2009 December « Wait until next year

December 9, 2009

John Lennon’s death, 29 years on

Steven’s post reminded me that today/yesterday is/was the 29^th anniversary of John Lennon’s death.

I was but a baby when Lennon was killed, and so I can’t offer any memories on that day. However, that does mean I was born during a period where the Beatles permeated everything. Parents and teachers were fans, and so the music was there at home (via the records) and at school (where Beatles songs were a handy resource for trendier music teachers). There was no escape, not that I was looking for one.

And as I grew older, the Beatles were a constant reference point, as most bands I cared about would mention them. Without the Beatles, popular music wouldn’t have progressed as it did. That’s not hyperbole, that’s fact. Even if I had doubts over some of their work, I had to respect their influence, and certainly loved many of their songs.

This year, through the remastered versions, I’ve continued my Beatles odyssey and especially loved all the non-hits. Maybe the one problem with the Beatles is their ubiquity. Nothing sounds new if you’ve grown up with the songs. So, to hear the lesser-known album tracks has been wonderful, and the closest I’ll come to experiencing the thrill there must have been in the 60s listening to a new Beatles track for the first time.

Lennon’s death was obviously tragic. One strange side-effect for me is that the complexity of his character has, by many, been glossed over, in favour of some sort of martyrdom, as has happened for many rock/pop stars who died before their time. I think this does the man a disservice.

Someone so caustic and witty shouldn’t be beyond criticism and proper analysis, as some sort of ‘Saint John’. Hopefully I’m not just setting up a straw man argument here, and certainly don’t intend to be inflammatory on this anniversary. But, while he played a part in some of the greatest music of the twentieth century, there is more to him than that. Acknowledging lesser examples of his work and other aspects of his character are just as important to understanding the genius he had.

But, first and foremost, boy, could he write a tune. And listening to ‘Twist and Shout’ he couldn’t half belt out someone else’s tune too.

December 7, 2009

Why being in the World Cup Group of Death need not be a bad thing

Incredibly out-of-date post shocker! Last Friday saw the draw for next summer’s World Cup. I won’t go into a group-by-group preview just yet, although I will say England got off with an awfully easy draw. No disrespect to the USA, Algeria and Slovenia, but if England fail to qualify for the second phase I’ll eat my hat.

However, not every nation got off so likely. As in every major international football tournament draw, talk inevitably fell to that old reliable subject, “What group is the Group of Death?”. What was the toughest group, with the strongest sides and the best chance to see a contender knocked out in the first round?

This World Cup we have two contenders. Group D pits Germany against Australia, Ghana and Serbia, while Group G sees Brazil face Portugal, Ivory Coast and North Korea. Whatever way you look at it, those groups are tough. But is it the end of world? Far from it.

I’d like to say that I’ve undertaken a rigorous statistical exercise, but I can’t lie to you folks. I just looked up Group of Death on Wikipedia (since edited, sadly), and unearthed (or is that over-egging the pudding?) something interesting. Should a country survive the so-called Group of Death, they stand a pretty good chance of progressing well in the competition, if not winning it all.

In 2006 Italy had to get past Ghana, the Czech Republic and the United States. That they did, and then they went on to win the World Cup. In years gone by Argentina in 1978, Brazil in 1970, England in 1966 and Brazil in 1958 all negotiated incredibly difficult groups on their way to winning the World Cup. So, for every major side that has failed to survive (Argentina in 2002, Spain in 1998), there is a side that has gone on and prospered.

I’d suggest that this is perhaps the footballing equivalent of “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”. If a team qualifies from a tough group it is already primed and ready for truly competitive football. Playing against other strong sides is a much better preparation for knock-out football than playing a minnow. What better way to build momentum?

And so, and boy am I going out on a limb here, don’t be surprised if Brazil do well next summer. And Germany too. Hah! You don’t get insight like that anywhere else, eh?

2 comments

December 3, 2009

The Great Gatsby – or is he?

More often than not I will lay off the fiction when I’m choosing a book. For faintly ridiculous reasons, really. I like to know what’s really going on in the world, or has gone on in the world in the past. I like reality. I like facts and information I can utilise in a pub quiz (how sad, eh?). I like tidbits I can bore my friends and family with on high days and holidays.

This is, of course, forgetting that you can get all this, and more, from good fiction. I can find out just as much, and be just as moved, as I would be by a true-life story.

This was certainly the case with F Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. After reading Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast, which features Fitzgerald around the time The Great Gatsby was written, the novel itself seemed a sensible next stop. Here I could perhaps flesh out that 1920s world, and see if Hemingway was right about this being Fitzgerald’s best work.

It did also help that the book is my Significant Other’s favourite. She has pretty good taste (well, she lives with me, right? OK, apart from living with me, she has good taste) and I doubted she’s recommend a book I wouldn’t go for.

You’ll be pleased to hear, dear reader, I wasn’t disappointed.

Here is a wonderful snapshot of 1920s decadence. Here was that sense of freedom and abandon after the First World War. Here was the truly modern(ist?) world, with its pleasures and its pitfalls. The book chronicles the recklessness of the age, which would eventually lead to the Wall Street Crash and the Great Depression (although obviously Fitzgerald was not to know of this when he was writing the book). People wallow in excess, on money that appears from nowhere, with no foundation, a modern Gomorrah, heading for disaster. Sounds familiar, eh?

Money is no object, and with Gatsby, he appears to have magicked it from thin air. The allusion is that he has gained his fortune by nefarious means (perhaps he is a con artist, perhaps a bootlegger, perhaps a fixer of the World Series). But the great and good are more than happy to accept his charming self, and more importantly are happy to see his money spent on their own enjoyment, at his countless parties. No questions asked.

I found Gatsby such a fascinating character as he does not seem of this (that?) world. He is a mirage. He seems to have appeared from nowhere, and can disappear just as quickly.

In the early passages of the book, Gatsby is but a mythical presence. The narrator, Nick Carraway, hears of him but does not meet him, despite living next-door. When he first catches sight of him, he vanishes. When they first meet face-to-face, Nick does not immediately realise who he is talking to.

Here is a character who is dropped into the ‘normal’ world and seems to unsettle everything. Yet, by the end, on the surface, normality has returned, or at least the unrest has been suppressed. This lends Gatsby an almost ghostly,dream-like air. For the main characters, to the outside world at least, it is as if nothing has ever happened. The status quo is restored.

He is soon forgotten by high society. They move on. Those who he genuinely touched will at least pretend to forget him, or wish that they could. Only Nick remains to mark and remember Gatsby. And so, Gatsby starts and ends a myth. He lives only in Nick’s words and memory.

Was Gatsby an illusion? Just as all that surrounded him was, and as the riches of that time were? It seems that way.

7 comments

December 2, 2009

Baseball and me (My Baseball Winter #1)

I love baseball. But it was never my first love.

I only really took an interest in the sport in 2005, when I spent a summer in New Jersey working on a kid’s summer camp as part of the Camp America programme (or should that be ‘program’?).

Among children and adults alike there seemed to be only two choices. You either supported the New York Yankees or the New York Mets. I was well aware that the Yankees were an all-encompassing monster, the baseball equivalent of Manchester United, and so really there was only one choice.

And a trip to Shea Stadium, the Mets home (until last year, that is, it’s now Citi Field, for those interested in getting me an all-expenses paid trip to see the Mets next summer) sealed it. What a wonderful experience. Much like cricket, this was a sport that you can let wash over you, that you can luxuriate in, that gives you time to think, or just shoot the breeze with friends.

From that day it was clear. I would be a Mets fan.

That that’s not to mention the other wonders of the day, such as the guy who would bring beer and pretzels to us, without us having to leave our seats. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. The Mets scored a run, and the family sat in front of me turned around to give me high-fives. I’d arrived! I was a New York Mets fan, and I realised that baseball was much, much more than the English stereotype of ‘glorified rounders’.

Even though the Mets lost that day. But, hey, I’d get used to that.

In 2007 I went to the United States again, this time to Texas. I spent a week on my own before being joined by friends, in Dallas, and then in Austin. I had plenty of opportunities to watch the baseball, either in my room or, more frequently, as a bit of a barfly. I found one sports bar in Austin that suited me with a world of beers (I remember Fireman’s Four being a particular favourite), huge plates of scorching hot chicken wings and screen upon screen of baseball.

It was the perfect entertainment for me, alone and in a strange town. I could while away a couple of hours, dipping in and out of games, seeing how they all progressed. It didn’t demand my attention, but it certainly kept it. Baseball seems to be a game you just slip into watching, much like cricket, and less like the full-on assault, hype and razzamatazz of football (American and soccer).

But how to follow the game in the UK? Catching the scores in the paper wasn’t really enough, and wasn’t the easiest means of keeping track on a season. Channel 5 showed games, but sadly I was living in one of the few areas left that just couldn’t get Channel 5. Ridiculous. And even so, was two games a week enough? Would there be enough context?

Then I stumbled across mlb.tv, and all was good in my baseball-watching world. Now I had access to each and every game across a season, in full and in highlight form, audio or video, whenever and wherever I wanted. Now I could immerse myself in the sport. I could catch a game live, or catch up later.

And so, here I am. I watch a fair share of baseball, read about it some more, but I want to learn, and preferably in time for the start of next season.

So, what is the plan between now and next April?

Well, I thought I could chronicle my explorations across the next few months in learning more about the sport. I know the basics, I know the big names and fair few of the smaller ones. However, there is always room for improvement.

So, what else can I learn? I tried fantasy baseball and enjoyed it, but how can I improve my team’s chances? Can I find out who is worth tipping for next year? Should I immerse myself in the sport’s statistics? Or its history?

I suppose that is where I hand over to you, dear reader. I’d love any suggestions, or requests, of what I could cover in My Baseball Winter…

Photo from Adam Finley via Flickr.

8 comments

Wait until next year

Month: December, 2009