Football A

My interest in the round ball game is more than half-hearted, but less than full-on: mainly I confine myself to the Premiership and the pan-European club scene. The way the game is played nowadays is fascinating: the players achieve an amazing standard and there are times when one finds it difficult to believe one’s eyes – technically. However, because they are all getting so good, more often than not a type of stalemate develops. There is still the same shortage of what I call the Gerrard Factor: the player who gets the ball and immediately launches the killer pass which creates a goal-scoring opportunity before the opposition has time to react. It requires constant thought, great skill and terrific courage. Nowadays one should perhaps call it the Liverpool Factor – up front Suarez is perhaps the best I have ever seen.

Incidentally, I think the round-ball authorities would be well-advised to speed up the introduction of hightec machinery to assist in the fight against dishonesty and error. I get the impression that nowadays crookedness is working very hard to secure an even stronger foothold within every sort of sport. Perhaps the naughty people are simply reacting to the hardships they experience as a result of the recession – maybe they feel the pain just like the rest of us. If so, the need for eternal vigilance in sport is greater than ever. Racing seems to be in a good place in this regard.

Football B

Rugby Union: I lament the passing of the passing game. I abhor the “testudo” with an intense abhorrence:  eight giants, locked together in an embrace, attempting to force their way through an identical formation of opponents. And is the ball clutched to the bosom of the heroic leader of the group that has possession? Not a bit of it! The ball is skulking under the arm of the rearmost of the eight, being smuggled forward like a consignment of narcotic contraband.  In better days, the seven “escorts” would have been deemed offside, and quite rightly so.

And another thing: I missed the first half of England v Ireland, during which just one 3-point penalty was scored. I bet I know what went on. England has the ball: one pass, one yard gained, smash-down, one pass, one yard gained, smash-down, one pass….  Smash-down is when they all dive on top of each other and wrestle. Then the Irish get the ball and they do the same thing.  What a waste of forty minutes.

The second half was comparatively brilliant, and on several occasions brilliant with a brilliance of the highest quality, but the first half begs a question. If team A adopts a snail’s pace process which ends in stalemate, why does team B adopt exactly the same process in reply? There used to be a variety of ways to deal with a charging bull apart from beating one’s head against it. In fact there was a time when beating one’s head against a charging bull was considered rather a stupid way of making progress when playing a game which offers so many alternative options.

The Starting Gate

Let us ignore the 2.55 at Haydock on February 15^th when 14 runners were compressed into four close-packed layers (4,3,4 and 3) and required to revolve in small circles half a dozen times while waiting for the moment of truth. As everybody knows, in those circumstances those on the inner of the circle mark time and those on the outer have to trot, intermittently, in keep up, and all concerned (horses and jockeys) are subjected to discomfort which no trainer would sanction on his home turf.

Let us forget, I say, the 2.55 at Haydock on Feb.15. Let us move straight on Feb. 22 and the Eider Chase at Newcastle.

Now I was again late switching channels because I was finding Scotland versus Italy compulsive (has anybody ever seen a better drop goal under pressure than Mr Weir’s match-winning flourish?)

I was late, and thus missed the majority of the preliminaries down at the Newcastle start, but what I saw was amazing: sixteen horses walking! They were walking in a bunch, but under no compulsion; horses calm and relaxed, jockeys calm, relaxed and not in the least bit anxious about the possibility of missing the break.  They were walking behind the starter’s assistant who was there to encourage an atmosphere of tranquillity and good order, and he was doing a perfect job. As the walking field approached the starting gate, it spread out as each jockey took the position he wanted, and the starter’s assistant removed himself from the line of fire – walking!

In a word, the process was good and the start was faultless.

If this is the beginning of something beautiful, I congratulate those responsible. But I won’t count  chickens or hand out  bouquets until we see what Cheltenham serves up.

The nuts and bolt of what is meant by “on level terms” is probably not the most entertaining aspect of the English language at work, but it’s important. From the Boat race to the Olympic 100 Metres final, it is accepted by civilised man that in every type of racing every participant must receive the same treatment in the period before the gun fires, the klaxon sounds, the tapes rise. Whatever form the signal may take, before that signal is issued all competitors are equal, and all organisers of sport throughout the world accept that they are under an obligation to ensure that that equality is provided.

All organisers of sport, apart from the British Horseracing Authority, on those occasions when its executives are faced by National Hunt races with large fields. In the case of such races the BHA deploys a procedure which enforces inequality, by insisting that a processional format is employed which favours those in front and penalises those behind. It compounds the inequality by insisting that, at certain stages, when delay is deemed necessary, the procession shall rotate in small circles, a process which upsets horses and jockeys alike, but not equally: those horses nearest the centre of the wheeling mass are upset a bit, and those towards the outer extremity of each rank are more seriously discomfited, because they have further to go, and consequently have to change gait from walk to trot and back again, just to keep up. As for the unfortunate jockeys, they are constantly aware that if they are in the wrong segment of the circle when the field is finally given the “Go” signal, they will find themselves ten lengths or more behind the leaders from stride one.

I told you it was boring, but it is also serious. As long as races can be won or lost by as little as an inch, inequality at the start must have, and does have, serious consequences.

Remember the tedium of the three preceding paragraphs when you find yourselves at Cheltenham, or watching the Festival on TV. You will then be in a perfect position to make a judgement as to the merit of this voice crying in the wilderness.

Back to Rugby Union…..

The referees are having a problem making the scrum procedure work. The objective is a meeting of the skulls that is gradual, considerate and secure, so that the re-start can be achieved tidily and without undue delay. They control the procedure with three words of command: something along the lines of “Crouch”, “Touch” and “Engage”.

As the referee is standing less than a yard from the massed skulls, he could issue these commands in conversational tones without risking misunderstanding. Instead, quite often the ref starts with a bark and builds up to a roar. No wonder the forwards get the impression that they being encouraged to behave like King Kong, and the proceedings degenerate as a result.

The Weather

Running jumpers on very deep ground is exhausting, and calls for urgent review by trainers of the number of races a horse can stand, and of the interval advisable between races. In addition, the tracks themselves can only take so much punishment. Add those factors to the longterm prognostications of the weathermen, then take on board the hint offered by Wimbledon and the Millenium Stadium, and what should one be thinking about?

Run your horses in France? At Auteuil the ground is as heavy as it is here (but the prize-money is mouth-watering. Please, please, Mr Bittar, your people need you!). We find the same conditions at Cagnes-sur-Mer, and we are not sure about Pau.

So where does one turn? First one has to guess whether the new weather is going to last for 500,000 years. If the answer is “yes”, one might have to consider a considerable shift in the Racing calendar. Starting with contingency plans in case certain months become habitually unraceable, one might gradually develop a whole new ball game. It could have advantages. For example, any change that made the Cheltenham, Aintree, Punchestown triathlon impossible would be extremely popular among the horse population.

Incidentally, John Porter’s father was a tailor, his mother a dressmaker. Coincidentally, that other genius, Samuel Pepys, was also the son of a tailor.

Best wishes,

Donec.