QPR v Everton

Management Performance

Into October and we see the latest round of Manager of the Month awards being handed out.  A couple of seasons ago, I seem to recall, Neil Warnock picked up at least one of these accolades during our Championship winning season.

Many a fan will lore that this is a prize not favoured by managers. Will it boost his ego too much? Will it detract focus for the next few games? Will the opposing team view it as a 'we'll knock him off his perch' must win game? Will complacency creep in? Or, as many wonder, is it just a jinx?

As soon as the announcements are made, winning fans almost certainly show their utmost concern. Its like the Grim Reaper has cometh with doom and gloom.

Who actually votes for the winner and the criteria that they follow is always a mystery. Form? Maybe. But is it fair judgement, say, if you draw all your games against top opposition and another team scrape a few wins against lesser sides? And yet the latter attains the crown.

This brings me onto the latest winner in the BPL: David Moyes of Everton.

Now, I actually like this chap.  Unassuming, fairly successful, with limited budget. So its nice to see him winning rather than, say, Roberto Di Matteo just because Chels#* are top.  This is usually the format, so makes a refreshing change.

Mark Hughes probably wasn't expecting the prize, of course.  But when winning is based upon the toughest test being a draw, with Newcastle, then this surely questions the remit. Or am I just sulky?

However, being the optimistic R's fan that I am, it does mean one thing.  You see, Everton's next game is against us at Loftus Road.  Surely this is when our luck changes. And boy do we need some at the moment!

With an international break, allowing most of our injured crop to get playing again, and the near certain jinx on the MOM winner, it really MUST be our time to kick start our season and gain three valuable points.

It will also shut Talk Sports Andy Durham up as well!

If you are not able to be there, chewing what's left of your nails away, then Sky will reveal all from 4 o'clock on a week Sunday...Come on U R's!

Compass Points Around London

The London Tour

Over the past few weeks, Rangers have managed to do a full rotation of the compass: A round trip of London (plus of course Berkshire)

Rangers 0-0 Chelsea

First up came those South-Westerners who have ideas, of grandeur, that they are from West London.  Chelsea were in town,  thinking that they would cause a rout at the Bush.  Enough has probably been said already about the hand shakes but well done to Anton, who made it clear that Terry had said what he had said, for not shaking the Turds hand.  Soon, we were to find out that the Sewer Rat had resigned from England, to save face, and then the FA charge him with those paltry four games. Good,  but not good enough but we move on.

Anyway, and shakes aside, we played really well and took the first points off the reigning European Champions this term.  I guess, with all the hullabaloo, that this game was destined to be a goalless draw and inevitably it was.

Terry seemed to embarrass himself by trying an Ashley Young in the penalty box. This was never going to get him more points than Tom Daley but it did lead me to instantly like Nelson so much more when he was quoted: "That was bit embarrassing, John!" in his post match interview, cool as a cucumber.  Indeed he surely met his match with Ryan.

But the biggest respect has to go to Anton Ferdinand.  Firstly for rebuking the hand shake but, more so, playing so well under all the pressure and the spot lights that has covered him. None of which was his making.

Tottenham 2-1 Rangers

A trip up to North London took us to White Hart Lane. Probably a game where most people and bookies were forecasting a Spurs win,  even with AVB at the helm.  Rangers fans of course optimistic as usual. The first half was sublime and to those that remember the Sexton era will no doubt have been casting similarities to bygone years.  The combination of Faurlin and Granero masterminding the midfield was like days gone by and something that we have not had the pleasure of for many a year.

So one up at half time and dominating the game.  The Spurs faithful booing the home team and, I suspect, more so their manager. All was cushtee.

Spurs formation was changed notably at half time and their 4-4-2 was much more impactful,  but they still struggled to break us down.  Then in a mad moment of, what, five minutes, saw a spawny deflection off Faurlin and a total lapse of concentration. This saw two quick goals to put Spurs in front and there it stayed.  Irony would have it that the two wizards in midfield were caught up in the goals.

The R's really were so unlucky in this game,  but here's the lesson.  Possession and dominance doesn't win you games.  Putting away the chances does and, perhaps, if we had taken them and been 3-0 up at half time the outcome would have been so much different.

Credit to the team though.  Great football and definitely starting to gel. This was reflected in the MOM being their goalie. A loss maybe,  but really inspired by the performance.

Rangers 2-3 Reading

The Fakes took the short journey to the Bush in West London.  Newly promoted, they have stuttered similarly to us this term.  But surely this was game to win and to progress the longest cup run we have had for, well, the last decade?

It was not to be.  A classic game of the real hoops playing football and the fakes playing hoof it to the Pog.  Yet again though, like Spurs, if you don't take the chances then you won't win.  More so when you have a ref that is so biased.  

Two soft free kicks gave Reading their first goals, albeit the latter was very well taken. But even so neither should have been given.  A clear penalty on Hoillet which was waved away and then the softest of penalties in the dieing minutes.  It was clear that this game wasn't to be ours.

But great to see Cisse planting a stinger of a volley,  which will give his confidence a lift and Dyer,  who is this new player we see?  I do hope he can give this type of performance for the whole season as that will be a major boost to the squad.  One that no one expects.  And finally M'bia (Le Penis) gets his debut. Early days but at least he has started now.

 Well, we're out of the COC(K)up,  but at least we can now concentrate on the League!!

Rangers 1-2 West Ham

Sky were back in W12 for this one. An evening kick-off it may have been,  but on a Monday it just doesn't seem right does it? More so the Sky voo-doo returned to strike again.

I guess most of us were expecting a dynamic performance and a win to say the least.  That was not to be and the first half performance was, well let's just say, lacklustre.  Two sloppy goals and heads were down at half time.

Strangely, when I saw the team sheet, I thought it was a fairly attacking line up.  The defence still worried me and had it not been for the first goal, I still think we would have got more from this game. I am after all, forever, an optimistic R's fan.

Mark ClattenCard did his best to derail events with what must be a record in cards shown.  Amazingly, Diakite seemed to be drawn to the colour red. Again. And just when we were doing so well with discipline.

It was really good to hear the crowd lift the players spirits, in the second half, and with Adel and Diakite coming on it gave us some creativity and pace to our attack, something the Hammers were struggled with.

Taarabt gave us his text book, drop the shoulder move and curled a blinder into the top right again. How many times have we seen that one? What a shame that these options weren't used from the off set - maybe a different outcome, who knows?  Shall we just say that West Ham played really well albeit with plenty of, lets call it 'strength' and a lot of time wasting.

Here we are then, rooted to the foot of the table and no defence to talk about. 

But....I, for one, am not panicking.  I have seen good football and we do still have good players and a good manager. I know I am repeating myself,  but as TF says we do need stability and to build.  It won't happen overnight. Have patience, no matter how tempting to moan.

We have been hit badly with injuries - mainly hamstrings for some reason - and it is clear that the understudies don't understand each other.

No matter how despondent we all feel, just remember, and cast your minds back to League One, no money, crap football and no hope.  Things could be a lot worse! Honest.

Tracey Trek...#4. Reflection & Video

My Back

Well I have to say I'm really chuffed. Although my back ached, I didn't develop any nasty side effects or drawbacks that were a threat.  Indeed I think it has actually helped loosen up some of the flexibility. Of course sat in a semi-pheotus position for hours on end is going to have some impact on how the back feels but certainly it wasn't prohibitive.

I've got some more appointments with the Chiropractor, so will be interested to hear her 

opinion at the assessment. At least she won't be telling me off for overdoing it. Well, what she doesn't know won't hurt, will it!

One thing I did feel the benefit from was the dreaded cold bath. I declined the option of sitting in a glacier type lake. I was too chicken for that, the bath was bad enough.  But you know what, it had a real soothing effect on my lower back and certainly it re-invigorated my legs for the following days cycling.

Try it. After the initial heart attack it's sadistically refreshing!

Video Footage

Well I couldn't finish this mini series without at least showing you some of what I've been rattling on about for the last few weeks.

I've put a video together of some of the riding we did.  If you want to skip to the descents then they start at about 32 mins and 1 hour.  You'll find it on this link:

Alpe D'Huez and Col du Glandon Video

Season 2012/13 - For Starters.

QPR 0-5 Swansea

Norwich 1-1 QPR

QPR 3-0 Walsall

Man City 3-1 QPR

Having an international break has at least allowed some time to reflect on the sudden rush of Premier League adrenaline.

Rangers start was, well how can I say, somewhat unexpected. The back end of last season the team showed how to create a disciplined defensive line and showed great promise.  The first result was a shock,  but you know, if it's going to happen then let it be early doors. In Hughes, we trust.

Twelve new players have joined the ranks, this Summer, creating more hysteria and optimism. Some of these yet to wear the sacred hoops.  Next up saw a battling draw at Norwich, a usual banana skin, and a subsequent rare cup win, albeit against Walsall, identified slow progress being made.

An away match against the current Premier League Champions was always going to be difficult and so it proved.  But even after this defeat, there were encouraging signs.. A superb debut form Granero, showing exactly what we needed, along with a reassuringly sound appearance by Ryan Nelson, lifting spirits.  Andy Johnson also showed exactly what and why he was brought in, proving to be quite a handful. More importantly, though, was the Premier League return of the Messiah; Ale Faurlin. Most welcome and severely missed.

And this, of course, leads me nicely on to the return of Rangers' 'friendly' and close neighbours, Chelsea. Our mates from down the road.

What will this game bring?

Well, we can be sure that it will be full of debate. The crowd will be seriously up for it and, make no bones about it, the Rangers support will be such that it will make it as intimidating as possible for  the Chelsearich boys.

Will Terry be playing? It looks doubtful, doesn't it, and actually I hope he does not, as it will just detract from what promises to be a hotly contested game of football, a game I hope that will be full of excitement, drama and hopefully a win for the Hoops. More of last years fixture will do nicely.

Bragging rights are so important but three points are even more so.

I personally can't wait for the match. The unknown of what team Mark Hughes will put out adds to the excitement. Where, once, there was limited choice, the squad now boasts a myriad of depth and talent. Hopefully, then, we will see the team putting down a marker, a marker to show that we are not just the Hoops from W12 but indeed The Superhoops who are now seriously challenging among the best the League has to offer.

Good luck and enjoy the game!

Prediction:  A tense but enjoyable 1-0 win to Rangers.

Tracey Trek...#3

Day Three: Col du Glandon

Climb: 1,924m

Calories burnt: About 5,000
Top descent speed: 45.3mph
Distance: 30 miles
Average speed: 9.1mph

Yesterday was hard. Very, very hard. Today proved to be harder still.

From the get go we made our ascent. Five miles of constant, no let up, 5% climbing. 5mph gruelling pedalling in the mid day sunshine broken only by the odd shade from the trees.

Finally, we plateau in a village. It feels like we have cycled 100 miles. We haven't! A welcome water fountain. Cold, refreshing. The head goes straight under it to get an instant cool down. Need food already, some intake; just been told that we now have a serious "ball breaker" to do. A 6% long climb followed by a quick descent.  Oh great; a descent, that will undo all that hard work we have just done.  Undoing the hard work with lightening speed, dropping rapidly at 13%, we'll hit the bottom but then we'll need to get back to the same level but this time up a 13% climb.  And, not a short one either!

We set off, then. We climb. The legs are feeling it already. The mind is telling me to just give up. I can't, there is too far to go. The chest is hurting, it feels like my heart is the wrong side of my rib cage, I have to control my breathing and rhythm. We get to the peak, not THE peak, just this peak. Into top gear and the very steep, quick descent. You can sense the wheels and brakes heating up, the confidence you have in the brakes working efficiently are fading as much as they are. We hit the trough but boy there is no let up. Oh, man; the 13% straight back up again!

This is killing me. 3mph now, heels digging in and trying to pull up on the pedals as much as possible. I'm calling my colleagues all the names under the sun; they said today would be easier. Well, it's not. It's definitely not!

Flys. Where have these bloody flys come from? They are getting on my t*ts now, buzzing around my face. I can't breath. I can't let go of the handle bar to swish them away as I need to pull on the bars to help me up. I feel like a bullied cow on a Summers day. They are really hacking me off.

Finally I hit the top of this climb.  My legs are like jelly. I've probably lost 2 litres of fluid in just that ascent. I rehydrate as much as possible, forging on. The climb is less steep now but still it climbs. And still it climbs more.

A lovely short, shallow descent. The views open up. It looks are more akin to Exmoor. Open, green with the road sweeping through the valley. The descent is short lived, no surprise there!

The next climb begins.  This must be about 5%. Shallower, yes, but long. Oh it's long and with no rest bite at all until the summit. 

My stomach is grumbling with hunger. Two litres of fluid are now gone. I reach for an energy bar. I just cannot eat it as my breathing is now erratic. I can't chew and breathe at the same time but manage to pull myself to the cafe at the top, half the bar still in my hand.

From the cafe, there is just a steep, quick 100m climb to the summit. It's done. How? I have no idea because that was really tough. Really, really tough.

We collect our thoughts in the relative sanctuary of the cafe.

A bowl of pasta, a coffee and a full sugar Coke to ready me for the route back.  It will be easier now but the fear of that near climb and then that return sweeping, energy sapping,13% killer is something I am definitely not looking forward to. In fact I'm dreading it. But there is only one way home.

Off we set to enjoy the lovely, sweeping, downhill section.

Open views, so it's head down and just go for it. Enjoy every moment. This is pay back from that damn climb.. Head wind? I don't believe it there's a head wind.  Not a small one. No this is a 'the weather is changing' type of wind. Bugger!

The drop down, albeit with the wind smashing your face about, was so enjoyable. A freedom welcomed and embraced whole heartedly. But up we go again, steady as we go.  Slowly, slowly catchy monkey. Don't look up, just focus on the cadence and breathing, finally reaching the apex. Now for a much longer and much steeper descent. This will be the dip.  Must get the gears right here because as soon as you hit the bottom its straight back up again.

Downhill is astonishing. The road twists and it turns, the speed rockets. We hit the dip. Bang. Change down...chain comes off! Luckily no one is around to hear my expletives. I put the chain back on,  but how the hell do I get rolling again. I can't get going, it's too steep and I can't get clipped back in the pedal. Nightmare. Reluctantly, I start pushing but the walk is just as bad. My calves are pulling.

Three switch backs later and the road levels out enough to get back on. Off we go then. That's definitely the worse section.  Now for the fun to begin properly.

Whizzing down. Awesome. I feel rewarded for my efforts on that climb. The real prize is now. For miles it's down hill and only down hill. I feel like a free spirit; gliding. Speeds are increasing more. The bends are more and more fun. I catch up with the others.

More down hill. More fun. It starts to level as we can see the reservoir. The finishing point. So picturesque. I suddenly feel an urge to do a Mark Cavendish. I go for the sprint to the finish.  Where on earth did this energy come from? We weren't 100m from the car park at all. No, we are half a mile away.  I blame the team orders! I blow out, I'm spent. I get passed.

There goes my green jersey then!  


I cruise back to the car.

What a ride.

Tracey Trek...#2

Day Two: Col de la Galibier

Climb: 2,642 metres

Distance: 60 miles return
Calories burnt: 5,127
Top descent speed: 38.2 mph
Average speed: 11.2 mph
Average gradient: 7%

 

We head off once again.  Thirty miles to the summit of Col de la Galibier. Thirty miles of constant climbing and the last five miles being steep.   A steepness that I was not anticipating to be so hard.

A bit of respite at about 12 miles gave a sweeping downhill section...only to go back up of course.  Some interesting tunnels,  with no lights which made things even more fun. 

Arrived at Col de la Tourette, after three hours of steady climbing.  This is 80% towards Galibier. A nice pace, to here, but hard work nonetheless.  At the top, the temperature is dropping like a stone.  On with the arm warmers and gilet.  A quick sugar rush of coke, and Lion bar, and off for The Killer, which is the last 5 miles. 

We set off for the grand finale. A shockingly steep ascent of 12%. Five miles all the way to the top. This ascent is hard, real hard.  No, actually, really really hard! There is no give, no let up at all. Heels down hard, concentrating on lifting the pedals as well as pushing down, not daring to look up. All I hear is Joe saying don't look up! So what do I do? I instantly look up. I'm confronted by more incline, more hell. Real hell.

Three miles from the summit and I hit the wall. Legs gone . Completely shot. Breathing all a cock, head playing tricks.  I just want a hole to crawl into, to hibernate, to avoid looking at another foot of tarmac.

We stop for a leg and back stretch. Some rest and some fluids.  Refreshed (?), we set off again targeting the mile markers,  counting down in 1/10 stages. Bite size pieces. Two miles to go, another quick stop, legs like jelly, in fact, I'm not sure they are actually attached to my torso anymore!  I decide to stretch my quads. Aargh! Severe cramp sets in to my left leg and I fall to the ground in agony. Nurse Andy quickly comes to the rescue and takes over, saving my leg and the day. A nice little break in the Alps. NOT!
 

So, off we head again. Another mile, then another stop. It's relentless. Bloody ridiculous. And again, for the last mile. This climb is not going to beat me. This mind over matter stuff is all good in theory. In practice, though I'm not so convinced.

No matter whether I'm standing on the pedals, sitting back, pulling on the bars or hallucinating its making no difference. I'm spent. Completely and utterly spent.  Andy's pushing me on like a Sargent Major: breathing, ten of these, ten of those. I want to club him. 

I'd read, before coming out, that exhaling expletives, when in pain, can dampen that pain by as much as 46%. I tried this theory, calling Andy everything under the sun. Even the photographer, towards the end, gets the wrong end of my tongue when he asks for a smile.  "You gotta be 'bleeping' joking pal" (sorry Mum!)

But you know, it's actually kind of working, I'm thinking. Only 200m to the summit. I can see the others. An old chap is walking up the slope. Where the hell did he come from I gasp.  I have no lung capacity left. I have no legs left. I have no head left. I've lost it.  I can see the end. But I just can't pedal any more

Suddenly, I get a sharp push in the back. "You're going to @#**ing do this, there's only 100 metres left."  was shouted at me. All the guys are encouraging me.  I can't get this far and fail.  I just can't but all I want to do is die. I am dying. I'm there.

I collapse. I'm spent. I can't talk. I can't stand. I can't function. Everything that I had left was put into that last leg. I'm starting to get emotional. I'm just thinking about the Tour guys who go storming up here. Whippets on wheels, how the hell do they do it? Respect, total utter respect. That has to be the hardest physical thing I have ever done.

We take photos for the scrap book,  but the chill is overwhelming. We head off back down to Col de la Tourette to warm up and refuel.

Time for a crepe, then, and a coffee to warm back up a bit.  Hands frozen by the draft.  Back and arms stiffened by both the elements and the concentration of the descent.

From there it was pretty much downhill all the way apart from one nasty, but manageable climb.  It's warmer now. Adrenaline rushing through the veins as we take on a six man peloton,  bombing back home.  Four bleeding hours of hell to get to the top. One hour to get to the bottom. 

What a contrast. 

What an experience!

Tracey Trek...#1

Day One: Alpe D'Huez

Climb: 1,860 metres

Distance: 9 miles up
Average climb: 8%
Averge speed: 5mph

(N.B: Marco Pantani holds the record for the quickest ascent: 38 minutes)

Riding Tracey in France. Again.

Frantically trying to pack up all the essentials for the trip.  Gels, hydration packs, Clif bars, spare inner tubes a must.

The bike, that's Tracey by the way, is ready, the kit is ready, the car is ready.  Is my back ready though? Will it hold out?

My chiropractor says cycling is low impact and OK, in principle, but she has given me stern advice. As she spoke to me like a women in control I will heed that advice.  Basically,  I've translated it as: if in pain, rest in the bar!

In a couple of days I will, along with some friends, be making my way for an inaugural challenge around the French Alps.  All on two skinny tyres. No idea what to expect apart from some hefty ascents and fantastic views I hope.

Having not done the training I would have hoped to do, prior to this trip, there is a certain trepidation and nervousness. I can do the Gloucesterhire climbs but Alp D'Huez is a different league.  We shall see.

First though is a lengthy drive across the continent, planned by blokes, which means we're only just looking at the map and timings now. Looks like a drive through the night and arriving at our destination early morning; totally knackered.

18 Aug 2012: Rangers 0-5 Swansea City

More to follow....Still in shock after today, so I will sleep on it and give a balanced view later!

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24 hours later....still trying to find the balance. Gone for tea...


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On reflection, this could have been a lot worse. Worse? I hear you cry. Yep a lot worse!

Think of it this way, we could have been in the same position as this time last year. Owners that couldn't have given a monkeys. No time to sign anyone respectable before the transfer window closed and no bleeding hope. We were hanging on a wing and a prayer till January.

Yes, Saturday, we may have been thumped but, you know, we now have a solid foundation, a structure, a strategy and owners that really want this club to succeed, not just short term but for the long term.

We also have a Manager who is shaping us up well. We were playing well at the end of last season and purchases have, in the main, been shrewd. We also know there is more to come before the end of August. A centre back? More than likely.

The scouting and youth set up is being rebuilt. The training facilities are in plan and a new stadium is part of the bigger picture.

One swallow doesn't make a Summer, they say. Neither does one, albeit heavy, defeat map out our whole season. Stick with it. Be positive; you all know that a Rangers' season is always going to be exciting, what ever the reason.

One other thing to bear in mind is the comments that Joey Barton made on Twitter at the weekend:

Does this really speak of a man that is part of any QPR future involvement. Nope, surely doesn't.

Now, I for one had got behind Joey, but he really let us and himself down at The Etihad and, rightly or wrongly, I can only now feel he was part of the problem. A cancer best cut out. It certainly looks like that has discretely happened here.

For that reason I feel our future is so much the better. Keep the faith.

Looking forward to Naarwich!

Three Pasties, Hot Chocolate and Chips for the Dog

If you have a dog, and in particular, a large dog then you will know that they require a fair bit of exercise.  With that in mind we decided to head off to Cornwall for a week of chilling and walking and basically doing not a lot else.

Now, owning a Labrador can have its fun and games. They are greedy little buggers and ours is no exception. Summer walks can be, let's just say, interesting.  You see they can sense grub from a million yards and that means you have to be on your guard at all times. Apart from that they are great fun and give you the excuse to get out and about.

Cornwall is a haven for dog owners with endless walks whether along the coast, the beach or in land. We were not disappointed managing various walks.

Different days have different challenges though. Picture the scenario. You have relaxed, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air, meandering along the coast when you hear voices and see a family settling down for a nice picnic in the distance.  But you are prepared.  Oh yes, been here before. A quick grab of the collar.  The lead fastened and you coolly walk by pretending that mans best friend is the most obedient dog in the world.  

On another occasion and you meet some friendly fishermen.  Maggots are definitely not for starters but their cheese sarnies are though.  Sniffed out from nowhere,  he legs it towards them. A beeline is thwarted, though, by racing after him, and nearly breaking my neck, down towards the bay.  Nearly caught out there then! Sarnies safe and sound in their Sunblest bag still.

So, feeling really good at the ending of a fabulous week away, from the day to day grind, and proud to have passed the week without incident we set off for a celebratory pasty. And so, Padstow we headed.

Wow, that rounded off a Cornish holiday. The only way you can; three pasties and some hot chocolate.  Luvly Jubbly. We were proud of our walking achievements. We were proud of our ageing Labrador.  He'd been such a good boy,  he'd not kept us up in the night in a strange home.  He'd not let us down by fouling on the owners carpet. He'd not chewed anything and more importantly he'd not eaten some poor kids ice-cream. We felt great about the whole week.

"No Samson. NO!"  came the shout from behind, as we wrestled with the crowds back to the car....

I turn around to see that he'd only grabbed, and was happily devouring, some chips out of the bottom of a family's buggy!  How the hell had he grabbed them so fast? Wasn't expecting that manoeuvre.

Embarrassingly, we apologised to the family insisting on a new tray of chips for the toddler.  They were having none of it, of course, and found it all very funny.  Not the same feeling I had,  there was no hole to swallow me up.  No where to hide. We walked on, briskly, not looking back like it was our last request before being shot. Hoping not to bump into this family again before we departed!

Still, our four legged friend did at least make us proud in one sense. He is in fact a connoisseur of food. He did choose Rick Steins gourmet chips to savour!

Did he really need to eat the tray, as well, though?

Inspiration

Many times temptation allows you to flop on the sofa, feet up, beer in hand and searching for some munchies.  Getting up and about, away from the 'box can be such a chore.

Whilst sitting there munching on your Pringles, thinking about opening, and moving on to, that bottle of red in the cupboard, there are people all around dedicated to their cause.

They may be running, getting ready for a marathon.  Walking their dog in the endless rain, day in, day out. They could be sprinters, cyclists, gymnasts, walkers, swimmers.  All of them getting up early, turning around after work and putting in their 'stint'. Maybe working and breathing 24/7 in their quest for their goals.

Compare this with the other end of the spectrum.  The 'I can't get motivated. I can't lose weight. Why should I be bothered' brigade.

Underneath, both these types are exactly the same. Human, no different.  Some are driven, some are not. So what?

Here's my point.  A single experience I had recently.

I'm sitting watching shoals of swimmers racing, to get their PB's, at the local swimming club event.  Healthy kids, young and old, pushing themselves, having a focus.  Healthy kids from all over the country.  Our future. Not hanging around corners, vandalising, wrecking havoc just doing something good. 

But it wasn't this that inspired me.  No. What inspired me was the ten year old boy who swam against his peers in the 50m freestyle heat.  He came third out of four boys.  He then went on to do other heats. So what was the big deal?

The big deal was that this ten year old showed something special. Something that got my undivided attention. This ten year old is a double amputee.  Yet, he swam against abled boys and even beat one head on.

That's what inspired me.  That's a boy who is dedicated.  That's a boy that has got off his backside and said: "You know what? I'm no different from the next boy, I'm not going to make excuses. I'm getting on with it."

I wonder what he would think of those individuals that insist they need gastric bands fitted?

Medical reasons, I'm not at all convinced! What they need to do is be honest with themselves and watch this young boy and other kids like him. If that doesn't inspire them then they might as well give up completely.

I'm sure his parents are really proud, and so they should be!

Thanks also goes to Gloucester City Swimming Club for their hard work in this field.

Please note the image is a library picture, for illustration only, not of the boy concerned.

It's Just a Plastic Bit

So the saga continues. Why are such simple tasks so unnecessarily big issues?

All I want is a bit,  a plastic bit. A bit that will fix my leak. A bit that will eventually cost me no more than four quid. So why should it be such an ordeal?

Is it because I don't look like a 'Trader'? Should I have visited the shop decked in my cargo trousers and sweatshirt? No. They would know I'm not a real plumber, of course; everyone seems to know each other here. I wonder whether there's such a thing as Freemasons for plumbers? I wonder this thought as I glance around, all of them sipping the their machine tea and talking fittings and pipes?

I don't know what it's really called, it's just a plastic bit. I don't even know how to fit it yet,  but I'll figure it out. I just want it....p..l..e..e..a..s..e!!!!!

Well, three visits and two broken promises later.

I could'nt really care that the Cearphilly branch had sent one without the seal, and now one without the clip. I couldn't give a hoot that they can't even make one good one out of two because they can't find the one they already sent you. I just want my plastic bit! That's all.

Away I trot, again, eagerly anticipating a call tomorrow, from Neal, that my Bit, MkIII, will be here.  Will he check this time that it is a complete bit?

 
So, if I was a plumber in the middle of a job, how would I feel? Nothing to do with not being a trader, just about poor service.

Now you know, then, why tradesmen cost so much these days. Its not really the call out fee, it's to compensate for inefficient suppliers.

PS: Deadline for MkIII has now gone and passed. Off we go again, I guess...will I ever see it?

Who knows? Good job it's not raining much!!!

Craig Finnikin Win (Coventry July 2012)

What was supposed to be another downpour over England,  the sun settled down for another rare appearance allowing some enjoyment of outdoor sport.

This time,  a quick trip to Brandon and the home of Brisca Stock Car Racing,  a place frequented regularly as a kid and getting its second outing of the year.

Times have changed somewhat since the 80's; more H&S, and the grass has gone from the middle: a place where I thought maybe a new pitch for Coventry City could be had.  Well, I was only 12!

So Coventry City get the Ricoh Arena (or is it City of Coventry Stadium now?) and Brandon sees only one entry/exit on to the track, no barrels any more and sadly no Stuart Smith,  who sadly passed away two Christmas' ago.  The scoreboard still doesn't work and remarkably it looks like the same ice cream vans can be spotted on each bend. The pits still a million miles away from F1, especially after all the recent rain.

After watching the novelty which is Mini Stox (kids racing Minis) the almighty roar,  which is V8 grunt, sparked up - a sound which still gives goosebumps.  The names are still there, of course, but now I know I'm getting old sighting second generation families; Finnikins, Nodens, Wainmans, Scrivens, (Harrisons & Smiths - absent from last night) all following in their fathers footsteps,  but in the mix can still be seen the stalwart which is John Lund, still going and obviously still living the thrill of the sport.

The night didn't disappoint. Four and half hours of unaldulterated small oval racing. Great racing and awesome finishes, a credit to the drivers involved. If you've never gone, then you must.  No prima donnas here just all round great entertainment,  loads of noise, dust and action.

Mid way through I did venture down to the pits and dreamt of remortgaging to buy my  'race winner'. Twenty grand is all it would have taken and I could have been the next World Champion.

Maybe next month then. Just need to find some sponsors me thinks.

Of course the night went to Craig Finnikin  who, not only won the race that you can see in the video clip but, went on to a memorable and impressive final bend win for the British Championship.

Will I be going again?  Damn right I will. 

Coventry holds meetings on the first Saturday of each month (April - November).

Coventry Stadium

Give it a try - you won't be disappointed, only don't dress up in your Sunday best!

More info at Brisca F1 

One Moment of Sunshine

Huffing and puffing was the order of the day when, all of a sudden, there was a welcome break in proceedings. Yes, a moment of calm and brightness, more commonly known as The Sun!

Racing home from work, checking constantly that it wasn't going away, in anticipation of finally managing to get a ride in before it changed again. This time last year I had managed to cycle every weekend and, after the clocks had changed, at least once in the week as well. This year? Well, I think I can count on one hand how many rides have been accomplished.

What the hell has happened to this weather? Has God really filled his bath too full allowing the constant cascading of liquid to descend on us? Who has upset all the Angels that they cannot stop crying? Global warming..I think not. What ever is causing this, it's certainly narking everyone off but at least you can use your hose pipe now!

Anyway, where was I? A quick change into the Lycra, a pump up of the tyres, crank the music up on the iPhone and we're away. A quick sprint and hill climb....back in an hour.

Well, that's what I thought. The hill I climbed so easily last year seemed to have got steeper and higher. The brakes seemed to be binding, surely? And where the hell did all these pot holes come from?

Onwards and upwards I went, pretending to be fit, trying to look cool when other riders passed on the other side, but feeling my heart banging on my rib cage as I quickly ran out gears.

Eventually, I rode the crest of the hill to face incline number two. An undulating, deceiving little blighter which, after burning the quads on the previous incline, felt like an anchor had been chucked out behind me. Frantic slurping of the SIS juice was made in a vain attempt to rehydrate when Mr Volvo decided to try and turn me into a sideways ejector seat - at least he was safe behind his two million air bags and five tonne of steel bracing!

The sun shone more, wow what a novelty. It really was staying out to play for the whole evening.

I was at the summit, over seeing the beautiful English countryside, feeling pleased to be there. Now, I didn't want to go in, I wanted to cycle all night. I was, after all, Andy Schleck...

...until I realised I had come the wrong way. A 13% descent with a vertical climb out of the village. By now I was blowing, legs burning, sweat running into my eyes, burning like tear gas. Please, I don't want to meet any cars on this climb. There's only room for one of us and I'm snaking like a lizard, no way will I have the energy or will power to un-clip from my pedals - doomed to fall over like a domino.

There! Finally back on the main road, not meeting Mr Volvo again. What a relief.

The Odo clicks 37mph, the breeze cooling, if not chilling, my arms as I bomb down back to civilisation, the miles clicking faster, me feeling fitter now because I'm free wheeling.

I look to the right. A young mountain biker sits at the roundabout, oblivious as to what I had gone through. The passion for losing timber and fitness.

Back home, the family are also oblivious, feet up. One on the computer, one head in the telly and one in a magazine.

"Good ride, Babe?" she asks, head still in the magazine.

"Great thanks. Do you want to see the stats on my App?", feeling so proud of myself.

Just a nonchalant response came my way: "Ssh, I'm nearly at the end of this article. And hurry up and have a shower, there's no way your parking your backside on the sofa!".

In other words, 'whateva', I really don't give a damn - you're on your own pal. Does she not appreciate what I have just achieved?

Next time, I guess I'll do it with the lads - at least we can waffle about it all night over a beer.