Hi all. I'm back. Well rested after a Christmas break.
No rest, though, for Australia's Test cricket team, who happily thumped Pakistan in the First Test at the MCG. And wattobout Watto? Yes, I know I berated him in my previous blog over his carry-on in the Perth Test against the West Indies, but that was then. Watto wasn't embarrassed about his behaviour, and neither am I about my assessment of his actions.
It never ceases to amaze me at how sensitive sportsmen can be over criticism. In cases like this, when widespread acclaim follows shortly after universal criticism, commentators and the sports-watching public are often accused of being turncoats, or jumping on a rollicking bandwagon.
Not so, I'm afraid. Credit where credit is due and criticism where the reverse applies. And so it is with Shane Watson who responded from a childish act in the previous Test to complete a breakthrough and well-deserved century at the MCG. No-one begrudges Watson success in the Test arena after all the setbacks he's endured. So long as he keeps his nose clean, commentators and spectators alike will applaud his achievements.
To be fair, Watson hasn't been heard to complain about commentators who pass judgement in the negative one day, only to swing positive the next. But this is a typical situation where the apparently aggrieved would give the verbal bird to his critics.
Take Dave Mitchell, another affable bloke who coaches A-League team Perth Glory. After beating Newcastle this week, Mitchell referred to non-believers who'd been 'throwing darts'. The win, he said, might silence a few of them.
The reason the darts had been thrown, as Mitchell suggested, was because his side had suffered a run of outs leading up to the Newcastle victory. Lose and the critics will ask or suggest why. Win, and the same observers will acknowledge excellence.
It's not a case of being fickle. It's the role of a commentator, critic, observer or Joe 'general public' Blow.
Anyway, well done Shane Watson. Well done Dave Mitchell and Perth Glory. We're all delighted to see you succeed. Please accept our congratulations.
And should you not succeed, or should you stuff up in any way, simply draw a deep breath and look in the mirror. Are you happy with that? If not, should the rest of us?
That's just the way it is. Nice to be back.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
EMBARRASSED?? ABOUT WHAT??
Shane Watson has had a couple of days to reflect and he says he's not embarrassed by behaving like a buffoon during the Third Test in Perth last week.
Which is pretty embarrassing in itself. Not only did Watson make a fool of himself with his mid-pitch in-your-face ranting celebration at the dismissal of Chris Gayle, but he's almost matched it with his self-assessment of the puerile act.
During the Test series, four other players found themselves in hot water with the match referee for on-field indiscretions. Doug Bollinger for his explosive reaction to a denied appeal, Mitchell Johnson and Sulieman Benn for the bumping and resultant bad-mouthing, and Brad Haddin for his bat-wielding intervention in the same incident.
None of it was particularly becoming of Test cricket. But, coming hot on the heels of those events, the crazed celebration of Watson was the bitter icing on the cake. It wasn't physical and, according to Watson, it was the consequence of baiting by the West Indian captain. But it was public. Very, very public.
No matter who instigated the affair, Watson was the one who came out looking like a right old goose.
But that's only my opinion. A couple of things to add here. Shane Watson is a fine cricketer, having finally overcome a spate of injuries which may have short circuited the careers of lesser characters. And as for the Australian team in general, while behaviour is far from perfect, I'm of the view that the players are subject to more criticism from than is warranted.
But none of that can excuse Watson from his embarrassing behaviour at the WACA. Embarrassing for some of us, that is. Thankfully, though, not for the man himself. No doubt he'll proudly show his kids that bit on his highlights tape in years to come.
Which is pretty embarrassing in itself. Not only did Watson make a fool of himself with his mid-pitch in-your-face ranting celebration at the dismissal of Chris Gayle, but he's almost matched it with his self-assessment of the puerile act.
During the Test series, four other players found themselves in hot water with the match referee for on-field indiscretions. Doug Bollinger for his explosive reaction to a denied appeal, Mitchell Johnson and Sulieman Benn for the bumping and resultant bad-mouthing, and Brad Haddin for his bat-wielding intervention in the same incident.
None of it was particularly becoming of Test cricket. But, coming hot on the heels of those events, the crazed celebration of Watson was the bitter icing on the cake. It wasn't physical and, according to Watson, it was the consequence of baiting by the West Indian captain. But it was public. Very, very public.
No matter who instigated the affair, Watson was the one who came out looking like a right old goose.
But that's only my opinion. A couple of things to add here. Shane Watson is a fine cricketer, having finally overcome a spate of injuries which may have short circuited the careers of lesser characters. And as for the Australian team in general, while behaviour is far from perfect, I'm of the view that the players are subject to more criticism from than is warranted.
But none of that can excuse Watson from his embarrassing behaviour at the WACA. Embarrassing for some of us, that is. Thankfully, though, not for the man himself. No doubt he'll proudly show his kids that bit on his highlights tape in years to come.
ANIMAL INSTINCT IN A CAGE
You'll be relieved to know that eye gouging and groin attacks have been banned from the world's fastest growing sport.
The world's fastest growing sport, you may wonder. Football? Netball? Skate boarding? Surfing? Fly fishing??? Not sure you're all that close, but it's that exhilarating bloodfest called UFC, or Ulimate Fighting Championship.
This is today's version of the lions and the Romans at the Colosseum or, as one-time US presidential hopeful John McCain described, as 'human cock-fighting'.
It's where a couple of blokes are hauled off the streets, shoved inside a cage and, to the roar of the 'fans' (I don't think it's the same mob who sit in the Members at the MCG or play polo at Windsor), they are told to go for it. Anything short of outright murder seems to be the goal here. Aim to maim. The more blood the better.
Boxing is suddenly looking about as tough as badminton.
Everyone's into it, so we're told. The TV networks in the US can't get enough of it, and the sports lovers are, excuse the pun, fighting over tickets to the live performances.
Everyone except me. By my reckoning this is the most barbaric expression of sport to emerge since the fall of the Roman Empire.
To quote an American fighter by the name of Joe 'Daddy' Stevenson: "You don't really have to know the rules... Everyone understands about instinct.. Everyone understands about survival."
Animal instinct. Enough said.
The world's fastest growing sport, you may wonder. Football? Netball? Skate boarding? Surfing? Fly fishing??? Not sure you're all that close, but it's that exhilarating bloodfest called UFC, or Ulimate Fighting Championship.
This is today's version of the lions and the Romans at the Colosseum or, as one-time US presidential hopeful John McCain described, as 'human cock-fighting'.
It's where a couple of blokes are hauled off the streets, shoved inside a cage and, to the roar of the 'fans' (I don't think it's the same mob who sit in the Members at the MCG or play polo at Windsor), they are told to go for it. Anything short of outright murder seems to be the goal here. Aim to maim. The more blood the better.
Boxing is suddenly looking about as tough as badminton.
Everyone's into it, so we're told. The TV networks in the US can't get enough of it, and the sports lovers are, excuse the pun, fighting over tickets to the live performances.
Everyone except me. By my reckoning this is the most barbaric expression of sport to emerge since the fall of the Roman Empire.
To quote an American fighter by the name of Joe 'Daddy' Stevenson: "You don't really have to know the rules... Everyone understands about instinct.. Everyone understands about survival."
Animal instinct. Enough said.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
THE YEAR OF THE BRAT
The year 2009 will go down as many things in sport. Records, rewards, achievements et al, as per usual. But it will also be remembered as the year of the brat.
Sport remains very much an important and enjoyable part of our lives, and it is reflective of the times in which we live.
As such, the world has become a hotbed of hotheads highlighted by a disrespect for authority and a wanton absence of discipline. You see it on the streets, in the schools, on the beaches, in the shopping malls, all magnified by the ever-presence of television and social media outlets.
That's society. And, sadly, that is an unsavoury part of sport as we now see it.
At the US Open, Serena Williams exploded with expletives in an outburst which surely would have resulted in a long-term ban for a less-marketable player. This was an outburst that would have made even John McEnroe blush in his heyday, but more of that later.
We were wrong on Tiger Woods. Touted as Mr Clean before his world imploded, more detailed analysis of Wood the golfer reveal him towards the top of the list in, not only women and wins but, his on-course indescretions as well. The club-tossing episode in Melbourne during the 3rd round of the Masters was just one example, the 5-iron clubbing a spectator in the process. This was an act of defiance glossed over by a loving media because it was Tiger. Imagine if it had been John Daly 12 months ago?
Domestically, the names roll off the tongue like last chance warnings from football officials. Just this week, as the footballers were supposed to be in hibernation, Sydney Rooster Jake Friend had his third appointment with local police, all in 2009.
And Paul Gallen, he with record of alleged testicle-grabbing, racial vilification and the attempted re-opening of an opponent's stitched head wound, was pinged by the police for urinating in public and near the head of a mate. A mate!!? Lucky he liked the bloke. There were extenuating circumstances, according to Gallen, but he copped his $5000 fine regardless. After-all, Gallen is a former captain of the Sharks, so leadership is required here.
Then there's Brendan Fevola, whose drunken Brownlow Medal night antics proved to be the final straw for long-suffering Carlton coaches and officials, and he was sent packing. Good luck Brisbane.
There are plenty more examples. Many, many, many. Fortunately, they are vastly outnumbered by the good deeds and fine behaviour exemplified by the majority of footballers, but there are enough bad ones to make the head spin. Why, oh why, do so many continue to behave like boofheads?
Did we ever hear of Jack Nicklaus or Peter Thomson behaving badly on or off the golf course? Or Margaret Court or Evonne Goolagong on the tennis court? Or Pele on the soccer field? No, and very few of their contempories, either.
McEnroe is one of the few exceptions of times dating back beyond the last quarter of a century. Indeed, he has a lot to answer for, with his rantings and ravings defying authority and infecting a whole new breed of impressionable brats in sport and in society in general.
Gone are the days of unquestioned compliance in homes, the classrooms and the training pitches. Youngsters have been encouraged to, not only be seen, but heard as well. To question authority. And, as an extension, to disrespect rules and discipline.
Over the same period, sports management and marketing has undergone exponential growth, resulting in burgeoning pay packets for those who put on the show. The sports stars have become commodities, and with commodities we have minders and a raft of people to repair the odd bit of collatoral damage created along the way.
It's proving to be a poisonous cocktail. A flagrant dumbing down of community standards and expectations, and kids who can kick, hit, tackle or throw well lauded as celebrities.
The time has come for them to understand, like so many of their peers, that they in a privileged position. The best moment of their lives. The $300,000, $400,000 or even, in the case of Fevola, around $800,000 a year contracts won't last forever.
Time to make the most of it, and grow up.
Sport remains very much an important and enjoyable part of our lives, and it is reflective of the times in which we live.
As such, the world has become a hotbed of hotheads highlighted by a disrespect for authority and a wanton absence of discipline. You see it on the streets, in the schools, on the beaches, in the shopping malls, all magnified by the ever-presence of television and social media outlets.
That's society. And, sadly, that is an unsavoury part of sport as we now see it.
At the US Open, Serena Williams exploded with expletives in an outburst which surely would have resulted in a long-term ban for a less-marketable player. This was an outburst that would have made even John McEnroe blush in his heyday, but more of that later.
We were wrong on Tiger Woods. Touted as Mr Clean before his world imploded, more detailed analysis of Wood the golfer reveal him towards the top of the list in, not only women and wins but, his on-course indescretions as well. The club-tossing episode in Melbourne during the 3rd round of the Masters was just one example, the 5-iron clubbing a spectator in the process. This was an act of defiance glossed over by a loving media because it was Tiger. Imagine if it had been John Daly 12 months ago?
Domestically, the names roll off the tongue like last chance warnings from football officials. Just this week, as the footballers were supposed to be in hibernation, Sydney Rooster Jake Friend had his third appointment with local police, all in 2009.
And Paul Gallen, he with record of alleged testicle-grabbing, racial vilification and the attempted re-opening of an opponent's stitched head wound, was pinged by the police for urinating in public and near the head of a mate. A mate!!? Lucky he liked the bloke. There were extenuating circumstances, according to Gallen, but he copped his $5000 fine regardless. After-all, Gallen is a former captain of the Sharks, so leadership is required here.
Then there's Brendan Fevola, whose drunken Brownlow Medal night antics proved to be the final straw for long-suffering Carlton coaches and officials, and he was sent packing. Good luck Brisbane.
There are plenty more examples. Many, many, many. Fortunately, they are vastly outnumbered by the good deeds and fine behaviour exemplified by the majority of footballers, but there are enough bad ones to make the head spin. Why, oh why, do so many continue to behave like boofheads?
Did we ever hear of Jack Nicklaus or Peter Thomson behaving badly on or off the golf course? Or Margaret Court or Evonne Goolagong on the tennis court? Or Pele on the soccer field? No, and very few of their contempories, either.
McEnroe is one of the few exceptions of times dating back beyond the last quarter of a century. Indeed, he has a lot to answer for, with his rantings and ravings defying authority and infecting a whole new breed of impressionable brats in sport and in society in general.
Gone are the days of unquestioned compliance in homes, the classrooms and the training pitches. Youngsters have been encouraged to, not only be seen, but heard as well. To question authority. And, as an extension, to disrespect rules and discipline.
Over the same period, sports management and marketing has undergone exponential growth, resulting in burgeoning pay packets for those who put on the show. The sports stars have become commodities, and with commodities we have minders and a raft of people to repair the odd bit of collatoral damage created along the way.
It's proving to be a poisonous cocktail. A flagrant dumbing down of community standards and expectations, and kids who can kick, hit, tackle or throw well lauded as celebrities.
The time has come for them to understand, like so many of their peers, that they in a privileged position. The best moment of their lives. The $300,000, $400,000 or even, in the case of Fevola, around $800,000 a year contracts won't last forever.
Time to make the most of it, and grow up.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
BARRY'S HALL OF FAME
The sporting wheel of fortune can spring up a surprise, depending on where the rotation comes to a halt.
Just ask Tiger Woods, whose popularity knew no bounds when he stopped off in Melbourne just a few short weeks ago. Next stop on the wheel of fortune was not quite so kind.
For Barry Hall, the reverse has been the case. For much of it, 2009 was a year to forget, when the monicker of 'Big Bad' returned in any description of the Sydney Swans' star. Just when it seemed he had exorcised his demons of on-field indiscretions, he did it again with an unprovoked punch to the head of an unsuspecting Adelaide Crow Ben Rutten.
And so ended the career of Barry Hall at the Sydney Swans and, seemingly, in the AFL fullstop.
But the wheel of fortune wasn't finished yet. Slowly, it began moving to a point of redemption, passed the signpost called boxing, and on to the Western Bulldogs, with whom he signed a contract to prolong his career by at least a further two years. Just over a week ago, he was warmly embraced by Bulldogs fans at the kennel.
And now, Barry Hall's face is gracing advertising billboards in major metropolitan areas spruiking Telstra Bigpond. Dressed up in Christmas attire, playing on his very badness.
Two salient points emerge here. One is that it can be good to be bad. In this case, lucrative marketing opportunities arise by being cast as a villian.
More to the point, however, is that the events which have lead to Hall's departure from Australia's biggest city have conspired to make him one of the most recognisable faces in Australian sport.
Look at it this way. AFL is our most popular sport in terms of spectator following and exposure. And yet, its popularity is dwarfed in Sydney, and Brisbane for that matter, by the might of rugby league, where even Gary Ablett, Buddy Franklin and Nick Reiwoldt are barely known or recognised.
For an AFL player to have a significant profile in Sydney, you need to be a Sydney Swan. And, of course, that profile of a star Swan is no less in Melbourne, Adelaide or Perth because, in those cities, the AFL is the unchallenged king of the codes.
So Barry Hall has been able to create a huge profile right around Australia, in both rugby league and AFL heartlands, and cash in on his name, reputation and, his mum would suggest, his good looks. That's something Ablett, for all his brilliance and second generation legendary name, can not do. Nor Franklin. Nor Reiwoldt, Jonathon Brown or any other player.
And neither could Billy Slater, Cameron Smith, Greg Inglis or any of their Melbourne Storm team-mates because, despite their four consecutive grand finals, the Storm remains isolated in AFL-crazy Melbourne.
Barry Hall is back in Melbourne where it all began when he was a young hothead with St Kilda back in the 1990s, having traversed the Sydney market and undergone a metamorphism from bad to good and back to his bad old ways again.
It's probably not the road map he planned to follow, but it's ended up at the right destination. A genuine national football star in a country of football fragmentism.
And that can't be all that bad.
Just ask Tiger Woods, whose popularity knew no bounds when he stopped off in Melbourne just a few short weeks ago. Next stop on the wheel of fortune was not quite so kind.
For Barry Hall, the reverse has been the case. For much of it, 2009 was a year to forget, when the monicker of 'Big Bad' returned in any description of the Sydney Swans' star. Just when it seemed he had exorcised his demons of on-field indiscretions, he did it again with an unprovoked punch to the head of an unsuspecting Adelaide Crow Ben Rutten.
And so ended the career of Barry Hall at the Sydney Swans and, seemingly, in the AFL fullstop.
But the wheel of fortune wasn't finished yet. Slowly, it began moving to a point of redemption, passed the signpost called boxing, and on to the Western Bulldogs, with whom he signed a contract to prolong his career by at least a further two years. Just over a week ago, he was warmly embraced by Bulldogs fans at the kennel.
And now, Barry Hall's face is gracing advertising billboards in major metropolitan areas spruiking Telstra Bigpond. Dressed up in Christmas attire, playing on his very badness.
Two salient points emerge here. One is that it can be good to be bad. In this case, lucrative marketing opportunities arise by being cast as a villian.
More to the point, however, is that the events which have lead to Hall's departure from Australia's biggest city have conspired to make him one of the most recognisable faces in Australian sport.
Look at it this way. AFL is our most popular sport in terms of spectator following and exposure. And yet, its popularity is dwarfed in Sydney, and Brisbane for that matter, by the might of rugby league, where even Gary Ablett, Buddy Franklin and Nick Reiwoldt are barely known or recognised.
For an AFL player to have a significant profile in Sydney, you need to be a Sydney Swan. And, of course, that profile of a star Swan is no less in Melbourne, Adelaide or Perth because, in those cities, the AFL is the unchallenged king of the codes.
So Barry Hall has been able to create a huge profile right around Australia, in both rugby league and AFL heartlands, and cash in on his name, reputation and, his mum would suggest, his good looks. That's something Ablett, for all his brilliance and second generation legendary name, can not do. Nor Franklin. Nor Reiwoldt, Jonathon Brown or any other player.
And neither could Billy Slater, Cameron Smith, Greg Inglis or any of their Melbourne Storm team-mates because, despite their four consecutive grand finals, the Storm remains isolated in AFL-crazy Melbourne.
Barry Hall is back in Melbourne where it all began when he was a young hothead with St Kilda back in the 1990s, having traversed the Sydney market and undergone a metamorphism from bad to good and back to his bad old ways again.
It's probably not the road map he planned to follow, but it's ended up at the right destination. A genuine national football star in a country of football fragmentism.
And that can't be all that bad.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
WHEN THE WORLD CUP ISN'T No. 1
Rival countries bidding for the rights to host the 2018 and 2022 World Cups must be looking on with some bewilderment at the domestic inter-code bickering which has broken out in Australia.
For the rivals are football-rich, as in soccer-rich, nations and it would seem unfathomable that any rival body would present a barrier to hosting an international event of this magnitude. An event, it should be pointed out, which is regarded in many parts of the globe, as of greater cultural, sporting and economic significance than the Olympic Games.
But Australia is a different market, and the AFL and NRL have every right to adopt defensive lines in the event of a successful bid. A solution needs to be found but it is not easy, and those espousing the concerns need to be treated with more consideration than they are being afforded by the gung-ho FIFA supporters.
Claims of pettiness and vulnerability should not overshadow the real risks forseen by domestic administrators. Sure, forget about the season, postpone matches, take them elsewhere or whatever. Easy to say.
However, both the AFL and NRL and much more than football competitions. They are major corporate entities, and the ramifications of quick-fix solutions are huge. It really is a question of paying the bills, as running costs continue to accrue whether matches are being played or not. Hence, cancelling the season is a nonsense.
Surely the most tenable scenario, in the case of the AFL, lies in a mix of the following:
1) An earlier start to the season
2) A 4-6 week break mid-season from the regular roster
3) During the break, each team to play on a fortnightly basis as venues such as:
* Princes Park and Whitten Oval in Melbourne
* Blacktown
* Darwin
* Bellerive
* Internationally including NZ, China, London
Solutions for the NRL would be even easier to find, given the rectangular configuration of grounds, the smaller spectator capacities required and the regions where league, union or soccer are already played.
In doing this, both the AFL and the NRL would ensure the financial returns for clubs, and hence their very survival, are largely unaffected, and they would benefit from exposing the games to both an international audience and deserving regional fans.
The rest of the world may not understand this dilemma.
But it says much for this island nation that Australia, as a newcomer to international soccer, is mixing it with the big guns from FIFA and forwarding an imposing argument for hosting rights to the biggest event in the world when, in reality, the game here is still far from the number one choice of codes.
For the rivals are football-rich, as in soccer-rich, nations and it would seem unfathomable that any rival body would present a barrier to hosting an international event of this magnitude. An event, it should be pointed out, which is regarded in many parts of the globe, as of greater cultural, sporting and economic significance than the Olympic Games.
But Australia is a different market, and the AFL and NRL have every right to adopt defensive lines in the event of a successful bid. A solution needs to be found but it is not easy, and those espousing the concerns need to be treated with more consideration than they are being afforded by the gung-ho FIFA supporters.
Claims of pettiness and vulnerability should not overshadow the real risks forseen by domestic administrators. Sure, forget about the season, postpone matches, take them elsewhere or whatever. Easy to say.
However, both the AFL and NRL and much more than football competitions. They are major corporate entities, and the ramifications of quick-fix solutions are huge. It really is a question of paying the bills, as running costs continue to accrue whether matches are being played or not. Hence, cancelling the season is a nonsense.
Surely the most tenable scenario, in the case of the AFL, lies in a mix of the following:
1) An earlier start to the season
2) A 4-6 week break mid-season from the regular roster
3) During the break, each team to play on a fortnightly basis as venues such as:
* Princes Park and Whitten Oval in Melbourne
* Blacktown
* Darwin
* Bellerive
* Internationally including NZ, China, London
Solutions for the NRL would be even easier to find, given the rectangular configuration of grounds, the smaller spectator capacities required and the regions where league, union or soccer are already played.
In doing this, both the AFL and the NRL would ensure the financial returns for clubs, and hence their very survival, are largely unaffected, and they would benefit from exposing the games to both an international audience and deserving regional fans.
The rest of the world may not understand this dilemma.
But it says much for this island nation that Australia, as a newcomer to international soccer, is mixing it with the big guns from FIFA and forwarding an imposing argument for hosting rights to the biggest event in the world when, in reality, the game here is still far from the number one choice of codes.
Monday, December 7, 2009
WHEN TOO MANY BIRDIES BECOME AN ALBATROSS
First, a correction. 'Simply, Tiger Woods does not stuff up.' Wise words penned on this site just a few weeks ago, when a squeaky clean Tiger Woods wowed all of Australia with his visit to Melbourne for the Masters.
Well, things change. In fact, the scenery continues to change as we blog here, with Tiger continuing to rack up the birdies.
At last count, he'd reached the halfway point of the round, with the ninth birdie outed, according to a report in the New York Daily News, as a Los Angelos porn star, Holly Sampson. Her acclaimed works include 'Descent into Bondage' and 'The Diary of a Horny Housewife'.
All of which begs the question of why, oh why, would Tiger even contemplate such a thing. With a billion bucks in the bank, with top looking sorts swooning over him 24hours a day, why Tiger? Can you not resist a little temptation here and there, and here and there, and there, and..
What's wrong with spending more down time in your hotel room reading your favourite book, Jules Verne's 'Around the World in 80 Days'? Again, and again. Keep reading, Tiger.
So Tiger now finds himself in a bit of a pickle. He's reportedly being forced to renegotiate his prenuptial agreement, which could lead to his wife Elin Nordegren Woods receiving $US300 million in any future divorce.
Mind you, this tawdry episode has proved to be a bonanza for the jokesters around the globe:
* He hit a tree and a fire hydrant because he couldn't decide between a wood or an iron
* Tiger's new nickname is Cheetah
* The only person who can beat Tiger Woods with a golf club is his wife
* What's the difference between a car and a golf ball? Tiger can drive a ball 400 yards
* Apparently Phil Mickelson called Tiger's wife asking how to beat him
* Tiger drives well on a firway but doesn't fare well on a driveway
* What do Ernie Els, Jaimee Grubbs, Kalika Moquin and Rachel Uchitel all have in common? They all played a round with Tiger Woods
* Tiger's so rich he owns lots of expensive cars. Now he has a hole in one
And that's just for starters.
These are tough times for Tiger Woods. All these birdies, and now he has an albatross around his neck.
Well, things change. In fact, the scenery continues to change as we blog here, with Tiger continuing to rack up the birdies.
At last count, he'd reached the halfway point of the round, with the ninth birdie outed, according to a report in the New York Daily News, as a Los Angelos porn star, Holly Sampson. Her acclaimed works include 'Descent into Bondage' and 'The Diary of a Horny Housewife'.
All of which begs the question of why, oh why, would Tiger even contemplate such a thing. With a billion bucks in the bank, with top looking sorts swooning over him 24hours a day, why Tiger? Can you not resist a little temptation here and there, and here and there, and there, and..
What's wrong with spending more down time in your hotel room reading your favourite book, Jules Verne's 'Around the World in 80 Days'? Again, and again. Keep reading, Tiger.
So Tiger now finds himself in a bit of a pickle. He's reportedly being forced to renegotiate his prenuptial agreement, which could lead to his wife Elin Nordegren Woods receiving $US300 million in any future divorce.
Mind you, this tawdry episode has proved to be a bonanza for the jokesters around the globe:
* He hit a tree and a fire hydrant because he couldn't decide between a wood or an iron
* Tiger's new nickname is Cheetah
* The only person who can beat Tiger Woods with a golf club is his wife
* What's the difference between a car and a golf ball? Tiger can drive a ball 400 yards
* Apparently Phil Mickelson called Tiger's wife asking how to beat him
* Tiger drives well on a firway but doesn't fare well on a driveway
* What do Ernie Els, Jaimee Grubbs, Kalika Moquin and Rachel Uchitel all have in common? They all played a round with Tiger Woods
* Tiger's so rich he owns lots of expensive cars. Now he has a hole in one
And that's just for starters.
These are tough times for Tiger Woods. All these birdies, and now he has an albatross around his neck.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
DOING IT BY INSTINCT
Theories abound as to why Test cricket is losing its universal appeal. Perhaps a lot of it boils down to one word: instinct.
Over the past 15 years, Australia has cracked the formula for winning Test matches. A handful of some of the greatest players in history has been a fair starting point. But the renaissance got underway before the arrival of Warne, McGrath, Gilchrist, Ponting and co.
It started back in 1986 with the appointment of Bob Simpson as coach of an Australian team which had reached its lowest ebb. Simmo brought with him a back-to-the-basics, disciplined approach to the game, where fielding become as important a facet as the two obvious principles of batting and bowling. It was the emergence of the professional era in cricket, in terms of preparation as well as the gradually evolving financial rewards.
Under Simmo, followed by Geoff Marsh and then John Buchanan, Australia took the game to new heights by giving due attention to every aspect of the game. This was formulated cricket -- the formula for success. From the early 1990s, the wins came thick and fast, and it seemed everyone was happy.
Conformity was part of the deal. Some personalities were casualties along the way and, occasionally, conflicts arose. Shane Warne, for one, made no secret of his disregard for the studious Buchanan.
Conformity, too, in the form of technique became the Australian way. And that is the crux of this blog.
Ricky Ponting circa 2009 is a far different player than the 20-year-old who made 96 on debut against Sri Lanka in Perth back in 1995. The one speed flair of the youngster has been replaced by a man who is blessed with the ability to adapt his game to the situation at hand.
Michael Clarke is another whose technique has undergone a transformation since he scored 151 in his first match for Australia against India in Bangalore. Again, he made his mark with aggression, as noted by Peter Roebuck in the Sydney Morning Herald.
"Not that the assault was reckless," he added. "Indeed the control was impressive. Clarke calculated the risks and took his brains with him down the track. Of course he need [sic] a bit of luck, was plumb in front in the nineties, but few begrudged him his hundred."
Neither Ponting or Clarke lasted initially. They were reinvented as batsmen with tightened defence and flair to be displayed only on occasions.
The latest casualty is Phillip Hughes, touted as Australia's next great hope after his frolicking times in South Africa to kick-start his Test career. Alas, 3 Tests later he was out of the side after being exposed for his weakness with short-pitched bowling. Now, Hughes is struggling to understand it all. He's a confused young man, betwixt and between.
His greatest strength was his instinct. He was a breath of fresh air. He looked ungainly at times, he was cheeky. But he was doing it his way.
This, however, is at odds with the Australian way, and what has become the way throughout international cricket. The game has become formulated.
The great irony about all of this is that the sole century-maker from last week's First Test in Brisbane was a teenager from the West Indies, where formulated cricket has never been much chop.
Adrian Barath didn't go to a cricket academy. He learnt his cricket in shanty-like nets on a concrete pitch on the outskirts of Port of Spain in Trinidad. Tall guys with long limbs bowled to him, and he hit the ball. His way. By instinct.
Barath's technique is not out of a text book. Will he be given free reign to do it his way, or will he be forced to conform?
Former West Indies great Brain Lara recently made an interesting observation.
"Australia makes ordinary players into great players. The West Indies makes great players into ordinary players," were the sentiments of Lara.
It's all about the system. On that basis, you can't argue with the system, which produces the winning results. But it also produces robots, where instinct doesn't count.
Over the past 15 years, Australia has cracked the formula for winning Test matches. A handful of some of the greatest players in history has been a fair starting point. But the renaissance got underway before the arrival of Warne, McGrath, Gilchrist, Ponting and co.
It started back in 1986 with the appointment of Bob Simpson as coach of an Australian team which had reached its lowest ebb. Simmo brought with him a back-to-the-basics, disciplined approach to the game, where fielding become as important a facet as the two obvious principles of batting and bowling. It was the emergence of the professional era in cricket, in terms of preparation as well as the gradually evolving financial rewards.
Under Simmo, followed by Geoff Marsh and then John Buchanan, Australia took the game to new heights by giving due attention to every aspect of the game. This was formulated cricket -- the formula for success. From the early 1990s, the wins came thick and fast, and it seemed everyone was happy.
Conformity was part of the deal. Some personalities were casualties along the way and, occasionally, conflicts arose. Shane Warne, for one, made no secret of his disregard for the studious Buchanan.
Conformity, too, in the form of technique became the Australian way. And that is the crux of this blog.
Ricky Ponting circa 2009 is a far different player than the 20-year-old who made 96 on debut against Sri Lanka in Perth back in 1995. The one speed flair of the youngster has been replaced by a man who is blessed with the ability to adapt his game to the situation at hand.
Michael Clarke is another whose technique has undergone a transformation since he scored 151 in his first match for Australia against India in Bangalore. Again, he made his mark with aggression, as noted by Peter Roebuck in the Sydney Morning Herald.
"Not that the assault was reckless," he added. "Indeed the control was impressive. Clarke calculated the risks and took his brains with him down the track. Of course he need [sic] a bit of luck, was plumb in front in the nineties, but few begrudged him his hundred."
Neither Ponting or Clarke lasted initially. They were reinvented as batsmen with tightened defence and flair to be displayed only on occasions.
The latest casualty is Phillip Hughes, touted as Australia's next great hope after his frolicking times in South Africa to kick-start his Test career. Alas, 3 Tests later he was out of the side after being exposed for his weakness with short-pitched bowling. Now, Hughes is struggling to understand it all. He's a confused young man, betwixt and between.
His greatest strength was his instinct. He was a breath of fresh air. He looked ungainly at times, he was cheeky. But he was doing it his way.
This, however, is at odds with the Australian way, and what has become the way throughout international cricket. The game has become formulated.
The great irony about all of this is that the sole century-maker from last week's First Test in Brisbane was a teenager from the West Indies, where formulated cricket has never been much chop.
Adrian Barath didn't go to a cricket academy. He learnt his cricket in shanty-like nets on a concrete pitch on the outskirts of Port of Spain in Trinidad. Tall guys with long limbs bowled to him, and he hit the ball. His way. By instinct.
Barath's technique is not out of a text book. Will he be given free reign to do it his way, or will he be forced to conform?
Former West Indies great Brain Lara recently made an interesting observation.
"Australia makes ordinary players into great players. The West Indies makes great players into ordinary players," were the sentiments of Lara.
It's all about the system. On that basis, you can't argue with the system, which produces the winning results. But it also produces robots, where instinct doesn't count.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
AFL'S LUCK OF THE DRAW
Sport would be wonderfully transparent if one could predict the future. To have that innate ability to know how something was going to unfold would be an invaluable commoditity.
Especially when it comes to recruiting and, in the case of the AFL, the national draft.
In fact, football followers would find it intriguing to archive a copy of today's newspaper for a decade. Then, take another look at the class of 2009.
Names like Tom Scully, Jack Trengove, Dustin Martin and Anthony Morabito, as the top four selections, may well become modern legends of the game. Think Cazally, think Trengove. Mention Barassi, mention Morabito in the same breath. Maybe.
Then again, maybe it will be a case of comparing the virtues of James Hird and Shane Thorne. Both were overlooked at the top end of the draft by recruiting scouts around the country but, in the case, of Hird, pick number 79 in the 1990 draft proved little hindrance to carving out a magnificent career. Because, in the end, it matters nought as to the order of priority.
What is does do is highlight the difficulty in predicting the future for physically and emotionally raw teenagers, resulting in some embarrassment for those charged with the responsibility of drawing names to determine the future of their clubs.
Seventy-eight players were considered to be superior prospects to James Hird 19 years ago. Not too many of them won a couple of premierships, a Brownlow Medal, All Australian honors and club captaincy.
Statistics tell us that around 30 percent of the top 10 picks go on to play 200 AFL games. But the figure is not much different for those selected in rounds two and three. A bigger percentage of those picked will struggle to make the grade.
So while all eyes will be on number one pick Scully and his number two teammate Trengove over the next few years, there's every chance Shane Thorne, a 183cm forward from the Northern Territory, will outshine them both with the Western Bulldogs. Like Hird, his name came out in the 70s, but like those before him, he's been given a chance.
And when he turns up at training next week at the Whitten Oval or when he one day makes his senior debut, no one will be worrying about the number of his pick. Of more interest will be the number of his match statistics.
Especially when it comes to recruiting and, in the case of the AFL, the national draft.
In fact, football followers would find it intriguing to archive a copy of today's newspaper for a decade. Then, take another look at the class of 2009.
Names like Tom Scully, Jack Trengove, Dustin Martin and Anthony Morabito, as the top four selections, may well become modern legends of the game. Think Cazally, think Trengove. Mention Barassi, mention Morabito in the same breath. Maybe.
Then again, maybe it will be a case of comparing the virtues of James Hird and Shane Thorne. Both were overlooked at the top end of the draft by recruiting scouts around the country but, in the case, of Hird, pick number 79 in the 1990 draft proved little hindrance to carving out a magnificent career. Because, in the end, it matters nought as to the order of priority.
What is does do is highlight the difficulty in predicting the future for physically and emotionally raw teenagers, resulting in some embarrassment for those charged with the responsibility of drawing names to determine the future of their clubs.
Seventy-eight players were considered to be superior prospects to James Hird 19 years ago. Not too many of them won a couple of premierships, a Brownlow Medal, All Australian honors and club captaincy.
Statistics tell us that around 30 percent of the top 10 picks go on to play 200 AFL games. But the figure is not much different for those selected in rounds two and three. A bigger percentage of those picked will struggle to make the grade.
So while all eyes will be on number one pick Scully and his number two teammate Trengove over the next few years, there's every chance Shane Thorne, a 183cm forward from the Northern Territory, will outshine them both with the Western Bulldogs. Like Hird, his name came out in the 70s, but like those before him, he's been given a chance.
And when he turns up at training next week at the Whitten Oval or when he one day makes his senior debut, no one will be worrying about the number of his pick. Of more interest will be the number of his match statistics.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
QUESTIONS OF SUMMER
So we're off and away with another Australian summer of cricket, with not quite the anticipation of some series of recent years.
As usual, it raises questions as to what lies ahead:
* Will the West Indies put up a decent fight? A: Be very concerned when hype dominates the build-up to a series. A flying start by either team can make or break a Test match.
* Will Shane Watson open the batting for the entire series? A: Yes, but the selectors are champing at the bit to find a fall guy in the middle order to reshuffle the order.
* Will Philip Hughes find his way into the team? A: Yes, but not until the following series against Pakistan. Hughes needs to score heavily for a few weeks to present an irrestistable case to the selectors. Then he'll be in, at the top of the order with Simon Katich.
* So who will be the fall guy to make way for Hughes? A: Expect to see Marcus North bowling lots of overs with his spin, making Nathan Hauritz expendable as the fourth specialist bowler. That way Watson slides into the lower middle order.
* Anyone else on the skids? A: Mike Hussey, clearly, needs to score early and consistently. His spot is under real scrutiny. As is Michael Clarke's fitness. Should his frail back falter, both Hussey and Hauritz would win a reprieve.
* Any chance we'll see Jason Krejza in the Test team? A: He is another player in waiting. Double pressure for Hauritz to perform. Expect to see Krejza in the baggy green against Pakistan.
* How about the Australian quicks -- Johnston, Siddle and Hilfenhaus to stick together? A: Hilfenhaus is under pressure. He did well in South Africa and England, but the hard Australian wickets are different. If Hilfenhaus struggles, don't be surprised to see a young bolter from around the Shield ranks being elevated.
* His name? A: Give me a break, I don't have all the answers.
* So who will win the series? A: Australia 2-1.
Let's find out. I'm off to settle in for the first ball.
As usual, it raises questions as to what lies ahead:
* Will the West Indies put up a decent fight? A: Be very concerned when hype dominates the build-up to a series. A flying start by either team can make or break a Test match.
* Will Shane Watson open the batting for the entire series? A: Yes, but the selectors are champing at the bit to find a fall guy in the middle order to reshuffle the order.
* Will Philip Hughes find his way into the team? A: Yes, but not until the following series against Pakistan. Hughes needs to score heavily for a few weeks to present an irrestistable case to the selectors. Then he'll be in, at the top of the order with Simon Katich.
* So who will be the fall guy to make way for Hughes? A: Expect to see Marcus North bowling lots of overs with his spin, making Nathan Hauritz expendable as the fourth specialist bowler. That way Watson slides into the lower middle order.
* Anyone else on the skids? A: Mike Hussey, clearly, needs to score early and consistently. His spot is under real scrutiny. As is Michael Clarke's fitness. Should his frail back falter, both Hussey and Hauritz would win a reprieve.
* Any chance we'll see Jason Krejza in the Test team? A: He is another player in waiting. Double pressure for Hauritz to perform. Expect to see Krejza in the baggy green against Pakistan.
* How about the Australian quicks -- Johnston, Siddle and Hilfenhaus to stick together? A: Hilfenhaus is under pressure. He did well in South Africa and England, but the hard Australian wickets are different. If Hilfenhaus struggles, don't be surprised to see a young bolter from around the Shield ranks being elevated.
* His name? A: Give me a break, I don't have all the answers.
* So who will win the series? A: Australia 2-1.
Let's find out. I'm off to settle in for the first ball.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
AFL v NRL Round 1
The National Rugby League is suffering from a major inferiority complex. The only conclusion to be reached in the battle with the AFL is that the NRL is running scared.
This sporting rivalry is akin to New Zealand's paranoia to Australia. You see it all the time in sport, where the little guy takes on the big guy with a steely determination to score a few points. And the big guy, smug with his own success, barely bats an eyelid as the battle rages around him.
In outlining its intentions to grab a piece of the pie that is greater western Sydney, the AFL has ruffled the feathers of a rugby league heartland. The professionalism of the AFL is shining through, with announcements of the Bankstown Stadium redevelopment, the appointment of charismatic Kevin Sheedy as inaugural coach, the signing of league superstar Karmichael Hunt and the prospect of former Swans great Paul Kelly joining the franchise all creating big headlines. Worrying headlines from an NRL perspective.
Now, the old news that the AFL is keen to redevelop the Olympic showgrounds stadium really has the league guys in a lather. We're hearing from Eels boss Paul Osborne, former enforcer Mark Geyer and the recently retired Wendell Sailor all expressing concerns about the AFL push, almost on a daily basis. And that's not to mention the commentators, who are ranting about the NSW State government's apparent courting of the monster from Melbourne.
The AFL, meanwhile, is going about its business, seemingly oblivious to the raging bushfire it has created. And, perhaps, just a little bit happy to stoke the embers. Clearly, there's a lot of hot air out there.
All wars come at a cost, and the AFL is prepared to pay handsomely to fire off some pyschological shots. Karmichael Hunt, with his bulging contract already in the bamk, is one example. And now, speculation continues that the NRL's best player, Jarryd Hayne, may follow.
Hayne is yet to re-sign with Parramatta, despite indicating on the Four Nations Tour that he was set to do so. Things have changed in the weeks since, to the tune of $7.5 million. That's the figure said to be dangled in front of Hayne for a 5-year contract to defect to the enemy. And, quite frankly, that is ludicrous.
At $1.5 million per year, Hayne would be the highest paid player in the AFL. And he's never kicked a Sherrin! His league skills are spell-binding, but how well would they translate to AFL? He can run and tackle, but can he take contested marks, kick on either foot, handball, read the play? Big questions. An athlete of Hayne's talent would no doubt be able to adjust to a different code but, without a grounding in AFL, the chances are he would morph into no better than an average AFL player, and not a great. And for $1.5 million per year! What happens if the experiment failed in years one or two, with the bulk of the water-tight contract still on the table? Expensive publicity.
While the AFL is happy to pay for headlines (and much of them are coming courtesy of the NRL), surely the Hayne talk can be no more than a smokescreen. To get the NRL running scared.
In the Australian sporting landscape, the NRL is the little guy compared to the AFL, which draws more income, bigger crowds and bigger participation. The AFL is calling the tune in this battle and the league officiandos are dancing to the beat of the drum.
Further down the track, there's every likelihood the NRL will prevail in the war of the west. But the initial battle is certainly going the way of the southern interloper.
This sporting rivalry is akin to New Zealand's paranoia to Australia. You see it all the time in sport, where the little guy takes on the big guy with a steely determination to score a few points. And the big guy, smug with his own success, barely bats an eyelid as the battle rages around him.
In outlining its intentions to grab a piece of the pie that is greater western Sydney, the AFL has ruffled the feathers of a rugby league heartland. The professionalism of the AFL is shining through, with announcements of the Bankstown Stadium redevelopment, the appointment of charismatic Kevin Sheedy as inaugural coach, the signing of league superstar Karmichael Hunt and the prospect of former Swans great Paul Kelly joining the franchise all creating big headlines. Worrying headlines from an NRL perspective.
Now, the old news that the AFL is keen to redevelop the Olympic showgrounds stadium really has the league guys in a lather. We're hearing from Eels boss Paul Osborne, former enforcer Mark Geyer and the recently retired Wendell Sailor all expressing concerns about the AFL push, almost on a daily basis. And that's not to mention the commentators, who are ranting about the NSW State government's apparent courting of the monster from Melbourne.
The AFL, meanwhile, is going about its business, seemingly oblivious to the raging bushfire it has created. And, perhaps, just a little bit happy to stoke the embers. Clearly, there's a lot of hot air out there.
All wars come at a cost, and the AFL is prepared to pay handsomely to fire off some pyschological shots. Karmichael Hunt, with his bulging contract already in the bamk, is one example. And now, speculation continues that the NRL's best player, Jarryd Hayne, may follow.
Hayne is yet to re-sign with Parramatta, despite indicating on the Four Nations Tour that he was set to do so. Things have changed in the weeks since, to the tune of $7.5 million. That's the figure said to be dangled in front of Hayne for a 5-year contract to defect to the enemy. And, quite frankly, that is ludicrous.
At $1.5 million per year, Hayne would be the highest paid player in the AFL. And he's never kicked a Sherrin! His league skills are spell-binding, but how well would they translate to AFL? He can run and tackle, but can he take contested marks, kick on either foot, handball, read the play? Big questions. An athlete of Hayne's talent would no doubt be able to adjust to a different code but, without a grounding in AFL, the chances are he would morph into no better than an average AFL player, and not a great. And for $1.5 million per year! What happens if the experiment failed in years one or two, with the bulk of the water-tight contract still on the table? Expensive publicity.
While the AFL is happy to pay for headlines (and much of them are coming courtesy of the NRL), surely the Hayne talk can be no more than a smokescreen. To get the NRL running scared.
In the Australian sporting landscape, the NRL is the little guy compared to the AFL, which draws more income, bigger crowds and bigger participation. The AFL is calling the tune in this battle and the league officiandos are dancing to the beat of the drum.
Further down the track, there's every likelihood the NRL will prevail in the war of the west. But the initial battle is certainly going the way of the southern interloper.
Monday, November 23, 2009
POLE DANCING AND OTHER GREAT SPORTS
I don't do much in the way of sport. I took my kayak out for a paddle the other day. But these two statements are unrelated, aren't they?
It's a question of exactly what constitutes sport. Yes, I know kayaking is an Olympic sport as Ken Wallace would certainly point out, with a gold medal hanging around his neck. But kayaking on Sydney Harbour, pottering around the anchored and ill-used cruisers, is hardly what I would call sport in its truest form.
Invariably when we read of figures of Australia's greatest participant sport, towards the top of the tree comes fishing. Fishing??!! Yes, apparently so.
I enjoy listening to a segment on James Valentine's ABC 702, entitled 'The Forgotton Sports'. Last week, it was about cheerleading, where the world championships attract around 19,000 competitors. The week before, pole-dancing was featured. Yes, both are sports, so we're told.
This morning on radio, a discussion ensued about chess, also in the sports category,
prompting some interesting observations.
One caller suggested a contest becomes a sport when one is competing against one self or against another. Mmm.. like cards? Another suggested it was when one was forced to sweat. Like in 40 degrees at the beach?? Or when it resulted in an increased heart rate. As in sex???
Clearly, it's not easy to find the definitive description of sport. Commonsense, however, tells me pursuits like fishing, pole-dancing, cheer-leadering and chess should be categorised as past-times, pleasures or whatever. But, please, let's not one day hear their supporters advocating inclusion in the Olympics for any of them.
As for kayaking, well I'll accept that one if it means my leisurely paddle makes me a sportsman.
It's a question of exactly what constitutes sport. Yes, I know kayaking is an Olympic sport as Ken Wallace would certainly point out, with a gold medal hanging around his neck. But kayaking on Sydney Harbour, pottering around the anchored and ill-used cruisers, is hardly what I would call sport in its truest form.
Invariably when we read of figures of Australia's greatest participant sport, towards the top of the tree comes fishing. Fishing??!! Yes, apparently so.
I enjoy listening to a segment on James Valentine's ABC 702, entitled 'The Forgotton Sports'. Last week, it was about cheerleading, where the world championships attract around 19,000 competitors. The week before, pole-dancing was featured. Yes, both are sports, so we're told.
This morning on radio, a discussion ensued about chess, also in the sports category,
prompting some interesting observations.
One caller suggested a contest becomes a sport when one is competing against one self or against another. Mmm.. like cards? Another suggested it was when one was forced to sweat. Like in 40 degrees at the beach?? Or when it resulted in an increased heart rate. As in sex???
Clearly, it's not easy to find the definitive description of sport. Commonsense, however, tells me pursuits like fishing, pole-dancing, cheer-leadering and chess should be categorised as past-times, pleasures or whatever. But, please, let's not one day hear their supporters advocating inclusion in the Olympics for any of them.
As for kayaking, well I'll accept that one if it means my leisurely paddle makes me a sportsman.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
FAT CATS AND MEDIOCRITY
Never before has the gulf between the rich and poor in sport been more apparent. And, in many cases, it just ain't fair.
Now I have no beef with some of even the world's biggest earners, whose performances and marketability generate vast income in return. Regardless of their pay packets, they are paying their way through revenue.
On the other hand, there is a growing fraternity on the receiving end of far too much largesse. One formula one driver is being encouraged by his team to walk away from his contract -- 10 million euros to do so, if he's able to find a drive with a rival team. If he's unable to do so, his own team will pay him 17 million euros to stand aside. That's close to AUS$30 million!!
Closer to home, we have cricketers and rugby union players who are becoming sport's fat cats. Not all, mind you, but enough to rankle.
As for the cricketers, second-tier players are able to command far greater financial rewards playing in the IPL Twenty20 tournament than many of those representing their country. Some can earn up to $1.5m per year for a few weeks in India -- far in excess of what many can earn with full national representation. Of course, Australian players are well-compensated, but the imbalance between IPL and Test payments are massive for most other countries.
But getting to the crux of the matter is rugby union and the Wallabies. The Australian Rugby Union's annual player salary bill is said to be $27 million, and yet the Wallabies have become international rugby's biggest under-performers. Remember a couple of weeks ago, after a narrow win over England, some were talking up the prospect of an Australian Grand Slam? A pipedream ridiculed in this blog at the time as being little more than a Grand Sham. Well, that's the way it's unfolded, with a draw against Ireland and then a once in a quarter of a century defeat to Scotland, the 9th-ranked team in the world.
The Wallabies need to pay the price of mediocrity. A major overhaul is required to the compensation structure. In a nutshell, the players need to earn their keep and play under a revised wage deal rewarding success. I'm not advocating a reduction in the wage purse, simply a reduction in the guarantees. Top up the contracts with performance-based bonuses. Create some hunger for players to work harder.
Matthew Mitcham was an Australian Olympic hero just over 12 months ago. So, too, Steve Hooker. Sally McLennan won silver on the track in Beijing, again to public acclaim. But Mitcham, Hooker, McLennan and a host of others are operating on the smell of an oily rag, fighting the battle to attract funding and personal sponsorships.
And there are hundreds more just like them. How must they feel when, like so many other sports fans, they tune in to watch some IPL and see State cricketers who haven't reached international status? Or rugby union Tests with players who consistenly fail to live up to expectations? All of them cashing in and pocketing sums Mitcham, Hooker and Co. could only dream of.
It just isn't fair. Market forces dictate who gets how many dollars, but surely some of those corporations paying the bills of under-achievers must start asking the question of whether their dollars may be better spent on the more deserving.
Now I have no beef with some of even the world's biggest earners, whose performances and marketability generate vast income in return. Regardless of their pay packets, they are paying their way through revenue.
On the other hand, there is a growing fraternity on the receiving end of far too much largesse. One formula one driver is being encouraged by his team to walk away from his contract -- 10 million euros to do so, if he's able to find a drive with a rival team. If he's unable to do so, his own team will pay him 17 million euros to stand aside. That's close to AUS$30 million!!
Closer to home, we have cricketers and rugby union players who are becoming sport's fat cats. Not all, mind you, but enough to rankle.
As for the cricketers, second-tier players are able to command far greater financial rewards playing in the IPL Twenty20 tournament than many of those representing their country. Some can earn up to $1.5m per year for a few weeks in India -- far in excess of what many can earn with full national representation. Of course, Australian players are well-compensated, but the imbalance between IPL and Test payments are massive for most other countries.
But getting to the crux of the matter is rugby union and the Wallabies. The Australian Rugby Union's annual player salary bill is said to be $27 million, and yet the Wallabies have become international rugby's biggest under-performers. Remember a couple of weeks ago, after a narrow win over England, some were talking up the prospect of an Australian Grand Slam? A pipedream ridiculed in this blog at the time as being little more than a Grand Sham. Well, that's the way it's unfolded, with a draw against Ireland and then a once in a quarter of a century defeat to Scotland, the 9th-ranked team in the world.
The Wallabies need to pay the price of mediocrity. A major overhaul is required to the compensation structure. In a nutshell, the players need to earn their keep and play under a revised wage deal rewarding success. I'm not advocating a reduction in the wage purse, simply a reduction in the guarantees. Top up the contracts with performance-based bonuses. Create some hunger for players to work harder.
Matthew Mitcham was an Australian Olympic hero just over 12 months ago. So, too, Steve Hooker. Sally McLennan won silver on the track in Beijing, again to public acclaim. But Mitcham, Hooker, McLennan and a host of others are operating on the smell of an oily rag, fighting the battle to attract funding and personal sponsorships.
And there are hundreds more just like them. How must they feel when, like so many other sports fans, they tune in to watch some IPL and see State cricketers who haven't reached international status? Or rugby union Tests with players who consistenly fail to live up to expectations? All of them cashing in and pocketing sums Mitcham, Hooker and Co. could only dream of.
It just isn't fair. Market forces dictate who gets how many dollars, but surely some of those corporations paying the bills of under-achievers must start asking the question of whether their dollars may be better spent on the more deserving.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
GROWING CRAZY
Football is awash with expansionism. All codes, that is, and I don't quite get it.
Why the need for what seems to be excessive growth?
Now, this may sound like a question of naivety, posed by one without an appreciation of sporting micro-economics. I'm sure, the answer will come loud and clear, is that growth is important to secure the lion's share of consumer dollars, and participation. But why?
America's NFL recently played a match at Wembley Stadium in London. The Wallabies and the All Blacks played in Tokyo. Rugby League has been to Perth and Adelaide and back, in its attempt to truly Australianise its domestic competition. Soccer's A-League has gone from eight to 10 and soon 12 teams marching around Australia (though, to be fair, that is to be expected in a fledgling competition). And now, we hear that the AFL has its eyes not only on Western Sydney and the Gold Coast, but China!
And no-one's quite explained why. Except to say that one code does not want to be eaten up by another. But is that a realistic threat?
Let's look at the way it has been in 2009. Sixteen AFL teams, spread across five States and with premiership matches also played in Tasmania, the ACT and the Northern Territory. A healthy, vibrant competition. The NRL has teams in 3 States plus New Zealand. Rugby union teams in Perth, Sydney, Brisbane and Canberra. Soccer is truly national.
Most of the AFL teams are operationally financially-sound, if not healthy. With an inferior broadcast rights deal, smaller memberships and crowds, NRL teams are not as flush with funds. Same with the A-League, while rugby union benefits from a small number of franchises and a big TV deal.
Is the public purse big enough to stretch any further? That's where the footy cannabalism takes root. The idea is to impose a bigger footprint, hopefully at the expense of cross-code rivals.
But surely this is a lot of chest-thumping nonsense. The AFL is run by some very astute administrators, but the push into rugby league's heartland is a momumental challenge. And rugby union's inclusion of a Melbourne team will do little to dilute AFL teams of corporate and public dollars. After-all, the Melbourne Storm has played in the past 4 NRL grand finals, winning two of them, and still run at an annual loss of around $5 million. It will simply spread the available dollars more thinly.
Of course, the theory is that the bigger the footprint, the greater the revenue from broadcast rights, as television stations can demand greater advertising revenue. But, again, the advertising pool is only so big.
So I ask why? The custodians of each of the codes are duty-bound to protect their games. But is too much growth necessarily beneficial?
Call me a dinosaur, but I believe enough is enough. Concentrate on securing what we have. At least for the time being.
Why the need for what seems to be excessive growth?
Now, this may sound like a question of naivety, posed by one without an appreciation of sporting micro-economics. I'm sure, the answer will come loud and clear, is that growth is important to secure the lion's share of consumer dollars, and participation. But why?
America's NFL recently played a match at Wembley Stadium in London. The Wallabies and the All Blacks played in Tokyo. Rugby League has been to Perth and Adelaide and back, in its attempt to truly Australianise its domestic competition. Soccer's A-League has gone from eight to 10 and soon 12 teams marching around Australia (though, to be fair, that is to be expected in a fledgling competition). And now, we hear that the AFL has its eyes not only on Western Sydney and the Gold Coast, but China!
And no-one's quite explained why. Except to say that one code does not want to be eaten up by another. But is that a realistic threat?
Let's look at the way it has been in 2009. Sixteen AFL teams, spread across five States and with premiership matches also played in Tasmania, the ACT and the Northern Territory. A healthy, vibrant competition. The NRL has teams in 3 States plus New Zealand. Rugby union teams in Perth, Sydney, Brisbane and Canberra. Soccer is truly national.
Most of the AFL teams are operationally financially-sound, if not healthy. With an inferior broadcast rights deal, smaller memberships and crowds, NRL teams are not as flush with funds. Same with the A-League, while rugby union benefits from a small number of franchises and a big TV deal.
Is the public purse big enough to stretch any further? That's where the footy cannabalism takes root. The idea is to impose a bigger footprint, hopefully at the expense of cross-code rivals.
But surely this is a lot of chest-thumping nonsense. The AFL is run by some very astute administrators, but the push into rugby league's heartland is a momumental challenge. And rugby union's inclusion of a Melbourne team will do little to dilute AFL teams of corporate and public dollars. After-all, the Melbourne Storm has played in the past 4 NRL grand finals, winning two of them, and still run at an annual loss of around $5 million. It will simply spread the available dollars more thinly.
Of course, the theory is that the bigger the footprint, the greater the revenue from broadcast rights, as television stations can demand greater advertising revenue. But, again, the advertising pool is only so big.
So I ask why? The custodians of each of the codes are duty-bound to protect their games. But is too much growth necessarily beneficial?
Call me a dinosaur, but I believe enough is enough. Concentrate on securing what we have. At least for the time being.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
BAD LUCK OF THE IRISH
Isn't world soccer's governing body FIFA in a bit of a pickle over the hand of Henry affair?
In case you've missed the kerfuffle which has become a full-blown international incident, France has qualified for next year's World Cup, but only after a late goal in the second-leg qualifier against Italy -- the goal coming as a result of a blatant hand ball from the French captain and superstar Thierry Henry, who touched the ball not once, but twice, in setting up a William Gallas header.
Reminiscent of Diego Maradona in the infamous victory for Argentina over England back in 1986.
And here, to rub salt into the Irish wound, Henry admitted his sin in the immediate aftermath. His misdeamenour was blatantly obvious, but in past sporting contests, that hasn't necessarily equated to an admission of guilt by the offending parties.
Henry's confession without remorse has inflamed the already hostile Irish supporters. It means, along with the presence of seemingly irrefutable video evidence, there cam be no debate about the legitimancy of the French equaliser. The French goal should not have been allowed. And it should not have determined that France is off to the World Cup finals in South Africa at the expense of Ireland.
The outpouring of scorn has been predictable. The Irish Football Association has appealed to FIFA for the match to be replayed, but that is likely to fall on deaf ears.
And the matter has reached diplomatic levels with condemnation from the Irish Prime Minister and a 'let's leave politics out of sport' response from his French counterpart.
The whole episode predictably raises questions about extra officials and video replays to rule on contentious decisions.
But more to the point it raises the issue of honesty in sport. On one hand we implore participants to fess up, to have sport played in an honourable manner. However, here we have a player, rather than being coy about a wrong-doing, telling it the way it was -- and inflaming the matter even further. It was almost as if, in admitting to the crime, Theirry Henry was laughing in the faces of the Irish he hurt most.
And this will do nothing to foster similar confessions in the future.
To really rectify an onfield discretion, Henry should have pleaded guilty at the very moment the referee was making his ruling. But with a World Cup spot at stake and the weight of a nation on his shoulders, surely that was asking too much.
And, afterall, players will tell us it all evens out in the end. Referees miss some one way, and then the other.
So where does that leave us? Unfortunately, status quo. Seal thy lips. Say nothing. Mum's the word.
Just let the officials call it as they see it. Off-field honesty means little unless it comes with on-field honesty beforehand.
In case you've missed the kerfuffle which has become a full-blown international incident, France has qualified for next year's World Cup, but only after a late goal in the second-leg qualifier against Italy -- the goal coming as a result of a blatant hand ball from the French captain and superstar Thierry Henry, who touched the ball not once, but twice, in setting up a William Gallas header.
Reminiscent of Diego Maradona in the infamous victory for Argentina over England back in 1986.
And here, to rub salt into the Irish wound, Henry admitted his sin in the immediate aftermath. His misdeamenour was blatantly obvious, but in past sporting contests, that hasn't necessarily equated to an admission of guilt by the offending parties.
Henry's confession without remorse has inflamed the already hostile Irish supporters. It means, along with the presence of seemingly irrefutable video evidence, there cam be no debate about the legitimancy of the French equaliser. The French goal should not have been allowed. And it should not have determined that France is off to the World Cup finals in South Africa at the expense of Ireland.
The outpouring of scorn has been predictable. The Irish Football Association has appealed to FIFA for the match to be replayed, but that is likely to fall on deaf ears.
And the matter has reached diplomatic levels with condemnation from the Irish Prime Minister and a 'let's leave politics out of sport' response from his French counterpart.
The whole episode predictably raises questions about extra officials and video replays to rule on contentious decisions.
But more to the point it raises the issue of honesty in sport. On one hand we implore participants to fess up, to have sport played in an honourable manner. However, here we have a player, rather than being coy about a wrong-doing, telling it the way it was -- and inflaming the matter even further. It was almost as if, in admitting to the crime, Theirry Henry was laughing in the faces of the Irish he hurt most.
And this will do nothing to foster similar confessions in the future.
To really rectify an onfield discretion, Henry should have pleaded guilty at the very moment the referee was making his ruling. But with a World Cup spot at stake and the weight of a nation on his shoulders, surely that was asking too much.
And, afterall, players will tell us it all evens out in the end. Referees miss some one way, and then the other.
So where does that leave us? Unfortunately, status quo. Seal thy lips. Say nothing. Mum's the word.
Just let the officials call it as they see it. Off-field honesty means little unless it comes with on-field honesty beforehand.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
THE SORRY WORD TO OLD CODGERS
I have an apology to make.
You see, I am delighted to have been invited to join the commentary team for the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver, with the combined Nine Network/Foxtel production.
It's going to be a fantastic event and I'll be calling the Short Track Speed Skating with the legendary Steven Bradbury -- the first Australian to win a Winter Olympics gold medal.
It will be my first experience at the Winter Olympics. But while I'm new to this Winter caper, I've been covering international sport for over 20 years.
However, I was somewhat taken aback when a media release announcing the team referred to 'the veteran broadcaster Mike McCann'. Veteran!!! Well... well, I guess I am.
It's amazing how the years fly in sport. Young pups on the sporting field continue to be young pups until... well, until they are forced out to make way for new blood. Like Brett Lee, the great Australian fast bowler, I'm sure he feels young and ready to take on the world. We found out this week his body is telling him otherwise. That, indeed, he's a 'veteran' fast bowler.
As a commentator, I must confess I've never been averse to describing footballers, cricketers, swimmers or whoever, as 'veterans'. Looking from the outside, it seems bleeding obvious.
But now I realise it doesn't seem quite so obvious to those involved. And maybe, unlike me, they may take umbrage at that assertion. And no, it doesn't mean they are over the hill. Just that they have a lot of experience under their belts...
I'm a veteran, and proud of it. But it did come as a bit of a shock when I was told the news. In future, I'll be a little more circumspect in using the term.
Now, time for my afternoon nap.
You see, I am delighted to have been invited to join the commentary team for the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver, with the combined Nine Network/Foxtel production.
It's going to be a fantastic event and I'll be calling the Short Track Speed Skating with the legendary Steven Bradbury -- the first Australian to win a Winter Olympics gold medal.
It will be my first experience at the Winter Olympics. But while I'm new to this Winter caper, I've been covering international sport for over 20 years.
However, I was somewhat taken aback when a media release announcing the team referred to 'the veteran broadcaster Mike McCann'. Veteran!!! Well... well, I guess I am.
It's amazing how the years fly in sport. Young pups on the sporting field continue to be young pups until... well, until they are forced out to make way for new blood. Like Brett Lee, the great Australian fast bowler, I'm sure he feels young and ready to take on the world. We found out this week his body is telling him otherwise. That, indeed, he's a 'veteran' fast bowler.
As a commentator, I must confess I've never been averse to describing footballers, cricketers, swimmers or whoever, as 'veterans'. Looking from the outside, it seems bleeding obvious.
But now I realise it doesn't seem quite so obvious to those involved. And maybe, unlike me, they may take umbrage at that assertion. And no, it doesn't mean they are over the hill. Just that they have a lot of experience under their belts...
I'm a veteran, and proud of it. But it did come as a bit of a shock when I was told the news. In future, I'll be a little more circumspect in using the term.
Now, time for my afternoon nap.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
THE PRICE OF GOLD
Debate is raging in Australia over the price of fame -- Olympic fame, that is.
Australia, the country which has fought above its weight throughout the entire history of the modern Olympics, is now fighting a funding battle to maintain its lofty international status.
Remarkably for a nation of only 22 million, Australia finished fourth on the medal table with 16 golds in Sydney 2000, fourth again with 17 golds in Athens in 2004, and sixth with 14 golds in Beijing in 2008. Already, though, the forecast for London 2012 is for a 50 percent decline in gold medals and a 10th place overall.
The trend is clearly heading south and the reason, according to the Australian Olympic Committee, is funding. The AOC says more is needed to finance talent identification, training, preparation etc.. to present teams with the optimum chance of success.
But the Crawford report into Australian sports funding rejects that proposition. It says the public purse should be redirected into Australian-centric sports, community sports and, importantly, those sports high on participation numbers. Which doesn't necessarily include the likes of rowing, canoeing, sailing, archery, water polo and others, which have contributed significantly to Australia's recent Olympic gold medal tallies.
So the debate goes like this: what is the price of Olympic success, and how many people really care about that success? And would the money be better spent elsewhere, even away from sport altogether?
On one hand, who can forget the national excitement and joy of the Sydney Olympic Games 9 years ago? And does not the huge majority of our population become spellbound every four years for the Olympics, cheering on and celebrating Australian victories as if it were their own? And treat the victors as heroes and celebrities on their home-coming?
What is the price of that euphoria? We can't expect to embrace it without cost.
And there must be a huge cost, for Australia to compete with the sporting giants of the USA, China, Russia and, now, Great Britain. One of the reasons is our geographic isolation and seasonal diffential. Performaning with distinction at the Olympics is not just about what happens over the 16 days of competition -- it's about the months and years leading up to the Games.
Regular international competition is vital to the overall programme, and that means Australian competitors must constantly travel and base themselves in Europe or the US. That, in itself, is a huge impost on the sports budget and then consider this. Much of Australia's past medal success (not always gold) has come in team sports like rowing, hockey, basketball, water polo. Even sports like equestrian, sailing, canoeing. Consider the expense in preparing not just an individual, but a team and, in some case, with vast equipment freighted to further add to the bill.
The price is success is not cheap.
So then, what about the other alternative? Redirecting funds to more domestic pursuits, many of them featuring nowhere near the Olympic radar. Like AFL, rugby league, netball, surfing, surf lifesaving, lawn bowls? Where participation numbers are high.
Well, yes, those sports may well be deserving of more. And health and lifestyle issues are of paramount importance.
But surely not at the expense of our performances on the international stage. Anecdotal evidence suggests Olympic success triggers an interest and participation in sports at a grass-roots level.
And therein lies the conundrum. More participation at grass-roots level requires more funding -- but to take it away from the very beast that inspired the grass-roots participation in the first place? Really..
So it can't be a case of either/or. Funding it required at both ends of the spectrum. Perhaps the way to do it, and it seems ridiculous we haven't gone down this path before, is a national sports lottery. It's proved to be a bonanza for sport in Great Britain and it's hard to see why that wouldn't be the case in Australia as well. Take some of the impost off the Federal Government and allow the sports to benefit from the proceeds.
Works for me.
Australia, the country which has fought above its weight throughout the entire history of the modern Olympics, is now fighting a funding battle to maintain its lofty international status.
Remarkably for a nation of only 22 million, Australia finished fourth on the medal table with 16 golds in Sydney 2000, fourth again with 17 golds in Athens in 2004, and sixth with 14 golds in Beijing in 2008. Already, though, the forecast for London 2012 is for a 50 percent decline in gold medals and a 10th place overall.
The trend is clearly heading south and the reason, according to the Australian Olympic Committee, is funding. The AOC says more is needed to finance talent identification, training, preparation etc.. to present teams with the optimum chance of success.
But the Crawford report into Australian sports funding rejects that proposition. It says the public purse should be redirected into Australian-centric sports, community sports and, importantly, those sports high on participation numbers. Which doesn't necessarily include the likes of rowing, canoeing, sailing, archery, water polo and others, which have contributed significantly to Australia's recent Olympic gold medal tallies.
So the debate goes like this: what is the price of Olympic success, and how many people really care about that success? And would the money be better spent elsewhere, even away from sport altogether?
On one hand, who can forget the national excitement and joy of the Sydney Olympic Games 9 years ago? And does not the huge majority of our population become spellbound every four years for the Olympics, cheering on and celebrating Australian victories as if it were their own? And treat the victors as heroes and celebrities on their home-coming?
What is the price of that euphoria? We can't expect to embrace it without cost.
And there must be a huge cost, for Australia to compete with the sporting giants of the USA, China, Russia and, now, Great Britain. One of the reasons is our geographic isolation and seasonal diffential. Performaning with distinction at the Olympics is not just about what happens over the 16 days of competition -- it's about the months and years leading up to the Games.
Regular international competition is vital to the overall programme, and that means Australian competitors must constantly travel and base themselves in Europe or the US. That, in itself, is a huge impost on the sports budget and then consider this. Much of Australia's past medal success (not always gold) has come in team sports like rowing, hockey, basketball, water polo. Even sports like equestrian, sailing, canoeing. Consider the expense in preparing not just an individual, but a team and, in some case, with vast equipment freighted to further add to the bill.
The price is success is not cheap.
So then, what about the other alternative? Redirecting funds to more domestic pursuits, many of them featuring nowhere near the Olympic radar. Like AFL, rugby league, netball, surfing, surf lifesaving, lawn bowls? Where participation numbers are high.
Well, yes, those sports may well be deserving of more. And health and lifestyle issues are of paramount importance.
But surely not at the expense of our performances on the international stage. Anecdotal evidence suggests Olympic success triggers an interest and participation in sports at a grass-roots level.
And therein lies the conundrum. More participation at grass-roots level requires more funding -- but to take it away from the very beast that inspired the grass-roots participation in the first place? Really..
So it can't be a case of either/or. Funding it required at both ends of the spectrum. Perhaps the way to do it, and it seems ridiculous we haven't gone down this path before, is a national sports lottery. It's proved to be a bonanza for sport in Great Britain and it's hard to see why that wouldn't be the case in Australia as well. Take some of the impost off the Federal Government and allow the sports to benefit from the proceeds.
Works for me.
Monday, November 16, 2009
THE MORTAL MICHAEL PHELPS
His status as arguably the greatest swimmer ever remains untarnished. And yet, over the past few weeks, Michael Phelps has become a mere mortal in the pool.
In Stockholm last week, the man who rewrote the Olympic record books with 8 gold medals in Beijing was relegated to an also-ran in the results column: third in the 100 metres individual medley, disqualified in the 100 back and failed to make the final in the 100 freestyle, where he finished 16th in qualifying in 47.77 seconds. That's almost two seconds slower than Stefan Nystrand's fastest qualifying time of 45.93!
Yes, we are talking about 25 metres, or shortcourse, swimming here. But nonetheless, it's a World Cup circuit and a swimming format where world titles are decided every second year. Next year, December 2010, the venue is Dubai.
And, yes, Phelps was sporting a beard, in a far-from shaved down form that he would be in an Olympic or World Championship final.
But the real reason for Phelps less than stunning performances in Sweden were to do with his attire, or lack of it. Many of the world's elite swimmers are scampering from one meet to another as 2009 comes to a close in a bid to clock times which may not be repeated for close enough to a decade. They are wearing the soon to be outlawed high-tech, polyurethane, performancing-enhancing suits which have caused so much confusion in the sport over the past 12 months or so.
Phelps swam against the odds in his old suit at the world championships in Rome in July, clearly frustrated at the erratic results and eye-catching times being recorded by some swimmers. Among the big improvers was the German Paul Biedermann, who beat Phelps in the 200 free, and has also lowered world records of all-time Australian greats Ian Thorpe and Grant Hackett over recent times.
Phelps' indifferent results continued in Berlin last weekend, with a second in the 200 medley and fifth in the 200 butterfly, while failing to reach the final of the 200 free, while the records continued to freefall across a range of events. In fact, 16 world records fell in Berlin -- 16!!!
Thankfully, sanity will prevail soon. From January 1, 2010, rules will dictate that swimmers revert to the more conventional suits, those which no longer will provide the artificial assistance -- those which have blown the record books apart.
And the good news is that Phelps will be back as good as ever. What we are seeing is Michael Phelps, in less than supreme physical condition (but still pretty darn impressive!), looking to the future. He is sticking to his principles, and allowing his reputation to be sullied only in superficial terms, to swim in suits that he and everyone else MUST wear in less than two months' time.
Phelps won't suffer from any psychological letdown with the clock running longer in 2010 than 2009. Not like a whole host of rivals. He's getting in first, doing exactly now what will be the norm in 2010.
When the swimming world returns to normality. When Michael Phelps will resume his rightful place as king of the pool.
In Stockholm last week, the man who rewrote the Olympic record books with 8 gold medals in Beijing was relegated to an also-ran in the results column: third in the 100 metres individual medley, disqualified in the 100 back and failed to make the final in the 100 freestyle, where he finished 16th in qualifying in 47.77 seconds. That's almost two seconds slower than Stefan Nystrand's fastest qualifying time of 45.93!
Yes, we are talking about 25 metres, or shortcourse, swimming here. But nonetheless, it's a World Cup circuit and a swimming format where world titles are decided every second year. Next year, December 2010, the venue is Dubai.
And, yes, Phelps was sporting a beard, in a far-from shaved down form that he would be in an Olympic or World Championship final.
But the real reason for Phelps less than stunning performances in Sweden were to do with his attire, or lack of it. Many of the world's elite swimmers are scampering from one meet to another as 2009 comes to a close in a bid to clock times which may not be repeated for close enough to a decade. They are wearing the soon to be outlawed high-tech, polyurethane, performancing-enhancing suits which have caused so much confusion in the sport over the past 12 months or so.
Phelps swam against the odds in his old suit at the world championships in Rome in July, clearly frustrated at the erratic results and eye-catching times being recorded by some swimmers. Among the big improvers was the German Paul Biedermann, who beat Phelps in the 200 free, and has also lowered world records of all-time Australian greats Ian Thorpe and Grant Hackett over recent times.
Phelps' indifferent results continued in Berlin last weekend, with a second in the 200 medley and fifth in the 200 butterfly, while failing to reach the final of the 200 free, while the records continued to freefall across a range of events. In fact, 16 world records fell in Berlin -- 16!!!
Thankfully, sanity will prevail soon. From January 1, 2010, rules will dictate that swimmers revert to the more conventional suits, those which no longer will provide the artificial assistance -- those which have blown the record books apart.
And the good news is that Phelps will be back as good as ever. What we are seeing is Michael Phelps, in less than supreme physical condition (but still pretty darn impressive!), looking to the future. He is sticking to his principles, and allowing his reputation to be sullied only in superficial terms, to swim in suits that he and everyone else MUST wear in less than two months' time.
Phelps won't suffer from any psychological letdown with the clock running longer in 2010 than 2009. Not like a whole host of rivals. He's getting in first, doing exactly now what will be the norm in 2010.
When the swimming world returns to normality. When Michael Phelps will resume his rightful place as king of the pool.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
THE PRICE OF SUCCESS
In Australia, everyone's talking about Tiger. Woods, that is, although his status is such that, like only a few including Shaq and Usain, a surname is a needless identifying appendage.
Woods is appearing at the Australian Masters at Huntingdale on a $3 million appearance fee. More than 10 times the total prizemoney, but no-one's complaining.
More than 25,000 fans are jamming the fairways each day in numbers claimed to be even greater than when the home favourite Greg Norman was at his peak in the 80s and 90s.
And Woods is earning his keep. Joint leader going into the second round and a hit off the course as well, keeping happy his myriad of sponsors.
Led by Nike, Woods' annual income through endorsements is calculated at around $115 million. Then there's golf course design and some petty cash in terms of prizemoney. He is sport's first billionaire, and his career is barely half over.
I've spoken earlier about the appeal of Tiger Woods (see earlier blog 'Tiger Tale'), but his charisma, 'internationalness' and so on would be rendered largely meaningless without his ability on the golf course.
And that part is remarkable. When you consider most tournaments, over four days and 72 holes for a total par of roughly 288 shots, are decided by only one or two shots, why does Tiger Woods win at the rate in which he does? After all, all professionals are capable of shooting sub-par rounds and in the low 60s. Many can drive further than Woods, some hit straighter and others match him on the greens.
And look at anyone's round and analyse the 'what-ifs'. The putt that lipped the cup, the one that stopped a millimetre short and, on the flip side, the lucky salvaged par from a bunker shot. It happens to all golfers.
So if all starters in a golf tournament are capable of such feats, say of shooting an 8-under 64, and if even Tiger Woods finds a putt that lips the cup, why, at the end of 72 holes, it is Woods who invariably holds the trophy aloft, a shot or two clear of the field?
The answer lies in preparation, concentration and consistency. Tiger Woods is capable of all sorts of party tricks, including bouncing a golf ball on the club head, tossing it into the air and hitting it sweetly and straight up the middle of the fairway while it's on its descent.
But do we ever see any show-boating during tournament play? No, Woods addresses each shot as if his entire tournament hangs on the result. And, after 72 holes, it often does. Not one shot squandered. Every little bit helps.
Quite simply, he doesn't stuff up.
Woods is appearing at the Australian Masters at Huntingdale on a $3 million appearance fee. More than 10 times the total prizemoney, but no-one's complaining.
More than 25,000 fans are jamming the fairways each day in numbers claimed to be even greater than when the home favourite Greg Norman was at his peak in the 80s and 90s.
And Woods is earning his keep. Joint leader going into the second round and a hit off the course as well, keeping happy his myriad of sponsors.
Led by Nike, Woods' annual income through endorsements is calculated at around $115 million. Then there's golf course design and some petty cash in terms of prizemoney. He is sport's first billionaire, and his career is barely half over.
I've spoken earlier about the appeal of Tiger Woods (see earlier blog 'Tiger Tale'), but his charisma, 'internationalness' and so on would be rendered largely meaningless without his ability on the golf course.
And that part is remarkable. When you consider most tournaments, over four days and 72 holes for a total par of roughly 288 shots, are decided by only one or two shots, why does Tiger Woods win at the rate in which he does? After all, all professionals are capable of shooting sub-par rounds and in the low 60s. Many can drive further than Woods, some hit straighter and others match him on the greens.
And look at anyone's round and analyse the 'what-ifs'. The putt that lipped the cup, the one that stopped a millimetre short and, on the flip side, the lucky salvaged par from a bunker shot. It happens to all golfers.
So if all starters in a golf tournament are capable of such feats, say of shooting an 8-under 64, and if even Tiger Woods finds a putt that lips the cup, why, at the end of 72 holes, it is Woods who invariably holds the trophy aloft, a shot or two clear of the field?
The answer lies in preparation, concentration and consistency. Tiger Woods is capable of all sorts of party tricks, including bouncing a golf ball on the club head, tossing it into the air and hitting it sweetly and straight up the middle of the fairway while it's on its descent.
But do we ever see any show-boating during tournament play? No, Woods addresses each shot as if his entire tournament hangs on the result. And, after 72 holes, it often does. Not one shot squandered. Every little bit helps.
Quite simply, he doesn't stuff up.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
TWENTY PLENTY CRICKET
I'm feeling nostalgic for a moment. Remember the times when the whack of leather on willow symbolised an Australian summer?
Not any more. Now, that sound could be permeating from anywhere, at any time of the year. Cricket has reached saturation point. No longer is it an indulgence to be enjoyed at a particular time of the year.
The reason is two-fold. First, and we shouldn't under-estimate this, is the fact that the world has become a much smaller place due to cable television, the internet and a multitude of other technological advances that most of us find difficult to keep up with.
In other words, due to the varying climate conditions, an Australian summer of cricket is at odds with an English pretence of summer. And, in between, there are the seasonal oddities of Asia, South Africa and the West Indies. So nothing new here, with international cricket having always been played in different countries on different months of the calendar. What makes it more noticeable now, however, is that communications technologies have brought virtually all games into our lounge rooms all year round. Whether it's Australia versus India, or Pakistan versus Sri Lanka, there's every chance we will be able to catch the action live on television.
So that's one reason. The same amount of cricket, but the game is enjoying more exposure. No harm done so far.
However, there's another far more salient point. And that is the extraordinary growth first of the 50-over game but, more significantly, the monster of T20. The Twenty20 bankroll.
Former England captain Ian Botham is the latest of a growing list of luminaries to express his concerns about T20. He's quoted in the Wisden Cricketer magazine as saying it's a case of greed, greed and more greed to schedule another World Twenty20 tournament in 2010, so close to the 2009 event in England.
Botham has accused cricket authorities of exploiting the format in a move which will ultimately kill the format. And that, one gathers, is precisely what he'd like to see -- at least at an international level.
"It is a domestic and franchise sport," Botham says. "I don't want to see the best players in the world standing there and slogging. T20 is bastardising the game."
Of course, the problem as Botham and others see it, has been borne out of money. T20has proved to be a cash cow for promoters and players alike. Chris Gayle and Freddie Flintoff are just two examples of players making clear where their priorities lie. And the promoters are only too happy to oblige, with
more and more scheduling of matches to cause a giant case of overkill.
As one tournament finishes, another begins. And we, the public, are getting a case of cricket indigestion.
The anticipation of cricket in summer is losing its appeal. It's a case of more is less.
Not any more. Now, that sound could be permeating from anywhere, at any time of the year. Cricket has reached saturation point. No longer is it an indulgence to be enjoyed at a particular time of the year.
The reason is two-fold. First, and we shouldn't under-estimate this, is the fact that the world has become a much smaller place due to cable television, the internet and a multitude of other technological advances that most of us find difficult to keep up with.
In other words, due to the varying climate conditions, an Australian summer of cricket is at odds with an English pretence of summer. And, in between, there are the seasonal oddities of Asia, South Africa and the West Indies. So nothing new here, with international cricket having always been played in different countries on different months of the calendar. What makes it more noticeable now, however, is that communications technologies have brought virtually all games into our lounge rooms all year round. Whether it's Australia versus India, or Pakistan versus Sri Lanka, there's every chance we will be able to catch the action live on television.
So that's one reason. The same amount of cricket, but the game is enjoying more exposure. No harm done so far.
However, there's another far more salient point. And that is the extraordinary growth first of the 50-over game but, more significantly, the monster of T20. The Twenty20 bankroll.
Former England captain Ian Botham is the latest of a growing list of luminaries to express his concerns about T20. He's quoted in the Wisden Cricketer magazine as saying it's a case of greed, greed and more greed to schedule another World Twenty20 tournament in 2010, so close to the 2009 event in England.
Botham has accused cricket authorities of exploiting the format in a move which will ultimately kill the format. And that, one gathers, is precisely what he'd like to see -- at least at an international level.
"It is a domestic and franchise sport," Botham says. "I don't want to see the best players in the world standing there and slogging. T20 is bastardising the game."
Of course, the problem as Botham and others see it, has been borne out of money. T20has proved to be a cash cow for promoters and players alike. Chris Gayle and Freddie Flintoff are just two examples of players making clear where their priorities lie. And the promoters are only too happy to oblige, with
more and more scheduling of matches to cause a giant case of overkill.
As one tournament finishes, another begins. And we, the public, are getting a case of cricket indigestion.
The anticipation of cricket in summer is losing its appeal. It's a case of more is less.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
TIGER TALE
Have we ever seen anything like it? Has there ever been a sports star who's attracted so much attention as Tiger Woods has in his visit to Melbourne this week?
When Woods arrived, a Melbourne radio station breathlessly announced he stepped out of his private jet, left foot first!! And we've learnt that he had a club sandwich after his practice round on Tuesday!! Already, enough information to write the definitive book of Tiger's visit Down Under.
When he practiced on Tuesday, two days out from the start of the Australian Masters at Kingston Heath, helicoptors buzzed overhead as he debated which club he'd use on the 12th.
Overkill?? Well, you and I may think so. Even allowing for the fact that Woods is the greatest player of his generation and, arguably, the greatest golfer of all time. And yet, it's the opinion of the paying public that really counts. And as the fans packed the fairways for practice round number one, and all Tiger functions have been booked out in advance, who can argue with the insatiable appetite of those who, ultimately, pay the bills?
In economic terms, it's called supply and demand. In his first visit to Australia for yonks, there's been little first-hand supply of Tiger Woods in Australia, creating a massive demand for his attention.
So why is Tiger Woods the sporting phenomenon that he is? Well, for a start he can hit a golf ball incredibly well and yet, paradoxically, he generally does so fewer times in a round than all of his opponents.
Secondly, he is remarkably patient and obliging to his fans and the general golfing world. When one lucky fan scored an autograph from the great one at Kingston Heath, the fan responded with a 'thankyou Mr Woods'. To which Woods replied: "Thank YOU." How many other elite sports stars, pestered almost all of their waking hours, would thank fans on the receiving end of his signature?
And thirdly, perhaps it's his universal heritage. Woods, an American, has roots to Asia and white and black America. So many races can relate to him, and claim him as one of their own.
Undoubtedly, Tiger Woods is more than a sports star. He clearly fits the mould of a sports celebrity. Big time.
When Woods arrived, a Melbourne radio station breathlessly announced he stepped out of his private jet, left foot first!! And we've learnt that he had a club sandwich after his practice round on Tuesday!! Already, enough information to write the definitive book of Tiger's visit Down Under.
When he practiced on Tuesday, two days out from the start of the Australian Masters at Kingston Heath, helicoptors buzzed overhead as he debated which club he'd use on the 12th.
Overkill?? Well, you and I may think so. Even allowing for the fact that Woods is the greatest player of his generation and, arguably, the greatest golfer of all time. And yet, it's the opinion of the paying public that really counts. And as the fans packed the fairways for practice round number one, and all Tiger functions have been booked out in advance, who can argue with the insatiable appetite of those who, ultimately, pay the bills?
In economic terms, it's called supply and demand. In his first visit to Australia for yonks, there's been little first-hand supply of Tiger Woods in Australia, creating a massive demand for his attention.
So why is Tiger Woods the sporting phenomenon that he is? Well, for a start he can hit a golf ball incredibly well and yet, paradoxically, he generally does so fewer times in a round than all of his opponents.
Secondly, he is remarkably patient and obliging to his fans and the general golfing world. When one lucky fan scored an autograph from the great one at Kingston Heath, the fan responded with a 'thankyou Mr Woods'. To which Woods replied: "Thank YOU." How many other elite sports stars, pestered almost all of their waking hours, would thank fans on the receiving end of his signature?
And thirdly, perhaps it's his universal heritage. Woods, an American, has roots to Asia and white and black America. So many races can relate to him, and claim him as one of their own.
Undoubtedly, Tiger Woods is more than a sports star. He clearly fits the mould of a sports celebrity. Big time.
Monday, November 9, 2009
GRAND SHAM??
How quickly the tide can turn.
I'm referring to the Wallabies -- the hapless Wallabies. As we huddled around our heaters during the Australian winter, Robbie Deans' men could hardly score a try, let alone win a Test match. Come to think of it, you don't necessarily need to score tries to win rugby Tests, but that's another issue.
No good at home, no good across the Tasman and, last weekend, no good in Tokyo. Off to the Old Dart, however, and the glass is suddenly half full. Thanks to some pretty ordinary first half attacking options by England at Twickenham, the Australians were given a sniff of victory after the break and the string of losses was broken.
But not just that. Amazingly, incredibly, miraculously, one win into the tour and we're suddenly looking at winning the Grand Slam!!! Now Wales, in particular, might have something to say about that. Not to mention the Wallabies themselves, who have the uncanny ability of sliding from the summit to the outhouse in the blink of an eye. And what does this really say about the imbalance in the quality of international rugby, when the Tri-Nations easybeats become, maybe, just maybe, champs in the northern hemisphere?
But perhaps this patient approach undertaken by Deans of rebuilding from the bottom up is starting to pay dividents. Let's hope so, because the international game and Australia's performances have left a lot of disillusioned supporters over the past few years.
Who said one win doesn't make a summer? Or a spring? Autumn in the northern hemisphere... you get the drift.
I'm referring to the Wallabies -- the hapless Wallabies. As we huddled around our heaters during the Australian winter, Robbie Deans' men could hardly score a try, let alone win a Test match. Come to think of it, you don't necessarily need to score tries to win rugby Tests, but that's another issue.
No good at home, no good across the Tasman and, last weekend, no good in Tokyo. Off to the Old Dart, however, and the glass is suddenly half full. Thanks to some pretty ordinary first half attacking options by England at Twickenham, the Australians were given a sniff of victory after the break and the string of losses was broken.
But not just that. Amazingly, incredibly, miraculously, one win into the tour and we're suddenly looking at winning the Grand Slam!!! Now Wales, in particular, might have something to say about that. Not to mention the Wallabies themselves, who have the uncanny ability of sliding from the summit to the outhouse in the blink of an eye. And what does this really say about the imbalance in the quality of international rugby, when the Tri-Nations easybeats become, maybe, just maybe, champs in the northern hemisphere?
But perhaps this patient approach undertaken by Deans of rebuilding from the bottom up is starting to pay dividents. Let's hope so, because the international game and Australia's performances have left a lot of disillusioned supporters over the past few years.
Who said one win doesn't make a summer? Or a spring? Autumn in the northern hemisphere... you get the drift.
GRAND SHAM??
How quickly the tide can turn.
I'm referring to the Wallabies -- the hapless Wallabies. As we huddled around our heaters during the Australian winter, Robbie Deans' men could hardly score a try, let alone win a Test match. Come to think of it, you don't necessarily need to score tries to win rugby Tests, but that's another issue.
No good at home, no good across the Tasman and, last weekend, no good in Tokyo. Off to the Old Dart, however, and the glass is suddenly half full. Thanks to some pretty ordinary first half attacking options by England at Twickenham, the Australians were given a sniff of victory after the break and the string of losses was broken.
But not just that. Amazingly, incredibly, miraculously, one win into the tour and we're suddenly looking at winning the Grand Slam!!! Now Wales, in particular, might have something to say about that. Not to mention the Wallabies themselves, who have the uncanny ability of sliding from the summit to the outhouse in the blink of an eye. And what does this really say about the imbalance in the quality of international rugby, when the Tri-Nations easybeats become, maybe, just maybe, champs in the northern hemisphere?
But perhaps this patient approach undertaken by Deans of rebuilding from the bottom up is starting to pay dividents. Let's hope so, because the international game and Australia's performances have left a lot of disillusioned supporters over the past few years.
Who said one win doesn't make a summer? Or a spring? Autumn in the northern hemisphere... you get the drift.
I'm referring to the Wallabies -- the hapless Wallabies. As we huddled around our heaters during the Australian winter, Robbie Deans' men could hardly score a try, let alone win a Test match. Come to think of it, you don't necessarily need to score tries to win rugby Tests, but that's another issue.
No good at home, no good across the Tasman and, last weekend, no good in Tokyo. Off to the Old Dart, however, and the glass is suddenly half full. Thanks to some pretty ordinary first half attacking options by England at Twickenham, the Australians were given a sniff of victory after the break and the string of losses was broken.
But not just that. Amazingly, incredibly, miraculously, one win into the tour and we're suddenly looking at winning the Grand Slam!!! Now Wales, in particular, might have something to say about that. Not to mention the Wallabies themselves, who have the uncanny ability of sliding from the summit to the outhouse in the blink of an eye. And what does this really say about the imbalance in the quality of international rugby, when the Tri-Nations easybeats become, maybe, just maybe, champs in the northern hemisphere?
But perhaps this patient approach undertaken by Deans of rebuilding from the bottom up is starting to pay dividents. Let's hope so, because the international game and Australia's performances have left a lot of disillusioned supporters over the past few years.
Who said one win doesn't make a summer? Or a spring? Autumn in the northern hemisphere... you get the drift.
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