Posts Tagged ‘Liverpool’

Christmas is a time of reflection. We all know that. Today however I am reflecting on something far from normal¬†Christmas¬†fodder. Instead I find myself reflecting on Football. I know already, right there from that statement that I’ve lost a lot of you. But then I may have gained a few of you too.

I love football. 

I always have. I was the son my dad never had – except I was a girl. I’ve been a blue nosed Evertonian my whole life. I’ve never known anything else. And I can tell you this – its a tough supporter to be. Some would say that we’re lucky, 100+ years in top flight football, trophies (even if they do have more cobwebs on them than a broom cupboard…), we’ve been winners and we’ve been losers. But we have a history to be proud of, we’re an extremely old club and from time to time there is sparks of brilliance.

So why am I moaning? Well because quite frankly, being an Evertonian is a bit like being an England supporter. Nothing we ever do is good enough. We always fall short. We can beat the big teams, but then we lose all the easy games. For years we’ve had finishes that echoed that we were the ‘best of the rest’, but its still not good enough. We have problems – we need investment, there is more money in the Justin Bieber’s sock drawer than we have in the whole God damn club. Which when you level that against the billionaire clubs like Man City and Chelsea, how are we ever going to be able to compete? We have a good manager, Moyes has done us proud for many years now. But even he only has so much tenacity in him to keep doing the same monotonous dance every season with the same flawed result, and the same tired conclusion – that we are not good enough.

Which brings me to my point.

Money is football. 

I hate to say it. I really do. But it is unfortunately true (Hey that rhymes…). For decades now we’ve watched footballers get paid ridiculous amounts of money for what is essentially just kicking a bloody ball round a field. Compare that to the men and women who die protecting their country who are on ¬£17,000 a year – it puts it all into perspective when you see these men getting paid ¬£40,000 a week. Crazy. It seems we have put a far lower price on peoples lives. But we live with that fact, and we have done for years. It has only been over the last ten years however that the whole game became just about money. Now I’m not saying if you have the backing of some Arab billionaires, or some Russian mafia types (allegedly…) that you are¬†guaranteed¬†to go out and win every trophy. It takes a lot more than that. But it helps. It takes a hell of a lot of work to do well in this country in football. You need a great manager, a great club, a great squad made up of some pretty special individuals, and enough capital to do all those things… That is where Everton fall short. We have a world class manager – even if at times this season he’s been challenged. We have a 133 year long history. We have real passionate members of a squad. But yet we linger in the bottom half of the table… and we went two matches without a shot on target. Now that’s just embarrassing.

Goodison is older than my Great Grandad's slipper...

I’m not asking for us to be bought by some outrageous, rather sketchy billionaire. Because honestly, I would rather be in the state we are now with no money, then with dirty money. But I am asking for the people on our illustrious board, to do something. Don’t buy that new Bentley you so desperately want this Christmas, give it to Moyes so we can actually bring a striker into the club who actually scores goals.

Remember this:

This isn’t your club.
This is our club.
We’ll still be here when your gone.
We don’t serve you, you serve us.
We haven’t spent 100+ years in the top flight for us to go down because you lot won’t get off your backside and do something.
Remember why you are sat there.

Show some respect for our club and do your job.
Or give up your seat for someone who will.  

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Living amongst nature. Tending to the animals on your farm and picking apples from the small orchard that calls your garden its home. Looking outside of your bedroom window and seeing a sea of green and a nice blue sky. You breathe a nice healthy breath and your senses are awakened by a cold and fresh air that is laced with nothing but the smells of nature and all the things God put on this green earth. 

Now your probably thinking, “Where is she going with this?” Or maybe, “Oh she’s speaking from experience – she must be from the country.” Or (god forbid) – “I wish this bitch would shut up.” Either way, I will make my point. The image I described is in no way related to how I live nor how I was brought up. I’m from Liverpool. I’m no country bumpkin. The closest I get to an orchard is when I go down the fruit and veg aisle at Tesco. That being said, when I made my ‘migration’ – as I’m so lovingly calling it – to the big bad capital city, London, I was culture shocked. Which is surprising.

I will let you in on a bit of a secret. That lovely image I described at the beginning (although not everyone’s cup of tea) is pretty close to how my partner Gethin grew up. He’s Welsh. He didn’t start learning English till he was seven. He sees the Aberystwyth Arts Centre as how New Yorker’s see Madison Square Gardens (I know…!). His idea of a good night out was a few drinks in some pubs and then on to Pier Pressure (Aberystwyth’s one and only night club that resides itself on –you guessed it! – The Pier). His weekends were spent playing golf, going to the one screen cinema or perhaps for a walk on the beach. Now it may sound like I’m shitting on that, or on him. I’m not. But when you grow up in England’s fourth largest city – Aberystwyth just seems dull. Its probably not. But city life is a whole other ball game than country life. There’s always something to do, there is always something happening, and there is always people to meet.

So after 21 years you’d think I would have taken London in one big stride. I didn’t. Walking down a street in London shouldn’t feel any different than walking down one in Liverpool. It does. Why? There is one big factor that we have to consider here – London isn’t home. Even if I live here for twenty years, I can’t see it feeling like home. I find that is a common¬†conception in Scousers. There is something about Liverpool that makes you feel like your coming home even if you’ve been gone for decades. But its not just that. Everything in London is so god damn efficient. I have a couple of tests for you. If you live in London, every time you get the tube, check to see if you have to wait more than 5 minutes. I’m telling you – you could go months, actual months before you waited that long. And when you do I guarantee you will stand there, toe tapping the platform and grimacing your face in shear disgust and frustration that you’ve had to wait so long. Its ridiculous! I swear I’ve seen people run – as in actually, full on, sprinting – just to get on the train. And when they don’t make it they flip out like someone rear ended their Porsche. How long do they have to wait till the next train? 2 minutes. What could possibly be so urgent that a 2 minute wait would make you flip out?! I tell you – nothing (Unless you’re Neo and Agent Smith is chasing you – then feel free to freak the fuck out. Otherwise – zip it). Then there is the second test. Go outside for a walk, and count how long it takes for you to see another person. Even at 4 am, I guarantee you will be bumping into someone within 10 minutes. Whether you want to or not. Every city has tests like this – don’t get me wrong. Walk round Wavertree in Liverpool and see how long it takes for you to a) Spot a drug dealer b) Be offered drugs or c) Be offered sex. Thankfully a) is more common than the other two, but they happen. My point is – London is inescapable. They can build their big parks, and they do – there’s hundreds of them. But it doesn’t change the fact your living in a huge city. Its sort of like being a gold fish. Bear with me on this one. You can put¬†miniature castles in the bowl, you can pile loads of other fishy friends in too. Hell you could even put some of those illuminous pink stones in the bottom if you like. But none of that changes the fact that your still a gold fish, and you’re still trapped in the bowl. That’s what living in London is like. There is loads to do. And there is people everywhere. But unlike in Liverpool, you feel so much more cut off from the world. Escaping from London for even a little while feels just as impossible as escaping the gold fish bowl.

I’m not saying I don’t like London. It has its charms. But I sometimes wish I could get into a car and go see some farmers¬†fields. Bizarre, I know. I didn’t exactly have that in Liverpool. But it was there, on the outskirts, if I needed it. And now that its gone, I don’t feel like I’ve lived in Liverpool for 21 years. I feel like I was the person at the beginning of this post who lives on a farm, and breath’s in the fresh country air. I feel like the Welsh(woman) whose moved to the big bad city. And if I’m honest, I wanna get out of the fish bowl every once in a while because one way or another, it is way too crowded in here, and, quite frankly – I hate the colour illuminous pink.

Hello there friends, colleagues, randoms. It is me, Hannah, here again to complain to you all about the little things. Yes, I did not start my blog with the intention of doing this, but I am going to do it anyway.

I’m a little slow on the uptake of this one, but I thought I’d vent my frustrations anyway. So what is it this week? Well I like sport – I know, I’m a girl – what is wrong with me?! Right TalkSport? And so as usual, when the World Athletics Championship was getting closer, I was wee’ing in excitement at the thought of watching Bolt go up against Powell, of seeing Ennis giving the proverbial¬†middle finger to Sports Personality of the Year once again by taking home the gold. And so, the days leading up to it arrived, when the god awful truth hit me. It’s on Channel 4. I know right? Call me old fashioned (Do it, I dare you!) but the athletics is one of those wonderfully sacred sports, that has its coverage, and I mean all it’s coverage, on BBC. This isn’t the Grand National people, it shouldn’t be relegated to the none sporting channel that is Channel 4!? It belongs in its rightful place, square in the timeslot, no adverts, and the wonderful sound that is Sue Barker laughing at another of Michaels terrible jabs at himself after Bolt’s broken another of his records. It’s just gospel.¬†

But no, the best of all the athletics – even better than that little even we call the¬†Olympics¬†– the world championships was being aired on FOUR?! So, I¬†dispensed¬†with my disbelief and realised, it’s just a channel – surely it can’t be that much worse can it? Ohhhhh past Hannah, how fucking wrong you are. And I’m not just referring to Ortis’ now nationally famous gaffe video (although he was painful to watch) but the whole thing was criminal. To begin with, no one even wanted to talk to channel 4. ¬†The track side interviews were unbearable at times, Alison Felix in particular looked very uncomfortable when Channel 4’s¬†correspondent¬†practically had to restrain her to get her to talk. But that’s not all – there was…¬†ADVERTS. I’m 21 years of age, I’ve never known a world where something wasn’t being advertised in my face 24/7. But when it comes to sport – no, just NO. It would be like ITV putting an advert right at the last 10 minutes in extra time in a FA Cup replay between Everton and Liverpool, right before a goal. Hmmm… oh wait… My point is, if it’s ongoing sport, you don’t have adverts until there is some sort of intermission in play. On BBC you had no adverts what so ever, so for Channel 4 to think it is okay to put adverts on every 5 minutes (and I’m not exaggerating here) is terrible! You’d have thought they would have been smart enough to tone it down a bit.

But alas, I grinned and bared the track side nonsense, I tried to keep myself busy when the adverts came on, again and the stupid ringtone-like noise sounded to mark that. But then there was the moment that it physically stopped my enjoyment of the Championships. And that was not on. Jess Ennis is a human being. She is not¬†infallible. Bolts dejection from the 100 metre final proved no athlete is. But for her to very proudly, and positively speak about her joy (not her disappointment) and getting the silver at Daegu not the gold was very noble and brave of her. So, for fucking Rick Edwards to then, on the voice over say, “Ohhh she’s disappointed, and let down, us all…” etc was a disgrace! We as a nation, on that moment needed the positive. Jess needed that moment to be a positive. For the sake of her mentality and future training. How dare he say that! And it didn’t stop at a line or one turn of phrase. Every time she was mentioned, he slapped on the negative, nice and thick. I could deal with the unprofessionalism, I could deal with the sloppy programming, and I could even deal with watching a sport show be presented by someone who knows nothing about sport (although that in itself was insulting…) but I could not deal with him making her feel small. I just hope that Jess didn’t watch it back. And that she never knows what he said for fear that she thinks the whole nation see’s her as a ‘big disappointment’. Because I think I speak for the majority of us when I say – we don’t. And Jess Ennis is a fantastic athlete who had a slight hiccup, but who also achieved a massive thing when she got that silver. So Rick – when you win a gold fucking medal, or even become an athlete who trains¬†incessantly for years,¬† you can call her what ever you want. But until that moment, keep your negative opinions to yourself!¬†Oh and Channel 4, GIVE THE ATHLETICS BACK TO THE BBC, WHERE THEY BELONG!¬†

Check out some of Ortis’ presenting gaffes. PAINFUL!

**oh and fyi, I complained to Channel 4 about all of this. They basically said I was entitled to my opinion, but I was wrong lol. And kudos to Michael Johnson for holding the whole thing together!

If you’ve read my post yesterday you’d have saw I was having some trouble with a misogynist on youtube who was calling all women sluts. Nice… I know. Anyway, I thought the argument was done and dusted, but it seems he can’t seem to leave it. And he eventually took things too far…

After bringing up Liverpool, my home city, he went on to say how much of a dump it is, how I’m clearly poor and how I should read the sun. I told him to not tell Scousers to read the sun for obvious reasons, and he replied:

oh the hillsborough a disgrace event? How about the munich air disaster? Im sure everyone deserved to die on that day too. Karma is a bitch, you throw some, you get some.

Children died that day. What a horrible human being. Its hard to be a good person when there is such hateful people like him in the world. Needless to say, I blocked him.

John Lennon.

Only in the great great nation of Liverpool [despite what you may think, believe me ‚Äď it is a country all to its own] would you find a cake shop called ‚ÄėOff ya cake‚Äô and a Hairdresser‚Äôs called ‚ÄėShort & Curlies‚Äô.

Well I suppose you can’t help remembering it!