I read today an interesting article in the Financial Times on the portrayal of sport in fiction. The main argument of the piece is that American authors have never been afraid to tackle the subject and have covered sport extensively, and well. Meanwhile, British authors have been far less inclined to cover sport in fiction, and have been far less convincing when they’ve tried. Reading this piece alongside an article from the Observer covering similar ground a couple of years ago, has left me wondering about sport in fiction, and how sport could work in British fiction.

I think the FT article covers the whys and wherefores far better than I ever could, but there does seem to be an explanation in the make-up of your archetypal American and British writers. Obviously we’re veering into a whole world of horrible stereotyping, but many American writers seem far more interested in physicality generally and writing appears to have the potential to be a rugged pursuit – maybe Hemingway’s legacy, maybe something older and deeper. It doesn’t seem so weird for an American author to like sport. And sportswriting on the whole seems more respected and something of a craft, and is generally better than what you’ll see in the UK (although there are plenty of exceptions).

British writers (especially of the literary variety), meanwhile, seem much more removed from sport. Perhaps it has its roots in class, maybe something else, but the literary and sporting worlds seem very far apart. There almost seems to be a distrust between the two.

Yet I still hope there is room for an English sporting literature. Sport is pretty much one big analogy for life and life’s struggles, and American literature has shown it is a pretty broad and reliable canvas for covering the big issues and themes that great literature should. And perhaps that is the key to success – the fiction can’t just rely entirely on telling the story of sporting events. On any given day the reality will outstrip the fiction on that front. The fiction needs to use the sporting theme in a more nuanced way. It can’t be all cup finals and gold medals. It needs to tinker around the edges, tease out those details that will make a meaningful book.

I think there is one major issue, beyond the literary establishment appearing not to have much appetite for sport. It is that the obvious sports to cover, football or cricket, whilst ingrained into our culture and microcosms (for want of a better word etc) of that culture, are team sports and so pretty difficult to write well about. There are too many characters, too many teams. Plus, with football the action is too frenetic. Cricket, as a pretty close cousin to the more literarily inclined baseball, has more of a chance, but there is a real risk of a writer falling into village green clichés.

I’m no fan of golf, but as a more solitary pursuit it seems a more likely candidate for producing a great English sporting book. All those long walks ruined would allow plenty of opportunity for soliloquies on whatever the author might fancy. Tennis or boxing as individual sports could work well too, as we’ve seen time and again in American writing.

Maybe a lead needs to be taken from the few successes of British sporting writing. The Damned United fused real people with fiction, and focused on one dominant character in a compelling way. Fever Pitch looked at sport from the spectator’s perspective. The individual within sport seems the more obvious path to success, both critical and commercial.

Or perhaps as sport is such a neglected subject in English literature it offers authors the opportunity to tackle the subject in a far more inventive and experimental way. As there is not the baggage of thousands of great sporting novels to live up (or down) to, it feels like there is a certain freedom on how to approach the subject in a way that would challenge yet connect with a readership.

If a writer could successfully articulate the frenzy of the football pitch or the rugby field, or the tribalism and belonging of fandom, or the media saturation and hype that surrounds us, or ideally all of those themes, they would probably have something pretty special in their hands. Sport is an important part of my life, and I think like many people, I like literature that reflects my life and expands upon it, showing me new avenues, or familiar ones in a new way. I hope something interesting on the British sporting experience emerges soon. I’d buy it.

Image from Galt Museum and Archives, via Flickr

Anyway, in the absence of any real content today,  I thought I’d broadcast my navel-gazing and some possible future subjects.

I’m off to Lords on Saturday to catch the third day of the First Test between England and India. I am, understandably, very excited about this as it virtually guaranteed (barring rain, naturally) to be an incredible spectacle and sporting occasion. I also have the following Monday off work, so if the game goes to the fifth day I may well be able to catch that too.

I love watching cricket live, as there is so much to take in, and so much time to take it in. As the action takes place at a leisurely pace there are plenty of opportunities to people-watch, or to take a wander around the ground, let alone to observe the nuances of what is going on on the pitch. I’m hoping I will be able to leave Lords with a number of witty yet pertinent insights to dazzle you with. You won’t need a match report, there are journalists for that. But maybe your life has been lacking ill-considered insight of modern Test Match cricket, from yours truly.

Anyone following me on Twitter will have noticed I enjoy following the horse racing and making a series of monster 10p, 20p and 50p tips. When I am in a particularly frivolous mood I even stretch to a pound. And I think there is a fascinating article to be written about all the weird and wonderful amateur tipsters now populating Twitter. It really is an odd phenomenon. The question is, am I the right person to write said article? Probably not, but I may give it a go anyway.

Finally, the baseball. I’ve actually been able to consume a fair amount of it, either listening to the previous night’s radio broadcasts at work, or watching games at home. This year I’ve dabbled with watching some minor league baseball, and should make the time to record some reflections on it, as it seems really quite distinct from the major league version, and there may even be some kind of point to be made about different levels of sport generally, or something.

I should also perhaps try to find the time to restart my weekly (-ish) baseball column. I will have to offer a huge apology to the good staff of BaseballGB for letting them down this season and see if they will have me back.

And it won’t be long before the new football season is upon us…

It is great to have some ideas in mind, and I have a few non-sporting ones too. But still I use the scoundrel’s excuse of lack of time. Work has been busy and stressful for reasons I’d love to tell you about, but am probably wise not to. Free time has been limited, holiday time non-existent. But maybe with a little motivation and a little inspiration something of interest might pop up soon that isn’t bacon-based gobbledygook.

Image from the US National Archives, via Flickr

My favourite football team’s best player, Fernando Torres, is on the verge of leaving. And not just leaving, but leaving for one of our key rivals. My favourite baseball team is embroiled in the Madoff Ponzi scandal. England’s cricketers are not as good at the one-day game as I might have hoped. At least I don’t really care about tennis, as otherwise I might have been upset at Andy Murray losing in the Australian Open final.

Still, disappointment reigns.

I would give you my thoughts on Torres, but right now they would probably be shrill and ill-considered. Yes, even more ill-considered that the usual stuff I throw up here.

My thoughts will also be out-of-date before the day is out, as today is English football’s transfer deadline day, when all sense of reason, planning, perspective and value flies out the window as teams frantically bid to buy someone, anyone. There is bound to be a great deal of speculation, hype and maybe even genuine developments between me hitting ‘Publish’ now, and the close of the window at 11pm.

So, this really is a post about nothing. I had a few ideas beyond the Inevitable and Crushing Disappointment of Sport, but I don’t really see the point of tacking them onto this directionless, pointless post.

Ugh. But this is what blogging is all about, right? Self-indulgence Yeah!

However, if you do want some considered and entertaining reading on Liverpool, visit The Armchair Liverpool Fan, the new blog from regular visitor to this parish, Steven Harris. It’s really rather good.

I may well have some football thoughts tomorrow, once the dust has settled on the Transfer Deadline Madness. Or I may just be rocking back and forth, sobbing, in a corner somewhere.

I remember when Liverpool won the Champions League in 2005, after being 3-0 down at half-time, I wanted football to end there and then. As far as I was concerned, it wasn’t going to get any better than that. So far, I’ve been proved right.

I feel a similar sensation after witnessing the England cricket team obliterate the opposition in one of sport’s oldest and finest rivalries. I can’t see an England side ever again winning in Australia in such a fashion. It was that special, and as Tim’s numbers illustrate, that unique. Will there ever be another time when England click absolutely and completely as a team? And, frankly, will there ever be another time when Australia appear so out of their depth? Will we ever have it so good again?

For many England cricketing fans, the 2005 series in England is their highlight, as it was the first time England had won the Ashes since 1987. A long wait for such a victory, a great see-saw series, and a country jubilant at the end. However, with an immaculate sense of timing, I was out of the country for that whole summer, so it has never felt quite as special to me. This 2009-10 series is the one for me.

Generally, I think there is something quite magical about following sport in faraway places. I miss those old crackly sporting commentaries on TV from far-flung corners of the world. Everything sounds so clear now, as if it is in the next room rather than halfway around the world. But having a major sporting event like this take place overnight (my time) has still been brilliant, especially as it has been such a wonderfully exciting and unusual series.

I’ve caught some sessions on television, but on the whole, my Significant Other and I have stuck to the radio, and the BBC’s incomparable Test Match Special coverage. My SO cemented her place in my affections ever further by suggesting we just leave the radio on each night, ensuring we could keep up with what was happening, and then be lulled back to sleep by the reassuring tones of the TMS squad.

Apart from Geoff Boycott that is, who when commentating somehow seems irritated and annoyed no matter what the scenario. Being awoken by a shouty Yorkshireman isn’t the best sensation, but I happily put up with that in exchange for hearing Australia bowled out for under 100, or Alastair Cook scoring yet another imperious century.

Those strange, wonderful nights of drifting in and out of sleep and the Ashes make this my favourite ever cricketing series, and perhaps one of my favouriteever sporting experiences full-stop. I’ll always hold it dear. But I must admit I am looking forward to a proper night’s sleep now.

Image by bloodycape via Flickr

Listening to the radio

I started a new job in April. On my first day, as my predecessor was handing things over, she let me know that nobody really minded if you sat with headphones on all day. I looked around the office to see this was indeed the case. And while I haven’t cut myself off completely for the auditory delights of Your Average Office, I have from time to time plugged myself in. It certainly helps the day go a little quicker listening to the previous night’s baseball, or the day’s cricket or some podcast or other.

I’ve probably listened to more podcasts than ever before on various mobile devices. The world is a better place for Radiolab, Sound Opinions and the like. For such an old medium, radio seems to have done a much better job of evolving in our new Digital World than, say, newspapers. Long may it reign!

Making pizza on Bad TV Saturdays

In last year’s End of Year List I discussed a new-found love for bad television on a Saturday night. Matters have progressed this year, as I have attempted to make Saturday night Bad TV and Pizza Night. There have been some variable attempts at pizza-making, always from scratch, and always leaving an almighty mess in the kitchen. I like playing around with the recipes for the dough and the toppings and seeing what comes out. Sometimes it is some unholy tomato cake, other times it is a pretty edible pizza. My efforts shall continue. I hope one day my future offspring will eagerly await Dad’s Pizza. I expect they won’t!

Reading stuff

This year, for the millionth year running, I have enjoyed reading stuff. And there have been a lot of good things to read. The New York Review of Books remains my favourite magazine as it makes me feel a little cleverer than I really am. It introduces me to subjects that are new to me and illuminates subjects I thought I knew something about. Also, the reviews are so comprehensive I can skip the books themselves. Don’t tell anyone though.

I’ve also read far, far more fiction than I usually do. See, I generally prefer non-fiction books as they are more useful for answering questions on quiz machines or Christmas games of Trivial Pursuit. But this year a series of great novels kept me occupied. The Bascombe books were a highlight, but I also enjoyed Colm Tóibín’s Brooklyn and Franzen’s The Corrections. I have a lot of catching up to do, you see. I’ve just finished Sam Lipsyte’s The Ask, a recommendation from Double Word Score. It is fantastic – some incredibly funny lines in a pretty sorrowful book. It would be too smart for its own good, if it wasn’t for the beating heart hidden in there. Great writing.

Watching sport

My teams were hopeless this year, so the less said about them the better. But, I did enjoy a couple of underdog tales.

New Zealand in this summer’s World Cup were written off as complete outsiders, likely to get pummelled in every game. Instead, they left the tournament unbeaten, and very nearly defeated the holders, Italy. They produced a compelling argument for ‘smaller’ nations to remain in the World Cup.

The San Francisco Giants won baseball’s World Series, which nobody really expected. They seemed a thoroughly likeable team, and in Tim Lincecum, had a laidback long-haired genius at the centre of it all. That was fun to watch, and infinitely better than seeing another Yankees win.

Writing stuff

I don’t write enough. I’m sure some of you beg to differ as you wade through this stream-of-barely-conscious-ness, but still, I could probably write more if your standard Guides to Writing are to be believed.

However, I did manage to write plenty in 2010 and very much enjoyed it. There was, of course, the standard nonsense here, but I also inflicted my particular brand of waffle and piffle on the readerships of BaseballGB and a (hyper)local blog, the Charlton Champion. It’s a lot of fun writing for different audiences and I hope to do more of that in future.

I also dabbled with a little fiction writing, as we’re all frustrated novelists, right? I may indulge this further in the New Year, but I’m not sure if I’ll actually inflict any it on the general public. I’m not that mean.

So…err…thanks for reading! I’ll probably stick up a picture of a Christmas tree tomorrow and do a more coherent thank you. Or just stick up a picture of a Christmas tree. Anything to get the post frequency up.

Image from escapetochengdu via Flickr

There have been a number of fantastic performances, but you either know about them already, or can find much more eloquent words about them elsewhere. Today, I’m going to introduce a little-known hero from the Second Test. Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce to you Mr Kevin Howells.

As far as I can ascertain, Kevin Howells is the ‘reserve commentator’ for the BBC’s Test Match Special radio programme. This seems to involve sitting in a London studio throughout the night, watching the cricket, and being on hand should the line to Australia fail.

This seems, in some ways, the perfect job. What cricket fan wouldn’t want to be paid to sit in a darkened room watching the Ashes? Then again, how nerve-wracking would it be to know you might get called upon at a moment’s notice?

Well, that’s what happened to our hero this past weekend. The line to Adelaide went dead, and, with barely a few seconds notice, Howells was on air to the nation. He had no co-commentator to bounce off, and no adverts or news bulletins to allow him a break. He had to talk and talk and talk, explaining the unfolding events on his monitor and avoiding, at all costs, dead air.

There can’t be many broadcasters who could do this at a moment’s notice. As much as I’m sure he was relieved when the line to Adelaide was re-established after half-an-hour or so, he sounded like he could have commentated all night.

Kevin Howells – I salute you!

Image by lildude via Flickr

Ready to (metaphorically) step inside my sporting head again? Here goes…

England win the World Cup!

Well, the Twenty20 World Cup, anyway. I listened to the game on the radio, most enjoyable, but made me realise a few things.

I really hadn’t engaged with the Twenty20 World Cup at all, until the final. I blame Sky, as they seem a good bet when finding the blame for anything.

But in all seriousness, here was a major English cricketing victory, only watched by a minority. If it had been on terrestrial television it would have had a far larger audience which would have resulted in at least two things – more people getting into cricket and going to games, and more kids being inspired to take up cricket and potentially becoming the next generation of world-beaters.

Instead, the game was restricted to people capable of spending £40+ a month. Sure, cricket benefits from Sky’s money – but what of the longer-term effects for the game?

I also realised that Twenty20 is a little odd on the radio. Give me a proper test match on the wireless any day.

Cup Final madness in my household!

Usually on Cup Final day I’d just watch the English final. But…my Scottish team is Dundee United, and so I set up two screens to watch both games simultaneously. I was like some kind of mini-Elvis, with my multiple screens. I just need a few more screens now. And if I ate many more Doritos, I’d probably end up as a full-size-Elvis too. I am right in thinking Elvis had a wall of TVs in Graceland, aren’t I? If not, the above really doesn’t make sense, does it? Anyway, I watched two games AT THE SAME TIME. I can multitask people. Admittedly, not very well, as the pitiful analysis of both games below shows…

Chelsea/Portsmouth!

I found it a reasonably entertaining game, yet throughout there was an air of inevitability about it, especially after Portsmouth missed the penalty. But even before, Chelsea were always going to win, which kind of spoiled it for me. But it also shows how strong Chelsea can be on their day.

Dundee United/Ross County!

Dundee United ended Ross County’s fairytale cup run, and looked strong throughout. I thought this was perhaps the better of the two finals, and certainly, for me, the best result. I also really, really enjoyed the BBC Scotland coverage. It had a proper ‘old school’ feel to it. There were no bells and whistles, or flashy graphics or gimmicky interviews. Instead, there was proper punditry, a great round-by-round rundown and throughout the strong message was relayed that this final really mattered. So refreshing. It was the best footballing coverage I’ve seen in a long, long time.

The play-offs!

I live pretty close to Charlton Athletic, so I’ll be an honourary Addick tonight, as I pop along to their play-off semi-final second leg against Swindon Town, accompanied by my ever-understanding Significant Other (who tolerated the above dual-screen nonsense with no complaints at all). Charlton need to turn around a 2-1 deficit to make their way to Wembley. There should be a great atmosphere tonight. Watching a team’s most important game of the season, on a Monday, is going to feel a little strange though. As will going to an evening game when it is still light.

Baseball not going so well!

The Mets are hopeless at the moment. The pitching rotation is in tatters. And yet, it still ‘feels’ like a better season than last. Things have got to pick up again soon. Haven’t they? Plus my fantasy team lost, badly. Time to regroup!

I think that will do!

You made it this far? Congratulations! Maybe I’ll structure things a bit better next time, rather than just tipping my mind out into the internet…or maybe not.

Image by andymangold via Flickr

England’s nail-biting draw with South Africa yesterday

By the last day of play England had only the remotest chance of winning. If a draw wasn’t an option in cricket, the final day would have been incredibly dull and frankly pointless. Instead, it provided incredible drama and the stage for some genuine sporting heroics. This was a stoic, resolute rearguard action. There was something incredibly noble in batsmen heading to the crease knowing they cannot possibly win, but determined to not lose.

Paul Collingwood is the king of this scenario. He is the kind of batsman who has the character to bed in and bat for hour after hour, repelling whatever the opposition has to throw at him.

The oft-maligned Ian Bell accompanied him, who up to that point had never really displayed the mental toughness to match his innate ability. Yesterday, he put in a watershed innings. He was no longer the batsman who throws his wicket away with a lapse in concentration or technique. This time he would stand firm.

As hours passed, the draw looked more and more likely, but things are never that simple for England, are they? Yet again, a mini-collapse led to a dramatic final phase. England were down to their last wicket. One more out and South Africa would win.

Graeme Swann (my current cricketing Man Crush, for those keeping score) and Graham Onions somehow held out against South Africa’s fierce fast bowling. Onions faced the final over, and for the second time this series survived. Twice England’s worst batsman has been called upon to salvage the game. Twice he has answered that call successfully, bravely and calmly.

Despite only managing to follow the game over the internet (damn work!) this was still a gripping, intense finale. Waiting for a webpage to reload has never engendered such nerves. The draw was finally secured, and England live to fight another day.

I think yesterday’s game really shows how other sports that forego the draw are missing out. A draw can mean as much as a victory, as it did for England, or a defeat, as perhaps it did for South Africa, who had clearly been the better side over the five days. Fighting for the draw did not require a swashbuckling effort or a brief flash of uncommon skill. It required character, determination and patience. Sport would be poorer for lacking those qualities.

‘Sudden death’ or similar was not needed to make the game compelling. And maybe this particular narrative was more intriguing, engrossing, complex and satisfying than just a simple win and loss.

Photo by vagawi via Flickr

These so-called ‘crown jewels’ are the sporting events that the British government essentially decide should be made available to all, and so cannot just be shown via a subscription channel, such as Sky Sports.

The Ashes were on this list, but were removed prior to this summer’s series, meaning cricketing fans had to either pay a subscription of around £40 a month, or find somewhere else to watch it.

This development is obviously good news for sports fans – free sport is always a good thing. The cricketing authorities are not so happy. The England and Wales Cricket Board have a £300m deal with Sky that would be at risk, and the terrestrial channels are unlikely to pay anywhere near that amount for broadcasting rights.

Clearly, a loss of income isn’t brilliant for English cricket. But is it the end of the world?

I say no. If anything, the cricketing authorities are potentially making a quick and easy buck at the expense of the future of the game. Sure, that money can be put into grassroots development, but what about the continuing popularity of the game?

Far, far less people saw England defeat Australia this year than in 2005. Potential new converts to the game missed out. The next Andrew Flintoff may well have decided against pursuing his interest in cricket, as it wasn’t there for him to watch this summer. While a sport isn’t on ITV, BBC or Channels 4 or 5, is it really mainstream?

Cricket (and sport in general) needs to look at the bigger picture and make a decision. Take the cash now, or build a stronger, larger long-term following?

“There’s still nothing better than seeing Major League Baseball games in person – even if those games are of a sub-.500 team with failed postseason expectations. Baseball really is that good, and we’re lucky to have such a fun, talented and likable squad so close and so affordable. It’s worth remembering every now and then, and this weekend did a great job of reminding me of it.”

Unfortunately, living in England, I can’t actually get to see any Major League Baseball. And being a busy bee, I can’t get to as much live sport as I’d like, or have managed in the past.

Still, there is something very special about going to a game, in any sport, at any level. I enjoy a day out watching non-league football just as much as a day at Wembley, just for different reasons. I went to the cricket this summer for a County Championship game and had a wonderful time, and could probably find just as much to enjoy from a simple village green game as I would a Test Match.

So, sport is fun to watch, even if your team isn’t a massive success. Nobody wants to see their team lose, of course. Even so, the experience, and for some the ritual, of going to the game, is almost enough.

For most of us, the main emotion we experience as a follower of sport is disappointment. Our team can’t win every challenge, every tackle, every point, every game or every championship. But still we return, time and again, year on year.

We accept that we can’t win all the time. And there is a particular dignity in those fans that see less wins than most. It’s not that they don’t care about winning. Far, far from it. It’s just that their support is ultimately unconditional. No glory hunting here. They may scream for change (of tactics, playing staff, coaching staff, owners), but the team will always be their team. And hope springs eternal, just wait until next year…

There is more than the result to keep a supporter hooked. There’s the socialising, the community, the peripheral elements to the main event. I live near Charlton Athletic, and can see the supporters gathering in the cafés before the game, the pubs after. The sense of community, lost in so many other walks of life, is palpable.

Plenty of people seem to go to the cricket for a doze, a read of the paper and a chat. Good on them.

When I caught the baseball, on a trip to New York, the pretzels and beer (and unexpected high-fives from fans nearby) was as much fun as the game itself.

Even armchair supporters enjoy more than just the game itself. It might be that well-earned can of beer or slice of pizza accompanying it. Or the friend who pops round to watch too. The chance for some ‘time out’ from the real world. If the fan is really tech-savvy, they might enjoy the chance to connect with others via twitter, blogging or whatever else.

There’ll be times when they will swear and throw something at the television because the game isn’t going their way. But there will also be the times when they’ll catch a game, just because it’s on, and be more than happy.

While the recent sporting scandals in rugby union, Formula 1 and elsewhere suggest that sportsmen and women are increasingly looking to win at all costs, that isn’t the case for supporters. There is more to the enjoyment of sport than just the contest, or the result of that contest, itself. There’s meaning in sport beyond the score.

Maybe while those directly involved (the players, coaches, owners etc) see sport as a business first and foremost, it’s still a game for the fans.