wembley.
I tried to feel as I felt when Ireland bowed out of the European championships. I tried to feel the disappointment of the fans who had planned a summer of sport in Austria and Switzerland. I tried to feel sorry for players I like such as Wayne Rooney and Michael Carrick and Steven Gerrard and so on.
But I failed. I couldn’t do it.
It’s just not possible.

Now, when I wrote about this in the Sunday World, the last time England bowed out of some tournament or other (it wasn’t cricket. I support them to a degree at cricket) I received a bagfull of mail telling me how immature I am (I acknowledge that) how juvenile I am (no problem there) and how racist and bigoted I am.
Whoa! Not guilty.
My desire to see England lose at, well, soccer, rugby, tennis and a few other sports here and there, stems not from events in 1169 or, indeed, 1607 or for that matter, 1798 or 1916 or even 1972.
It has nothing whatsoever to oppression, perceived or otherwise.
It has nothing to do with the Irish being ‘colonised’ or ‘downtrodden’ or anything of that sort.
It has nothing to do with some of England’s more odious monarchs or the real and actual hardship imposed on Ireland over the centuries.
No, it has a great deal more to do with John Motson and Jimmy Hill and The Sun and Ian Wright than it has to do with history.
It is an extraordinary thing that English football pundits seem to think that any tournament without them in it, isn’t worth having at all.
In fairness to Motty, he acknowledged on Wednesday last, just how utterly lousy the current English team is.
But hardly had he said as much, when Ian Wright was blathering on about how England deserved to be at the finals. No they didn’t, Ian. They didn’t win a sufficient number of games and, hence, didn’t garner a sufficient number of points. It’s simple.
When it comes to rugby, you think Stuart Barnes and Brian Moore and The Sunday Times and the Daily Telegraph.
But mostly you think Martin Johnson and how the arrogant lump insulted Mary McAleese and, by extension, Ireland, with his behaviour at Lansdowne Road a couple of years ago.
Rugby players are, in the main, a well-bred bunch, mannerly and so on.
But there’s always an exception.
And if Johnson didn’t do it for you, surely the reaction of their media to their jammy wins in the Rugby World Cup did.
When it comes to tennis, you think Tim Henman. It’s not so much Tim’s fault as it is the media’s. They built him up and up and up. Henman Hill, for God’s sake. What was that all about.
And anyway, I find the name Spiderman reasonably impressive. Batman isn’t bad. Superman is brilliant.
But Henman?
I’m afraid it will always be the same for us, or at least, most of us.
The next best thing to Ireland winning is England losing.
You know, the funny thing about our win against England in Stuttgart, is that it was celebrated as much in Glasgow and on the Shankill Road as it was in the Republic of Ireland.
Indeed, when Ireland was drawn with England again in the World Cup in 1990, a reporter asked a woman on the Shankill Road, how she wanted the Irish team to do.
“Beat England - and lose all their other games,” she said.
Just about says it all, really.

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Rugby is Waiting in the Wings

❍Jimmy Greaves, rugby fan

“I was a footballer but now rugby is a greater love for me.”
I could have said that. People who were actually good at rugby could have said it. People like, maybe, Keith Wood or Shane Byrne or Tony Ward.
But the astonishing thing about that little quote, is that it came from Jimmy Greaves.
Jimmy Greaves, goal-scoring hero for Spurs for a generation. Goal-scoring hero for West Ham after that. The genius who missed out on a world cup medal in 1966 because of injury. Half of Saint and Greavsie who, unlike today’s pundits, realised that football was and is a game.

Today’s pundits? Today’s players too.
It is a long, long time since I have seen a soccer match that made me feel good, one that entertained me, one I didn’t actually regret watching.
I cannot abide the showboating, the negativity, the diving, the feigning of injury, the whinging at referees, the attempts to get opponents booked or sent off, the inarticulacy of the players, the clichés, the hype and the money.
Between yesterday and the day before, I watched four games of rugby. The worst of those, that between Edinburgh and Toulouse, was aeons better than the best soccer match I have seen in recent times.
God help us, there are large periods of soccer matches where it surprises me that those on the pitch remain awake, let alone those in the stands. I now know why so many supporters take their tops off even in freezing weather. They are trying to fend off sleep.
Now, I know not all is right with rugby. During the recent world cup, it too sank a little with the Garryowen, the old up-and-under, featuring rather too much. Referees have become just a little too protective of players. Some may not like what we used to call ‘clearing out’ when the boot was used to move opposition players who were illegally lying on the ball. But it worked. And when they lay on the ball, they knew what to expect.
Some of us don’t like the fact that the ball seems to be crooked in to every scrum.
Some of us don’t like the fact that different referees seem to interpret the offside law in different ways.
Nonetheless, when you watch rugby, there is always something happening.
If you get into it - and if you’re not, I recommend you do - you will realise that even when it just looks like a heap of bodies lying there, there is lots happening.
Leinster’s defence, for example, against Leicester was stupendous.
There are so many aspects to the game that you could write a book simply about tactics.
One of the main reasons rugby is such a fine game, is that it is a team building game.
The girls - that’s the backs to you - know well that nothing will happen for them unless we - that’s the forwards - get the ball for them.
Yes, there are flash players in the backs.
But you will find that, to a man, they acknowledge the work of their team-mates.
Rugby doesn’t generally give birth to grudges, despite hard physical battles. It generally gives birth, instead, to a few rounds of drinks.
And rugby doesn’t tolerate people who whinge at referees, even if they are wrong, which they generally are.
Rugby is growing. And it will keep growing if the authorities a) keep an eye on the laws of the game and b) keep promoting the game in the weaker countries and in the weaker areas of the strong countries.
A man in a Dublin rugby club once said, to my certain knowledge that ‘they shouldn’t be playing rugby in Tallaght.”
Bad cess to him.
Tallaght and Neilstown and all of the new suburbs and indeed, all of the new Irish, are the future our game.
I don’t wish soccer any ill.
But if keeps going on the way its going, it will become too boring for fans, too expensive for fans, to costly even for television and boring beyond belief.
If that happens, rugby is ready for the challenge.
(You will gather, I’m feeling a great deal better!)

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A Bluffer's Guide to the Football Season

YOU know the feeling.
It's the soccer season again. And you're not that into it.
You might be into some other sport - personally, I can't wait for the Rugby World Cup - or you might not be into sport at all.
But for the next few weeks, just until people start complaining about how much soccer there is on television - everyone's full of it.
So here are a few key phrases which you can thrown into conversations about soccer and which will give the impression you actually know something about the game.
(If you have any more, do let me know.)

****
✖ You’d have to say, all credit to the lads.
✖ They got a result.
✖ But it’s still early doors.

✖ The ball was just millimetres away from being inch perfect.
✖ If it had gone into the net, it would have been a goal.
✖ Sadly, it was on his left peg.
✖ He has an educated right peg.
✖ At the end of the day, our boys won because they wanted it more.
✖ It’s been a step up for them.
✖ They’re prepared to take it to the next level.
✖ They had their backs to the wall.
✖ They gave it 110 per cent.
✖ Obviously like.
✖ They had bouncebackability.
✖ Put the ball in the onion sack.
✖ The lad done good.
✖ They're a one-man team.
✖ It's a team game.
✖ Between the sticks.
✖ One for the record books.
✖ We’ll take each game as it comes.
✖ At the end of the day.
✖ If we play within ourselves, we’ll be over the moon.
✖ I mean like you know.

Please apply the above to any match you like in the coming season.
But careful, don't name names.
Or you'll be caught out.

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