Review: The NFL At Wembley In 2013
And so we come to the end of another International Series of games of American Football at Wembley which means we can write a quick review of the state of play of the sport in England pleasing both people who might one day search just to see what some guy in Portsmouth thought of the whole thing. NFL: No Fun League For reasons best known only to themselves the NFL have decided that going to a game of football should progressively become more and more like an automated chore rather than any kind of enjoyable experience. The plan to turn attendees into an army of Roger Goodell’s Patented Money-Parting Zombies continues at a fair pace. This year’s new ruling included a vast list of what could and could not be taken into the game which ultimately boiled down to: yourself, one small, clear carrier bag with, a small “non-professional” (sigh) camera around your neck. Let’s take these in order: Yourself: I get this one. This one’s quite important. But to be fair, this one’s one that sports fans are going to want to follow so it’s a bit of a no-brainer. One clear bag: I appreciate that you don’t want people turning up with a week’s worth of shopping as that can be a bit of a nightmare when walking up stairs but it’s a bit draconian and it’s based on an American understanding of who will want to attend the game. In America fans will go and watch their team because they happen to live near the place (near in American terms, at least). This isn’t the case for London. A lot of people go to watch the game as part of a day out because we don’t all live in London. There are people there from all over the UK and wide areas of Europe too. And it’s really quite an expensive day out. In previous years we’ve made the NFL games a great experience by taking the train up to London, seeing some of the sights, doing the whole tourist thing, bumping into other American Football fans doing the same thing, then making our way to the game. These new rules ruin most of that as we can now no longer risk buying a small souvenir at some historic place because the bag isn’t clear or some other stupid rule. This rule doesn’t work for a large section of fans at all. Why one clear bag, anyway? Oh, it’s to stop people bringing in bombs and knives and sniper rifles and by limiting the number of bags it prevents clutter disrupting people’s enjoyment in the stadium....
Sports Bar
Another dip into my photo archives to see what I can resurrect from previously unprocessed or too simply processed or otherwise rejected shots and this is a picture of Churchill's, the sports bar on the Diamond Princess which was the ship we cruised on during our honeymoon in 2008. This was taken on the first day of cruising out of Hong Kong, which was the second day of playing with my then brand new Tokina f/4 12-24mm on the Canon 350D. It was early in the morning and we'd headed down to the bar specifically to watch some live American Football. We knew that Churchill's was the only place on board where you could smoke indoors and we knew that it was possible to buy cigars there; neither I nor my wife were or are smokers but we both thought it might be an experience to sit in an American sports bar, watching some football, maybe sipping on a bourbon, and allowing the smell of cigar smoke from some other patrons to add to ambience. Sadly, what we got was an inability to get any drink from anybody and only two other passengers plus a steady stream of staff members who nipped in to have quick – and decidedly revolting-smelling – cigarettes. Not what we were after. Google+: View post on...
The Dartboard
A processed (no, really!) photo from the Coach and Horses pub in Hilsea we went to yesterday to enjoy some drinks and a meal with my dad, my brother, and his wife. While we were waiting for them to arrive I saw the nicely-lit dartboard behind my wife's head and took a shot. Submitted for yesterday's (day 4) +Monthly PAD Challenge as well as today's #SportsSunday (yes, darts is a sport, damnit!). Because I'm cheeky like that. Google+: View post on...
America – Part 2 – Massachusetts
When we originally made plans to visit America it has to be admitted that no part of the Massachusetts area was on our radar at any point but then something rather nice happened. We discovered that my sister-in-law’s fiancé supported the New England Patriots and he discovered that I too supported that particular American Football team. It gets better. He – perhaps wanting to make a good impression on future family members, perhaps looking for a good excuse to go himself – tracked down tickets to a Monday night football game. He also arranged for internal flights, hotel, and car hire. This saved us having to do any of this ourselves. And so it was that I, my wife, and my wife’s future brother-in-law (my wife’s sister had to work so couldn’t come along) flew from Baltimore to Boston just two days after arriving in America. Baltimore To Boston I’ve already talked about travelling in America in the first part of this series of posts but just to give you a quick feel for this flight: awful internal security measures as per every American airport and then a quick flight with a cabin crew from Atlanta, Georgia whose intercom skill level rated at a Grade S (for screech!); I’m not exaggerating when I say that everyone jumped every time there was an announcement of some description. Anyway, it was mercifully short. Some Booking Mishaps Now, I’d like to make it very clear here that we – that’s my wife and I – did not arrange anything. I’d like to point out that all minor disasters were not of our doing. I’d like to add that we blame nobody and had a great time anyway. From Boston airport we hopped on a shuttle bus (with a driver who overheard our accents and insisted we come sit up front with him) to the Budget car rental lot where our hire car was waiting. Our hire car was not waiting for us. Computer checks were made, names were spelt out, checks were made again, names were double-checked, and then – finally – the printout of the car hire confirmation was retrieved from a bag to show that, yes, we were in the wrong car hire place entirely. We hopped on another shuttle bus to take us back to the airport in order that we could then hop on a third shuttle bus to take us to the correct car rental location but the first driver heard our sorry story and let us off near where we needed to go (so big thumbs up to the car rental people at Budget in Boston)...
Football Terrace Songs
Attend a football match and you’ll hear singing and chanting from all around you. You won’t be joining in because carrying on the chant into a new verse or repetition of the chorus when everyone else instinctively knows to stop – thereby isolating your rather weedy-by-comparison vocal strength, inability to hold a note, and apparent misunderstanding of what exactly those lyrics were anyway, and ensuring a swift turning of heads for rows in either direction followed by mocking laughter – is something you only ever do once; the fear controls your actions thence onwards. Have you ever wondered just why certain teams’ fans seem to like to sing certain songs at football matches? Are you wondering it now that I’ve put the thought into your head? What about now? If the answer is "yes" or "oh, just get on with it" then you’re in luck because you’ve arrived at the right page on the internet. Liverpool – You’ll Never Walk Alone Get yourself along to Liverpool’s Anfield football stadium, or watch Liverpool on the television and you could be forgiven for thinking that Liverpool fans sit politely in silence for entire games. In fact, this is only nearly true. Pay special attention and you will find that if Liverpool are actually winning (it happens sometimes) and the game is within the third minute or more of extra time then a tiny core of Liverpool fans who decided to remain will almost certainly strike up a chorus of this maudlin showtune from the musical Carousel. The adoption of the song by Liverpool F.C.’s fans is purely coincidental. The first purpose-built cinema was not opened in Liverpool until February 1957. Prior to that date a mobile screening of the popular movies of the day took place in a number of venues around the city, including one in the Kop stand of Anfield. The very last movie to be shown in the football stadium was Carousel (although it was scheduled to be The King And I which could have changed footballing history considerably) and in an unusual show of emotion the Liverpudlians who liked both films and football decided to honour the former at so-called spectacles of the latter by performing the entire score during the eighty-five minutes of lull in the game. It was only in the nineteen seventies, with the earlier arrival of entertaining Emlyn "Crazy Horse" Hughes and his hilarious, in-game grass-eating antics that the number of songs was reduced to a more manageable one: the dirge "You’ll Never Walk Alone". Portsmouth – The Pompey Chimes It’s a simple chant – Play Up Pompey, Pompey Play Up – and...
World’s Worst Sports Events
I’m something of a sports fan. Something is about as descriptive a term as I can come up with. I like sports. Well, I like watching sports. Taking part is another thing altogether. That leaves you hot and sweaty and in pain in several areas of your body where you didn’t protect yourself adequately. I get enough of that from bi-weekly tramp-raping as it is, thank you very much. I don’t like all sports or sporting events, though. This is because I’m a discerning sports fan. I like sports that make sense and produce excitement or admiration for the exposure of sporting prowess. It may be a bit of a stretch for me to label those that fall outside my personal realm of worthy sports as the "world’s worst sports events" but I’m nothing if not full of my own importance. Basketball Basketball is a sport that appeals to – and actively discriminates against those of us who are not – freaks of nature: failed high-jumpers; the offspring of medieval torture-rack victims; aberrations in the eyes of God; stunt doubles for that head alien at the end of Close Encounters Of The Third Kind: Pick An Edition, Any Edition. Basically, people who shop at Tall And Gangly are drawn to Basketball. The rules of the sporting event, as I have determined them, are: Team A scores Team B scores Repeat until owners of building throw everyone out The excitement in basketball only comes when you’re really tired, lost track of the score somewhere around 480-478, are barely able to keep your eyes open, and your brain tranposes the figures of galumphing, inelegant mutants on the court in front of you with giraffes. Suddenly you’re in the heart of Africa and the animals are bouncing balls with their long beaks (I don’t know much about giraffes to be honest) and the sport has taken on a whole new, thrilling meaning! It means… you’re losing it big time! Quite frankly, there are quicker, less tedious ways to experience hallucinatory highs. Baseball One of the reasons I’ve heard cited for why the sport known as football to the vast majority of the world or the sport known as cricket to everyone in the world have never really taken off and become super-popular in America is that these sports lack the high-scoring and high levels of thrillomatic thrillgasms present in really thrilling sports like basketball (which we now know has none). And, apparently, that’s a precondition to something being enjoyed by Her Majesty’s Canada’s neighbours. Yet, perversely, Americans (and, yes, other weirdos around the world too (I’m looking at you Japan, you tentacled-girl-loving...
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