Sailing…even that looks tasty right now. I’m so hungry. Its like that Olympic torch is a massive fucking cone piece burning the sweetest sensimilla into my gasping lungs.
I like how genuine and well spoken the sailors are. Australia just won gold. Three in two days. The English reporters are patronizing us. ‘I’m sure you will be on the front page of every paper in Australia tomorrow’. Oh please. Other things happen in Australia other than sailors winning medals. Just because you have a sweet Olympic team does not mean you can treat us like Tunisia. We beat you in everything a decade ago and we’ll do it again. Now fuck off.
Speaking of fuck off, how about Usain Bolt. He is fuck off fast isn’t he? I like the fact that Jamaican people are the fastest people in the world. Bolt is so good that I am scared if he does get this trial at Man U that he will end up being the greatest footballer of all time. He is the Kanye of athletics. I want to hate him but he is just too good.
One thing I did hear about Usain Bolt is that he has fifteen advisors. What the fuck does Usain Bolt need fifteen advisors for? I can see him having an agent, a manager, a few coaches, a media advisor, a couple of security guards, a few homies and some crumpet, but I don’t see what he needs fifteen advisors for.
There is far too much of a break between events in the Decathlon. Yeah I get they are the masters of Track & Field but there is no need for the break. They should do one thing after another. The break makes them look weak.
There is a melancholy to the Track and Field events at the Olympics. A melancholy which comes from the fact that the Track and Field not only represents the fastest and most skilled on a dry, outdoor surface, but the final week of the Olympic Games. It’s the business end of the season. It is the climax of the action movie. The volcano scene in You Only Live Twice. The penalty shootout at the end of England v Argentina at France 98. I need to get my fix before my dealer dies and turns into Underbelly. I don’t care what I watch. Water polo is okay with me. The more synchronized swimming the better. Field Hockey? It’ll have to do. Just give it to me. I’m a fiend yo. Give me that sugar.
When the Olympics end things are going to be more normal. Diving will be associated with depression and self-pity instead of grace and precision. Gold will represent a witty remark rather than a nation uniting achievement. Its how things are supposed to be.
Things are real silly at the moment but it’s going to be over soon. Either enjoy it while it lasts or shut the fuck up. This is the time for glory. Either link up or shut up. See you next week..
I love sport. I love watching it, I love talking about it, I love what it does to people, I love the passion, the psychology. I love sport.
I don’t really play much sport these days. As I mentioned in my previous post I have gone a little hard on myself in the last decade or so and am good for about fifteen minutes before I need to pack it in and go to the pub. In recent weeks I have tried to rectify this by going to the gym (almost) daily. I have noticed a definite improvement in my general fitness and energy levels, which means by the next football season I may be able to do a solid ninety minutes in a division 42 comp. Time will tell.
Since August I have been living in a nice place in Camperdown with two rather sporty men. Gene, when not selling high quality Australian designed wicker furniture for Lavita, coaches a ladies football team and plays opens football. He had a sparkling couple of seasons in the late 90’s (maybe early 2000’s, sorry if I got that wrong) for the now defunct Sydney Olympic. Gene loves football almost definitely more than anyone else I know. He supports Man U, which is a shame, but his passion for Cantona/Fergie makes it almost understandable.
Mikey is a basketball fan. He likes to watch the games in Genes room because he has an IQ box up there so whenever he sees a play he likes he can rewind it, watch it back and squeal like an eleven year old at a Bieber instore. Mikey goes for the Boston Celtics in the NBA but he also watches college ball and plays several times a week with the Asian boys down near Central station. He is dedicated. Mikey loves Basketball and in return Basketball loves Mikey.
I myself am not really into Basketball. My main sports are football (soccer to all you AFL/NRL obsessed weirdos), cricket and darts. I casually observe Rugby League and I follow the Canterbury Bankstown Bulldogs. I am in an NRL tipping comp at work and I do OK.
Cricket is the best GAME in the world (note: football is not a game, it is a year long obsession). Since I was a tot I have been attending the Sydney test in January with my Grandfather, Brother, Uncles, Friends and other random folk I only ever see at the SCG. When I first dropped out of high school one of my first jobs was doing the SCG/SFS Sports Space tours with my sport/Australiana-obsessed uncle Loz. I learned heaps about the culture of the game. The people, some long dead, who have created the feeling almost everyone gets when they arrive at any of those venues. I learned its not just about the game, its about the people. The fans create the vibe. The fans generate the money. The fans build up the egos. The fans watch it all unfold.
Last year I developed a taste for a sport, which offers something completely different to the sporting palette: Darts.
What I like about darts other than the suspense, mathematics, music, chicks, lager and spectacle is the fact that no matter how fat, lazy or drunken you may get, with a little bit of practice and a shitload of aim you too can be a professional athlete. It’s comforting. My introduction to darts came at a time where I was letting myself go a bit. Cooking mushrooms for breakfast with a dickload of butter a cream. Clem’s fried chicken and potato bake for dinner. Drinking way too much. Darts for me became an outlet for my flabby, lazy, chain-smoking ass. I too can be like Kevin ‘The Artist’ Painter, Ted ‘The Count’ Hankey or Simon ‘The Wizard’ Whitlock. These guys don’t work out. They eat deep fried food, they drink, they are going bald but they are on top of the world. Athletes? Probably not. Heroes? Absolutely.
When I worked for the SCG I went and watched the Sydney Swans play the Adelaide Crows in the AFL. The game was fast paced, the atmosphere was electric, and the crowd was colorful. It should have converted me but for some reason it didn’t. Maybe I found it too twee and Melbourney. Maybe I found the rules a little stupid. Basically I got the same feeling from AFL that I get from wrestling or beach volleyball, a great spectacle but as I have no connection with it I simply at the end of the day couldn’t give a fuck.
Which leads me back to Football. I have supported Arsenal for as long as I can remember. My dad supports Arsenal (however he has admitted to me he followed West Brom for six months in 1969 after they won the FA cup), my brother supports Arsenal, I want my kids to support Arsenal. I generally get along with anyone who supports Arsenal even if it’s the only thing we have in common. I lived in North London for a while a few years ago. I get the club.
Between 2006-2010 my interest waned slightly for my club/football in general. I was busy with music. Nothing else really mattered to me then. Playing in a band, starting new projects, hanging out pretty much exclusively with musicians. Music was my life. Football to me then was a distraction. Music was truth and musicians had the answers. From about 2011 I stopped playing as much. Two bands I was in (Warhorse and Arkestra) broke up and other things became important to me like my job and a new relationship. I suddenly found myself going out less and moving in with Gene and Mikey. The day I moved in Gene and I watched the replay of Manchester United v Arsenal. United beat us 8-2. It was the bollocking of the century and the first full Arsenal match I had watched in about a year but strangely enough all the old feelings came rushing back. In that hiding my passion came back louder than ever. I just wanted the best for my boys. I wanted every other Gooner in the world to recover and unite after this. I also remember how much I fucking hate United.
I guess the point of all this is I know heaps of people who couldn’t give a fuck about any sport. That’s ok. I apologize if you see me around and I am talking to Ben or Oscar or Fence or Nick or Dan about Hulk’s 100 Million-Euro release clause or how Walcott plays better coming through the middle. I’m sorry you are so bored with this stupid conversation you don’t get but the truth is this is a life and a love truer than anything else. Sport will always come back to you and it will NEVER go out of fashion.
Until next time..