7 Reasons

Tag: sports

  • Guest Post: 7 Reasons That American Football is Better Than Soccer

    Guest Post: 7 Reasons That American Football is Better Than Soccer

    It’s the first weekend of the Six Nations, so who better to hand the 7 Reasons sofa to than blogger, occasional 7 Reasons guest poster and sports nut, Richard O’Hagan.  And what more appropriate subject for him to write about than…oh…the Super Bowl?  Which is also happening this weekend.  Apparently.

    It’s Super Bowl weekend. What do you mean you hadn’t noticed? How could you not notice? It’s the biggest single sporting event in the world. No other event makes an entire country grind to a halt like the first Sunday in February does in America. You want to know how special it is? It’s one of only three days in the year when Americans actually manage to eat MORE than usual – no matter how impossible that might be to imagine.

    Yes, all over America, football fans will be doing their best Mr Creosote impressions, barbecuing as if their very lives depended upon it and convincing themselves that they have room for just one more giant pretzel, before settling down in front of the television for the sporting event of the year. Meanwhile, people like me attempt to stay awake until stupid o’clock in the morning, because despite all of the above the Yanks haven’t yet worked out that there are people elsewhere in the world who like to watch the game, too, so they start the game at somewhere near midnight UK time.

    And why do I put myself through this every year? Simple. American Football knocks just about every winter game into, if not a cocked hat, then a football helmet. And that particularly includes what Americans call soccer, because:

    1. Fat People Can Play This Game, Too. Come on, when was the last time you saw a fat guy playing what, to avoid confusion, we shall also call ‘soccer’? A really fat person, the sort of guy who would make the 1980s Jan Molby look anorexic. I’ll tell you. Never. Even William ‘Fatty’ Foulkes, the fattest man ever to play professional football, was only average size for an American footballer. It’s an all-inclusive sport, you see, and for some positions on the field being 300lb-plus is a minimum requirement. And it is not just being over 300lbs that counts, because every one of those guys can run 40 yards in less than 6 seconds, and most of them do it in close to 5. Go and try that for yourself. Most of you won’t even come close.

    2. And The Players Are Educated, Too. There’s one unbreakable rule in American Football, and that’s the one that says that you can’t play it professionally unless you have been to university for at least three years. Proper university. No going to the Mail Order University of Chipping Sodbury. And no studying nonsense degrees such as ‘The History of Popular Music Since the Spice Girls’. There are guys playing football with degrees from Harvard, from Yale and all of the other elite US universities. Compare that to a sport where Frank Lampard is regarded as educated because he has more than one GCSE.

    3. Cheerleaders. Yes, I know that some soccer clubs have tried this, but frankly they are rubbish and wouldn’t even make a high school cheerleading team in the States. Football teams have proper cheerleaders, most of whom have also gone to university to train as cheerleaders. When it comes to grinning inanely, clenching your butt cheeks and waving pom-poms, you have to say that football is the best.

    4. Lingerie. Sepp Blatter famously wanted female soccer players to wear skimpier kits. Americans have already embraced that idea and the women’s football is played indoors in little more than lingerie and protective pads. Google ‘Lingerie League’ and you’ll see what I mean. You might think it wrong and you might think it demeaning, but it gets a heck of a lot more television than the women’s premier league does and pays better, too.

    5. Adverts. One of the biggest whinges about Football is the number of ad breaks, but in fact you hardly notice them (and see reason number six anyway). But look at the players’ kit. Notice anything? Takes you back, doesn’t it? Back to the era before every soccer team sullied their shirts with advertising. Every kit is pure and unadulterated and you can wear your team’s shirt without in some way providing your own endorsement for some evil corporate monolith and their tax-dodgy, peasant-exploiting ways.

    6. Beer. You can drink alcohol at football matches. In most stadia they even bring it to your seat. You can’t do that at a soccer match. And even if you don’t have in-seat service you still need something to do during the ad breaks, and what better to do than getting another beer?

    7. Hardness. Every time I see a soccer player lying sobbing on the pitch because an opponent breathed on him, I reach for the sick bag. You want to see proper hard men, watch the US game. And do it without whinging about the helmets and padding, because that just proves that you don’t know why they are worn (the explanation is too long for here). Instead, think of someone like kicker Nate Kaeding, who in 2008 played three games without realising he had a broken leg. That’s ‘leg’, not ‘fingernail’, soccer fan.

    So go on, give the game a try. Take Monday off work, stock up on pretzels, doughnuts and tasteless beer, and settle down for some American action. It’s better than football.

  • 7 Reasons That The Pole Vault is Weird

    7 Reasons That The Pole Vault is Weird

    It’s almost Christmas, dear readers, and what better and more seasonal topic is there to ruminate over than the pole vault?  Well, possibly just about any other topic but, as I was lying in bed, unwell, with a bit of a fever, my thoughts naturally turned to the pole vault (well, whose wouldn’t?) and it struck me that the pole vault is really, really weird.  Here’s why.

    South Korea (Korean) Pole Vaulter Kim Yoo Suk
    …and so does your sport.

    1.  Titular Obscurity.  We all know what the pole vault is, because we’re introduced to it at a young age.  But what if we didn’t know?  Other athletics events are titularly obvious; the high jump; the long jump, we know what to expect from those just by their names.   But what would we expect to see if told that we were about to witness the pole vault?  It sounds like someone jumping over a pole, or a cellar for keeping Polish people in.  Or leaping over a Polish person.  Or Polish people vaulting.  Or a storage area for poles.  What the name doesn’t convey is anything at all about what you can expect to see, which is a Russian man with a stick jumping over a bar (which doesn’t resemble the sort of bar that you’d want to frequent at all, it’s just another stick the other way up, balanced between two other sticks).  It’s literally all sticks.  I would rather watch the cellar full of Polish people.

    2.  It’s Cheating.  The closest relation to the pole vault must surely be the high jump; an event in which athletes compete to see who can jump the highest – something that we can all identify with and can do ourselves at home.  But the pole vault takes the noble pursuit of seeing who can leap the highest, and adds a long pole into the mix so that competitors can go three times as high as they would naturally be able to.  But why?  Of course you can go higher if you have a ruddy great stick to help you.  I can swim much faster than normal if I’m wearing flippers and Speedos with jet propulsion, but that doesn’t make me a good swimmer.   Fortunately, I doubt that they’re going to make the 100 metres backstroke with flippers and jet-thrusting-pants an Olympic event alongside the regular swimming any time soon, which is a good thing, because I’d look bloody stupid in that getup and I never win anything anyway.  And it would be weird, and we already have the pole vault for that.

    3.  They’re Missing The Point.  Pole vaulters vault to see who can vault the highest, but that’s not even the point of vaulting.  Because vaulting originated as a way for the Dutch to cross dykes (everyone glad that I’m not AA Gill at this moment?  Good, me too).  So the true measure of the vaulter’s prowess should be distance.  In short, they’re doing it wrong.  Let’s make them vault over a river; that would be true to the origins of the sport and a damned sight more entertaining.  They’re missing the point of their own sport.

    4. Exclusion.  It keeps better events out of the Olympics.  Because I don’t need to know who can jump very high with the help of a big stick.  I want to see people test the limits of human performance without artificial aid.  Do you know what I want to know?  I want to know how fast people can spin, because we just don’t know that.  I propose the one minute spin, an event in which each competitor stands within a circle a metre in diameter and has a minute in which to spin as many times as possible (clockwise or anti-clockwise, it’s freestyle), and the winner is the person who attains the highest rate of RPM.  That’s what I want to see, and then I want to watch them trying to walk back to their chairs and attempting to put their tracksuit bottoms back on.  Because that sort of spectacle would make the Olympics ten times better.

    5.  The Equipment Is Unwieldy.  And what right-minded person would take up the bloody sport in the first place?  If I were tall, athletic and good at going over bars (rather than sitting behind them. Still, two out of three isn’t bad) I’d choose the high jump.  Because it’s exactly the same as the pole vault, but you don’t have to lug a pole around with you as a part of your kit.  Because taking up the pole vault is like taking up the double bass or the tuba.  It’s absolutely ridiculous.  What if you were reliant on public transport?  How would you fancy trying to get on a rush-hour tube train with a seventeen foot long pole?  It’s difficult enough with a modestly proportioned holdall or a large satchel.  Okay, so you’d be able to hold the doors open for as long as it took to get on but, I speak with absolute confidence here, it would be a bit burdensome.  In fact, it would be a faff.  In much the same way that holding up the world was a faff for Atlas.

    6.  Double Entendre.  There is literally nothing that you can say about pole vaulting that isn’t a double entendre.  After all, it’s a sport which involves physically exerting yourself until you’re panting and thrusting a long, rigid shaft into a box before you briefly soar heavenward and eventually end up lying sweaty and exhausted on a mattress with a horizontal pole.  And if there isn’t scope for euphemism, metaphor, allusion and plain seaside postcard bawdiness there then…um…well there just clearly is.  And Wikipedia isn’t even trying for innuendo when it says, “…pole stiffness and length are important factors to a vaulter’s performance.”  It is impossible to discuss the pole vault without innuendo.

    7.  Confusion.  Because while the name pole vault, as we have established, is misleading, once you’ve accepted the illogic of it, you’re in for further frustration and disappointment.  When I was four years old and I started school, you can have absolutely no idea how excited I was when I was told that in the school gym there was a vaulting horse.  A vaulting horse, I thought with wide-eyed astonishment.  That’s the most exciting thing I’ve ever heard in my life.  They’ve got a horse that can vault!  A raging stallion that can shoot itself into the sky with the aid of a pole!  A pony that can rocket over a lofty bar!  A mare that can soar through the air and land on a mattress!  They’ve got a wondrous, magical creature!  The most awesome beast I ever will see!  They’ve got an athletic super-horse!  They’ve got…that wooden thing in the corner that looks like a weird shed for midgets? What the hell is that? Is life always going to be like this?

  • 7 Reasons That a Cricket Bat is Preferable to a Baseball bat

    7 Reasons That a Cricket Bat is Preferable to a Baseball bat

    Hmm.  What’s the best bat to keep around the house, you’re probably wondering.  Well, I have both, and it’s definitely the cricket bat.  Here are seven reasons why.

    A picture of a cricket bat and a baseball bat with a plain, white background

    1.  Perception.  When you stroll down your nice, quiet unremarkable street with a cricket bat tucked under your arm, you fit in.  To passers-by and onlookers you are that nice chap (or chapess)  from number 29 on his way to participate in a genteel and respectable game which involves a break for tea, and a lunch which perhaps involves a home-made cake or two on a picturesque village green somewhere.

    2.  Perception.  When you stroll down your nice, quiet unremarkable street twirling a baseball bat you do not fit in.  In fact, you are a harbinger of evil, bristling with menace and exuding undiluted violence.  Suddenly, in a scene reminiscent of a cheap western, everything will become silent.  Young women shield young children behind their voluminous skirts; old women scuttle away in terror; middle-aged women…er…er…(I’ve never even seen a middle-aged women in a cheap western, why is that?); men (of all ages) suddenly become incapable of eye contact, because there’s a madman with a baseball bat on the rampage.  Never mind that in your other hand you’re carrying a mitt and a baseball because the people have seen the bat and the panic-stricken-nitwits have been rendered incapable of rational thought.  They will blindly assume that you’re off to break someone’s kneecaps or smash a car’s door-mirrors.  And that won’t help you get an invite to your next-door neighbour’s birthday party.  It may, however, stop trick-or-treaters visiting.*

    3.  Certainty.  Cricket bats, like some of the more successful and big-headed practitioners of the game itself, are doughty, resolute and they stay where you left them.  If you put a baseball bat on the dining-room floor, however, it does not.  The baseball bat is an inherently flighty creature and, like a hollow-headed flibbertigibbet, it will just disappear from where you left it, merrily rolling away without a care in the world.  Eventually, of course, it will turn up, usually while you’re stumbling around in the dark or when your wife is entering the room carrying a glass of orange juice, a plate containing two cheese and real-ale-pickle sandwiches and an apple. Or something.

    4.  Arms-length.  Ever had to pick something up that you really didn’t want to pick up?  Something that you wanted to keep at further-than-arms-length?  Something with many legs, perhaps, or with steam emanating from it.  A cricket bat is ideal for such an eventuality owing to its flat blade.  A baseball bat is not.  In fact, there’s no way that you’ll be able to carry your friend’s pet “hamster” that you’re looking after or that god-awful smelling bowl of onion soup on a baseball bat.

    5.  Flour.  I have never returned home to find my cricket bat covered in flour.  I have, however, returned home to discover my baseball bat covered in flour on several occasions.  And, as I’ve tucked into the pie that my wife has prepared for me, I’ve often thought, funny that.  I didn’t leave it anywhere near the flour cupboard.**

    6.  Air-guitar.  Try miming along to the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion or Led Zeppelin using a baseball bat and you’ll look like a pillock.  Do it using a cricket bat and you’ll look like an eminently sensible and respectable chap (or chapess), suitable for a post in the foreign office, perhaps, or as a school governor.  No matter how bad the music or the miming, if you use a cricket bat you’ll always maintain a thin veneer of respectability.  Until you fall off the table.

    7.  Visitors.  When you entertain foreign guests from non-cricketing nations in your house, a baseball bat is just a bat for baseball.  A cricket bat, however, is a strange thing of wonder which they will enquire about.  And fairly soon you’ll find yourself explaining – at length – to your blankly-incomprehending friends the finer points of the game of cricket.  And they’ll love you for that.  Really.  And, after several hours talking about cricket, you may even find that they close their eyes in concentration as you explain the finer points of leg-spin.

    *Topical top tip.

    **The flour cupboard is not exclusively for flour.  It contains other things such as; homemade blackberry vodka, homemade limoncello, half a packet of raisins, three packets of linguine, a jar of treacle that may or may not pre-date the Crimean war and a sake jug.