If it wasn’t for Big Star, ‘indie’ or ‘alternative’ music would not sound like it does today. Those REM records wouldn’t be the same, nor The Replacements, nor Teenage Fanclub, nor the hundreds (thousands?) of bands who were then influenced by those artists.
Big Star were never a commercial success, but they certainly left their mark on music. Beyond that, they were an incredible band.
Thank you Alex for some amazing, amazing music.
No, dear reader, this isn’t a post about mucking around on a boat. This, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear, is a post all about my underwhelming gambling career. This week is probably the best in the calendar for the Sport of Kings as the Cheltenham Festival rolls around again. I’ve been burnt many times by betting on the horse racing, yet I find it hard to resist the great festivals.
From a purely betting perspective, there’s (potentially, hopefully!) a much better chance of picking a winner, as the form of the best horses stands up better than the form of those nags in class six races who wouldn’t look out-of-place working Blackpool beach.
But there is far more to it than that. While I’ve sadly never been, the atmosphere seems incredible. Also, over four days, the best of the best congregate – a fantastic and memorable performance is only ever a matter of minutes away. Racing history is tangible, and is being made. This week Kauto Star and Denman will face off for a third time for the Gold Cup, in one of sport’s truly greatest duels. You don’t need to have a bet on to appreciate that contest.
I also think something is added by the festival taking place during the week. If you go, or even if you watch at home, there must be that lovely feeling of ‘playing hooky’. Things always seem more enjoyable if you really should be at work. It certainly gives it a different feel to sporting events that take place on evenings or weekends. And by progressing over four days there is a distinct narrative and flow to the week, whether you can get the time off or not (not in my case).
This flow for the week allows for a nice routine, whatever it may be. But an essential element has to be starting the day with the Racing Post. Each morning you’ll find me leafing through it, eager to find that elusive winner.
Yesterday I got lucky, and had a couple of nice wins. I then got a series of text messages from a mate as he racked up over £600 worth of winnings over the course of the afternoon. No such riches for me, far from it, as I’m far too cautious with my betting stakes. Still, that will play to my advantage today as each and every selection elects to stop for a pee half way round, run backwards, grind to a halt, etc etc…
Please excuse the indulgence (although hey, it’s my blog and I’ll indulge if I want to), but today is my thirtieth birthday.
The old cliché that time speeds up as you get older seems increasingly true, as does the suggestion that you remain about 16 in your head all your life. Still, I think over the next few decades I’ll grow quite nicely into an old man. I certainly look forward to getting more and more curmudgeonly as I get older.
I’m told your 30s are your best years, and I’ve certainly got a lot to look forward to – personally and professionally. But I think the big 3-0 is going to take some getting used to…luckily I had the foresight to book today off work to enjoy the day and settle into my next decade!
Ah, posts at this blog are like buses. You wait ages for one, then two come along at once.
Anyway, amid all the Cheryl Cole/Ashley Cole/Tiger Woods/John Terry muck-raking and tabloid scandal, here’s what, in an ideal world, would be the final word on the matter, from The Outspoken Omphaloskeptic:
“It’s not actually about the ‘celebrities’ involved but about our collective need to create empty celebrity vessels that we can constantly redraw according to our whims. Apparently it’s big fun when can ‘discover’ that they aren’t the archetypes of virtue, perfection and good-living we pretended to think they were. It’s the metaphorical equivalent to my dogs rolling in fox shit. We just can’t get enough of the stench.”
From the post Sympathy For The Hotdog. In the comments section, but the whole thing is worth reading though (apart from yours truly sticking his nose in).
I really should be enjoying this Premier League season. However, I’m finding it harder to keep up, keep interested and truly stay excited. But why?
I guess the easiest answer would be my own team, Liverpool. Yet another year of promise and expectation has been dashed. They have put in good performances (against Manchester United, Everton), but have put in far more bad ones (too many to mention).
But that would be too easy an explanation. There is still so much to potentially enjoy about this season. There are three teams still realistically in contention to win the thing. At least four sides are battling for the last Champions League spot. Relegation is not a foregone conclusion for anyone, yet. This season, every single game has had the potential to be competitive. On their day, any team can beat any other. Burnley beat Manchester United, Portsmouth beat Liverpool. This is surely progress, and sign of a season to savour, at least from a neutral’s perspective?
Then why my apathy?
I think it’s down to the scheduling of the modern game. It’s not a new argument, but I think it is still a valid one.
No longer do all games kick off at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon. Last week, only a minority did, while several games were played on Sunday. Match of the Day is no longer the complete record of the league’s progress that week. It’s merely a snapshot. With games strewn across the week, it’s hard to get a true feeling of the chase developing, especially with a multitude of games in hand to take into account.
In a broader sense, modern football is pretty disorienting now. 6pm? Thursday? Well, that must be Europa League time. 5.30? Sunday? FA Cup, of course! There may now be a game to watch every day of the week, but that, for me, dilutes the impact of football.
The many international breaks we have seems to stall the momentum further. It can seem like the season is restarting every six to eight weeks. The story of the season is continually being put on ‘pause’.
Well, enough of my moaning (for now). Do you find the modern schedule baffling? Do you yearn for everyone playing at 3pm on a Saturday? Or do you love being able to watch game after game, day-after day?
Wait until next year 