‘Modern’ football

I WAS INTERESTED upon reading a ‘Bygones’ history piece today in the local Nottingham Post about a Nottingham Forest player from the early 1960s named Jim Iley. Jim had an excellent 550-game career at wing-half with amongst others, Spurs, Forest and Newcastle United, as well as becoming the manager of four football league clubs. A man whose opinion should perhaps be respected.

We often hear recurrent stories from older ex-professionals that, shall we say, are a little envious of modern day players and the rewards they receive. There is also a belief amongst some fans of the current game that players of Jim’s generation and before were somehow inferior or that the football played was of a poorer standard. This former player gives the lie to those beliefs.

Jim Iley, Nottingham Forest

Jim Iley states unequivocally that he doesn’t begrudge modern players their huge salaries, particularly because it remains a short career – however, with a caveat:

‘Good players deserve more money, but there are average players today getting paid fortunes who would not have got a game in our reserves.’

The former Reds player goes on to quote the better playing surfaces of today as well as the superior boots, fitness and diet. What really took my eye was this when talking about modern players though:

‘Clubs look after the player’s every needs these days and that’s something about the modern game that I don’t like. They are treated like babies in a way. The game has changed and not always for the better.’

I find that interesting. Arguments will always rage about the standards of teams and players in different eras and that’s fair enough – we often believe that ‘our’ heroes were better than those of other eras (I’ll stake a claim in that debate with Pele, Best, Maradona, Cruyff, Platini, et al in my own!) I have to say however that Jim’s second assertion here is spot-on. I think it’s one of the myriad of reasons why fans and players don’t seem to have the close relationship they used to have. Players are mollycoddled and I really don’t think it helps them. To give a small practical example it bemuses me to watch players when the ball becomes dead continually  looking to the bench for instructions on how to play the game they are often handsomely paid for performing. Generally speaking it’s a lack of responsibility taking. I don’t however blame football players specifically though as, like so many issues in the game, it appears to be more of a societal problem generally – one that the game only reflects and manifests.

The Jewish Cemetery, North Sherwood Street, Nottingham

I think we’re all a little guilty of this – passing by things and places in our everyday lives without really looking at them. Maybe it’s the time expansion of modern life I’m not sure but I really do try to exercise a little mindfulness and understand and comprehend the things that surround me.

Speaking to an acquaintance recently, I came to hear about a little place of historic interest right in the city centre of Nottingham, one I had passed by hundreds if not thousands of times without paying any heed to. It’s a burial place,  a tiny, now disused cemetery for those of the Jewish faith. All I could ever profess to previously noticing was a tall sandstone wall with what looked like a patch of unremarkable wasteland behind it.

The original Jewish Cemetery, North Sherwood Street, Nottingham

A little rudimentary research tells me that Jewish people resided in Nottingham near the old castle around the time of the Norman conquest until the year of 1290 at the time they were expelled from the country by King Edward I. Apparently they were acceded entry to the country again by Oliver Cromwell in 1657 with some settling in Nottingham for a century or so afterwards. Never a particularly prosperous community originally, it began to increase into the nineteenth century with the first synagogue in 1815 and merchants and businessmen from Germany arriving to stay, midway through that century.

Tablet above the door.

(Pic: http://www.nottingham21.co.uk/misc_jewscem_1.htm)

By the year of 1822 the town council agreed to lease the small area of just 144 yards to the Jewish community for use as a burial ground on North Sherwood Street, not far from the old town centre. The small plot was used until the 1860s when a larger area was required. My understanding is that a new cemetery was used after this time at Southey Street a few minutes walk away. Since then, a section of the large general cemetery at Wilford Hill to the south of the city has been used from around the middle of the twentieth century. The gate at North Sherwood Street’s little cemetery now remains locked, hiding it’s story.

Wherever we walk, history walks with us.

A neighbour so strange

This evening I was reading with interest about some excessive hoarding stories on local website Nottstalgia. and it brought back some memories Around twenty five years ago i lived in a house in Arnold, Nottinghamshire and across the road lived a chap in his early sixties who’d I’d see emerging out of his house in the morning to work in the local brush factory in Arnold and home again in the evening. Later on every evening he would pop out of his door to go for a drink in the drinking clubs in Arnold, always very dapper, smartly suited, collar and tie like so many guys of that age used to be.

I came home from work early one afternoon to find two council trucks parked outside his home. He’d apparently been evicted. Asking the council workman what was going on he painted a strange story to me. The Gedling Borough Council lads had been through his semi-detached home and emptied it out. They told a tale of every room being chest high in rubbish. Just one corner of the living room remained free of trash and this was where he lived with a narrow trail to get through to it. The stairways were piled high with junk mail with just a thin path through. What was even more surprising was that the house had not had any running water for a long period of time. According to a neighbour, the chap would apparently buy new clothes, dress shirts, underwear etc. and wear them until they were filthy then dispose of them in the dustbin. That accounted for his apparent smartness (from a distance at least) as he had no means of keeping himself clean or doing any washing in the house. Another surprising factor was that he had also been a pools winner a few years ago and gained a moderate but significant haul.. Curiously he’d had the back garden landscaped amongst a few other cosmetic and slightly ill-advised home improvements  but had presided over his hovel of an abode for several years.

He never once spoke to me or acknowledged me in the year or so I lived opposite. A strange, sad and somewhat reclusive man in some respects, but one who would go out and enjoy the social clubs in Arnold every single night. Few must have ever known the strange double life he led. All these years later, I often wonder what happened to  my ex-neighbour and more importantly what the thought processes of this unusual man were. He perhaps won’t be with us now. I hope he’s alright wherever he is.

Monkey Man

It’s been a fairly austere time to be a Hibs supporter for the past while. Positivity has been at an all-time low and good fortune is indeed always hiding. There is however one chink of daylight, one source of fun that’s always a guaranteed source of mirth. It comes in the form of Heart of Midlothian’s soon-to-be former owner and loopy Lithuanian, Vladimir Romanov. Many have been his sparkling statements over the past seven years via the organ of his club’s official website (the webmaster must run and hide when he sees the latest pearls of cranky wisdom heading his way) but I honestly think this might be one of the most messed-up yet. Here it is in all it’s glory:

Press me to listen

Vladimir Romanov statement

05.01.2012

“As soon as Hearts moved closer to the third spot the monkeys start to squeal, lie and create conspiracy plots.

I thought I had expressed myself clearly – I am selling the club and I am not going to give any more money away. It is pointless to support show business, not football. Hearts is now living out of its own budget.
Everyone knew, including players, media and SPL that the wages are going to be paid as soon as the money was received for Eggert Jonsson, who was sold last year. But media still tried to create conspiracy plots about the team and managed to get a prompt and unwise decision from the SPL meeting, which the club asked it to postpone until next week in order to get opportunity to pay the wages.
As such I have not cheated anyone. The monkeys tricked the SPL, fans and themselves and showed who is in charge of the football mafia. They will continue to cheat as this is their job.
I am used to their lies. I remember when the fight started between two people at the end of one of our AGMs and all the cameras were there as they were expecting it. Later that episode was covered by all major stations as backdrop of the AGM, trying to portray the club as a mess.
I feel sorry for the poor monkeys. Mowgli is asking to work for the publicity of the Old Firm, that’s why they have to lie and tell tall stories.
But there is no future for Scottish football while these media monkeys are in charge. Not just for football, but for the whole country. When people tried to protest in the streets, media turned it into chaos, demonstrating masked instigators and hired gangsters in front of the cameras.
I have nothing to prove. Seven years ago I proved that there was no football, but only show business. When Kaunas threw Rangers out of the competition you switched your TV off to avoid embarrassment. Fear takes away the wisdom.
I am going to reiterate once again – I am not going to gift the club money anymore. The only thing left for the club to do is to develop its own youth and attempt to enlighten people who have been deceived and held as part of a stupid crowd by Mowgli.
The progress is there – Mowgli is under prosecution and in exile. But until they open a zoo for the monkeys and keep them in cages, they will keep jumping on people who are straightforward and not afraid to speak.”

http://www.heartsfc.co.uk/articles/20120105/vladimir-romanov-statement_2241384_2567380

Yes, you read that right. Pull back your chair, go and have a cup of coffee and some fresh air or something. Collect yourself.

Boy, I’m going to miss this man when his wagon finally rolls out of Edinburgh. All we need to figure out now is who is Mowgli? This could take as long as it took to discover who shot JR.

Top of The Pops 1976 Christmas Special

Well, what can I say. You see I was making my way in the world of work at this time not long having left school. Music was very important in my life then, being just on the cusp of my lifetime ‘peak record buying period’ that was about to come. Of course we all think that our own era in pop/rock music was the best don’t we? On the back of that, I had set a series record on Sky Plus to grab the weekly dose of TOTP editions from 1976 that have been showing for the past while. Today whilst sitting at home I’ve just finished viewing the Christmas show from that same year.

What a huge disappointment.

Of course, what I had completely forgotten was that Top of the Pops was ALWAYS terrible – almost without fail. This goes back to it’s origins when despite having great sixties acts (miming) on the show it was regularly outperformed by Ready Steady Go!

The year of 1976 was of course just about to experience a huge change in music with the coming of Punk and New Wave largely ousting the older sixties/seventies bands and changing the genre forever in some respects. All it took was for the Sex Pistols to utter a few expletives on The Bill Grundy Show and we were away. One would never have thought so watching TOTP in that year as an endless procession of gimmicky, often one-hit wonders were rolled out to the smug, trite and unfunny introductions of Noel Edmonds, Dave Lee (The Hairy Monster) Travis, Tony Blackburn and ‘Diddy’ David Hamilton.

The Christmas edition packed in appearances by no less than Brotherhood of Man, all cheesy moustaches and twee choreography and Our Kid, a bunch of pre-adolescents tailored for the granny market plus the end-of-evening-at-the-disco schmaltz of Chicago’s ‘If you leave me now’. These efforts neatly dovetailed the more interesting Rod Stewart’s ‘The Killing of Georgie’ with Rod at his preening and posing mid-seventies best (worst) and a spot of poppy soul in the full-voiced Billy Ocean.

Augmenting this sorry state of affairs, dance group Legs & Co were reeled out by a salivating Jimmy Saville and Tony Blackburn to perform the most literal of dance routines to Wings’ ‘Let Em In’ which comprised the dancers cleverly walking through doors to depict the song’s fairly banal lyrics. Deary me.

You see I DO remember there being some great music around at this time – it’s just that Top of the Pops was the very last place to go looking for it. I think I gave up on it a few years earlier than this about the time when David Bowie appeared with Ronno and the band performing ‘Starman’ to the eternal question of my dad (and every dad up and down the land) from behind his Daily Mirror asking ‘is that a bloody man or a woman?’. The signs were on the wall then and, apart from some kind of misplaced nostalgia, I’m not really sure how the program lasted quite as long as it did. It must be said that whilst televised rock music pickings were thin indeed in that era, the ever-excellent and probing Old Grey Whistle Test picked up the ball and ran with it to great effect. It was always everything that TOTP could have been (if it had been, say, Ready Steady Go!)

I’ve cancelled the series record on Sky. I think I’ll stick with my memories and my ever-collecting-dust vinyl record collection

Oh, look out…here comes Showaddywaddy…

Where in Nottinghamshire is this?

I know the answer (but wouldn’t have until fairly recently.)

I was a with a friend on a favourite local walk and we took a slight detour off the beaten path to surprisingly come across this monument. I reckon at least one reader of this site will be able to place it. Good luck!

Sócrates Brasileiro Sampaio de Souza Vieira de Oliveira

One of the true greats of football passes away laving a wife and six sons. A life sadly periodically blighted by alcohol in more recent times, it is as a shining star of Brazil’s 1982 World Cup side that Socrates will nevertheless be remembered.

Winning a magnificent sixty caps for his country, the image of the great midfielder will always be that of his genius passing ability and great stature and presence on the field.

Rest in peace ‘The Doctor’

Christmas comes but once a year…

CHRISTMAS COMES BUT ONCE A YEAR and so do the attendant Christmas Markets dotted around the UK in, its larger cities in particular. Here  in Nottingham until a year ago, we had a German Market placed in and around the large Old Market Square in the centre of the city. This was replaced last year when, in the dying days of November, a much-vaunted ‘Victorian Fair’ came to take its place.

I’ll not try to claim any of these events as being terribly authentic in any way. The goods tend to be expensive too, but at least they provide a little mid-winter atmosphere around the city centre which could look a little barren and grey in the faltering light and damp pavements at the end of the year.

In previous years I particularly enjoyed seeing the busy outdoor skating rink laid out  as a centre piece in the Square. Although of course artificial, it exuded  a pleasing Winter ambience and truth be told, people appeared to like it as it always seemed well-used when I was passing there, which was often. Conveniently close by was a simple beer stand where one could wash down a delicious Bratwurst with a pint or two of excellent German Paulaner out in God’s good fresh air.

Last year things changed with a larger licensed bar in the form of a Canadian-style hunting lodge. The concept was pretty hokey, what with its pair of old white figure skates hanging on the wall (in a hunting lodge!) a scattering of furniture and a fur rug or two. It was however warmish in there which was a bonus, even if the drinks had been largely demoted to bog-standard beers sold in any old pub.

This year I popped into the Square on the evening of the 23^rd November for the annual Christmas tree lights switch on and was quite disappointed in what I saw. Centre stage in place of the skating rink was a huge fairground ride which I believe is called the ‘North Star’. The Council’s blurb describe it as sixty metres high and it is totally out of keeping with a Christmas Market. It actually looks quite ridiculous. Wandering around I also noticed a fairground merry-go-round, which for the life of me I can’t link to Christmas and other smaller rides which I’ve subsequently seen deserted and only manned by bored-looking operators.

There’s a large bar which is excitedly billed by the council as a ‘Narnia’ experience. It’s basically a large open-ended shed that sells beer with a smaller room through a ‘wardrobe’ door. There’s mulled wine and Staropramen amongst other things on offer. I did enjoy an excellent pint of Briska Swedish perry which was very refreshing. I won’t be taking too many of those though at £3.80 a pint.

Small stalls snake along Long Row and Wheeler gate in what is a larger event for 2011. Many of the businesses however are generic, anytime anywhere affairs which have little to do with the festivities at this time of year.

So, on balance, I’m pretty disappointed. I’ve enjoyed socialising with friends on the Christmas Market in Nottingham many times but can’t see that happening so much this year. The Nottingham City Council seem to have capitulated to a lack of cash but more obviously a lack of imagination. The same fairground operators once again dominate the Square as per usual, yes we’ve noticed and you’re not fooling us Nottingham City Council, making it more like Goose Fair with artificial snow. It’s all a bit cheap looking.

Verdict: could do better – much better. I’ll be looking for the spirit of Christmas elsewhere this year.

SPAM!

No, not the once-familiar pre-cooked meat product containing chopped pork shoulder, potato starch and a dash of sodium nitrite, to taste but rather the unsolicited bulk email that we are often subjected to. Upon this weblog there is – as is the way with these things – a ‘spam catcher’ which deposits such material into a handy folder ready for deletion. The filter works largely by identifying and corralling comments on the various stories which come from companies by the fact they have various and numerous Internet links to their wares. I alwyas check to see if an errant and genuine comment has found its way into their erroneously but this is seldom so.

 

 

I often have a little read through them all, idly and curious that I am to discover and understand the latest tricks and hooks in the comments provided in order to elicit a reply. Some are quite subtle, many are in extremely broken English, occasionally they are offensive but often fawning and quite funny! It’s with the latter I focus today. If ever you needed your ego buffing up with a little sycophancy and toadying by a completely artificial spam robot I urge you to set your own weblog up right away! It might chase through blues right away.

I loved this one. It’s probably not over the top at all either:

‘This is by far one of the majestic places on Earth. I’ve travelled most of this globe and I’ve seen nothing like to it. In my opinion, everyone should at least 2 times in their adventures come here. See ya’ soon, I hope!’

This one concentrates on the technical side of things a little more. It’s also nice to know that the quick blog you bashed up, leaving three spelling mistakes and saying well, not very much really, is a ‘masterpiece’:

‘You’re really a good webmaster. The web site loading speed is incredible. It seems that you’re doing any unique trick. Moreover, The contents are a masterpiece. you’ve done a wonderful job on this topic!’

‘Extremely great, entertaining and wise’. Okay, my day is made.

‘Fantastic goods from you, man. I have understood your previous stuff and you’re just extremely great. I actually like what you’ve acquired here, certainly like what you are stating and the way in which you say it. You make it entertaining and you still take care to keep it wise. I can’t wait to read much more from you. This is actually a great site.’

 

 

‘Help in the Community’. You can achieve anything apparently when you write the odd blog:

‘It’s laborious to search out educated individuals on this topic, but you sound like you understand what you’re talking about! Thanks’

Now for a little…erm…passion…

‘You can certainly see your skills in the work you write. The world hopes for even more passionate writers like you who are not afraid to say how they believe. Always go after your heart.’

Hey thanks man! You rock too!

‘Just thought I’d drop you a line to tell you your site really rocks! I have been looking for this sort of information for a long time.. I don’t usually reply to posts but I will in this case. Wow! terrific great.’

Somebody, somewhere dreamt these things up and used the mechanical means to send them to a million sites out there that they will never read or hear of. I hope he/she is having a nice day anyway.

‘This is a smart blog. I mean it. You have so much knowledge about this issue, and so much passion. You also know how to make people rally behind it, obviously from the responses. You’ve got a design here that’s not too flashy, but makes a statement as big as what you’re saying. Great job, indeed.’

The Beehive at Maplebeck, Nottinghamshire – slight return

I first wrote about the pretty Beehive Inn at Maplebeck in Nottinghamshire back in May of 2008. It’s taken me a little while to return but return I did last weekend after a visit to one of my favourite places in Nottinghamshire, near Southwell. The cruise down the attractive rural lanes of Hockerton and Winkburn on a sunny Saturday afternoon with the roof down on the car was just the stuff that memorable Summer days are made of. Finally arriving at the little hamlet with its village green to the right and the familiar old sight of the Beehive to the left I left the car in the tucked away car park with what looked curiously like a partly constructed tepee in the adjoining field.

Arriving at the Beehive you just have to stand back and admire it. On my all too rare visits it appears to me as a Brigadoon-like place that might just only be emerging out of the mists once every few years. It has never looked remotely any different since the first day I visited it perhaps approaching twenty years ago, nor would I ever wish it to. It’s position at the foot of a silent lane hooped in trees is an enviable one too. Whoever decided that this would be a great place for an inn I’m not sure why but it most certainly is. The exterior looks worn and greying-white, its appearance is like an oversized version of one of those quaint olde-worlde ornaments that depict somehow significant buildings and adorn certain mantelpieces. It looks crooked from all aspects and slightly defies gravity in doing so.

The latch was lifted on the farmhouse-like door by a friendly server and were in a completely empty Beehive, hushed and soundless apart from our very welcome drinks being poured. We sat alone while others enjoyed themselves in the sunny front garden which lies between the pub and its attendant outbuildings, the original outside lavatories. Unlike most licensed premises in 2011 there were but few beer pumps on the little bar. This also feels kind of ‘right’ to me. It reminds me of my local Waggon and Horses at Redhill where I first used to drink when old enough. There were few different beers then – not even so much as a pint of draft lager to be had. Out of the scant choice I took a pint of excellent Jeffrey Hudson Bitter (JHB) by Oakham Ales in Leicestershire, a nice pale-coloured and slightly citrusy  brew which went down pretty well.

The interior looks a little tired but hey who cares. A place like this was meant to look tired. It’s old enough to be out on its own and has seen and heard much over the decades and within its cramped walls. The fixtures and fittings are aged and outdated, it’s curtains would be considered ‘chintzy’ in a lesser building but here it all comes together and works perfectly somehow. If you fancy an afternoon or an evening in the past, come here and blow the history book wide open whilst you can, for one day these experiences will be no more. Even better, go there on a Winter’s evening and feel truly cossetted in the warmth and snugness of this welcoming and very special place. I promise you, tearing yourself away may be problematic though.

Thankfully on this occasion, unlike previously, I was armed with the means of taking a few pictures to illustrate what I’m talking about. I hope you enjoy them just as much as you will if you ever take that meandering drive, or maybe cycle ride, to Maplebeck.