Category: Sport

How to watch sport

I’ve found that it’s a mistake to watch sport on a TV channel based in the home country of one of the teams. The persistent omniscience and triumphalism/despair spoil the game completely, especially when half the experts have mysteriously metamorphosed from dirty foulers to tactical wizards .

So for the Euros I’m selecting a German station for Denmark/Holland and England/France and sticking to the Danish coverage of Sweden/Ukraine. And any non-teutonic channel will do for Germany/Portugal!

I realise that few cherished fans have such an agony of choice but that will all change when the United States of Europe control all TV programmes.  Remember you read it first on the chariot!

9º

Good grief it’s cold!

This is about as cold as it gets, as I left the pub where we watched the rugby my car was showing 9º Centigrade, factor in the wind chill perhaps an effective 4º, it’s also pouring with rain, most unpleasant.

Perhaps you’d think that a 22 – 17 Springbok victory would cheer me up, well…. yes and no.

I had 22 – 12 in the pool, that was the score when the full time hooter sounded, I had the result on the nose!

But then Ben Foden touched down in the 82nd minute to spoil what was in any case a glorious afternoon.

Jo’burg next week and then right here in Algoa Bay on the 23rd, can’t wait!

 

Superbrat didn’t sweat

There’s a few traits about today’s tennis professionals that make me want to shout. They are so fussy about the balls they receive before they serve. They’ll have three in their hand and after analysing them will discard a few to the slave ball boy. Honestly these sportsmen are a spoiled lot; they should see the balls I play with. Also, the rejected balls are rolled along the ground to the ball boys forcing the child to stoop to pick them up. What’s up with bouncing the balls back to the ball boys? Give the ball boys a break, for goodness sake. Continue reading “Superbrat didn’t sweat”

The minor league tennis champion

Summer-lovin’- self-pity- reluctant acceptance- minefield- Oh I say!- there’s always one- a knife scraping on a plate- as bad as Murray’s maw- Doctor, Doctor, I’ve got tennis elbow- non-rugby conversion- love fifteen – mega bucks

In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love, in the summer it turns to tennis. Without bumping my gums too much, if I had a bigger serve you’d never have heard of Jamie Murray. Failing to make it at the highest level hasn’t bothered me and my life took on a new career track. Continue reading “The minor league tennis champion”

Know wha’ I mean, ‘Arry?

It’s a regular event much anticipated by so many (even if not here!): the mouth-watering appointment of a new England footie manager. After Capellogate and while the incident-prone Terry continues to amuse, the pundits were certain that our ‘Arry (er, Redknapp, if you don’t read the sports news) would get the nod from the sweet FA. Continue reading “Know wha’ I mean, ‘Arry?”

Ironman 2012 Port Elizabeth

2012 Volunteer

Just finished my first shift marshaling this years Ironman South Africa. which is being held right here in Algoa Bay for the 8th consecutive year.

A 3.8km swim, 180.2km cycle followed by a 42.2km run.

The weather is awful, cold, a strong westerly wind and occasional showers (it poured down early this morning.)

Although the lead cyclist only came past our intersection at 8.15am my crew and I were on station from 5.30am. We had the road closed by 6.00am and spent the rest of the morning fielding inquiries from motorists, most of whom were quite reasonable about the whole thing, as always we had the odd idiot who thought that he was more important than the wellbeing of the almost 2000 entrants but we’re quite adept at handling them and all in all things have gone rather well so far.

I’ll head back at about 1.30pm and help finish off the last hour or so.

I might just catch 40 winks in the meantime 😉

Only four days left

That is, if you fancy your chances of winning the Chariot’s exciting Easter pome competition (or if you just like messing with words).

There are plenty of targets at which to aim your vitriol, I’m sure – or on which to lavish your praises too. From the Tideway Twerp to Shivnarine Chanderpaul, from Assad to Bubba, from Balotelli to Joseph Aloisius Ratzinger. The very stuff of the classic cinquain.

Backside

Alter ego

Never looks back

Can’t avoid his gaze

Pest

Monkey Business

Monkey was a ‘give away’ associated with a popular brand of tea ( CORRECTION INSERTED: on the TV ad, any fule kno that Johnny Vegas is the straight man to Monkey who is actually voiced by Ben Miller – the one that looks like Rob Bryden) – my Monkey arrived in a box of tea well before Christmas 2010 and has lived in my car ever since. He’s still wearing his Christmas jumper and I felt it was about time he had something else to wear so I bought him a daffodil.

The daffodil appeal is run every year by Marie Curie, a UK-based charity providing care for those with cancer – in this area they work closely in collaboration with the primary health care teams, most commonly providing night-time nursing to support those who chose to die at home. The care is free to the patient and the family. Some of you may remember I have done sponsored swims in previous years and though I am slow to get going, I plan to do the same again this year! (Now I’ve told you, I shall just have to get on with it…)

Here’s monkey sporting his new daffodil

and listening to his favourite author.