Writelink ... many writers ... one community, online creative writing community for freelance and creative writers

Transferred

With the news that drama queen Christiano Ronaldo is to leave Old Trafford for the Bernabeu (that's where Real Madrid play their home games) I began to wonder about transfer fees.   I love footy. You've probably noticed. But 80 million quid is a ridiculous amount of money for any club to pay for the services of a player who, brilliant though he is, can tumble over an ant wearing the opposition colours. Even the President of UEFA, Michel Platini, a mean forward in his day, commented that it is farcical given the state of football finances. (The transfer fee, I mean, not Ronaldo's diving.)   But it got me to thinking about transfer fees in general. Why are they only limited to sport? Why not other walks of life? For example, when Jeremiah Noteworthy, MP for an allotment on the outskirts of Swanage, defects from New Labour to the Empire Loyalists, do the ELs have to pay a fee? Knowing our politicians, they'd want a cut of the fee, which would inflate it from its true worth of about five quid, to somewhere in the region of Ronaldo's golden goodbye.   Did the Russians cough up a transfer fee when Blunt, Philby, et al defected back in the ... whenever it was? They should have done. Look at what they got: three master spies divulging the plans for Spaghetti Junction.   About a year ago, I was transferred from my cosy sinecure in the yard to driving; did Traffic pay Facilities a sizeable fee. I don't know, but in an effort to find out, I asked the boss last night. "Would Wincanton's pay eighty million sovs for me to work for them?" I asked.   "No," said the gaffer. "We'd have paid them to take you."   Nice to know you're wanted, innit?

Tennis? No Thanks.

Today sees the start of Wimbledon. Regular readers will know that I am a sports fan, but I hate Wimbledon. The game is so prissy. If you want to watch a real sport, played by real men, you should watch football.   Footballers don’t leave the field when there’s a drop of rain, do they? They don’t stop every five minutes for a glass of orange juice and cucumber sandwiches. And when do you see footballers arguing with referees and linesmen about decisions?   Have you seen the tennis league tables? Like golf they’re based on earnings. That’s why all the top British tennis players desert the UK and play in America. Since when do footballers worry about money? And we don’t see Brit footballers deserting these shores, do we? Course not. We bring ’em in from everywhere else in the world.   And when things go wrong, tennis players (and golfers) blame the equipment and the weather. Footballers are real sportsmen: they blame the referee, the crowd and Michel Platini.   If you’re talking sport, keep your tennis and give me footy every time.

Global Marketing

I’ve just watched England stroll to a 4-0 victory against Kazakhstan in the World Cup qualifiers. Fabio’s men never really got out of second gear. And while the Kazaks played with plenty of spirit, they were so naïve even my dog could read their tactics.     For once, however, my concentration wasn’t on the footy, but the advertising hoardings around the ground. There were the usual ones, Bet365, Nationwide, HSBC, which are obviously aimed at armchair fans like me, back in Blighty, and then there was the advert for Pukka Pies     I’m not knocking Pukka Pies, but I would struggle to buy them in Manchester where Hollands Pies rule. What price me picking up a Pukka tate and meaty in downtown Almaty?     I think it’s us writers who have it wrong. Just think what JKR could have done if she’d booked one of the hoardings for the qualifier against Croatia? Harry Potter could have been a worldwide phenomenon.     And what about writers like Tolstoy, Dickens, Shakespeare? If they’d had a bit more nous with their advertising, maybe more people would have heard of them.     But I’ve leaned my lesson. I don’t take sufficient advantage of globalisation. From now on, I’m going upmarket with my advertising, starting with a flyer for The Haunting of Melmerby Manor to be handed round during the match between The Red Lion and the Dog & Duck a week on Sunday.     I’m sure it’ll be a winner.

Foxy Fun

I found this delightful 3-minute clip on aol. It's a fox doing what comes naturally ... playing with a football in someone's garden.   <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDmLXNeTtck">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDmLXNeTtck</a>

IT-oops-V

It's nice to know some thing don't change ... like ITV's appalling output.   In case you're out for the count for the next four weeks, the FIFA World Cup began on Friday and England played the first game last night. Steven Gerard scored four minutes in ... and 13.2 million viewers watching in HD missed the goal while ITV ran an advert.   It was a mistake, but it's not the first time it's happened. There was a cup tie between Liverpool & Everton last season and ITV were so busy showing adverts they missed one of the goals.   40 years ago, I watched the entire World Cup on ITV. The coverage, fronted by the late Bran Moore was top notch, thoroughly professional and missed nothing. These days, I feel certain that if they could get away with it, they would do nothing but put out commercials.   Their output consists by and large of soaps and drivel. Who in their right minds considers a talent contest like BGT to be prime viewing for a weekend evening?  Shouldn't it be drama? Or professional entertainers?   It's all symptomatic of today's mindless, dumbed-down TV, designed to sell products instead of entertain, but it has one wonderful advantage ... it keeps me fitter than butcher's dog reaching for off switch.   BTW, I saw Gerard's goal. I was at a barbie on my sister-in-law's farm and like me she sees no sense in wasting money on HDTV, so watched in ordinary, boring widescreen digital.

Excuses

Regular readers will know that I'm a sports fanatic and when it comes to footy, it's a religion. While the World Cup is on, don't bother me. I haven't missed a single match since 1966 and the only reason I didn't see the matches before then was that we didn't have satellite TV transmissions and my dad wouldn't let me stay up late enough for the games from Chile in 1962.   So over the years, I've watched a lot of excellent football. And I've also heard a lot of excuses for poor play. In 1966 it was a conspiracy to ensure the England won the pot. The same was said in Japan/Korea in 2002. In 1970, it was the Mexican heat and altitude and in 1994 it was the sponsors making sure they got their commercials in on prime time US TV. The only excuse I ever heard that was barely acceptable was Maradona's hand of god in 1986, but even without it, the game would have been a draw.   This time it's the ball, the jabulani.   According to one pundit on the Beeb, trying to excuse England's performance against Uncle Sam, the players say the ball is too round.   I have a couple of questions regarding this startling observation, the first of which is what shape should it be? If it was oval, they'd be playing rugby and if it was square, Rob Green might have got to it before it rolled over the line.   My second question is equally flippant, but more to the point. Which ball are the other team playing with?  There are a good number of answers (many of which are unsuitable for a family site like this) but the reason I ask is that Germany (absolute no hopers this time just like they were in 2002 when they only reached the final before losing) didn't have a problem with the ball last night when they rattled four past the Socceroos.   Similarly, the insect-like drone of the vuvuzelas is putting the players off. Apparently the noise can reach 130 decibels. Concorde on take off only ever managed 110. I thought this would have been an advantage to the players. The ref won't be able to hear their foul language.   Could it be that the real reason we don't do too well at World Cups is because we are distinctly average? We invented television, swore it would never catch on and let John Logie take it America. We even invented teletext and computers, but the world leads the way with both these days. We also invented and refined the game of football, but it didn't take long for the rest of the world to turn it into an art form and we just never caught up.   BTW if the vuvuzelas really are putting them off, they should take a leaf from my book. I take my hearing aids out and switch the subtitles on. They don't bother me.

It's Over

I've been a follower of the beautiful game for almost half a century and I've seen some dour games, but I've never seen a World Cup Final as bad as this year's, and it was all the more disappointing to see the cynicism come from The Netherlands, the nation that invented total football.   After the semi-finals I thought, "yeah, Spain vs Holland: a classic final." And it was: a classic bore. There was little to praise, few of the flashes of brilliance we expected from these two sides, and the only remarkable incidents were a flying karate kick, a plethora of bookings and an appalling miss by Arjen Robben which, if he had been playing in a Chelsea or Bayern shirt, would have been dead and buried.   Sneijder was a shadow of his former self, David Villa barely got a look in and Xabi Alonso will wake this morning with the imprint of Nigel de Jong's studs plastered all over his chest like a tattoo in braille. The most amazing thing about this match was that it took Howard Webb 110 minutes to send anyone off. By my calculations, at least three Dutch players could have been off before half time, and one Spaniard after the break.   The final epitomised the entire tournament. The South African people put on a spectacular, colourful show and no one can doubt their enthusiasm. But it came from the crowds, not the pitch. With a few exceptions (Argentina, Germany, Uruguay, Ghana and some of the smaller nations) the football was drab and uninventive. England can take some comfort (but not much) from the knowledge that they were not the only team to underperform.   In 1970, we had Jairzinho and Gerd Muller, 74 and 78 gave us Total Football, 86 introduced to the genius of Maradona, 98 was the stage of Zidane. What did we get from 2010?  Vuvuzelas. Even the golden boot, awarded to the scorer of the most goals, was a five way tie and had to be decided by the number of assists.   All in all, I'm glad it's over (and when it comes to a footy-fest, that's not something you hear me say often.) The Open tees off on Thursday and the football season gets under way in just over four weeks. Back to normal.   Interesting statistic: only one team came away from the World Cup Finals without losing a match. New Zealand drew all three of their group games.

Sun	Mon	Tue	Wed	Thu	Fri	Sat
29	30	1	2	3	4	5
6	7	8	9	10	11	12
13	14	15	16	17	18	19
20	21	22	23	24	25	26
27	28	29	30	31	1	2
3	4	5	6	7	8	9

Gifts

Awards Center

Home

Members

Videos

Adverts

chat

Music

Photos

Blogs

Forums

Resources

Challenges

Directory

Search result

Sun	Mon	Tue	Wed	Thu	Fri	Sat
29	30	1	2	3	4	5
6	7	8	9	10	11	12
13	14	15	16	17	18	19
20	21	22	23	24	25	26
27	28	29	30	31	1	2
3	4	5	6	7	8	9

Sun	Mon	Tue	Wed	Thu	Fri	Sat
29	30	1	2	3	4	5
6	7	8	9	10	11	12
13	14	15	16	17	18	19
20	21	22	23	24	25	26
27	28	29	30	31	1	2
3	4	5	6	7	8	9

Sun	Mon	Tue	Wed	Thu	Fri	Sat
29	30	1	2	3	4	5
6	7	8	9	10	11	12
13	14	15	16	17	18	19
20	21	22	23	24	25	26
27	28	29	30	31	1	2
3	4	5	6	7	8	9