Capitulation in Transition

April 27th, 2018

I know that Manchester City are deservedly Premiership Champions, and Swansea City are in 17th place, four points above the relegation zone. But that is no excuse for the abject embarrassing performance they produced last Sunday. From the moment they formed a guard of honour  for the newly crowned Champions, they resembled Welsh lambs going to the slaughter.

Their body language revealed to me that they were resigned to defeat and their goal (one measly shot from a defender in ninety minutes) was damage limitation. Well, how did that work out for you fellas, 0-5 which could have been double that score if wasn’t for Fabianski in goal.

Carvahal has done a great job since he was appointed on December 28th. They were bottom and five points adrift from safety when he replaced Paul Clement, and currently they are four points above the relegation zone. But to claim it was a good performance when you have laid down and died is delusional.

Didn’t it escape his notice that Liverpool have beaten Manchester City three times this season by defending from the front?In contrast we allowed them to bring the ball up to the halfway line before attempting a challenge. Sheer lunacy!!! What’s the point in playing a back five when none of whom can tackle properly? City have some great playmakers, but they utilize a holding midfield player in the shape of Fernadhino. None of the Swans midfield trio know how to tackle or mark an opposing player.

There’s a reason why City appeared to have 15 players on the pitch compared to the Swans’ pathetic outfield players. They pass the ball accurately, they control the ball instantly, they don’t give the ball away needlessly, they are constantly on the move finding space, they defend in numbers when the opposition occasionally has possession of the ball. It is embarrassing to reveal that City enjoyed 83% possession of the ball.

Neither do I understand a system where the Swans utilized three center backs to mark one player, Jesus, when the main danger was emerging from the flanks. Speaking of which, the full backs Naughton and Olsson, were completely outclassed by their opponents. The Swans’ three midfield players, Ki, Carroll and King were overrun by the ingenuity and skill of De Bruyne and Silva, but what has happened to basic man marking? Ki looked disinterested and was mercifully substituted in the second half. The diminutive Tom Carroll looks totally out of his depth. On the rare occasions he had possession, he continually passed the ball to the opposition.

Now for my pet peeve this  season. Americans commentating on football overuse the phrase “in transition.” Definition of transition: ” the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another. Isn’t that what football is all about? Moving the ball from defence to attack is the primary concept of football. The late great Danny Blanchflower once said that football is a simple game where it only takes a second to score a goal. In contrast, American commentators are determined to treat the game as almost a science. What on earth does playing between the lines mean?

I was quite optimistic  a month ago that the Swans could preserve their Premiership status, but recent results have cast a grave doubt in my mind. They have not won a game since March 3rd although three draws have yielded 3 points keeping their heads above water.

There are four games remaining to save their season. Chelsea come to town on Saturday, and based on last week’s performance I don’t expect any return. Bournemouth away will follow. They are a good mid table team capable of playing the Swans off the park. Then comes the crunch. The final two games of the season are at home against Southampton and Stoke, both of whom are languishing in the bottom three who will be fighting tooth and nail to take maximum points from the Swans.

It is fairly obvious to anyone who has followed the Swans that the squad is in need of a major overhaul irrespective of whether they are playing in the Premiership or Championship next season. Whoever has been responsible for transfers over the last few seasons should be shown the door before rebuilding is contemplated.

 

All Along the Panhandle

April 21st, 2018

It seems quite a long time ago now (no, not in the galaxy) but it was in the month of February that we spent a fortnight (two weeks for American readers) traversing Florida’s Panhandle. What we like about the Panhandle is that some of the sections remain “old Florida”, and have not been engulfed by multi-storey condos and hotels,  and festooned with night clubs and bright lights.

We made three major stops on route, and I decided to make the remainder of my post into a diary, primarily because my memory has more holes in it than the common to garden, or should that be kitchen, sieve.

Day 1-Panama City Beach. Ate at Hook’s Pier Bar and Grill. Excellent gumbo and fish tacos. Great view of gulf and pier.

Day 2– Watched pelicans from  the beach having  a feeding frenzy. Then the heavens opened-cozy though snuggling up in our beach house.

Day 3- Bike rides over to Bay River Bridge. Stopped for lunch at BFE, hole in the wall place. Best Food Ever-great brisket sandwich. Their barbecue pastrami wasn’t too shabby either.

Day 4-Checked out Shell Bay, St. Andrews State Park. Visited the in -laws for  appetizers and drinks in their 21st floor condo. Watched the  Opening ceremony of Winter Olympics while continually stifling a yawn.  Gee whiz, we’re missing the Senior Prom which apparently is a special event in these quarters. Make a note of  Det Cajun Place for future visits.

Day 5- Martin Theatre for the Mersey Beatles. Bayou Joe’s for lunch. Funky Mermaid for nightcap. Pastrami sandwiches for supper. This was a mixed bag of events, akin to a selection of liquorice allsorts, but it all dovetailed perfectly. As an added bonus, my wife picked up a leather jacket for $20. What a bargain!

Day 6– heavy rain, stayed indoors. One walk along the beach in between the deluge. Our kindles came into their own once again.

Day 7– left for Cape San Blas. Drove through Tindall Air Force Base, continued onto Port St. Joe before arriving at our destination. Stayed at a Studio apartment which was compact but very comfortable. Excellent beach sunset, great boardwalk over the marshes to the bay. The only downside was we couldn’t see either views from the apartment windows which was contrary to what was described in the rental advertisement.

Day 8- Kayaking on the bay  at Sand Flea Rentals. Made friends with Ossie, a mix of collie and Australian Shepherd. My wife is a natural kayaker leaving me in her wake while I thrashed around like a beached sea lion. Visited St. Joseph Peninsula State Park which has a beautiful white sand beach with sand dunes thrown in the mix. It reminded me of how Port Eynon in Gower used to look like when I was knee high to a grasshopper.

Day 9- Valentine’s Day. Walk along the beach for good measure. Visited Indian Pass Raw Bar which specializes in oysters. Their baked oysters with butter, garlic and parmesan cheese toppings were excellent. Scallop Republic, a relatively new bar, resembled God’s waiting room. Dinner at Sunset Grill in Port St. Joes. I had the deep fried whole flounder which was excellent. My wife had  shrimp and grits which she gave an 8/10 rating. Night cap at the Thirsty Goat which provided a cozy and pleasant atmosphere.

Day 10-Leave CSB for Orange Beach. Uneventful trip to Perdido Key (41/2 hours.) where we were renting a condo. Very luxurious, but arrived to drilling from another apartment. Beautiful views of Gulf from 5th floor balcony.

Day 11– Woke to a sundrenched day. Went for a dolphin cruise around Orange Beach, spotted about a dozen dolphins along the way. The late Fara Fawcett’s beach house got a mention bringing a wry smile to those who remembered the seventies. Had dinner at Flora Bama Bar, so named because it’s located on the state line. Food was okay. Very unique bar with several bands playing continuously in different rooms.

Day 12– Lunch at Sea & Suds. Good location on the beach at Gulf Shores, but a highly recommended gumbo specialty was very average. Played golf at Lost Key Club-delightful course for the money. Ordered takeaway at Lilian’s Pizza. Very good. Threw a wobbly outside Flora Bama Bar and returned to base.

Day 13-Return home with mixed feelings. We loved the remoteness of Cape San Blas and the immediate area, but didn’t care for the overdevelopment and commercialism of Orange Beach and Panama City Beach. At the end of the day (excuse the cliché) it’s all a matter of personal taste and choices.

 

 

 

Carry On Camping

April 9th, 2018

I had not been camping since the year dot. The last time I spent some time under canvas was when I was a boy scout with the 7th St. Michael’s Troop based in Manselton, Swansea. My lasting memory of my scout camping exploits was setting the tent on fire with an innocuous lighted candle only to be awoken by the screams of young pimply teenagers who were sharing the sleeping quarters  with me. Mercifully the fire was quickly extinguished, and nobody was injured except my ego.

Consequently, it came as a surprise when my wife suggested we go camping. I furtively agreed to give it a try, and she proceeded to acquire the necessary equipment to make the experience as comfortable as possible. By the time we were ready to embark on our first camping trip, she had assembled the following equipment: state of the art tent with fly sheet and ground sheet, two comfortable cots, two specialized pillows, camp stove, a stainless steel whistling kettle, sleeping bags and a portable light.

We left for Vogel State Park in North Georgia where my wife had made sure we had access to water, restrooms and electric outlet. The weather forecast for the first night indicated that the temperature would tumble down to a mere 24 degrees fahrenheit and like a big girl’s blouse I decided to take an electric blanket. That was a great decision.

My wife and I have  different skills to bring to the table; she is the queen of erecting the tent  and I’m a pyromaniac. She had pitched the tent in approximately 15 minutes, and by the same token I had a roaring firing going  ready to roast our hotdogs and samores. We read on Trip Advisor that a little country store sold firewood a couple of miles outside the park. We were undecided about the quantity we should purchase: 10 logs for $5, 50 logs for $20. Would we burn 50 logs over three nights? You can be damn sure we did!!!

We battened down the hatches for the night, and boy was it freezing. My balaclava was a blessing covering every facial feature except my eyes. Harmed with my electric blanket,  I was snug as a bug in a rug until the damn thing decided to turn itself off. I got up in the middle of the night to go to the rest room, and discovered they had provided heaters inside the public conveniences. A thought crossed my mind to stay in there until daylight, but then a guilty conscience got the better of me and I reluctantly returned to the tent.

The morning temperature had not improved much overnight, but I managed to quickly light a fire, and we were soon  drinking coffee and eating bacon butties which improved morale immeasurably. We decided on a 4 mile hiking trail up to Blood Mountain, but it proved a bridge too far for me. It didn’t help wearing four layers of clothing  when the temperature had improved considerably. It appeared at every half mile, I was shedding a layer of clothing and looking and feeling most forlorn and dejected. I had one shred of comfort in as much we reached Blood Mountain Wilderness. Hamburgers were on he dinner menu accompanied by copious amounts of wine.

The next day we embarked on a gentle walk around the lake in the park taking in a “man made” waterfall. We returned to the tent and had a spot of lunch. By 3.00 pm it was raining heavily and we retreated inside. We didn’t leave the tent until 8.00 am the following morning apart from trips to the restrooms and setting up the slow cooker in the tent’s vestibule to provide chili for dinner. Note to  potential campers: a pack of cards and individual kindles are essential requirements for spending several hours in a tent.

It was still raining the next morning which meant dismantling the tent and packing the car with our gear during very unsympathetic weather conditions. A few cross words were exchanged during the process, but within an hour we were ready to hit the road. Not so fast my friend. The car battery was flat, and my wife was forced to use her feminine charm to borrow jump leads from a neighboring camper who kindly hitched his truck to the leads.

Notwithstanding the weather conditions, I had a wonderful time. I can’t wait to go again.

A Voyage With My Son, Part 2.

January 28th, 2018

Day 3: It was a normal grey morning for Swansea, and undaunted we drove towards Gower, 64 square miles of beautiful scenery  and designated the first AONB (area of outstanding natural beauty.) I like to think that I contributed in some small way to conserving its natural beauty. But first we paid a visit to Pennard Castle where my parents’ ashes are scattered. How many golf courses have the ruins of a medieval castle within their boundaries, and affording panoramic views of a coastline second to none?

We continued our journey towards Rhossili which  has a magnificent curved beach ideal for sand yachting, if you don’t mind negotiating a difficult access. The scenic gem is Worm’s Head which extends sublimely from the mainland into the English Channel. We decided to have lunch at the Brittania Inn located in the picturesque village of Llanmadoc. It also houses a 12th Century Church where my wife pictured us getting married nearly 25 years ago. Unfortunately, the pastor refused to marry us because we were both divorced, but ignoring the fact that the Church of England was formed because of Henry v111’s divorce from Catherine of Aragon which the Catholic Church refused to acknowledge.

The planning laws in Gower are very strict much to the chagrin of many farmers, but one of my pride and joys was initiating the conversion of redundant barns into living accommodation. I showed my son many examples of barn conversions, and I hope he wasn’t too bored with the reminisces of a retired town planner.

My biggest achievement in town planning of which I am most proud was advising a retired dairy farmer to convert his treasured acres into a golf course. Mr. Jenkins, the farmer, was a bigger than life character, and thought I was crazy suggesting he apply for planning permission for a golf course on his land. Twenty years later the Gower Golf Club is going strong. Sadly, Mr. Jenkins has passed away, but the dream that turned into reality continues under the tutelage of his son and daughter.

We couldn’t leave Swansea without a visit to Underhill Park in Mumbles. I played many a game for Nalgo in the friendly confines of Underhill Park. I was primarily a defender, but I once scored a hatrick there. On another occasion, I was summarily sent off for the only time in my career. Underhill Park contained many happy memories for me which I hopefully shared with my son.

We ended our visit to Swansea with a meal with my friends, Phillip and Marian, at the King Arthur in Reynoldston. King Arthur’s stone is situated about a mile from the pub on Cefn Bryn which was arguably the cornerstone of Camelot. Make of it what you will. I hope this journey down memory lane encourages some of you to visit Gower, but hopefully not too many. I like the remoteness.

A Voyage with My Son, Part 1.

January 28th, 2018

I’m not sure how this pilgrimage transpired, but my son and I agreed to spend two or three days travelling around my home town of Swansea visiting various landmarks of my childhood and some dubious haunts that played a role in my formative years. Perhaps it was an opportunity to discover what made his old man tick. He left Swansea when he was nine, but nevertheless he said he was excited to partake in the exploration.

Day 1: Landed at Heathrow Airport around 11.00am. Rented a car from Enterprise, picked my son up from Fleet and drove to Cardiff to stay the night with my brother. On the way we stopped for a snack at a service station and I enjoyed fish and chips courtesy of Harry Ramsden. It cost 6 pounds and change to cross the Severn Bridge into Wales. No wonder Englishmen have a low esteem for the Welsh.

We dined at a Lebanese restaurant which was devoid of alcohol much to the disappointment of my son and I. My lasting memory of the restaurant was  a particularly noisy fruit juice machine which made conversation nearly impossible.

Day 2: The next morning my brother served up a wonderful Welsh breakfast comprising lava bread, cockles, bacon and all the trimmings. Fortified by an exquisite start to the day we bade our farewells and headed for Swansea, home of Dylan Thomas, Katherine Zeta-Jones and Harry Secombe.

We were welcomed by a bleak overcast morning as we hit the outskirts of Swansea, and I was surprised by the number of pubs that were now vacant and boarded up. Ignoring the negative vibes I quickly gave my son a tour of the houses I lived in from about the age of 5, quickly followed by two schools I attended, Gwyrosydd and Penlan Comprehensive, that had a huge impact on making me the old crabby cynic that I am today.

Penlan Comprehensive is no longer with us today, but the building which could easily be mistaken for Stalag 17 now houses a Welsh speaking Secondary School. I believe it rained most of the seven years I spent there, and I recall trudging up the long narrow driveway only to receive a soaking by various teachers’ cars kicking up spray as they sped for safety of the staffroom, and then having to tentatively attempt a crossing of a sea of mud. Happy days!

My friends Phillip and Marian graciously gave us lodgings for two nights, and we fed on a Chinese Takeaway which included my favorite, crispy duck. We washed it down with a bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau, which curiously is championed by the pubs and bars of Swansea, and it just happened to be first day of its arrival in the Principality. I don’t know what all the fuss is about because its a very mediocre wine and very overrated. Earlier, we had lunch at the Westbourne which has considerably ascended up market since my days in the Guildhall. You can’t possibly visit Swansea without having a Joe’s icecream, but I didn’t realize I had to use my weekly allowance to pay for one.

Ah, the Guildhall. I spent 28 years in the corridors of power of local government, initially as a Bob Cratchett impersonator in the Treasurer’s Department, and latterly as a poor man’s Hippodamus or to pay homage to the Garden City movement, Ebenezer Howard. We drove to Pantycelyn Road in Mayhill which gives the visitor a panoramic view of the City and the Bay, and marveled at the mess we planners made of a once “Ugly, Lovely Town (sic Dylan Thomas.)

To be Continued:

 

You Can’t Make a Silk Purse from a Pig’s Ear.

January 9th, 2018

I guess my favorite topic appears to be Swansea City AFC, appertaining to the vast number of posts I’ve written on the subject. Well, It was a unique experience for my home town team to climb from the depths of the football league to the elite of the Premiership and survive 6 years.

Unfortunately, the last 18 months have proved to be a bit of struggle. In 2016 we were lying 15th around Christmas and decided to part company with Gary Monk who had led the club to 8th position in their previous season. We subsequently finished a comfortable 14th under the tutorlage of Alan Curtis and Francesco Guidolin. This time last year we were languishing at the bottom of the table. The American, Bob Bradley, who replaced Guidolin two months into the season, was sacked after a disastrous few months. Paul Clement was hired to perform a miracle by walking across the River Tawe into the Liberty Stadium and duly saved their precarious Premiership status.

It was clearly obvious to anyone that followed the Swans that the squad was not good enough to survive another season in the Premiership. They had two outstanding players in Sigurddson and Llorente who could walk into any other team in the Premiership, and Clement was anxious to strengthen the squad in the August transfer window. However, Sigurddson did not want to endure another season at the bottom end of the table, and made it perfectly clear that he wanted a transfer.

Everton made a sizeable offer for his services, but the Club haggled over the transfer fee for weeks until he eventually signed for Everton. However, Clement was given little time to find a suitable replacement, and to make matters worse, Llorente was sold to Spurs on the transfer deadline.

Clement had ratified the signing of Roque Mesa from a Spanish club who performed adequately in La Ligue, but has underwhelmed in the Premiership. Former fan favorite Wilfred Bony was purchased from Stoke City, but he hadn’t played regularly for 18 months, and one TV pundit claimed that “his legs had gone.” I tend to agree. I believe he has scored one goal in the Premiership this season. Hull City was paid 15 million pounds for Clucas’ services which brought the number of players in the squad  who had been relegated with their former clubs to four.

Clement acquired the services of two young players on loan: the much heralded Sanchez from Bayern Munich and Tammy Abraham from Chelsea who last season scored 24 goals in the Championship for Bristol City. Neither player has adjusted to the rigours of the Premiership which at the same time has not affected their over inflated egos!

Okay, to recap let’s take an overview of the nucleus of the squad:

  • Four players, Fer, Olsson, Ayew, and Clucas were with previously relegated clubs,
  • Two players, Carroll and Naughton, were Spurs reserves,
  • Two players, Sanchez and Abraham, who are on loan are immature, flatter to deceive and not effective in the Premiership,
  • One player, Mawson, showed promise last season, but appears to have regressed,
  • Two players, Ki and Bony, are injury prone,
  • Two or three players, Britton, Rangel and Routledge, are past their sell by date,
  • Fabianski and Fernandez are adequate but would benefit with better players around them,
  • The other players, Fulton, McBurnie, and Mesa (he cost 12 million remember) for example, are fringe players and have yet to make an impact on the Premiership.

Twelve months on and Swansea City find themselves bottom of table again. Last season’s miracle worker, Paul Clement, was ushered through the exit door on December 20th, and Carlos Carvalhal was appointed as the new manager on December 28th. He was previously manager of Championship side, Sheffield Wednesday, who dispensed with his service on Christmas Eve. It’s a strange appointment because Wednesday are lying 15th in the Championship, so what makes the Swans owners believe that the new manager can right the ship which is now in very murky waters.

That brings me to the two new American majority  owners who remind me of shifty second hand car salesmen. Need I say more?

 

 

Engaging

December 5th, 2017

I just returned from spending two weeks in the UK. Before flying back to Atlanta my last day in the old country was dominated by the breaking news of  Prince Harry’s engagement to American, Meghan Merkel. Dreary stories of Brexit, immigration, housing shortage were put aside by the tabloids, and the Daily Mail led the pack with saturation coverage of the happy couple’s betrothment.

I picked up a copy of the Daily Mail on the air plane, and I decided to share with you some of  the headlines that came bursting off the page:

  • The stars were all aligned…..this beautiful woman just fell into my life
  • Harry went down on one knee over a roast chicken dinner..
  • Even the Queen’s corgis took to her straight away
  • What a gal! Ermine edged poise and a creamy dollop of pure American vivacity
  • He knew she was The One the moment he saw her…
  • His bride’s a divorced American actress who’s older than him-and is not afraid to speak her mind. But Harry loves breaking the rules…..
  • Divorcee to wed Harry in church
  • Meanwhile, Trump is conspicuously silent
  • How Meghan went from a seedy Los Angeles tenement to a Palace
  • A bride descended from slaves and why the Royal Family keep proving the sneering snobs wrong
  • All that yoga’s paying off!
  • What DID Harry see in the remarkable Ms. Markle?
  • TV roles she’d rather forget and the ones he’d rather forget…
  • Bride-to-Be is divorced American actress who will become first mixed-race member of Royal Family..
  • Modern Markle will banish the ghost of Ms. Simpson…
  • Prince’s passions and flaws have inspired genuine public affection…
  • Think again Meghan- your in-laws will eat you alive….

The Britton, The Iceman and The Spanish Armada

October 20th, 2017

Swansea City have begun another season in unconvincing fashion. Manager/Head Coach Paul Clement (whatever title he deems to call himself) blames the late activity in the summer transfer window for their inept start. Gylfi Sigurdsson, the Icelandic international was the one truly class player in a team that narrowly avoided relegation last season. Clearly Sigurdsson had expressed a desire to play for a top six club in the Premiership which he deserved, for he alone, with a vital contribution from Llorente was instrumental in keeping them in the Premiership.

In the summer, Leicester City made a derisory offer to acquire his services which the Swans quite rightly rejected. However, Everton pursued their man and by increasing their offer  eventually matched the transfer fee of 45 million pounds that the Swans were demanding for their best player. Sigurdsson had earlier refused to go on the preseason tour of the USA which prompted the Swans to accept Everton’s offer. Quite why Sigurdsson agreed to join them is a matter of conjecture because they are not a top six club, and are currently languishing  in the bottom third of the table along with the Swans.

Meanwhile Everton signed Wayne Rooney on a free transfer and the prodigal son has returned home creating a dilemma for Sigurdsson and their respected manager Ronald Koemann. Both players prefer to play in the “No 10” slot, and Sigurdsson currently resembles a fish out of water with Everton hovering over the relegation zone.

Clement signed three midfield players, Clucas, Mesa and wonder kid Sanchez to replace Sigurdsson, none of whom have set the Premiership on fire. They overpaid for Clucas who admittedly was quite effective for relegated Hull City. But 15 million pounds for an average player? Do me a favor!!! Mesa was the first to be signed in the summer for 11 million pounds designed most probably to replace the aging but very effective Leon Britton. Let’s not forget, Clement was pressured into recalling Britton for the relegation battle, and he duly delivered adding calmness, solidity and direction to a struggling team.

Unaccountably Britton was omitted from the starting line up in the opening matches of the new season. Mesa didn’t replace him because in Clement’s opinion the little Spaniard was not ready to play at the pace of the Premiership having starred in La Liga  last season. However, it is more than a coincidence that the Swans recorded their first victory in over a month against Huddersfield when Britton was restored to the team.

I don’t quite know why the Club’s scouts could not have prepared a better assessment of Mesa’s talents commensurate with the Premier League. They can’t use the feeble excuse of not knowing what a Spanish player is capable of  in the Premiership when Mesa is the twelfth Spanish player signed by the Club or has featured in the team since they won promotion to the Premiership.

Angel Rangel was the first Spanish player signed way back in 2007 by ironically a Spanish manager, Roberto Martinez. The other Spaniards to follow in his foot steps are Jordi Armat, Michu, Andrea Orlandi, Pablo Hernandez, Chico Flores, Jose Canas, Alvaro Vazquez, Alejandro Pozuelo, Borja Baston, and Fernando Llorente.

The impact of the Spanish Armada on the Club has met with mixed fortunes. Rangel has proved to be one of the stalwarts of the team costing next to nothing. Chico Flores formed a formidable defensive partnership with Ashley Williams and his transfer fee didn’t break the bank. Michu proved to be one of the bargain buys in Premierhip  history. He cost 2 million pounds and in his first season scored 22 goals from midfield. Unfortunately he was plagued by injury and didn’t complete another full season before returning to Spain.

On the negative side, the Swans paid 15.5 million for Borja Baston in 2016 on the basis that he scored 18 goals in his last season in La Liga. Unfortunately he failed to replicate his prowess as a goal scorer in the Premiership, achieving one solitary goal in 20 appearances. During the summer, he was packed off on loan to a Spanish club the name of which escapes me. However Llorente, a striker with World Cup pedigree and 3 Serie A titles  on his resume was snapped up for 5 million pounds around the same time as Baston was travelling in the opposite direction, and repaid the Club by scoring 15 precious goals to help secure another season in the Premiership.

Nevertheless, 26.5 million has been wastefully spent on Baston and Mesa with little return for the money. A Club of Swansea’s size can ill afford to spend that amount of money and receive precious little in return. I have no idea who is in charge of scouting for new players, but he deserves a kick up the backside. Better still, it’s time he received his P45.

 

In Dreams I Walk with You

October 13th, 2017

I had a recurring dream the other night where somebody kept asking me in which year Lester Piggott won the Derby on Affirmed. Lester Piggott was one of the greatest flat race jockeys in the world, arguably the greatest. He won the Derby an unprecedented nine times, and I kept repeating that Piggott never rode Affirmed. Affirmed was an American horse ridden by an American jockey, Steve Cauthen, who won the triple crown (Kentucky Derby, Preakness Stakes and the Belmont Stakes) on Affirmed in 1977.

My tormenter then challenged me to name the horses that Piggott rode to win the Derby nine times. For the record Steve Cauthen won the Derby twice with Slip Anchor and Reference Point, making him the only jockey to win the Kentucky Derby and the Epsom Derby. I could only remember two of the horses that Piggott rode to victory; Nijinsky and Sir Ivor. I tossed and turned for the remainder of the night trying to recall the names of the other horses to no avail.

Mercifully, morning arrived and Google, aided and abetted by Wikipedia, came to my rescue I was able to look up an article  which listed the maestro’s winners and  Lester Piggott commented on his nine wins in the Derby:

1. NEVER SAY DIE (1954, 33-1)
He was a left-handed horse and not nearly so good when he raced right.

2. CREPELLO (1957, 6-4 fav)
One of the two best horses I won the Derby on. He took the 2,000 Guineas but had bad legs and was hard for Sir Noel Murless to keep sound. He broke down when training for the St Leger and never ran again.

3. ST PADDY (1960, 7-1)
He was good and we knew that before he ran at York first time out as a two-year-old. But he ran away with me on the way to the post and had a race before he started. Next time out they put a gag on him and he won the Royal Lodge by five lengths. He was fourth in the Guineas, won the Dante and took the Derby by three lengths.

4. SIR IVOR (1968, 4-5 fav)
He had spent the winter in Italy before winning the Guineas and Derby. He then got beat in his next four races, but ended up winning the Champion Stakes and Washington International. I know he got beaten a few times, but of all my Derby winners he had the most brilliance about him.

5. NIJINSKY (1970, 11-8 fav)
He was the last horse to win the Triple Crown with the Irish Derby and King George thrown in for good measure, but I never thought it was a great year.

6. ROBERTO (1972 3-1 fav)
His win was overshadowed by controversy. Bill Williamson won the Guineas on him but was injured and I got on him. I couldn’t see him being beaten in the Irish Derby next time, but he only beat two home.

7. EMPERY (1976, 10-1)
Probably just a middle-class Derby winner in an average Classic crop.

8. THE MINSTREL (1977, 5-1)
He was pretty good and went on to win the Irish Derby – but it was only a so-so year for three-year-olds.

9. TEENOSO (1983, 9-2)
He was a bit better than people gave him credit for. It rained all day at Epsom, which turned the ground soft. He won very easily and, as my last winner, is one of my best recollections of the race.

I never had much interest in horse racing save for a flutter on the Grand National and the Derby. My late Dad however enjoyed a daily bet. Once he retired, his routine for the day was to study the racing form in the Daily Mirror, select his horses, and walk up to the “bookies” and place his bet which was usually “a Yankee.” He would then return home and watch the races on television in the afternoon.  He never used to bet much, so gambler’s anonymous were never troubled.  My ex father-in-law roughly followed the same ritual as my dad.

His little hobby once embarrassed my ex-wife who I was dating at the time. She was staying the night at a friend’s house on the posh side of Swansea, the Mayals. Hyacinth Bucket (pronounced Bouquet)  in the sitcom “Keeping Up Appearances” could have been based on her friend’s mother. Anyway, during a conversation the mother asks my ex-wife: “Does your father have any hobbies, dear?” She replied: “Yes, horse racing.” “Oh really, how many does he own and where does he stable them?” The mortified girl replied: “He doesn’t own any horses, he bets on them!”

 

A Premiership Devoid of World Class Players

September 28th, 2017

What constitutes a world class football player? He is someone who can change the game in a split second whether it’s through a defence splitting pass, scoring goal from nothing, making a defensive stop to prevent a goal, all of which should be executed on a consistent basis. Basically a world class player can spin on a dime and light up a stadium with one phenomenal movement, creating one breathtaking moment never to be forgotten by those who witnessed it. He is a match winner; a game changer.

For example, Gordon Banks’ spellbinding save from Pele in the 1970 World Cup, or one of Jimmy Greaves’ goals from a scissor kick, maybe a tantalizing run through the opposition’s defense by George Best or Ryan Giggs leading to a sublime goal, or the proficiency of a goal scoring machine like Ian Rush.

I maybe a couch potato, but I have seen many Premiership matches over the past few years, and rarely does any player in the Premiership have me  jumping out of my seat in excitement. Ronaldo (Manchester United) and Luis Suarez (Liverpool) had that effect on me, but they were unfortunately sold to Real Madrid and Barcelona respectively. Gareth Bale had a hint of greatness in his time at Tottenham Hotspur, but sadly he was also sold to Real Madrid.

There are twenty clubs in the English Premiership and in my opinion less than a dozen world class players. Manchester City have spent millions of pounds on players, but I would only describe Silva, de Bruyne, and Aguerro as world class assets. Chelsea possess one in Eden Hazard, and potentially their new striker Morata. Liverpool have two: Coutinho and Mane. Harry Kane at Tottenham is quickly  developing into a world class striker, capable of scoring goals with either foot or his head, and inside or outside the penalty box. His colleague, Dele Ali has the potential to reach world class, but can be a little head strong and a tendency to drift out of games.

Alexis Sanchez wasted too much time in the summer attempting to engineer a move away from Arsenal which affected his game considerably. However, on his day he can touch the considerable heights of a world class player. One could argue that one player cannot make a team, but his absence can undoubtedly affect its performance. A case in point is Gylfi Sigurdsson who was transferred from my club, Swansea City to Everton. Gylfi Sigurdsson has the ability to create and score goals and is arguably the most effective dead ball specialist in the league.

The Swans bought  two or three fairly capable players in the summer transfer window, but with the loss of Sigurdsson the Club is playing like a ship without a rudder. Notwithstanding the dearth of world class players in the Premiership, I believe that not one of the Swans 25 man squad would earn a place in any of the top ten teams in the league. Indeed, Swansea are continuing to select three or four players (Naughton, Fer, Carroll, and Olsson) who are not of Premiership standard.

The transfer fees that are paid for mediocre players is outrageous. Liverpool paid 40 million for Oxlaide-Chamberlain who is an athlete masquerading as a football player. Manchester City paid 50 million each for Raheem Sterling and John Stones. Is that the price you pay for potential these days?