Get out your vuvuzelas for Valencia
The dying thoughts of Leon Trotsky, Vladimir Lenin’s compatriot in the Russian October Revolution, were “Life is beautiful…enjoy it to the full”. I listened to a conversation on BBC radio this past weekend that made me realise that, for lovers of televised sport, this is the sort of month which exemplifies what Trotsky was attempting to convey before some bastard decided to split his skull open with an ice axe and permanently put to an end the Bolshevik’s enjoyment of life.
A BBC journalist had presented himself at the grounds of the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club on the day before the start of the annual Wimbledon fortnight and was speaking to a senior official of the Club.
“I’m in a bit of a quandary,” said the journalist, “I’d like to watch the tennis at Wimbledon – love it! – but I can’t bear to miss the football World Cup. Now, are you chaps going to do the decent thing and have large screens around the tennis courts so that fans like me can watch both?”
The official gasped as if he had been stung by a wasp. “What?” he exclaimed. “I beg your pardon. This is Wimbledon. What we show here is tennis. If you wish to see anything else, I suggest you go somewhere else.”
“But it’s the World Cup for God’s sake,” remonstrated the journalist, “be reasonable!”
There was a long pause which suggested that the official was attempting to compose himself. At length he spoke. “I reckon there is sufficient time for you to get on a plane to South Africa,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“Oh well,” sighed the journalist, “England aren’t likely to get terribly far in the World Cup, so I won’t really be missing anything by staying here. I’ll just have to liven things up with this.” At this he reached into the recesses of his coat and extracted something. A very loud, rasping sound followed in short order.
“Good God!” exclaimed the official. “What in the name of anything sacred is that ghastly thing!”
“It’s my vuvuzela,” came the reply.
“Your what?”
“Vuvuzela.”
“And you intend to blow that vuvuwhatsit thing in here during the tennis?”
“But of course!”
“Right. We shall have to see about that!” Silence thereafter indicated that the official had then turned on his heel and left and we were left wondering what on earth he intended to do but felt safely reassured that it was not going to be mild.
The point is that there are currently several sound reasons for keeping your fridge stocked up with chilled lager. Apart from the World Cup and Wimbledon, the Australian cricket team is currently on tour in England, the English rugby team are playing a series of big games in the southern hemisphere and there is, of course, a Formula One race on in a few days. We are spoiled. Life is indeed beautiful.
The European Grand Prix will be held in Valencia this weekend. The word “European” is a clever ruse to disguise the fact that Spain is currently allowed to host two races on the Formula One calendar (the other being the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona). Spain is simply the latest one of a series of Western European countries to play this game. I was at first thrilled when it was announced that there was going to be a race in Valencia. My mind was filled with the possibility of a seaside track with the charm of Monaco or the beauty of the Albert Park in Melbourne. My enthusiasm turned to feelings of having been swindled when what eventually emerged was a Mickey Mouse circuit around an old dockyard that is so boring and unimaginative that it makes even awful Bahrain look as riveting as Silverstone. My frustration with the new track at Valencia was in no small part enhanced by the knowledge that Jerez in the south of Spain has a magnificent circuit which has been home to many superb races in the past and would have been a far worthier host of the European Grand Prix.
Still, the Valencia dockyard is the site of a race in the Formula One world championship in 2010. Given the nail-biting closeness and changeability of this season, one misses any race at one’s peril.
Having observed the progress made by individual drivers this and last season, it is now clear to me that the two best all round racers currently in Formula One are Lewis Hamilton and Fernando Alonso. The performance of the latter has been somewhat hampered by the fact that Ferrari have been labouring under a speed disadvantage to Red Bull and McLaren for most of this season. The evidence of the last race is that this is now beginning to be addressed by the engineers in Maranello. More power to the Italians I say! For nothing would be more thrilling than to have the Ferraris on equal terms with the other two leading teams.
This is of particular interest because Hamilton and Alonso have – in criminal courtroom parlance – “previous”. In Hamilton’s rookie year, Alonso joined McLaren in 2007 as a back-to-back double world champion and felt he deserved the kind of respect a powerful man is entitled to as of right. He did not receive respect from the perfidious English scoundrels who ran McLaren. What he instead had to endure was blatant favouritism of a young, undisciplined puppy. Alonso was deeply offended and chose to leave the team before the season was over.
If you have ever seen The Godfather, you will understand why it is so important to give respect. An undertaker called Amerigo Bonasera goes to see Don Corleone and asks for hoodlums who brutalised his daughter to be brought to justice through Corleone’s “system”. Corleone does not react with enthusiasm to the request:
You found paradise in America. You had a good trade, you made a good living. The police protected you and there were courts of law. So you didn't need a friend like me. Now you come and say "Don Corleone, give me justice." But you don't ask with respect. You don't offer friendship. You don't even think to call me "Godfather." You come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married and you ask me to do murder - for money….Bonasera, Bonasera, what have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully? If you'd come to me in friendship, this scum who ruined your daughter would be suffering this very day. And if by some chance an honest man like yourself made enemies they would become my enemies. And then, they would fear you.
Think of it, an aggrieved Spaniard in equipment as good as or better than that of the Englishman who disobeyed all the rules of respect and you have an epic battle to witness.
Now, isn’t that worth setting aside a couple of hours on Sunday afternoon for?
Enjoy Valencia!
Gitau
24 June 2010
A BBC journalist had presented himself at the grounds of the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club on the day before the start of the annual Wimbledon fortnight and was speaking to a senior official of the Club.
“I’m in a bit of a quandary,” said the journalist, “I’d like to watch the tennis at Wimbledon – love it! – but I can’t bear to miss the football World Cup. Now, are you chaps going to do the decent thing and have large screens around the tennis courts so that fans like me can watch both?”
The official gasped as if he had been stung by a wasp. “What?” he exclaimed. “I beg your pardon. This is Wimbledon. What we show here is tennis. If you wish to see anything else, I suggest you go somewhere else.”
“But it’s the World Cup for God’s sake,” remonstrated the journalist, “be reasonable!”
There was a long pause which suggested that the official was attempting to compose himself. At length he spoke. “I reckon there is sufficient time for you to get on a plane to South Africa,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“Oh well,” sighed the journalist, “England aren’t likely to get terribly far in the World Cup, so I won’t really be missing anything by staying here. I’ll just have to liven things up with this.” At this he reached into the recesses of his coat and extracted something. A very loud, rasping sound followed in short order.
“Good God!” exclaimed the official. “What in the name of anything sacred is that ghastly thing!”
“It’s my vuvuzela,” came the reply.
“Your what?”
“Vuvuzela.”
“And you intend to blow that vuvuwhatsit thing in here during the tennis?”
“But of course!”
“Right. We shall have to see about that!” Silence thereafter indicated that the official had then turned on his heel and left and we were left wondering what on earth he intended to do but felt safely reassured that it was not going to be mild.
The point is that there are currently several sound reasons for keeping your fridge stocked up with chilled lager. Apart from the World Cup and Wimbledon, the Australian cricket team is currently on tour in England, the English rugby team are playing a series of big games in the southern hemisphere and there is, of course, a Formula One race on in a few days. We are spoiled. Life is indeed beautiful.
The European Grand Prix will be held in Valencia this weekend. The word “European” is a clever ruse to disguise the fact that Spain is currently allowed to host two races on the Formula One calendar (the other being the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona). Spain is simply the latest one of a series of Western European countries to play this game. I was at first thrilled when it was announced that there was going to be a race in Valencia. My mind was filled with the possibility of a seaside track with the charm of Monaco or the beauty of the Albert Park in Melbourne. My enthusiasm turned to feelings of having been swindled when what eventually emerged was a Mickey Mouse circuit around an old dockyard that is so boring and unimaginative that it makes even awful Bahrain look as riveting as Silverstone. My frustration with the new track at Valencia was in no small part enhanced by the knowledge that Jerez in the south of Spain has a magnificent circuit which has been home to many superb races in the past and would have been a far worthier host of the European Grand Prix.
Still, the Valencia dockyard is the site of a race in the Formula One world championship in 2010. Given the nail-biting closeness and changeability of this season, one misses any race at one’s peril.
Having observed the progress made by individual drivers this and last season, it is now clear to me that the two best all round racers currently in Formula One are Lewis Hamilton and Fernando Alonso. The performance of the latter has been somewhat hampered by the fact that Ferrari have been labouring under a speed disadvantage to Red Bull and McLaren for most of this season. The evidence of the last race is that this is now beginning to be addressed by the engineers in Maranello. More power to the Italians I say! For nothing would be more thrilling than to have the Ferraris on equal terms with the other two leading teams.
This is of particular interest because Hamilton and Alonso have – in criminal courtroom parlance – “previous”. In Hamilton’s rookie year, Alonso joined McLaren in 2007 as a back-to-back double world champion and felt he deserved the kind of respect a powerful man is entitled to as of right. He did not receive respect from the perfidious English scoundrels who ran McLaren. What he instead had to endure was blatant favouritism of a young, undisciplined puppy. Alonso was deeply offended and chose to leave the team before the season was over.
If you have ever seen The Godfather, you will understand why it is so important to give respect. An undertaker called Amerigo Bonasera goes to see Don Corleone and asks for hoodlums who brutalised his daughter to be brought to justice through Corleone’s “system”. Corleone does not react with enthusiasm to the request:
You found paradise in America. You had a good trade, you made a good living. The police protected you and there were courts of law. So you didn't need a friend like me. Now you come and say "Don Corleone, give me justice." But you don't ask with respect. You don't offer friendship. You don't even think to call me "Godfather." You come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married and you ask me to do murder - for money….Bonasera, Bonasera, what have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully? If you'd come to me in friendship, this scum who ruined your daughter would be suffering this very day. And if by some chance an honest man like yourself made enemies they would become my enemies. And then, they would fear you.
Think of it, an aggrieved Spaniard in equipment as good as or better than that of the Englishman who disobeyed all the rules of respect and you have an epic battle to witness.
Now, isn’t that worth setting aside a couple of hours on Sunday afternoon for?
Enjoy Valencia!
Gitau
24 June 2010
posted by Gitau at 10:11 am
2 Comments:
I read this twice thats how much i enjoyed the read...the Godfather piece was just stellar
Gatonye intro'd me to you and boy.... Your work is a crazily faboulous read. Keep up dude!:-)
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