There was surprise in the Westminster village today, as Jeremy Hunt MP, winner of Liverpool’s twat of the year 2010 award, appeared to have been quietly sacked, and then immediately taken up Iain Duncan Smith’s ‘on yer bike’ proposals:
Thor Hushovd and Jeremy Hunt, Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurne 2010
(Via @virtualstoa)
“When I get older, I will be stronger, they’ll call me freedom just like a waving flag.” This is the chorus to K’naan’s anthem to the 2010 world cup – and no one who is a football fan can fail to be moved both by the sentiments and the stunning visuals set to the music, from the tear-jerking moments to the high drama to the comradeship of players and fans.
Sport is and always has been intensely political. Whether the question is how the world cup affects South Africa, especially the poorest - put to no few interviewees by white European journalists – or the fact that commentators around the world were forced to remember the Soweto uprisings through their anniversary, World Cup 2010 is no different.
Interlaced into the above song are images of Nelson Mandela’s march to freedom, set to lyrics which are quite political in context: “Give me freedom, give me fire, give me reason, take me higher”. What all this obscures is that in reality this is a marketing campaign by Coca-Cola. It is not an artist celebrating his joy at the meeting and friendship of nations through sport.
In fact there is an ‘original’ version of K’naan’s song, from his recent album, Troubadour. It contains lyrics like the following snippet:
So many wars, settling scores
Bringing us promises, leaving us poor
I heard them say, love is the way
Love is the answer, that’s what they say,
But look how they treat us, make us believers
We fight their battles, then they deceive us
Try to control us, they couldn’t hold us
Cause we just move forward like Buffalo Soldiers
It’s basically a song about racism, war, poverty and a fight against these things. Coca-Cola, on the other hand, have diluted all this content to as little as they could without basically getting rid of the song entirely. In place of the most political lyrics, there is chanting and words about football.
Marketing magazing Billboard Biz recorded that Coca Cola “loved the song but noted that lyrical references to ‘a violent prone, poor people zone’ and people ‘struggling, fighting to eat’ didn’t fit the campaign’s themes”. Despite these things all being true about the continent of Africa, which in 2010 is the centre of the vortex of wealth and media attention coat-tailing the World Cup.
I’m not saying that K’naan is somehow ‘pure’ and Coca-Cola is somehow the anti-christ, having unfairly taken this song and basically prostituted it. Even the distorted ‘celebration mix’ contains sentiments which are worthwhile. In fact what Coca-Cola have done makes perfect sense.
They have taken something liable to strike a cord with popular sympathies, diluted it to taste and then utilised it to promote a product. It’s brilliant. It’s so common we don’t even think about it these days; humour, solidarity, love – basically every human emotion and expression worth having and with general applicability is used like this.
In this case, the song is even translated into languages other than English (for which it was originally written) to give it global appeal. In short, a global corporation intent on profiteering from a cynical marketing campaign can also appear as the guardians of diversity and local identity, from a certain point of view.
Mostly this disgusts me. And yet…there’s something good to take away as well.
Outside of the West, the cry ‘give me freedom’ resounds and ruling classes tremble. Whether it’s Iran, Burma, Thailand or Greece, the basic message explicit to the original version of this song is that one day we will shake off parasitic leaders and be free – and the political actions of these countries give the force to this message.
In Western Europe, we’re all too often inclined to think that the age of a redemptive politics is dead – that we’re consigned to basically tinkering around the edges and that there is no room for a panoramic vision of change. Even the mass movements of the last thirty have contained only a minority of those people with genuine aspirations for wholesale political change.
Yet across Europe this song, which is basically about that, is getting airplay, with a message attempting to tap into a persistent sense of solidarity, of wanting to belong as an equal and wanting others to belong as equals. If these beliefs weren’t widespread and waiting for a real movement to utilise them, Coca-Cola wouldn’t bother with them.
However vacuous a gesture, whatever echoes of a Live8 style (without the advantages of raising money for charity, though minus the disadvantages of tits walking round with their armbands believing concerts change the world) it all may seem, that thought is still enough to make me smile.
Liberty! For whinging capitalists only
Brothers, sisters, let me tell you the good news. Last night, despite a brave performance by five-time World Cup winners Brazil, the Juchist Ideal reached its apotheosis in a glorious triumph on the football pitch.
Three goals were scored, and the Third World pawns of US capitalism, Elano and Maicon, ably supported by their co-conspirator Robinho, came close to incurring the wrath of the supreme leader. Yet true believer in the revolution and three-time Hero of Labour Jong Tae Se kept the pressure on Brazil’s defence.
Ji Yun Nam clinched the key goal of the game, securing the pride of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.
Capitalist commentators last night anguished over the superior national pride displayed by the whole team during the singing of the Korean national anthem, all of whom knew the words and weren’t in the least afraid of being shot if they forgot any.
Jong Tae Se was singled out by the Dear Leader in his congratulations to the team, for exceptional devotion. Jong was spotted in tears of love and joy as he sang the anthem prior to kick off in his first game at the World Cup Finals. Rumours that his family were threatened with imprisonment if the team lost are capitalist propaganda.
–
Speaking seriously for a moment, watching the football last night was one of those moments where I felt happy to be British. The commentators and the players lined up in post-game – and quite a few others – were all rooting for North Korea after they displayed such tenacity.
Here’s a team which is ranked 105th in the world playing the top ranked team in world, against players whose careers are worth millions. Going in to the game, I expected a whitewash on the scale of Germany’s hammering of Saudi Arabia in 2002. I was looking forward to it, because the Brazilians play a superb passing game and their technical skill is a joy to watch. Instead of a trouncing, we got a beautiful game.
The Koreans played a five man defence, with sweeper in the middle, and were literally all over the Brazilians. Luis Fabiano continued his streak of not being able to hit a barn door, and that saved the Koreans a little, but with a few exceptions, every time Robinho etc came near goal, they were closed down.
Half time and a nil-nil draw – unthinkable! Clearly the Brazilians recognised that they weren’t getting enough traction up the centre and Maicon’s goal from way out on the right proved that playing down the wings would yield results. After the first goal, everyone suspected that the Brazilians would get everything their own way – and true enough, Ronaldinho got a few more chances thereafter – what no one was prepared for was the Koreans to sneak one in.
Genuinely Jong Tae Se played brilliantly – he just wouldn’t let up, nor would Hong Yong Jo. I think the pair of them just kept the whole show going. Never wasted an opportunity – kept pushing forward.
I think a large part of how impressed everybody was is that no one has ever come across North Korea before, and their footballers generally play in leagues remote from the UK. Some play in Russia, some play in Japan – and though we know the names of the teams they play for, I imagine few enough of us have thought to wonder if the players were from North Korea. That fed into the support-the-underdog thing we all have going on.
I wondered, while watching the 90-minutes, if the Brazilians knew what to make of their North Korean opponents. Having watched the Ivory Coast-Portugal game earlier, which was blighted by diving, accusations of diving and a welter of yellow cards, in this game, the Brazilians picked North Koreans up off the dirt and on several occasions there were warm claps on the shoulder. The Brazilians seemed as impressed by these newcomers as the rest of us.
Mind you, Dunga did not seem happy as his boys came off the pitch. Can’t imagine why.
Isn't my facial bum fluff wonderful?
From tragedy to farce. As an outsider living in England, I am always conflicted about whether and when to support the England football team. As one of the home nations, England enjoys my support at rugby, except when playing Ireland. Jonny Wilkinson, and that silly little move he does before taking a kick, is on a par with sliced bread. Which is about four pegs down from Ronan O’Gara.
It’s not that I don’t like football; I’m not joining with other rugger-buggers in proclaiming that the beautiful game is for pansies. I love football. About five minutes after I was born, a giant Spurs teddy was placed in my room along with a collection of Spurs scarfs, thus sealing my separation from the parental affiliation to Manchester United and George Best with the lore of Danny Blanchflower, Pat Jennings and Gerry Armstrong.
It’s that I can’t stand the flags on cars and their conflation with real ‘patriotism’, or the tabloid whinging and the obscenely exploitative ad campaigns. “Work Rest Play for England”, the Mars ad theme, is among the most grotesque – made all the more amusing by the news that Mars are suing Nestlé for the Kit-Kat “cross your fingers [for England]” campaign, as Kit-Kat aren’t official sponsors of the World Cup – apparently only official parasites should be allowed to cash-in.
This puts me off lining up beside the St George’s Cross-festooned supporters. I was briefly tempted to support England against the USA when BBC News showed some American fans in South Africa who were screaming platitudes at the camera in the most obnoxious possible fashion, “America rules, America will dominate” etc. I privately hoped they all got mugged on their way home from the game. But then I remembered the ’95 riot at Croke Park after David Kelly scored over England and wondered if such testostero-nationalism doesn’t have a psychiatric cure.
I have no affiliation to either the England or the American football teams and while I’m sure every team has complete tossers somewhere in its entourage, I don’t usually have to watch them on TV or at football matches. So I quietly support Germany, a love first established when Jurgen Klinsmann came to White Hart Lane, despite all the 1966 guff being visited upon me by a media that seems unable to deliver perceptive analysis and falls back on useless trivia. Would that they got so historically interested when it wasn’t just a matter of waving the flag.
The other thing I forever want to escape is the sad old dichotomy of “leftist denounces excessive patriotism” “patriotic windbag denounces lefty for snobbish approach to working class / being ashamed of their nationality” (a cliché Nick Cohen squarely perpetrated against Madam Miaow). Football unquestionably involves politics – the revolution in how football teams are funded and how they subsequently go broke will be a question revisited a la Portsmouth over the next few years, I suspect, even at the highest levels of English football.
These clichés are not the necessary politics, however. Their assumptions are unsustainable, Football is not inherently working class; an objection to flag-waving nationalism is not a conspiracy to spoil fun nor an attempt to get in the way of the god-given right to support whoever one wants; flag waving itself is not a natural or pre-cognitive response to being part of some historically inevitable nation; and some serious questions do have to be asked about the politics around football, for the health of our society rather than to spoil the fun of supporters. The wages of players, debt-funding of clubs and the elevation of WAGgery to a career aspiration for young girls are all part of that.
All of which is distinct from one’s enjoyment of the game. Similarly for the objection that the World Cup is all-male. I don’t follow women’s football because women’s league football isn’t shown on terrestrial TV or broadcast on national radio. As I don’t know about it, I can’t talk about it – and if that’s true for me, it’s true for millions of others. The social aspect to football – or any spectator sport – is a key ingredient to its success. If feminists want to replicate that for women’s football or some other sport, good luck to them and I’ll happily play a role.
Recreation of the social aspect of our lives, beyond trips between work and the pub, is an important cultural aspect to class struggle. If our fight is for a democratic society, with people taking collective responsibility for their community and workplaces, enjoyable collective endeavours should be high up the list. All the better if they can reflect the constituents of our society without a forced diversity and the accompanying holier-than-thou attitude exuded by people like Diane Abbott.
I don’t mean to idealise football as some proletarian paradigm, of course. Alan Sillitoe’s football-playing factory workers, much like the colliery-bands of honest ruffians, were still indulging in forms of escapism. If we assert that modern sports and reality television are the new Roman Gladiators, a latter-day bread and circus phenomenon, then we should be prepared to critique that. Many communities react angrily when the management of their football club cocks up, and mount defensive campaigns, but they are rarely more than passively involved in running the club.
To those who doubt that football was or is escapism, go to Ireland and see the local response, especially in the country, to Gaelic football. Bereft of the drugs and glitz that accompanies league football in England, and built largely on rural communities, this is a game still very close to the working class. It’s not unknown for Parish Priests to rush sermons when important GAA games were on. The current forest of English flags is nothing compared to the county flags that go up if a team is playing a hated rival or appears likely to take the Sam in a given year.
Replete with brawling and drunkenness, there couldn’t be a better example of a distraction from the daily humn drum. And why the hell not? Life is shit, football and its associated camaraderie isn’t. This is an implicit social critique all by itself. At the FIFA World Cup and the Olympics, national leaders, brand names, marketers and PR types all sing in harmony as regards things like solidarity, popular feeling and try to cash in on tides of well-wishing for a sporting endeavour. At other times, all of the above resolutely oppose exactly the same sentiments.
If we have a problem with the FIFA World Cup or the Olympics or the other elements of our modern pain et circe, it should be this: it is ‘approved’ fun. Government-sponsored fun. Ideologically acceptable fun. With its own jingle.
Part of that is the idiot with three English flags and a bumper sticker attached to his car, bleating on Five Live and BBC Have Your Say that those who think flag-waving is stupid are “England haters” (usually before descending into an anti-minorities rant, as happens with the bullshit tabloid stories about Christmas being banned or the more recent one about England shirts being banned); these are the people who cheer-led for Nazi ‘purity’ and the monolithic, omniscient ‘Party’ of Stalin and his successors.
Despite all of this, there are a bunch of things worth having in the spectacle unfolding in South Africa. The show of skill and sportsmanship is unsurpassed, and England has both – as demonstrated by the friendly exchange of shirts after the hard fought USA game. Then, there are also the strikers that everyone can support – the security workers staffing the competition, whose bosses have reneged upon a wage agreement. There is the unusually sociable nature of pubs up and down the country, for all those people meeting to cheer on their team.
So, apropos anything else, I may as well yell the customary “Come on England!” At least until the quarter finals.
My seven year old has asked me to publish his new comic book creation ‘Banana Ninja and Evil Orange: Episode 1′. Fair enough. I understand Episode 2 is due out next week. Please let me know if you’d like the follow up published here.
To my mind episode 1 does not sufficiently develop its analysis of class as the key factor in the struggle between the two (perhaps metaphoric) superheroes, and it is consequently somewhat shallow in its agency-based explanation for the support of the Infeari army in support of Evil Orange in his fruit- based struggle against his nemesis (and brother) Banana Ninja. But perhaps I’m a bit picky. Here it is:
How wonderful it is to see the Conservatives acknowledging that obesity might be a problem in our modern society. Having recently checked my Body Mass Index, suitably adjusted for a non-smoker, I find that I am something like 0.4 of a point overweight, so I was particularly interested to see what Andrew Lansley might propose to help get our nation of lard-arses on the move again.
Once more it turns out that the Conservative Party is all about big talk but limp wristed action; so with pornography, now also with the health of the nation. The grand plan is to ask the food industry if they would be good chaps and reduce the size of the portions they dish out, presumably meaning in ready-meals, frozen meals and desserts. I imagine that the food industry will have no problem with that as they’ll keep the sticker price the same, padding their profit margins.
Along with a few government initiatives to make it seem cool to eat healthy and signing up to the EU mandates about having nutritional information on the front of the pack (which most supermarkets’ own brands largely comply with anyway), Lansley’s speech was remarkable mostly for its demonstration that the Conservatives actually don’t have a coherent health policy. Apparently things like halting the fire-sale of school sports pitches aren’t viable alternatives.
Lansley commented, “… we must be positive – positive about the fun and benefits to be had from healthy living, trying to get rid of people’s excuses for being obese by tackling the issue in a positive way.” So the Conservative policy seems to be a case of talking away the causes of obesity instead of actually tackling them, believing that most people are obese largely by choice. So not anything to do with time constraints, declining skills in fresh cooking, increasing costs of fresh produce and other more mundane considerations.
Here’s a thought. Why shouldn’t half an hour of every week-day involve paid cardio-vascular exertions? The incoming Tory government could plan leisure facilities on a scale not seen in decades (which reminds me, might not a cause of obesity be a result of the rise in price of surviving leisure facilities and the declining level of these overall?). For each town and city, per several thousand people we could provide gyms and we could compel companies to write into their staff contracts paid time every week-day for a work-out session.
Boom, the whole nation is suddenly on the road to cardio-vascular health and obesity rates are drastically decreased. Obviously exceptions could be built into the plan – such as those with heart problems, the unemployed, the disabled and so forth. Even if this is unworkable in the specifics, the idea is sound – it just seems that these days an ever decreasing number of people is interested in imaginative solutions to the problems which are confronting the entire Western world and are therefore unlikely to be solely due to bad personal eating and exercise habits.
There was a hum of anticipation and expectation around the Millenium stadium as the early match proceeded towards kick off. With two questionable and far from convincing wins under their belts the arrogant Welsh were already drawing parallels with their surprising 2005 Grand Slam win. This game could have been so much different if it weren’t for two major turning points in the game, giving Wales in the end a flattering scoreline.
The game started off poor from an Italian point of view as the Latino passion effected Delappe’s discipline, with the Italian second row blatantly coming into the side of a ruck in front of Nigel Pearson the strict English referee. An easy three points from Stephen Jones to settle the nerves of the Welsh, surely remembering the embarrassment in Rome the year before.
When watched back the first ten minutes of the game will surely embarrass most of the Italian backline. The inability to kick and clear their lines ultimately leading to constant pressure from the Welsh. This pressure told as Masi, kicking the ball for only the third time in as many games, tried a deft yet ultimately daft chip on his own 10 metre line. This was promptly caught by Gavin Henson. Masi, in his eagerness to make up for his mistake, went straight over the top of the proceeding ruck thus gifting Jones with another easy three points.
This six point cushion so early in the game gave Wales some immunity. Peel a constant thorn in Italian sides, keeping the back row honest with some lethal snipes from rucks. He was unlucky not to find a winger in support on one occasion when a try looked odds on. Also in the following phase Shanklin was under the posts if it wasn’t for Jones holding back an Italian defender.
Yet throughout this barrage from Wales, due in part from Italy’s poor kicking, their defence remained strong and often dominant. Italy’s pack turning over some Welsh ruck ball. This dominance up front started to pay dividends as the Leicester prop Castrogiovanni took advantage of some wayward lineout throwing from Matthew Rees and bulldozed his way over the line after 11 minutes, leaving Peel in his wake. Marcato the young debutant missed with the conversion.
The Welsh players now started to feel the pressure as Italy gained the upper hand. It was at this moment Italy failed to capitalise, thus proving to be a pivital moment in the game. A quick lay off from an Italian lineout got the backs slicing through the Welsh defence like a hot knife through butter. Mauro Bergamasco`s pull back to Galon, who had timed his run to perfection easing through the gap off loading to Canale who had the line at his mercy, promptly proceeding to drop it. Nick Mallet the new Italian coach knew it was crucial they score, the agony on his face showing when they didn’t
It seemed like the previous let off had sparked Wales back into life. Shane Williams spotting slow forwards in the defensive line and promptly making a scintillating break off-loading to Matthew Rees the Welsh hooker who had worked hard to support. Sadly for the Welsh the pass came too late and the tenacious Italian defence survived, just. The relief was short lived as a penalty given for an Italian offside was tapped quickly and the Welsh grounded out an overlap on the right for Lee Byrne to stroll over for another try close to the half hour mark. Jones obliged with the conversion to leave the score 13-5.
In the last ten minutes of the half we began to see the start of errors creep into the defence of the Italians. A tackle count of more than double Wales was starting to take its toll. Yet it wasn’t all doom and gloom as an Evans obstruction on Mirco Bergamasco gave a debuting Marcato an attempt at three points. He couldn’t take advantage of the opportunity, hitting the left post as he had done with his previous conversion attempt. The margin for error so small in the international game.
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The Italian full back was to redeem himself in the final moments of the half making a scything run through the Welsh ranks only for a lack of support and poor kicking to rob them of something more tangible. Italy were able to get a penalty after some dogged physical work by their pack. Marcato able to reward this work with a valuable three points leaving the half time score 13-8 and the game far from over.
Wales must have been relieved to hear the half time whistle. This was yet again not exactly an inspiring half of rugby from the Welsh, and the Italians were notoriously slow starters. Warren Gatlands new Welsh team were facing an uphill struggle even if they were at home.
Relative optimism from the Italians brought forth a second sucker punch in the early stages of the second half. The Italian backs, with their heads still in the changing rooms from half time, began to throw reckless wide passes. It was inevitable that the inexperienced outhalf Masi would be intercepted. Shanklin was the grateful recipient making his 50th cap all the more memorable with a score under the posts. The score now 20-8 with the successful conversion.
The writing was on the wall for the Italians. The early try had put to bed any attempts of salvaging anything from the game. We now started to see the blue wall of the Italian defence creak and crumble from the onslaught of Welsh attacks. Mike Phillips, who was on for an injured Dwayne Peel, showed this with a searing 50m dash. Luckily for the Italy making the poor decision to not off load to the flier Mark Jones who would have been easily under the sticks.
Within the first ten minutes of the restart, discipline for the Italians started to faulter also. Two quick penalties dispatched by the prolific Stephen Jones. The second resulting in a yellow car and subsequent sin binning for the Italian centre Mirco Bergamasco who was blatantly killing the ball, trying to stem the red tide.
Even when the Italians brought on the talismanic second row Bortolami the game was lost. A creative run by Lee Byrne eventually setting up a simple chance for Shane Williams to increase his already impressive international try tally. Lee Byrne then capped off a fine display by scoring a try of his own, taking advantage of some loose tackling by Italian defenders. Italian heads began to drop and lungs burning as they struggled on with 14 men.
It was Shane Williams that capped off a record breaking win over the Italians. His suave, smooth footwork fooling the tired Italians to take his own try count to 40, level with the record holder Gareth Thomas (“The Thug” as we affectionately know him). Hooks converted after being recently substituted on for Jones as outhalf. This put smiles on the Welsh faithful inside the Millenium stadium.
Ultimately this seems a dream game for Warren Gatlan`s Welsh side. Yet looks can be deceiving. The Italians lack of an effective kicker to quickly achieve any kind of territorial game plan and the inability to reach touch meant a constant onslaught of attacks from the talented Welsh three quarter, which included man of the match Lee Byrne. This led to an incredibly high tackle count, twice as much as their Welsh counterparts. Fitness took its toll in a disappointing second half as Wales scored 34 unanswered points.
The 28 unforced errors will also be a thorn in the performance when they watch the match back in the sobering day after. Wales done well to trounce a below par performance from a disappointing Italy. But if they played like this against a technically gifted side such as France they would struggle. Only time will tell.
TCF is pleased to introduce John Steenson as our newly recruited Sports’ columnist. John is a friend of mine from Belfast, and his lifelong passion for sports – especially rugby – will be put to good use here on TCF. His first report, which should be up on the website shortly, will be a blow by blow account of the Wales game from last night. John will be writing for us in between his long gym sessions and working on the railways.
A jerry-rigged biography of John can be read here.
Hopefully over the coming weeks and months TCF will be rolling out a lot of changes – including new writers on politics and other subjects from different parts of the UK and Europe, plus a few guest columnists from the USA to help cover the 2008 elections. We’re also going to be getting a new website design put in place to make it easier to choose between columnists.
It’s great to see one of the country’s oldest and best football teams doing so well at the moment, but actually I wanted to talk about the Arsenal for a while. Turns out the Gooners, what with their new stadium and all, are doing really well for money. Their half year profits are up by 54%.
Why I mention this is because there are suspicions of a take-over bid, and because I think it’s unlikely that Arsenal will be allowed to freeze ticket prices again this year. They have full attendance virtually every game and despite being already one of the most expensive to see (£860 for the cheapest non-concession season ticket).
This is not something unique to Arsenal either. I have to say even the Lilywhites have been taking the piss with ticket prices; our cheapest before concessions is only £579 but prices go right up to £1550. What average fan is going to be able to afford that every year?
For clubs which are now taking in millions and millions of pounds, perhaps it is time to give something back to the fans? Money made from television rights should be money that’s not extracted from the fans simply because the fans will bear the weight of the extra charges.
No; I’m not suggesting that Osama Bin Laden is dead whilst using a Scots’ accent. It turns out though that once upon a time Osama Bin Laden held a season ticket for Arsenal FC.
I can’t say I’m surprised; the crusade against Zionist Imperialism must go hand in hand with standing under the Clock head at Avenell Road on a Saturday afternoon drinking Bovril and watching 22 overpaid goons run around a pitch.
How hilarious would it have been had OBL been a Tottenham Hotspur fan though? He might have had a problem with some of the chants.
“Get out your riot gear
Yids are here
Yids are here!”
Seriously though, I must have been living under a rock when this story was first splashed across newspaper headlines. I could have tortured bloody Arsenal fans with it for months. There’s a kid in one of my classes who keeps mentioning how Spurs couldn’t beat either the Arsenal first team or the Reserves (which we didn’t). I wonder how he’ll react when I tell him?
Also known to support Arsenal: Joseph Stalin, Fidel Castro, Pol Pot…are you seeing where this is going?
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