Serena Williams’ outrageous outburst!

 

Image via Wikipedia

Serena Williams, oh dear. I have to admit I’m not a massive follower of tennis but I take a keen interest in Wimbledon and have grown up with the Williams sisters at the forehead of women’s tennis. I am a big supporter of both of them and what they have achieved in their respective careers is absolutely fantastic for any sports person. To me they seemed true sportswomen-hungry, hardworking, dedicated and damn good! Now as I said I’m not too hot on tennis so my opinions maybe slightly out of place but I want to focus on Serena Williams outburst in the US Open Final 2011.

YouTube clip of the US Open Final-Williams vs Stosur

It was just  embarrassing to watch such a celebrated athletic turn to such childish behaviour in her anger. I can sympathise and understand Williams’ annoyance with the decision in such a high profile game. However, you have to remember that she brought the decision upon herself by acting in a unsporting manner by calling out ‘come on’ before the point was actually hers. Arguably this could have put her opponent off and the Umpire, playing by the rules, had to give the point to Stosur because she touched the ball.

Personally I feel disappointed that Williams lowered herself to this level, she has an amazing record in championships and has the ability to win more but losing her temper so publicly has made a mockery of her past successes.

Sports personal who are watched with a beady eye by the media need to understand their responsibility to lead by example. Sport has a massive influence on young children and celebrities need to be big enough to control their actions, they certainly have a big enough pay check to persuade them.

The worse thing for me was that Williams was obviously so furious with the decision she insulted the Umpire and judged her as an inferior. More and more celebrities from all backgrounds see themselves as untouchable and take no responsibility for their actions. Williams called the Umpire a ‘loser and unattractive inside’ which has nothing to do with the game and was unnecessary. It made her opponent look like a worthy winner and a respectable sports-women unlike the blustering Williams.

This pathetic outburst from a player I have a lot of respect for has really made me think again about Williams’ attitude. She should be rejoiced for what she is brilliant at; tennis, but I fear this needless outburst will linger like an unpleasant smell over her remaining years at the top of world tennis.

If we can learn anything from this, it is that we should all be gracious winners, and losers whatever our circumstance or situation.

Buses-Can’t live with em’, can’t live without em’

 

A rarity

Buses, where do I start! As the saying goes ‘just like buses, when you want them they never turn up and when you don’t they all come at once’. Personally I think that’s a bit harsh, I mean when do buses ever turn up? Contrary to your initial thoughts I do not have a personal vendetta against buses, well not quite anyway. Having had the joy of using buses for nearly everyday for two years travelling to college it has allowed me to see the brutish machines in a different light. And not a good one at that.

One of the main reasons I strongly dislike buses is that, to be frank they are a safety hazard. The amount of times I have unwillingly charged down the aisle of the bus smashing into flailing shopping bags as I attempted to gracefully exit my ride is unbelievable. I would dread the arrival of my stop and the inevitable fate that followed.

One particularly bumpy and unenjoyable journey was brought to an end with, well I thought the drama had ended for the day, oh how wrong I was, the ringing of the big red button signed ‘stop’. It’s ironic that it should contain such a falsity. I mean it wouldn’t be wrong to believe that a bus would stop when you dutifully press the ‘stop’ button. Oh how wrong I was again! Stopping? ‘No, not today’ was the new motto of my good driver, he simply was in a rush to get home and just one stop would slow him down immeasurably.

 

The most useless bus stop...ever.

As I said I rang the bell and started off on my treacherous expedition down the bus as I had made the schoolboy error of sitting at the back-what can I say I’m….cool? Well to cut a long story short and to keep some of my shattered dignity in tact, I ended up bulldozing my way past an old couple who let’s just say weren’t too please, and involuntarily sprang into a near sprint finished to get to the door. Health and Safety eat your heart out I didn’t even hold any support polls! Cool and reckless, what can I say I’m quite a catch.

I had at this point broken into quite a sweat-nerves and running never did do anything for my sweat glands. Not only this, when I went to thank the bus driver as any polite person would do, even though I was not all that thankful for embarrassing me and emergency braking into my stop, my voice scraped out in a tone similar to death itself and then continued to leap into a high pitch screech. The only way I can explain this is that I had neglected the use of my voice for the duration of the journey and it had decided it would play a practical joke on me. I genuinely flinched at my own voice and my shock along with the rest of the bus was evident. None of us expected such a strange sound to omit my body. My voice had not only sounded like it had totally deserted me but also returned to soprano heights which really did nothing for my image as a 18 year old.

At this point I thought no more could go wrong, hmm yeah well. Let’s just say that when the bus doors opened I was so nervous to get off that I jumped the gun and ended up being literally jammed in-between the doors. The automatic doors clamped to each side of my body leaving me in a state of flux! I was left hangin’ literally. Panic! I could do nothing while even the bus driver looked with sight unease. After a good minute or so as the population of the bus watched in wonder and a sigh of relief as this disaster hadn’t happened to them, I was finally let down from the clamped doors and could at last gracefully exit the bus.

Head down, arms pumping I walked off pretending the last half an hour had never happened. Excuse me if I hate buses, I feel I have my reasons.

 

Is it just me, or?

 

Image via Wikipedia

Is it just me that watches a good film and suddenly feels like I live a pathetic life? Is it strange to want to change my life after 3hours of fiction?

I don’t know what it is or why it happens but if I watch a powerful film I feel the need to get up and do something meaningful with my life. It’s not like I’m unhappy with my life or achieve nothing. So why does this overpowering sense of regret fall over me when I realise I will never be the best at anything? I’m not looking for a sympathy vote at all, I promise.

Just take a moment to think of all the things you could have been great at but never tried or continued with enough passion. I mean by the age of about 10 months it was clear to see I was never going to be a ballet dancer which as it happens I’m not too bothered about. But a little later along the development line it was clear I would never be a professional football player or athlete which does sadden me! There is so much that is out of my reach, simply a closed door and I still have all of my adult life ahead of me.

The feeling of regret and lacking purpose is something that as I’ve said hits me hardest after a motivational film. I always think ‘if only I had tried harder or worked harder’. In reality how can we all be the best or there would be no best to be? If you follow.

What I’ve realised is that actually it doesn’t matter being the ‘best’ it’s being the best you can be which is important. The motivational feeling that swells up after a good film is one that I now love and get the feeling of ‘why not give it a go’. I suppose that’s why I’m writing a blog to a humble audience of very few but I’m enjoying it and relishing the challenge.

Have you ever thought that something as insignificant as a film could have sculpted who you are today?

English weather: consistently inconsistent and I love it!

Image via Wikipedia

Everybody always says that English people are obsessed with the weather. Well you can’t blame us, it’s dead exciting! It would be folly to presume that just because our calendars swing on to the glorious pages of August that our weather should assume a sunny outlook.

Each year in late May and early June the sun pays a complementary visit and lifts the British hopes of a ‘hot summer’. Each year we thing, maybe, just maybe this year is our year! Men and women all over the country start to finds themselves with sweaty palms and a crook in their neck from anxious glances towards the window. ‘Yes, this year we have all the right signs for a good long, hot summer’ people are heard to say again and again. Hmm, yeah about that! Well it never seems to develop does it? No, because that would be nice and enjoyable and after all this time haven’t we learnt that the British don’t deserve anything nice?

So every year we are left downcast and on the point of upping right here and now and moving abroad to somewhere ‘hot’. Let’s be honest that’s anywhere, even Ireland would do! But we don’t and why I hear you ask? Because we are British and we’re bonkers. In all reality we love waking up and checking the window with trepidation, switching on the TV just for the morning weather report and continually seeking out the met office website throughout our unpredictable day. Never in England can you presume that tomorrow will be a warm, sunny dry day. Oh no.

I like the uncertain weather. I would hate to feel I could never waste a good day’s weather and that tomorrow will be just the same. If it’s a good day in England then you grab it with both hands and shake it into submission,quite literally. Lovely weather everyday for nearly half the year would drive me to insanity, ok that’s a bit extreme, a good tan, maybe. However, diversity is what keeps English people sane. As long as the weather never stays the same we can continue to moan and groan, something that keeps us happy and constantly at war with the skys. What else would we fill our summer time with if it wasn’t venting our growing anger at the darkening rain clouds gathering solely over our heads?

If only Usain Bolt would actually race each race!

Image via Wikipedia

Usain Bolt-Man or Machine? I’d opt for machine to be honest. The World’s Fastest Man is not a title you earn everyday and for that he has my upmost admiration and jealously. In many ways the man is superb, his athletic ability is second to none. He simply left Walter Dix trailing in the 200m final in Daegu, and Dix is not an easy man to leave trailing.

I could sing Bolt’s praises nearly all day or in reality, all day. However, I find him utterly infuriating and not because he is outrageously confident and dare I say cocky, but because it appears he never really takes it seriously. He seems to commit halfheartedly too often. I have to admit he did fight hard in the 200m final and show a glimpse of what he is capable of. But for me it seems as though nearly every race Bolt adopts a tauntingly relaxed finish and acknowledges the crowd more than the job at hand. Other athletes push themselves to the very last millisecond just to be rubbished by an eased up Bolt. If I was his coach, thank heavens I’m not, I would be driven mad by the man. Surely every coach wants their athlete to continue to improve and break every damn record in the book! Bolt could but he seems to care less about finishing with determination than in style, and I’ll grant him that, he certainly does.

Does Bolt fear showing the world his limit? Does he purposely not fight hard to the end in every race so to not lose the illusion of his ability? I would probably have to say no and it is just that the man has a sensible tactic-That he can win the race in the first 100m allowing himself to remain fresh for the all important final. My metaphorical hat is taken off to him.

I do wish, however, that Bolt would be at his leg burstingly, temple vain popingly, teeth clenchly, brilliant best every race. I know, I know, wishes never come true!

Reading Festival and the simple joys of mud…

Image by DavidMartynHunt via Flickr

As I write this I seem to suffering from the common Reading cold. I was not acquainted until now which quite frankly is a blessing. Before I continue I must admit it was my first festival and I was not prepared for the joys and, well, pains of a good old fashioned british music festival. For anyone who has ever been to a festival then all I will say is, where did all that mud come from? I honestly think nature itself could not account for the sheer amount of mud that decided to make an appearance on that late August weekend. As I trudged along laden like a medieval donkey I was speechless to the conditions I would be calling home for the next four days. I was, well to put it plainly horrified at the brown slush that spread for miles and lapped at the sides of my hopefully waterproof shoes. My feeling of trepidation was not, to my surprise, shared by the majority who seemed to come alive at the sight of this country necessity.

Along with the mud I had never seen so many tents and I was sure that finding an average three man green tent in the dark near impossible. Let’s just say I wasn’t wrong.

Being my first festival I was unsure what to expect and immediately wanted to know why I paid near enough £200 for a weekend that was shaping up to be a disastrously filthy and tepid affair. Thursday for me meant sitting around a horrendously smoky little fire. Although I dearly wanted to be at home watching tv with a nice cup of tea, I gritted my teeth and soaked up the fumes hoping this wasn’t the joy of festivals. With a warm beer in one hand and a half cooked sausage in the other I seriously considered that I simply wasn’t the ‘festival type’.

However as the weekend continued and the festival seemed to come to life with the introduction of music, which is really no surprise. I suddenly realised that music was always meant to be played live. The atmosphere was electric for even relatively unknown bands. The sludgy mud seemed like a distant memory now.

It struck me that I may actually be the ‘festival type’ and then I remembered the toilets and decided maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, but it was nice while it lasted.

Why I don’t care if Arsenal suffered their worst defeat since 1896

Image via Wikipedia

Yes I must confess I am an Arsenal fan. And yes I must confess I couldn’t bring myself to watch the game that many have labelled an absolute, gut wrenchingly historic thrashing. I don’t care that my beloved team were destroyed for the whole world to see by their fierce rivals. I don’t care because it has forced a change and for the better. It sounds like a cliche but this game may be the turning point that brings an end to the trophy drought that has bogged the club down for so long now.

People love to criticise Arsenal for the way they play-it’s too one dimensional, lacks a plan B, not the singer of course, and a out an out strong winning mentality. I can see this is true to an extent but people forget the brilliance that is an on-song Arsenal team. They can be the best footballing team in the world and let’s be honest every team that plays football aims to play the beautiful game beautifully, or why bother.

Anyway I digress. The humiliating 8-2 defeat means that for the first real time Wenger and Arsenal had to accept defeat graciously and act, quickly as well. As the transfer window clock ticked on Wenger possibly pulled out some of his greatest genius from the hat. He moved to bring in older, wiser and more experienced players that will form the inner core of a new Arsenal team. A giant German centre back is about all many middle aged, true Arsenal fans have been dreaming of for the last few years. An experienced player like Mertesacker should never be brandished with the title ‘a panic buy’. Wenger has, for once it seems, brought in trusted players that will help Arsenal seriously challenge for trophies. And this is all thanks to United, something I thought I’d never hear myself say.

Wenger’s philosophy hasn’t been so much as proved wrong as right. He has sold quality players that he has made and sculpted for a massive profit and brought in assured players to replace. Classic Wenger masterclass I would say but then again I may be slightly bias.

With the new look Arsenal team on show I can only thank United for their performance on the weekend and hope it will be the last of its kind. Arsenal are back with vengeance and will surprise many onlookers this season. A good bottom smacking can only make one stronger I say, but please don’t quote me on that!

The damage of defeat has been inflicted and a wounded Arsenal so often accused of sulking have moved swiftly to strengthen their ranks. Something Arsenal fans have been yearning for and so I suppose I can only thank Manchester United for their heroic display last weekend.

In Wenger I trust.