*These topics could almost write themselves these days but certain topics require more than Twitter
Boxing. Whenever a fighter is seriously injured, the ban hammers emerge wielded by the paper party mob (who to be fair have good intentions and there is nothing wrong with that of course). Boxing is a dangerous sport and nobody wants to see young men and women damaged. But a ban? Come now my friends, if we are going to stop something that might lead to harm, then we might as well get started on a pretty long list of eligible sport/hobbies.
Formula 1, motor sport, rugby, rock climbing, horse racing, even football (wouldn't want the precious dears breaking a fingernail now would we). Allow me a sip of tea on this cold Easter monday, oils the cogs. I admit, I am fairly surprised boxing has lasted as long as it has in this soulless, new world of cotton hearts and yoghurt knitters. This is an era of safety first and damn the consequences, to hell with the future James Hunts and Jack Dempseys. Thou shall not follow a path that might lead to a stubbed toe or split lips.
Are ye with me here? This attitude is infinitely the more dangerous. People aren't daft (mostly), we know the risks and simply chucking a few bans around really won't help, all that does is drive the sport underground to the badlands where the few rules that are in place are not enforced, a place where danger is multiplied tenfold. Im sure the staunchest yoghurt knitter wants this?
*****
Ban. Ban this, ban that. It must be hard living a life with hazard lights on. I don't know how they do it, really I don't. But then I have no iron morals to answer to. Its why the anti death, guns, hunting rabble can't get a bead on me online. All the names are true my friends, even the bad ones (hell especially the bad ones). You can't figh a honest reflection. Now obviously I do have morals and right and wrongs but im a poet before all else and in an effort to power up words its essential to play fast and loose with words.
Llawer o Cariad, a pasg hapus/lots of love and happy Easter x
Way back when I was in school I used to carry a notebook everywhere I went to record daily thoughts and observations. So you see, ive been blogging since before it was popular and where better to carry it onward than to give it a digital page of its own? Welcome to the pages of bar fly Hollywood Francis...
Showing posts with label rugby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rugby. Show all posts
Monday, 28 March 2016
Tuesday, 22 September 2015
Wales Win World Cup Shocker!
I had all these fancy titles ringing around my head but in the end I chose a cheap headline grabber. Please forgive me and read on, you know I love thee really.
Sport doesn't have the same magic for me as it seems to for everyone else. Even in 2012 when everyone had Olympic mania and the Queen impressed the planet by arriving at the Olympic stadium via parachute with James Bond, sport barely registered in my dusty old mind. Winning trophies? The pulse of a cheering crowd as victory calls? I don't 'get it', and never have.
I remember as a boy being taken to Wrexham to see Wales play Russia in football and all I remember was that I was cold, bored and shocked that so many grown ups would willingly choose to waste their time with such a misery. So much dreary, dreary.
But that was football. Rugby was a different beast. Being Welsh and having lived all my life in west Wales, how could it not be? Everyone loved rugby in my sleepy corner of the world. The stunning defeat of New Zealand at Stradey Park in 1972 when the pubs ran dry (true story) after Llanelli beat them 9 - 3 was still fresh and though only a year old in 1972 the cheer carried on for many a year (even today).
I love rugby. I went to Strade comprehensive which was across the road from Stradey Park, our teachers would regularly take a class over to see the bigger games. Local legends Ray Gravelle and Phil Bennet came to the school, rugby was religion.
A force to channel a surge of passion and excitement, and bring some sunshine to a soon to be winters soul. Cawl for the spirit if you like.
So its pretty depressing to wake up every morning (2015 rugby world cup has kicked off) to hear of yet another injury to the Welsh squad. Do the rugby gods not want a Welsh win? Or are they planning a spectacular run of victories? Who can tell?
Life has a funny (and sometimes tragic) way of showing us what is and isn't important and for me I only need think back a week when the news was full of pictures of that poor child washed up on a beach dead. Real life is heavy and though the soul can withstand ferocious heartbreak when called upon, it was not made for such unbearable weight.
Naturally I want Wales, Cymru fach, to win and feed the dragon but ultimately its not important. Its not in the slightest bit important when we see others going through so much hurt.
Oh and remember! I am not saying this with defeat in mind and trying to pass it off as "there are other more important things to worry about" (here you can picture me winking knowingly). I don't play that game, as honest as the day is sharp, I can take both sweet and sour in equal measure and face them naked in my honesty.
Sport doesn't have the same magic for me as it seems to for everyone else. Even in 2012 when everyone had Olympic mania and the Queen impressed the planet by arriving at the Olympic stadium via parachute with James Bond, sport barely registered in my dusty old mind. Winning trophies? The pulse of a cheering crowd as victory calls? I don't 'get it', and never have.
I remember as a boy being taken to Wrexham to see Wales play Russia in football and all I remember was that I was cold, bored and shocked that so many grown ups would willingly choose to waste their time with such a misery. So much dreary, dreary.
But that was football. Rugby was a different beast. Being Welsh and having lived all my life in west Wales, how could it not be? Everyone loved rugby in my sleepy corner of the world. The stunning defeat of New Zealand at Stradey Park in 1972 when the pubs ran dry (true story) after Llanelli beat them 9 - 3 was still fresh and though only a year old in 1972 the cheer carried on for many a year (even today).
I love rugby. I went to Strade comprehensive which was across the road from Stradey Park, our teachers would regularly take a class over to see the bigger games. Local legends Ray Gravelle and Phil Bennet came to the school, rugby was religion.
A force to channel a surge of passion and excitement, and bring some sunshine to a soon to be winters soul. Cawl for the spirit if you like.
So its pretty depressing to wake up every morning (2015 rugby world cup has kicked off) to hear of yet another injury to the Welsh squad. Do the rugby gods not want a Welsh win? Or are they planning a spectacular run of victories? Who can tell?
Life has a funny (and sometimes tragic) way of showing us what is and isn't important and for me I only need think back a week when the news was full of pictures of that poor child washed up on a beach dead. Real life is heavy and though the soul can withstand ferocious heartbreak when called upon, it was not made for such unbearable weight.
Naturally I want Wales, Cymru fach, to win and feed the dragon but ultimately its not important. Its not in the slightest bit important when we see others going through so much hurt.
Oh and remember! I am not saying this with defeat in mind and trying to pass it off as "there are other more important things to worry about" (here you can picture me winking knowingly). I don't play that game, as honest as the day is sharp, I can take both sweet and sour in equal measure and face them naked in my honesty.
Monday, 9 February 2015
No Fun Losing But...
Losing at anything pretty much hurts if your heart is in the team you support. I don't recall the football manager who said it now (I don't follow football), but he said that, "football is more than sport. Its a religion." Here in Wales, we can say the same about rugby, indeed some would say its our national sport. We do have those strange people who prefer football (and I mean that light heartedly), but as a rule, rugby is where its at.
So you can imagine how many sad faces awoke on Saturday after losing to our age old rivals England the previous night (oh and for the record, I still cannot get used to Friday night rugby internationals). It stung that bit more too, especially after playing well in the first half and going into the second as the team with more points on the board. I thought we had the beating of them. I was confident the dragon would emerge victorious but alas when the final whistle blew, the score was Wales 16 England 21, and a nation was left either drowning our sorrows or having a little banter via Twitter and Facebook. Social media has made losing a nightmare because whereas before the internet, we only had work mates to face on a Monday morning, the joys of winning and sadness of losing is instant.
But lets not lose heart over it, afterall its only sport, not war. Nobody is dying here, there are worse things going on in this often cruel world.
Sure I would feel different had Wales won. As a passionate Welshman supporting our national team, I would be bouncing off the walls and gloating on Twitter like the English fans were doing (and good for them), but it doesn't hurt to be on the losing side once in a while. It keeps everything in check, proving nothing is immune to life's bitter blade. Safe to say that I would be extremely wary and nervous were I to ever meet someone/something that was forever winning. Success at every turn might sound like a grand old time but it would create such a fierce arrogance that no mortal could have it and not be corrupted in some terrible way. Perfection? Blessed? That way lies danger.
Anyway before I start wading into a different territory, I shall end by saying defeat might leave a sour taste in ones mouth, and will certainly dampen spirits for a while but with everything else going on in this world, losing at a sport should be the least of our worries.
Lose and learn from it. Oh, and *grits teeth* well played England.
So you can imagine how many sad faces awoke on Saturday after losing to our age old rivals England the previous night (oh and for the record, I still cannot get used to Friday night rugby internationals). It stung that bit more too, especially after playing well in the first half and going into the second as the team with more points on the board. I thought we had the beating of them. I was confident the dragon would emerge victorious but alas when the final whistle blew, the score was Wales 16 England 21, and a nation was left either drowning our sorrows or having a little banter via Twitter and Facebook. Social media has made losing a nightmare because whereas before the internet, we only had work mates to face on a Monday morning, the joys of winning and sadness of losing is instant.
But lets not lose heart over it, afterall its only sport, not war. Nobody is dying here, there are worse things going on in this often cruel world.
Sure I would feel different had Wales won. As a passionate Welshman supporting our national team, I would be bouncing off the walls and gloating on Twitter like the English fans were doing (and good for them), but it doesn't hurt to be on the losing side once in a while. It keeps everything in check, proving nothing is immune to life's bitter blade. Safe to say that I would be extremely wary and nervous were I to ever meet someone/something that was forever winning. Success at every turn might sound like a grand old time but it would create such a fierce arrogance that no mortal could have it and not be corrupted in some terrible way. Perfection? Blessed? That way lies danger.
Anyway before I start wading into a different territory, I shall end by saying defeat might leave a sour taste in ones mouth, and will certainly dampen spirits for a while but with everything else going on in this world, losing at a sport should be the least of our worries.
Lose and learn from it. Oh, and *grits teeth* well played England.
Monday, 8 July 2013
Britain Rules the Sport
What a fantastic weekend of sport it has been for us Brits! Dear God, I think the beer is flowing still! First the British & Irish Lions win the Test Series in Australia with a convincing display that showed we are streets ahead of the Aussies. Then (ad this was the biggie) Andy Murray became the first Brit in 77 years to win at Wimbledon, while on the same day Northern Ireland's Graeme McDowell took the French Open at the tough Le Golf National.
Fantastic! And it was even more brilliant for the still dizzy Mr Jakes because rugby, tennis and golf are my favourite sports.
Was this one of the greatest days in British sport? Its got to be in with a shout. Heck Murray getting a slam at Wimbledon makes it special without the rugger and golf but the triple whammy made for a grand three course sporting feast. And who knows? The Ashes series (cricket) against our arch rivals the Aussies begins on Wednesday and we have a good chance of winning those too. Oh so sweet is victory after a few years in the sporting doldrums! I really do believe our success at last years Olympics kick started it all, there is definitely a bit of that spirit lingering in our athletes.
However to misquote Shakespeare, the course of true sporting highs never did run smooth, and it would seem the First Minister of Scotland, Alex Salmond upset a few people by waving the Saltire (Scottish flag) in the Royal Box at Wimbledon. I personally think it a hulabaloo over nothing, I mean Andy Murray is Scottish, what was Salmond supposed to wave? The flag of Japan? I can assure you dear reader that if Dai Jakes ever created sporting history (I can dream!) then I would be extremely angry/saddened if the Welsh dragon, y Ddraig Goch, wasn't flying.
Still I don't want to end on a sour note when people are still buzzing from such a fabulous weekend, long may it continue, long may Britain become great once more not by the hostilities of our history but through the camaraderie of sporting events.
Saturday, 16 March 2013
Wales Win (again)
WINNING!
Dai iawn Cymru fach! 2013 6 Nations rugby champions! Lets remind ourselves of the full time score shall we: Wales 30 England 3. The wheels of the chariot fell OFF OFF OFF lulz as they say on teh internet. Da iawn eto Cymru!
Saturday, 2 February 2013
Dai's 6 Nations Predictions
Today is the start of the rugby 6 Nations! And first game up is Wales v Ireland in the grand Millennium Stadium in Cardiff. Dai Jakes wasn't too shabby last year with predictions so heres this afternoons score broght to you via Jenkins bakeries fortune pasties (good idea there mun!): Wales 19 Ireland 14.
Now let us warm up with a dance with Tom and Delilah. Mwynhewch! Pob lwc bois !!
Saturday, 17 March 2012
Gelert's Grand Slam Prediction
Gelert hath spoken! Let it be written, let it be done. May the God of Oval Balls bless Wales, and guide us on the path to victory on this momentous day. May all the Welsh be drinking out of winners trophies tonight, and the Grand Slam be bathed in red. May the red dragon's flight steer us into glory! Amen.
Friday, 16 March 2012
In Memory of Merv the Swerve
Merv: never forgotten
I was greeted with very sad news this morning after switching the radio on. Wales rugby legend Mervyn Davies had passed away, aged just 65. And the word 'legend' is thrown about these days as cheaply as confetti, but Merv the Swerve was a real legend. Bona fide.
One of the best captains ever, he won two Grand Slams with Wales and three Triple Crowns. Players past and present found inspiration in this proud Welshman.
Heartbreaking he should leave us on the eve of a possible third Grand Slam in seven years. Time and fate are no respectors of mortals of course but this was cruel timing and Wales has one less colourful soul in it today than when it went to sleep last night. That soul will be looking down on the Millenium Stadium in Cardiff tomorrow and inspire the team to a great win.
This is Mervyn's 1969 Wales International rugby cap. Nod da Cymro annwyl, nos da.
Saturday, 10 March 2012
Gelert's Welsh Rugby Prediction
Lets face it, humans make too may errors. So Dai Jakes put his red dragon pattern wellies on and trudged out to ask the esteemed sheep Gelert, near Merlin's Hill field in Carmarthen what todays 6 Nations score will be in the Wales v Italy game. Over to you Gelert....
So there it is. Iechyd da pawb!
So there it is. Iechyd da pawb!
Tuesday, 13 December 2011
A Sig To Me from Phil
from a rugby legend
I have met many famous faces on my often boozy travels from rock stars to movie actors but never once have felt inclined to ask for an autograph. I don't do that (mainly because I feel they should be wanting my signature) and neither do I stand with my mouth wide open like a star struck prune. People are people regardless, it matters not to me if you happen to be in the public eye. Basically I couldn't care f**king less. But I do happen to have a signature that I cherish.
It was back in 1999 when I was at death's door (literally) after a drop too much booze and I found myself in Prince Phillip hospital in Llanelli. One day rugby legend Phil Bennett was visiting a member of his family, and seeing as he also knows my family he kindly came over to my bed and wrote those nice words on my poetry notebook in an attempt to cheer me up. (My poetry notepad goes everywhere, even to my deathbed).
Phil played in the great Wales rugby team of the 1970s, and is a genuinely lovely guy, and if you ever read this Phil then yes you did indeed cheer me up at what was a very grim time for me. Diolch yn fawr!
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
Quite Simply....Wales!
Win for me my boys! Welsh passion bleeds through my fingertips, and weeps into song.
Thursday, 13 October 2011
100% Wales
Balchder Cymru!
Wales, Cymru fach, my beautiful country of birth is currently making Welsh rugby history after getting into the semi finals of the 2011 Rugby World Cup. We got through the 'pool of death' unscathed, almost beating the South Africans in the process and we beat a fine Irish side last saturday, (who themselves were playing well in the touranment).
So Ireland, Scotland and England are all out but Wales march onward! And this saturday (15/10/11) we face France, Le Bleus, in what is going to be a great semi final game of rugby. I can feel it in my Dragonbones! Can we do it? We are but one game away from being in the final of a rugby world cup, a mere 80 minutes! Can we do it? I am pretty confident that we can. I believe that my beloved Wales can triumph over the French and meet either New Zealand or Australia in the final. In my Welsh heart of hearts I have faith we will do it! Our team is young, fit and hungry. There is a sharpness to the boys that I can see even from thousands of miles away. It was there when Wales won the 2005/2008 Grandslams and its there again out in New Zealand.
There is a wonderful atmosphere in this country at the moment. Everyone is buzzing with excitement and anticipation of what could be should Wales defeat the 'froggies' this weekend. (And when I say froggies, I mean it only as harmless banter, certainly no disrespect is intended).
Wales the fearless! This is how we have played in this tournament, the youth and fitness making us fear nobody and giving us an edge. When you have youth on your side you will always believe that you are undefeatable of course; the young believe they are all immortal and there is danger in this as much as there is strength because it can lead to recklessness, but we have a few experienced boys in the squad and they will provide the needed discipline. We will be victorious!
And if we aren't? Well then its been a fantastic journey that has put the country in great spirits and Wales will have still proved that once again we are a rugby force to be reckoned with.
And I will say it here and now so that I cannot be accused of jumping on the 'I-knew-Wales-would-win-all-along' bandwagon further on down the winning road. We are going to beat France this saturday and make it to the final. And we can win that too. Cymru Am Byth!
Saturday, 12 March 2011
Saturday Nights Alright For....?
So the weekend has come around again on its seemingly endless endeavour to get the nation pissed. Its saturday and not just any old saturday but one where a Welsh rugby international against the Irish has just taken place and we WON. (19 ~ 13 if you're interested.) So why am I here wittling away at another virtual wood carving on some dusty corner of the internet, instead of bathing (almost literally) in my favourite alcoholic beverage? Okay i'll admit I could be sitting here, merrily typing away with a snifter of scotch at my side but trust me, im not. Its been tea only.
So what has come over me? Why is this normally on~his~sixth~pint~by~now guy, sitting in virtual darkness after a Welsh win in the rugger and content with cups of tea? Have I had a 'moment of clarity' as the A.A. bores would say? Or have I suffered a 'gwedd newidiad' (divine change) as my grandmother would have put it? Well a firm NO is the answer, much to the frustration of my doctor should she ever read this. Now to make this pretty dull sounding announcement sound a leeetle bit more interesting, I am in fact in the middle of an experiment (cue a big 'Ooooh!' from my dear readers.)
Please God! Let it end...
Oh im not mixing chemicals in the hope of discovering some nefarious, trippy substance and neither am I attempting some rustic form of alchemy in the faint hope of creating gold. Nothing so exciting im afraid. No, what I am trying to do is find out if a saturday, and rugby international saturday to boot (pun intended,) can be enjoyed if one remains completely SOBER.
I admit this may not sound like a big challenge to normal people (although tell me what is 'normal' these days) but to me, the type of guy who doesn't merely like a few drinks but loves guzzling GALLONS of the stuff almost nightly, it IS a big deal. Im not alcoholic (and no smart ass better say 'yet') because im happy, or happy~ish, sticking with herbal tea but I do so LOVE getting sozzled. Plowed. Shamboozled. Pickled. Seven sheets to the wind.
So how was it? Well lets be straight, up until 3pm I was fine but I figured I would be as I dont usually begin drinking 'til after 6pm anyway, so no trouble there. While the clock slowly (REALLY slowly) ticked off the minutes however, AFTER 3pm I found my mind wondering how good beginning the blotto journey would be. And seeing crowds clutching pint glasses in the coverage of the Italy v France game didn't do me any favours. Strange how a minute BEFORE 3pm my mind was thinking about new poetry ideas, then suddenly WHAM! Almost a second past 3pm and my thoughts had strayed into fields of bottles and pretty wine glasses where damsels skipped half naked and all of them after me.
I wasn't OBSSESSING over booze before any wannabe shrink starts getting ideas above their station, I was simply fancying one. Well ten. I was happy with the tea of course but it wasn't growing my c**k if you get my meaning. And after the Italians beat the French in a suprising but well deserved win, it was around 4:30pm and oh how I wished I was in Rome! The food! The celebrations! The history! The beer! Yes it was becoming a near constant thought by now and I was shocked at how much we Brits (because its NOT just ME) have associated the weekends with getting blitzed! To some of us, those who still have hungers, desires and fire in their guts, a sober saturday is like spending a week in the best orgy that ever was without genitals. We have conditioned ourselves to getting absolutely, sh!t searingly (sh!t searingly?) toasted on a saturday.
Needless to say I spent the entire Wales v Ireland match with half my mind wishing it was sunday when normal service would resume. Now here it must be said again (because armchair psycholgists are such stubborn creatures) that I wasn't curled up in the foetal position, sweating buckets and seeing pink elephants. I hadn't had a drink in days and was in fact enjoying alternating between the blackcurrant squash and teas but geez my heart was aching for a pint. (Its okay for hearts to yearn for a drink, its when the soul begins the same habits one has cause to start to worry.)
Wales won due to some luck but every team needs luck now and then, so that was great. I would have hated trying to drown my sorrows on chamomile tea. Come 7pm my tongue (and no doubt liver) was really starting to feel dry and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was wasting a day. Again I dont think im alone in feeling this way as most people (the fiery types I mentioned earlier) are like bowels without sh!t when they spend saturday dry. And Wales WON and someone is still abstaining! Perish the thought! At times we are so much similar to machines in our behaviour, needing most things to come in routine and order. We are frightened of abandoning all plans and leaving life to the perils of chance. Weekends are proof of this.
So what has come over me? Why is this normally on~his~sixth~pint~by~now guy, sitting in virtual darkness after a Welsh win in the rugger and content with cups of tea? Have I had a 'moment of clarity' as the A.A. bores would say? Or have I suffered a 'gwedd newidiad' (divine change) as my grandmother would have put it? Well a firm NO is the answer, much to the frustration of my doctor should she ever read this. Now to make this pretty dull sounding announcement sound a leeetle bit more interesting, I am in fact in the middle of an experiment (cue a big 'Ooooh!' from my dear readers.)
Please God! Let it end...Oh im not mixing chemicals in the hope of discovering some nefarious, trippy substance and neither am I attempting some rustic form of alchemy in the faint hope of creating gold. Nothing so exciting im afraid. No, what I am trying to do is find out if a saturday, and rugby international saturday to boot (pun intended,) can be enjoyed if one remains completely SOBER.
I admit this may not sound like a big challenge to normal people (although tell me what is 'normal' these days) but to me, the type of guy who doesn't merely like a few drinks but loves guzzling GALLONS of the stuff almost nightly, it IS a big deal. Im not alcoholic (and no smart ass better say 'yet') because im happy, or happy~ish, sticking with herbal tea but I do so LOVE getting sozzled. Plowed. Shamboozled. Pickled. Seven sheets to the wind.
So how was it? Well lets be straight, up until 3pm I was fine but I figured I would be as I dont usually begin drinking 'til after 6pm anyway, so no trouble there. While the clock slowly (REALLY slowly) ticked off the minutes however, AFTER 3pm I found my mind wondering how good beginning the blotto journey would be. And seeing crowds clutching pint glasses in the coverage of the Italy v France game didn't do me any favours. Strange how a minute BEFORE 3pm my mind was thinking about new poetry ideas, then suddenly WHAM! Almost a second past 3pm and my thoughts had strayed into fields of bottles and pretty wine glasses where damsels skipped half naked and all of them after me.
I wasn't OBSSESSING over booze before any wannabe shrink starts getting ideas above their station, I was simply fancying one. Well ten. I was happy with the tea of course but it wasn't growing my c**k if you get my meaning. And after the Italians beat the French in a suprising but well deserved win, it was around 4:30pm and oh how I wished I was in Rome! The food! The celebrations! The history! The beer! Yes it was becoming a near constant thought by now and I was shocked at how much we Brits (because its NOT just ME) have associated the weekends with getting blitzed! To some of us, those who still have hungers, desires and fire in their guts, a sober saturday is like spending a week in the best orgy that ever was without genitals. We have conditioned ourselves to getting absolutely, sh!t searingly (sh!t searingly?) toasted on a saturday.
Needless to say I spent the entire Wales v Ireland match with half my mind wishing it was sunday when normal service would resume. Now here it must be said again (because armchair psycholgists are such stubborn creatures) that I wasn't curled up in the foetal position, sweating buckets and seeing pink elephants. I hadn't had a drink in days and was in fact enjoying alternating between the blackcurrant squash and teas but geez my heart was aching for a pint. (Its okay for hearts to yearn for a drink, its when the soul begins the same habits one has cause to start to worry.)
Wales won due to some luck but every team needs luck now and then, so that was great. I would have hated trying to drown my sorrows on chamomile tea. Come 7pm my tongue (and no doubt liver) was really starting to feel dry and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was wasting a day. Again I dont think im alone in feeling this way as most people (the fiery types I mentioned earlier) are like bowels without sh!t when they spend saturday dry. And Wales WON and someone is still abstaining! Perish the thought! At times we are so much similar to machines in our behaviour, needing most things to come in routine and order. We are frightened of abandoning all plans and leaving life to the perils of chance. Weekends are proof of this.
Tuesday, 19 October 2010
Great Britain versus America
Now don't get carried away with the title, im not suggesting a massive dust up between Brits and Americans involving blood and bullets. Im talking about the much less lethal sport events and how we differ in what we enjoy. (Mind you sporting events can turn out pretty lethal in their own way.)
Here in good old Blighty the most popular sports are football (soccer) and cricket, with rugby and perhaps snooker also having a healthy share of fans. Whilst across the pond our American cousins prefer NFL (American football) baseball and basketball. Golf is enjoyed on both sides of the Atlantic but really can't compete with football, British or American.
But there is no avoiding the sporting snobbery which exists between the two countries. Some examples; over here you get people laughing at the MLB (Major Baseball League), calling it 'rounders', or we call the NFL (American football) rugby for softies who have to wear pads and helmets. And don't ask about the ridicule that NASCAR enjoys ('enjoy' probably being not the right word.)
And in the United States cricket is too boring and the five day games are not to their liking. Also soccer is too soft Stateside. (I agree with them there.)
Its great to hear of 'crossover' fans like someone in Arizona loving rugby or someone in Haverfordwest having a baseball fixation. At times the differences in sport make for a successful translation and people simply 'get it.' I myself am a good example because I love a decent hockey match or a quick blast of basketball on a games console. In fact videogames are a great way to introduce people to new sports, it was certainly my gateway into golf, basketball and NFL.
I think the only sport which has been hugely popular in both countries is wrestling and thats more pantomime than real sport. Im not bashing it, im simply saying its not a sport like rugby or NHL.
Its a shame a lot of us will not even attempt to get into a different sport or try to understand them better because if we did the sports would get new fans and more appreciation. Everyone would be a winner. I urge you dear reader to try it sometime. Maybe a Brit can get into baseball or somone in the USA get a taste for darts. It must be so bland being a sporting snob.
Here in good old Blighty the most popular sports are football (soccer) and cricket, with rugby and perhaps snooker also having a healthy share of fans. Whilst across the pond our American cousins prefer NFL (American football) baseball and basketball. Golf is enjoyed on both sides of the Atlantic but really can't compete with football, British or American.
But there is no avoiding the sporting snobbery which exists between the two countries. Some examples; over here you get people laughing at the MLB (Major Baseball League), calling it 'rounders', or we call the NFL (American football) rugby for softies who have to wear pads and helmets. And don't ask about the ridicule that NASCAR enjoys ('enjoy' probably being not the right word.)
And in the United States cricket is too boring and the five day games are not to their liking. Also soccer is too soft Stateside. (I agree with them there.)
Its great to hear of 'crossover' fans like someone in Arizona loving rugby or someone in Haverfordwest having a baseball fixation. At times the differences in sport make for a successful translation and people simply 'get it.' I myself am a good example because I love a decent hockey match or a quick blast of basketball on a games console. In fact videogames are a great way to introduce people to new sports, it was certainly my gateway into golf, basketball and NFL.
I think the only sport which has been hugely popular in both countries is wrestling and thats more pantomime than real sport. Im not bashing it, im simply saying its not a sport like rugby or NHL.
Its a shame a lot of us will not even attempt to get into a different sport or try to understand them better because if we did the sports would get new fans and more appreciation. Everyone would be a winner. I urge you dear reader to try it sometime. Maybe a Brit can get into baseball or somone in the USA get a taste for darts. It must be so bland being a sporting snob.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)