Writing, football and other bits and bobs

Is Torres secretly a vital piece of Spains dream team?

2009-12-05T02:57:00.002Z

So the world cup draw was done some hours ago now, and Spain have plenty of reason to be cheery about it. Their opposition are not exactly giants of the world game - Spain will sweep aside Honduras and Switzerland with ease, and Chile wont be much harder. Even the South Americans Spain get to wait for while Villa, Silva and co take their six points arguably easier then any other team in the World Cup will.

Everything is rosy for Spain going into the world cup - they are undefeated in more then 40 games, Villa is scoring all the goals he could ever hope to score - with their group it wouldn't be too absurd to suggest that at the world cup he could get the most goals a player has ever scored at the world cup - 13 is the target David.

It's not as if Villa is ever going to be short of supply either - Xavi? Iniesta? Fabregas? Alonso? Spain could lose their two best players in the Barca pairing and still have one of the best central midfield partnerships at the world cup. You can say the same for every position on the park - the amount of depth Spain have is simply staggering. There is even tiny, tiny talk of dropping Torres - for all of Villa's goals, Torres on the domestic stage is almost a rank above when fit, an all round master of the final third with a capacity for finishing from every possible angle and position. Yet on the international stage he doesn't shine, so from some points of view he could find his position (in the starting 11 at least) under threat. Certainly his rate at Liverpool (more then a goal every 2 games) far outdoes his total for Spain by some margin - in his last 23 games for Spain Torres has scored just 7 goals.

But Torres could well be the final piece in what is currently Spains unstoppable footballing machine. Or at least, it appears to be an unstoppable footballing machine. In theory, there is a gap in the armour that is Spain's dream team.

Case study number 1: Quarter finals of Euro 2008. Spain versus Italy. The footballing maestros versus a dying ember of a side, a side that was deservedly beaten by Holland and should have been out of the world cup against Romania - saved literally by Buffon's savvy hand. Italy were not a good team in Euro 2008.
Yet actually Spain struggled.
Italy do know how to win when they need to - it just didn't work this time around. Organised mass defence prevented Spain from making any serious clear cut chances - for all the class of Xavi, Silva, Iniesta, Villa, Torres (the whole team, lets say to cut to the chase) they failed to make a single clear chance.
Italy did. They were negative - so so negative, but they made more clear cut chances then Spain did. Early in the second half it took some desperate defending from Spain and two desperate saved from Casillas to stop Toni and then Camoranesi socring. Italy had the advantage of height in that game - pretty much the extent of the usefulness of Luca Toni - and they took it, used it. As a neutral supporter in favour of Spain, that was a nerve wracking game because every time the ball was sent into Spains box, you worried.
But Spain largely kept Italy pinned back, went to penalties. Cassillas added more to his best goalkeeper in the world CV, and Fabregas wrote himself into Spanish history. Spains play lauded, Italy's loathed, everyone forgets the game.

And then the Yanks came along.

Case Study 2: Semi finals of the Confederations cup. Spain against the USA. USA were the Jekyll and Hydes of the confeds - they showed some lovely attacking play, but indescision lost them glorious oppurtunites and they paid for it against Italy, and then Brazil. They did not however, pay for it against Eygpt - arguably the most ludicrous final day of a group stage ever was ended with the USA, having been on 0 points at the start of the day, beating Eygpt and Brazil to the second place spot. So therefore its natural that they werent favorites against Spain, who breezed their group with some ease. Even without Iniesta, and with Silva on the bench. Good times for them. Not for long.
The world was denied the chance to see how Spain versus Brazil would turn out by great defensive play by the US of A. Altidore got a decent goal, USA sat back and Spain went something along the lines of 'wait...this isnt fair! theres a brick wall here! damn you Columbus!' and didn't create a great deal - the main one I remember is a Sergio Ramos shot that was superbly blocked. Them Ramos gave compliments to the USA side by gifting them another goal and it was all over.

It wasn't as if this was a sudden thing for Spain - just the game before they were kept out for 78 minutes by a South African side that was ok, but not much more. Spain should, in theory beat every team in the world with their pretty football. In reality teams can set up mass defence, hit their sometimes dubious defence on the counter and see how long Spain try to play one-twos between them.

Spain in these two games reminded me a little bit of Barcelona versus Chelsea just last year - Barcelona may be the best side in the world but it was Chelsea who should've won by about four goals thanks to counterattacking, and no thanks to some very dubious penalty decisions.

So that is their chink, and it is tiny. Most teams wont be able to do it - USA, Italy and South Africa had defenders putting in top class performances against Spain - but some will. Thats where Spain could be caught out. Brazil could do it. England could do it. Italy could do it. Plenty of teams at the world cup could pull that kind of stunt.

That, is why Torres could be so, so important to Spain.
The target man, the striker next to Villa with strength and heading ability. The one who can fashion chances out of nothing - even less nothing then Villa can operate on.
Fernando Torres may shine alot more for Liverpool then he does for Spain. But when the time comes he could be just as vital as he is at Anfield.

-------------------------------------------

Fear - 500 words

2009-10-26T15:03:00.001Z

Fear

What?
Are you afraid of me?
Or are you afraid of this knife, sliding gently, lightly across the skin of your neck? Are you afraid of the sight of your own blood?
Are you really?
I'm only testing you, after all. I wonder if it is the knife, or the blood you are really afraid of. Perhaps it is what the blood leads to. Falling. Death. Parents crying at your bedside. Your dear four year old sister asking for the eleventh time when you are coming back from holiday. Maybe you fear the same thing that she does.
Maybe you fear that moment when your dear four year old sister, who always ran to you for a dance like twirl, will eventually realise that you are never coming home?
Is that what you fear? That your sister will learn death from you?

Fears do change quickly, don't they? Oh, don't cry. That blood trickling down your neck is exactly that.
You have much worse to fear then that. I could let you go, but what if that is merely a stay of execution? What if you end up alone, old, ****ting yourself in an old peoples home chair before winking out of existence like you were never there at all?
And say you don't...say you don't even survive until then. Do you write? Do you?
…
Answer me please. I'm enjoying this conversation and wouldn't want to cut it short...
Do you have a relationship on? Do you have children? Do they have the same hair as you?
That's interesting...you have so much left to do...what if it were ended by a bus? They're quite hard those buses you know. I should know. My father threw me in front of one when I was twelve. I was fine though, nothing wrong went with me. My poor dad though...his intestines are currently being oven cooked. Two hundred, fan. His eyes aren't doing much better. It was quite releasing...even more releasing talking to you mind, I thank you...

Is that a laptop in that bag there? Maybe you have a i-phone, blackberry...ah...there it is...sorry if that was a touch of your hip that you didn't like. I don't do that kind of thing. I haven't tried it yet anyway...I have an i-phone like this. I'm much more successful then I look.
So these things...are they keystones to your life? What if I were to smash them? Drop them in a river? Would that break your world? I suspect it might just...oh look. There goes your friends. Your facebook. Looks like your life lines just got cut...

But do you know what I think you should fear the most?
Simply the fact that when you die, your family will cry, and the news may cover it. But give the sand castle time and it eventually dissolves right? You would be meaningless, given time.
Doesn't that make your life meaningless? Doesn't that make most life meaningless?
So if I were to think like that, and I think I am...I could do anything I like to you. How...freeing that is. Hey- hey! Hey...

Why so serious?

----------------

FOOTBALL: 'Drogba, is the one frontal big game player.'

2009-10-13T17:22:00.007+01:00

They regularly shine against the best teams in the league. They show all their character, guts and skill and use them to come out on top and smash the other big team into oblivion. The big game player. Players like Drogba...and...and...

See, here is the problem.
You go onto the Liverpool forum disappointed the morning after the Chelsea game (but not nearly as much as after Fiorentina-gate) and you find, as always, posts that You disagree with wholeheartedly.
My particular favorites the day after were posts such as 'And again Gerrard doesn't do it against the big teams.'
I must have missed Chelsea at Stamford Bridge last year, Man U at Old Trafford last year. Real Madrid.

Players like Gerrard and Torres are expected to shine against the very best the premiership has to offer. Thing is that the other team don't want this to happen so they take steps to neutralise said players, and with that class a team like Chelsea has (Terry, Carvalho and Essien are all class players to protect the keeper with) you can curtail attacking threats, wherein the other players in the squad have to step up and fill the void left by the canceling out of the big players on each team.

Then the game either becomes one where the better team performance wins out. Good example: Arsenal against Man United recently: Arsenal had that game by the scruff of the neck and threw it away. Not because Man U's big players like Rooney and Berbatov stepped up, or even Fletcher, who is said to be a 'big game player' yet gave away 6 fouls that day. Nor did Arsenal lose because Arshavin stopped doing magic.
Arsenal lost because they were Arsenal and lost their heads in the big moments.

You can relate also to Chelsea under Scolari, facing Liverpool at Stamford Bridge. Gerrard may have mastered his marker Mikel for most of the match but Gerrard wasn't the deciding factor - that was the fact that Chelsea as a team simply didn't have the answers to Liverpool's tactics (and a certain deflected goal may have helped)

There are players who step up sometimes in big games (Ronaldo against Scolari's Chelsea the same year, Arsenal in the champions league semis) But as for players who have stamped on their head 'big game player' all the time?
Actually, yes there are. Just not so much in the attacking area.

This is what makes Drogba so valuable to Chelsea - Since he restruck form after Scolari left he has consistently been very much a big game player - Against Liverpool, Barcelona, Arsenal, Man United in the community shield, Everton in the fa cup final he has been consistently influential by the fact that you can't shut him down anymore - He'll just find somewhere else to cause chaos. But he is essentially one of a kind - Messi has shown that even on form he can be shut down, although that, again, was also partly down to Barcelona's tactics (and the idiocy of Alves cutting inside Bosingwa for 85 minutes of each game rather then bringing Barca width and not jut putting a damn cross into the box)

Drogba, is the one frontal big game player. He is consistently (nowadays) a complete nightmare to deal with for the big teams. No other frontal player can claim that.

Of course, other positions can. I would like to say that Mascherano is a big game player...mostly. Defensive mids are a key cog to a team trying to beat a top team, and Mascherano ranks among the very best and proved it against Chelsea where I suspect Lucas may have had more trouble. But then, Masch made that little error of course, that led to Chelsea's first, and ultimately pivotal goal.

So yes, most of the time Masch has been a great presence to have, and he's a big game player. And yes there are big game players further back down the field, but if the time comes when people stop saying 'Ronaldo/ Torres/ Gerrard/ Lampard dont cut it against the big teams.' I will be a happy man. Because actually, all of these players and other mecurial attacking talents have had great moments against other big sides. They just don't do it all the time.

And noone means the same thing when they say big game player anyway. Some people even think Park Ji Sung is a big game player. But there you go.

Cheerio.

Writing: 'READ'

2009-10-10T13:05:00.003+01:00

Yesterday night, finally, after lets say a fair while of reading the thirteen hundred word book on and off, I finished Stephen King's IT, and closed the book to rest my eyes.
It is a book that feels, although it doesn't read as such, epic. About the misadventures of a band of kids self titled 'the losers club' and pennywise the clown who stalks the town, the story stretches over two periods twenty eight years apart and is based around the murders of kids, who pennywise is killing. What follows is the kids banding together as companion to build dams, build club houses, try and kill pennywise and more. Together, it threads into a fantastic story that catches the whole of the town the book is set in - Derry - into its circumference.

Then this morning, ripping my way through Devil May Care (a James bond novel) you just get to appreciate a sense of scale, in the book world anyway.
Different books, different genres, different style of writing, different everything - but IT is still light years ahead, in my opinion anyway. King's rounding of the characters is staggering - if they were crystals they would have too many facets to mention - and they can roll anywhere. Devil May Care, being a Bond book, in general you know what will happen - Bond saves the day, as always and always will - but in IT you don't know, you don't truly know until it happens who wins - IT or the losers club. In this, it is an absolute rollercoaster ride to the ghost train through the shabby dark that is devil may care. Although I may be biased - I owe King alot up to this stage in my as yet un-birthed writing career.

The first books I read for a while in sixth form were King's Dark Tower series. If IT is imaginative, then Dark Tower is on another scale altogether, and yet the imagination is kept in check with a methodical knitting of the pieces - and you still have no idea what is going to happen next. I like to think I took inspiration from this when I started to write three years ago.

But the most important thing Stephen King did for me was give me a kick up the arse.
Last year I was reading his book 'on writing' from the library, tearing through it with some enthusiasm - I wanted to know how I could become better, and I still want to become as good as if not better then him. An ultimate, unrealistic ambition in all likelyhood, but still...worth a shot. It was then that I read one of the quotes that stuck with me forever. He talked about people who said they didn't read much, or didn't have the time, and then he delivered the blow, saying simply this:

'If you don't have the time to read, you don't have the time (or the tools) to write. Its that simple.'
Theres something about seeing doom in the pages you are reading that makes you get up to embark upon this sensation normal people call reading.

I don't read as much as I should, or at least I didn't. The one book I read last year was 'Demon Apocalypse' and others of the series, amounting to about three books over an entire year. Not exactly great. The reason was, I think, because i saw reviews like, for example 'an unparalleled author of his genre.' or 'a cracking rollercoater ride of thrills' from start to end.
Not because I hate the authors, oh no. Its because I wanted to be better, and something in those reviews was a barrier, like I never could. I'm a drop in the ocean compared to the thousands of other authors out there trying to make it, and the thought is daunting. Daunting indeed.

But if you want to make it, and everyone tells me this, from Stephen King to the evil cat that patrols campus demanding meals off students, READ. Digest, and adjust, and keep working. On the back of a book written about his life is says that Stephen King has become the author he has through 'peerless imagination and work ethic.' thats not true - he needed much more then that in my opinion. But having those two assets is far from a bad start.

Its a bit short today, but thats all I feel like writing. There'll be a short story soon, since I have to write one for English, and also another bit about football if you are interested. Meanwhile, go get IT, the book by King. If you can chew your way through its 1350 plus pages, you wont regret it.

Till next time, cheerio from Crash.

SHORT STORY: The two friends of old

2009-10-04T12:51:00.000+01:00

The two friends of old

'Curry?'
'Oh. Yeah.'
'Extra chilli? Peppers?'
'You know what?'
'What?'
'You know me far too well for your own good...I will have those chillis.'

Luke sat down in on of the wicker chairs, playing with a small fork as he did,rolling it around his fingers and leaning back as he lifted his feet.
'Don't make me strike you down...' Jay warned quietly from the window into the kitchen, looking with eyebrows raised at Luke as he was about to put his feet up on the table.
Luke gave him the eye, the arched eyebrow with the grin.
'I was just kidding...' Luke said, his trainers not even touching the polished table top.
'Har har har, you goon.' Jay said, bringing out Luke's curry, extra hot with his own dairylea sandwich with ham. 'You can have a pillow you know.'
Luke looked at the small plump white pillow which dotted the other wicker chairs.
'I like my tough mattress back home. Oh...OH what is that??'
He let out a chuckle, smirking as he eyed Jay's sandwich with a laugh on the edge of his lips. '
'You know me...' Jay said, sitting down opposite his long time friend, looking out over the sea which today sparkled blue and bright with the pure sun shining down upon it. 'Nothing like a simple meal after a long hard day...'

After a moment and a brief smile of content, Luke looked over the sea as well.
Jay's house could have been said to have either sat upon the edge of the world or above it, and the view of his back porch far into the ocean. Both hypnotised by the deep blue, and the life within it.
Then Luke got to his meal. Luke had always been a quick eater, and he loved his messy foods.
'Comeon then...' He said. 'Eat up. You got a big meal there.'
Jay smiled, and his smile of contentment was much like Lukes a matter of moments before.
'You of all people should know to savour your food...'
'Like you said. One rule for work, an one rule for food.' Luke replied, a bit of half chewed chicken still behind his teeth when he spoke.

'Dont talk with your mouth full.' Jay said.
'My mouth isn't full. Look! See! FOOD!' Luke said, opening his mouth wide and showing J the chewed chickin. Jay sniggered, shaking his head.
'Fine. Dont chew with food in your mouth.'
'Moving the goalposts are we?' Luke jibed back, sarcasm permeating his next words. 'Well thats just not new at all...'
'Oit.' Jay said pointedly. 'My house, my rules. For example...'

Jay used his weight to swivel his chair. Then he drew one of the other wicker chairs closer with his bare foot.
'I can put my feet up on my chairs.' Jay said, putting his feet up on the pillows, stretching his arms out and putting on an exaggerated smile of pleasure. 'You cant though. I don't like you you see.'
'I figured.' Luke said flicking a piece of rice at Jay, who let the little bead nestle in his hair without much care. 'I did a whizz on that chair you know.'
'See now you aren't allowed to talk.'
'Oh-'
'ZZZZZZZZip.'
'M-'
'Zip'
Luke fell quiet for a moment, watching Jay as he ate his food. Then munching a pepper as he did, he looked around the porch.
There were pictures on the white walls. Mosaics made up of thousands of faces, combined to make a picture of a familiar planet. Continents, water, ice, snow...
Luke looked at this beautiful picture, and he looked around the rest of J's house with a little bit of envy.

'You are such a git.' Luke eventually said when the silent treatment had run its course.
'Only to you.' Jay replied. 'I'm nice to everyone else.'
They both had a little chuckle at that.
A while later Luke watched Jay pop the last morsel of bread into his mouth. He threw it in the air, waiting for a few seconds for the bread to drop into his mouth.
'You have had too long to practice that.' Luke said laughing. 'Sad sod.'
'And yet you want to be able to do it.' Jay said.
From inside the house came a sudden wailing cry. The cry of a babe, just woken up in the dark.
'Ah.' Jay said, getting up and taking both cleaned up plates. 'Do you wanna go for a walk? Might as well take baby Jay out.'

-------

Falmouth wasn't quite so sunny as it was back at Jay's house.
Murky clouds stained the sky overhead, although not so much that it looked like it would rain. The market was in town square as usual, striped and chequered tents selling local clothes, necklaces and foods among other things.
'Amazing what people can do eh?' Jay said, glancing over some cheeses he liked the look of. 'Ooh, marmite cheese, one for you that.'
Luke made a careless gesture, twiddling his fork in his fingers again. 'Its not about what you do, its the mistakes you undo. Noones undone the travesty of marmite cheese for example...'
'You are lucky the poor girl didn't hear that.' Jay replied, looking briefly over at the girl running the store, chatting enthusiatically with a balding man, his beer belly far too evident beneath the tight shirt.
'Well she'll have to learn it sooner or later!' Luke protested, Jay chuckling.
'You are such a goon...'

Jay was looking down at his kid.
The tiny boy nestled in white blankets, sleeping again now he was in the fresh air. Jay watched him fondly, squatting down simply to find himself closer to the child in the pram. Stroking the kids head, strands of hair growing outward.
'Want to hear a baby joke?'
'Want to be kicked right back to where you came?' Jay said, and this time, he was not impressed.
'And there was me thinking you were open minded...' Luke grumbled.
'There's a line Luke, not that you would know much of it.' Jay said pointedly.
'Chill, ok?'

Jay and Luke eyed each other at that moment, as the people wandered around them, buying their cheeses, their breads, their clothes and their necklaces.
Yet in that town centre they were very much alone.
'Do you ever think we shouldn't talk?' Luke asked. 'We're not exactly red apple and red apple are we?'
Jay took a moment to answer. There was no anger, or annoyance or hatred in his eyes.
Rather, there was a disappointment there.

Luke had left a very long time ago, but Jay would have been happy to bring Luke back into his flat back then, in spite of the rows. Jay still did wonder if Luke might return.
But more and more Jay knew that would never be so. Luke had grown to enjoy his new home, his new 'friends', and Jay doubted he would ever come back.
But a moment later, that was past, and he cracked a smile.
'Nope.' He said. 'It's refreshing hanging out with a complete scumbag like you.'
Luke chuckled, and smiled.
'Lets go somewhere else. I need to visit someone.'

-------

If anyone were to see the house in which Jay and Luke now sat, most people would think it was just a typical house. In the living room there were sofas, a television, a sky box along with childrens toys cluttering the fake wood flooring. The kitchen was messy, food stacked or scattered, a microwave, an oven, a dishwasher. Upstairs, there were childrens bedrooms tailored to their loves in life.
But Jay and Luke were there, and they could feel what was wrong, as well as knowing.
Death stalked this house.
In the parents room, a husband lay asleep. Attached to various machines monitoring his well being. Across the room, a small camp bed was set up, which at the moment Jay and Luke sat on.
'Do you know what it is?' Luke asked, penetrating the silence that had enveloped the room for the past few minutes. Even then, it was a few more moments before Jay answered.
'I dont know. It's killing him though.'
Jay had grown pale. His eyes were locked upon the mans closed eyes, which were wrinkled far too much for a man that age.

'You are getting hung up.' Luke said quietly, watching Jay stare. 'It's just one guy. You know yourself how many of these people die everyday.'
'Just one guy...' Jay muttered, growling the words like a curse. '...and just his family, and just the people around them. You know this.'
'I...I was just trying to cheer you up.' Luke said. '...You cant help him at all?'
Jay shook his head. There were very few he could help, and he certainly couldn't help this man. Whatever disease it was, it was destroying his nervous system, piece by piece.
'There is no way back for him.' Jay said. 'Once you let loose the dove there is no telling what will happen and all that.'
'Yeah...' Luke said.

The man groaned in his sleep, wrestling with the pain while trying to have peaceful rest, and failing. Briefly, he opened his eyes, seeing his wifes camper bed. For a brief moment he may have seen a bright and grey light, sitting together upon that bed. But then there was nothing, and the man fell back into his painkiller induced sleep.

'It's okay...' Jay said. 'He'll be fine in the end, if he repents...'
'Things were better in the old days...' Luke said, doing an old man impression.
Jay didn't laugh.
'I...I was different back then.'
'As long as you are happy.' Luke said. 'That said, this guy has had an affair. Twice.'
'He's only human.' Jay said sadly. 'The world changes, and reason changes with it.'
'And he'll be forgiven, bla bla bla...'
'Don't.' Jay said, sharply.
Luke fell silent.
'He'll find his way to me.' Jay said. 'And if I am wrong...if he is not worthy...I'll send him down to you wont I?'
Luke raised a cold eyebrow.
'What was that?'
'A simple statement.' Jay said.
Both sat in silence again.

A child came to the door. About 8 years old, stood at the door with a blonde mop covering his eyes.
He was afraid to step into the room. That line between the landing and his parents room, he wouldn't cross. Or maybe he was waiting hopefully for his father to sit up, renewed, and take the kids in his arms.
As minutes went by, the child's head dropped.
Eventually, he sniffed, wiped his cheek, and walked away from the room again.

'You don't care do you?' Jay said.
'We have had this argument before.' Luke said. 'I say people are inherently flawed and you saw they have boundless potential, dont-' He stopped Jay, as he opened his mouth. 'We have had this argument before like I say... Surprised you stopped there actually.'
Luke smiled, almost crazily considering the situation. Jay said nothing.
'But...' Luke continued, looking back at the door, his smile fading. 'I can understand. Watching for the light, when its never coming...'
'You can always come back you know.'
'I cant.'
'Why?'

Luke met Jay's steely gaze with a cool, rueful look. They weren't so different. They were both stubborn, for one thing. But in who they were, and what they did...
Luke simply had to say. 'Because I have my task, and you have yours.'
And Jay could say little. Luke would never come back from the darkness to where he fell. He had become that dark - Jay knew that Luke had abhorred the pit, and its fires, but rather then escape Luke had grown rather, more used to it. And his view had changed little. Jay had the heart for the life he watched below, the heart to care...
Luke no longer cared for that life below. And Jay wondered if he ever had.

'Oh, look at the time.' Luke said, looking with a grin at his bare wrist. 'See I still like some things about your people.'
'Yeah. The crap things.'
'Aww. But I must go.'
Jay nodded.
'Some time soon.'
Luke stood up from his chair. 'You leaving?'
'...Not quite.'
Jay stood up from his chair too. He looked over at the husband, and he considered.
He walked over to the man, who had murmured all the time they were there, the pain agonizing.
Jay reached out a hand and brushed his scalp.
The man stopped murmuring. He fell into quiet sleep, a whimper the last of his pains.
Jay looked over at Luke, who shrugged.
'Small mercies, eh?'
'Yeah...small mercies...'
-------

Words: 2089

Hope you enjoyed that. It was written off the top of my head so it is probably going to be flawed, but oh well. It also taken me 4/5 hours, which is...wow.

There is something about keeping discipline when writing that I've yet to master to be entirely honest. I'm also doing a novel at the moment, a novel I've said I'll do 1750 words of a day for a month. The day before last I have scribbled on that date: 0 – must do better.

There is a lot to distract the average writer and everyone has their own endurance levels – that is how much they can write in a day before negative attitude and thoughts creep into your fortress of writing and you either slug on or stop altogether and play on football manager or some other procrastinating-tastic thing. The advice I have been given, by books mostly is to designate a certain time when you have nothing else but to write, and its a nice theory except you wont always have those hours free. It sounds stupid, and it sounds like excuses but its true – you are going to have things disrupt your day whether its shop, wash clothes or kick the cat.

One solution which I'm going to try is thus – the wifi zone.
Inevitably these will be scattered around if you are near a town and if not, take a bus into town with your laptop/pendrive, go to a cafe, pay for wifi/power and type. In theory the fact that Im paying for this time should propel me to write (it certainly did today) but, and its a big but, its nice in theory but in practice there is lots of stuff on the internet to get drawn to.

Its worth a shot I think, at least a few days a week when there's no football to distract. In the meantime I shall say goodbye because I have other things to do today besides sit in a bar writing this blog (however fun it has been) and plus, I haven't had lunch.

So cheerio till next time, when hopefully I'll write a blog on some coming and going in football.
From Crash.

And a PS for you: For you writers aspiring, buy The writers and publishers yearbook 2010. It will teach you so, so, so much. I guarantee it.

FOOTBALL: 'And Aurelio just swam off.'

2009-10-01T11:19:00.004+01:00

Sometimes, I do really hate Liverpool football club.
Don't get me wrong - I'm a Liverpool supporter until I die. I'll always back the club, through good or for ill. I'm from nowhere near Liverpool, but my dad raised me as a Liverpudlian so I'm essentially born and bred Liverpool fan, and so Liverpool's results tend to dictate my mood, like most fans I guess.

Thus after Tuesdays game against Fiorentina, I stumbled home miserable having drank a few pints of cider too much, while trying to piece together what exactly happened.
So what happened? Exactly what happened against Tottenham is what happened.
Fiorentina worked very, very hard that night, closing down the ball well in the middle of the park, but Liverpool made it easy for them to do that and moreover, we made it easy for them to score through a combination of bad team play in the midfield and then the wingbacks being exposed as a result. As is a general theme in the Tottenham and Fiorentina game, the failiure of the midfield to take control or even try and impose themselves was essentially a haemmorage for the team - causing all the problems from back to front and contributing to our loss.

So all stares fall on Lucas. Liverpool fans do find it very easy to critisize Lucas and I will leap to defend him - he is not Alonso, like many players are not Alonso. Lucas is far more like Mascherano then Alonso and actually this season I think Lucas is still playing far better then Mascherano. But in a game where Fiorentina were closing down furiously for long periods of the game, Lucas's short passes drew Liverpool narrow where we were easy to take the ball from, putting Liverpool on the backfoot for most of the match and giving us very little option in attack. Lucas struggled against the closing down and in the end Lucas and Aurelio were snuffed out like they were midtable midfielders or worse.

And Aurelio? He was just as bad as Lucas was. He simply wasnt in the game - he was supposed to be an Alonso esque player next to Lucas with his long passing and techinical skill - but he was nothing of the sort and I would have rather had Mascherano in that position in hindsight (such a wonderful thing), because for all his experience, the Brazillian full back by trade did very little to help Insua at all. And on Tuesday night, Insua did suffer. Both goals origionated from his side of the pitch, and for leaving a young full back ineperienced in the champions league against a top class winger in a team like Fiorentina's, the buck is as much Aurelios as it was Insua's.

Because eventually yes, the midfield's failiure caused chaos in Liverpools plans. Over the past years Liverpool have progressed and become a very good attacking side, and this year we still are. Its defensively that the problems have begun with the loss of Alonso, because he could control the midfield like Mascherano and Lucas cant, and it led to Fiorentinas first goal.

Because any top attacking team in a top league right now need to control the midfield to be successful. That way you can get the ball into that dangerous final third regularly. If you do that, you can lose the ball five out of six times and still score a goal on the sixth attempt. Losing the ball in the middle of the park five times out of six will not lead to goals on the sixth attempt, it will lead to the final third, while those five times you lose the ball a champions league team like Fiorentina can take advantage and slice you to bits. Losing the ball too much in the midfield is for an attackign team like Liverpool, who push their wingbacks up to support the attack, is almost completely unacceptable. Lucas can play the simple passes, but when the Fiorentina team gathered about him like sharks around meat, he got eaten. And Aurelio just swam off.

Liverpools wingbacks Insua and Johnson have far more to think about with Liverpools midfield being more unstable, and With Lucas and Aurelios combined failiures to win the ball in the middle of the park when they should have cut out Fiorentinas buildup in its tracks led to Insua - the youngest player in the squad, to playing Jovetic well onside and very much clean through. Jovetic scored twice thanks to the midfield meltdown and its effect on the defence, and has officially become my most hated 19/20 year old playing in Italy. Job well done for him. Meanwhile Liverpool have a problem. Against those teams who work hard to close Liverpool down in the middle it melts down the spine that Benitez has worked so hard on for years.

Luckily playing the strong teams is not a particularly weak point of Lucas's. Liverpool travel down to Chelsea on Sunday for easily their toughest game so far. Whoever is in that midfield come 4pm needs to have more ambition to spread the ball further and wider, allow Liverpool to stretch when they have the ball and compress when they dont. Chelsea have arguably the strongest midfield in the league and though I hear their champions league game was far from a stroll, they will be well and truely fired up for the game Saturday in front of their own fans - our second biggest rivals behind Everton/ Manchester United and champions league nemesis, just as we are theirs.

If it were me, I would be bring the wingers back. And I would be careful about bringing the wing backs too far forward too quickly. Drogba will love that, especially if we again give up the ball too easily in midfield.
Still, what do I know. Hopefully, we can do what we did last year and expose their tactics. Chelsea seem to be playing the diamond formation more nowadays, but it is a different beast to the Chelsea under Scolari. Now they are flexible and can adapt their tactics, so I suspect it wont be enough to simply stop the wing backs this time around. We will need more.

Still, Im with Liverpool untill the bitter end. Contrary to deranged journalist predictions after the first round of the season, we could win any of the trophies this year, without a doubt. If we lose to Chelsea on Sunday I will still believe that.
So to whatever end. But we must not perform like we did on Tuesday night again.
-----------

Next: A piece on writing. Till then, Cheerio.

Crash.

'So here I am.'

2009-09-29T12:39:00.000+01:00

So once upon a time I asked to talk to my teachers about publishing. About a week ago, to be prescise. The whole idea of publishing looked like a messy, messy ordeal to be entirely honest (nicely cleaned up by The Writers and Publishers Yearbook 2009, for those interested in writing) and in addition to being recommended the above book, two things stuck out.
I asked about publishing in general for my first question, my teacher began with a very frank jab about me being very optimistic at the age of nineteen. Then when I asked about how to go about copyrighting my work, a second teacher replied. 'Oh I dont think anyones going to bother to steal your work, to be entirely honest.'

To be entirely honest, I dont remember if those were the exact words. But they fell along those lines, and they were two very sharp reality checks, like being poked in the eyes during a lecture and being told to pay attention. I would like to become a professional writer. It would be a dream job to write fantasy all my life, and maybe the odd football column, who knows really.
But that day barely a week ago was yet another reality check. I have a long way to go.

Something motivational they did say as I was leaving was 'Oh. Do you write a blog?'
So here I am. I have promised myself this isnt going to be a diary of my day to day life, because that would be such a waste, and not likely to impress anyone. No, what im going to try is as it says up there ^ somewhere, Writing, Football and anything else that grasps my attention at the time enough to write about. You might even get some short stories - Im doing a course called exactly that, so to not give you some at least would be mean and selfish. Or a relief depending on how you like them. I like to think I know a good deal about all of these subjects, although my knowledge of football is generally based in the English borders, and my writing skills are OK, nothing special at the moment, and other bits and bobs are pieces I'll generally catch in the news, reading and elsewhere.

Hopefully in the coming years you never know, you might catch a book called 'The Jabberwocky' on bookshelves in waterstones. Who knows eh? That book is in its third edit, and heres my first tip for you: editing your writing on paper is much easier then editing on a computer. As long as you recycle that paper after you are done with it. Dont say I didn't warn you.

Something football related for you too, if you swing that way - Liverpool may not miss Alonso as much as you might think. (I might blog on this in a few days) and I'll try and find something obscure and interesting for you in the football related area for you too, if I can - maybe related to an up and coming player through the youth a reserve ranks of English football or a strange happening. It could be anything really.

Untill next time, cheerio from Crash