The Guardian published the original report from the 1970 World Cup final in its website. While it proves very interesting reading, I have to admit that what really caught my attention was the post I attach below, from a reader called HarperSmythe.
Once again, the blog comments are better than the actual post. Once again, I praise the beauty of the world wide web as a means of communication and expression, as I did a while ago. Once again watching the goals in YouTube is a brilliant complement. And as much as Carlos Alberto's goal has achieved artwork status, I can't get enough of watching the 2-1 by Gerson.
Well, thank you "HarperSmythe". And let me take the liberty of publishing this.
No one has yet posted some churlish comment about how they hate Brazil, its fans, etc. (something I see often on this site) -- or how lousy we are now (which we are).
I can only thank the Guardian CiF for this. The 1970 and the 1982 team means so much to us. Since then we've had glimpses of greatness with certain individual players, but it's never been the same. It was the defeat in 1982 (and esp. after our poorest world cup in 1990) that started our national football on the road toward becoming more like the harder game in Europe and turning our backs on creating magic and beauty on the pitch. The vision of the CBF today is a suffocating one, whereas the Argentines still keep to their traditions.
In 1970 I was 10 years old and my family had emigrated to the US in 1964. We lived in a Portuguese/Brazilian enclave in Massachusetts. At that time it was very difficult for us to keep track of football (any football, not just Brazilian) but we'd usually manage to get some radio or TV coverage. But in 1968 some members of my family had decided they just couldn't stand the torture any more of figuring out how to follow the wc from the US, so they decided to plan ahead and save, take some time off, fly to Brazil and watch it with family there. My mother couldn't afford the trip but at the very last minute one of my uncles saw how much I wanted to go and bought my mother and I tickets. She spent 3 years paying him back.
In Rio, my mother's side of the family had no TV sets (tho their neighbors had) but my father's side in Sao Paulo did. They were all black and white of course. We visited both the Rio and Sao Paulo families and watched various games with lots of family and friends around. I had the time of my young life.
For the final, we were in my father's home town of Piedade (interior of Sao Paulo) and we saw the final in a large church hall and 2 small TV sets. Several radios were there too. Lots of Brazilian flags, lots of drink and food. About 50-60 people were there, with dozens more milling around outside. We loved the entire squad but Gerson & Carlos Alberto were my family's particular heroes because of the clubs they had played for and where they were from originally. Some people brought the Italian flag since many of us were descendants of Italian immigrants.
I remember the reaction of everyone around me after the second Brazilian goal. One minute there was loud talking and drinking, the next moment it was as if everyone lost their voice--it felt like a hush that would last forever, and then suddenly the loudest cheer I'd ever heard. My favorite uncle and aunt both turned to me, hugged and kissed me, and shouted "Brazil's going to win!" The game was a blur to me, I just remember Brazil scoring, Pele jumping around in joy and that second goal. I do not remember sleeping at all that night. I don't remember seeing anyone sleep that night.
We all loved the '82 squad too but the emotional attachment we have for the 1970 squad is in a category all its own. To this day, these guys make us cry. It was Pele's last wc. I once visited Carlos Alberto's school in Rio and saw him give a talk about how much the Brazilian game has lost because clubs refuse to train small, weaker kids who have skill and technique in favor of recruiting tall athletes with less skill on the ball. He still had his sense of joy in the game.
I watched him train a group of young kids (boys and girls), telling them that they should "kiss the ball, embrace it, show that it is safe only with you." I got choked up listening to him. Once in Rio in a restaurant I saw Jairzinho with his wife. I almost broke into tears. My boyfriend and I were about to leave and we tried not to look too much but Jairzinho looked at us and gave us a huge smile. I said something like "we will always love you" and left very quickly.
In 1970, Deus foi Brasileiro sim (God was Brazilian).
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Bayerischer Sommertag
Things to do in Munich on a summer day:
Go to Englischer Garten and drink loads of beer under the sun,
Chat the afternoon away to catch up with a German friend
And of course ride back on the local pride, Bayerische Motoren Werke!!!
Go to Englischer Garten and drink loads of beer under the sun,
Chat the afternoon away to catch up with a German friend
And of course ride back on the local pride, Bayerische Motoren Werke!!!
Thursday, June 21, 2007
A sign of the ages
The title in the last post was actually an attempt to quote this great song. You can actually hear its first 15 seconds clicking on this link, then pressing Play besides the song title. Depressing, yes.
A sign of the ages
Gil Scott-Heron
It's a sign of the ages
Markings on my mind
Men at the crossroads
At odds with an angry scab
There can be no salvation
There can be no rest
Until all old customs
Are put to the test
The gods are all angry
You hear from the breeze
As night slams like a hammer
Yeah, and you drop to your knees
The questions can't be answered
You're always haunted by the past
The world's full of children
Who grew up too fast
Yeah, but where can you run
Since there ain't no world of your own
And you know that no one will ever miss you, yeah yeah yeah
When you're finally gone
So you cry like a baby, a baby
Or you go out and get high
But there ain't no peace on Earth, man
Maybe peace when you die, yeah
A sign of the ages
Gil Scott-Heron
It's a sign of the ages
Markings on my mind
Men at the crossroads
At odds with an angry scab
There can be no salvation
There can be no rest
Until all old customs
Are put to the test
The gods are all angry
You hear from the breeze
As night slams like a hammer
Yeah, and you drop to your knees
The questions can't be answered
You're always haunted by the past
The world's full of children
Who grew up too fast
Yeah, but where can you run
Since there ain't no world of your own
And you know that no one will ever miss you, yeah yeah yeah
When you're finally gone
So you cry like a baby, a baby
Or you go out and get high
But there ain't no peace on Earth, man
Maybe peace when you die, yeah
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
It's a sign of the ages...
Close up on a hi-res Photo of myself taken last weekend in Holland.
They call it too much white hair where I come from.
They call it too much white hair where I come from.
Monday, June 18, 2007
The most important moments in science
From Guardian Technology, today.
A sample:
"At this conference on the future and converged technology in Oxford, we were asked to think about five moments in history that have really driven technological convergence.
Here is what I came up with another member of the group:
1) Agriculture. I'm in the process of reading Jared Diamond's Guns, Germs and Steel, an amazing book that covers a huge sweep of history. With agriculture and surplus food production, people are freed to pursue specialisation that includes everything from political systems to professional armies.
2) Printing Press. It's simple but oh so critical with the sudden mass dissemination of knowledge.
3) Healthcare as science with the development of the disease model and the development of antibiotics all the way to the discovery of DNA.
4) World War II It helped rally resources to develop or refine technologies including radar, computing, rocket science, the jet engine and atomic energy/weapons.
5) Internet I guess it seems too obvious. But it has enabled so much else. "
I personally liked a list a guy called countingcats wrote on the comments section.
A sample:
"At this conference on the future and converged technology in Oxford, we were asked to think about five moments in history that have really driven technological convergence.
Here is what I came up with another member of the group:
1) Agriculture. I'm in the process of reading Jared Diamond's Guns, Germs and Steel, an amazing book that covers a huge sweep of history. With agriculture and surplus food production, people are freed to pursue specialisation that includes everything from political systems to professional armies.
2) Printing Press. It's simple but oh so critical with the sudden mass dissemination of knowledge.
3) Healthcare as science with the development of the disease model and the development of antibiotics all the way to the discovery of DNA.
4) World War II It helped rally resources to develop or refine technologies including radar, computing, rocket science, the jet engine and atomic energy/weapons.
5) Internet I guess it seems too obvious. But it has enabled so much else. "
I personally liked a list a guy called countingcats wrote on the comments section.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Japan!
This article from today's edition of the FT might seem like none-of-our-business, but I see it as not only interesting information but also a good brush-up on macro-economic principles. Plus, it's a simple and well-written non-fiction essay. Copyrights and congrats to them, obviously.
To treat Japan as an economic curiosity looks ever more odd
By Chris Giles, Economics Editor
Published: June 15 2007 03:00 | Last updated: June 15 2007 03:00
(link)
For more than a generation Japan has been a rich country with the second largest economy in the world. But it has always been treated as an exception.
In the 1970s and early 1980s other advanced economies viewed Japanese annual rates of 4.5 per cent growth with envy, since others in the Group of Seven leading industrial nations could manage little over 2 per cent. In the late 1980s, the continued Japanese expansion was greeted with startled awe and Japan's future domination of the global economy seemed assured. An asset boom gave rise to incredible calculations: the land value of the Imperial Palace grounds in central Tokyo was notionally worth more than the entire state of California.
But it did not last. The bursting of the asset price bubble in 1990 ushered in Japan's "lost decade" when property values fell by as much as 80 per cent and economic growth slid to the bottom of the G7 league as the country moved in and out of recession. Prices in general began to fall, heightening the debt burden of companies. As deflation stalked the land, Japan's economy became regarded as a basket case, with zombie companies kept alive by equally insolvent banks, staggering government inefficiencies financing roads going nowhere, crippling public debt and a looming demographic time bomb.
With such differences in performance, "except Japan" has been the watchword of economic comparisons. The "except Japan" argument has three strands: the country's economic performance is radically different from other rich countries; its culture is so weird and the concerns of its population so unique that the latest global reform ideas are inapplicable; and the political system is so opaque that reforms could not be implemented anyway.
All three are increasingly wrong, according to many of the country's most forward-looking thinkers.
Fukunari Kimura, economics professor at Keio University, says the most serious misconception of Japan is that "it is not normal". He points to its steady recovery over the past five years, the longest growth spurt in Japan's postwar history, and how similar its recent trade integration with developing Asia has been to that undergone by other rich countries such as the US.
The Japanese economy is indeed much more normal now than it has been for decades. The recovery has been long by Japan's standards but not particularly vigorous. With annual real growth rates in gross domestic product of between 1.5 per cent and 2.5 per cent since 2003, Japan is now back in the middle of the G7 pack - it outpaced the eurozone and the US in the first quarter of this year. More important, the economy now seems able to grow at these steady but uninspiring rates, just like other advanced countries.
Even though interest rates at 0.5 per cent are much lower than in Europe or the US, after adjusting for inflation the real rate of interest faced by companies and households is similar - positive and low. Wage growth has also lagged behind corporate profits, just as in every other G7 country.
Household savings rates have been low and fallen in most G7 countries as consumers have taken advantage of greater access to credit, low interest rates and the expectation of continued steady growth. Japan is no different. While in 1990 its households were the misers of the world, squirreling away 15 per cent of their incomes, by 2005, the household savings rate had fallen to 3.1 per cent.
Moreover, almost every issue of public concern in today's Japan is the same as prevails in other advanced countries. Rising income and regional inequalities, the fairness of pension reforms and how to retain women (especially mothers) in the labour market are at the top of the domestic political agenda.
Fear of China's rising economic power haunts Japan as it does the US and the eurozone. As elsewhere, the concerns are misplaced, according to Chi Hung Kwan of the Nomura Institute of Capital Markets Research, who points out that Japan's exports to the US are not even in competition with those from China, since the two countries produce radically different products, something that Japan shares with the eurozone. Rather, in common with the rest of the G7, the success of Chinese low-wage sectors has benefited Japan greatly, through falling import prices, while Japanese export prices have risen.
There are are, of course, exceptions to all this normality. Japan's inflation rate is negative, although the sustained growth of the economy is expected to return it to positive territory next year. The rise in the number of elderly relative to young people is more acute than elsewhere. The country remains difficult for foreign investors, with few takeovers of Japanese entities - the cumulative stock of foreign direct investment as a share of GDP stands at 3 per cent in Japan, in comparison with 22 per cent in the US and 37 per cent in the UK.
Japan's labour market has changed radically for the young, who work on flexible contracts, but not for those who started work before the 1990s.
The weakness of the yen, too, is sometimes difficult to explain, especially given Japan's huge trade surplus. But the most convincing and verifiable cause is that Japanese households are beginning to ditch their previous unusual bias for holding all their savings domestically.
The Japanese diversification of household savings shows another weakness in the "except Japan" argument. Japan, like most other countries in the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, is feeling its way towards further reform. Monetary policy is now based on an inflation target. The OECD last week showed that a series of pension reforms since 1990 has already cut the generosity of the Japanese public pension system by 15 per cent, pretty much the same as in most other large advanced economies.
Maternity and childcare rights have improved markedly, with the aim of changing companies' and women's wary attitude to childbirth. The government's innovation strategy is centred on opening Japan to foreign influences, not finding the next technological gizmo.
The speed of change will be driven by politics and slow demographic shifts. But the need for reforms and the inevitable obstacles along the way to make the economy more dynamic provide the same challenge that faces every other G7 country.
To treat Japan as an economic curiosity looks ever more odd
By Chris Giles, Economics Editor
Published: June 15 2007 03:00 | Last updated: June 15 2007 03:00
(link)
For more than a generation Japan has been a rich country with the second largest economy in the world. But it has always been treated as an exception.
In the 1970s and early 1980s other advanced economies viewed Japanese annual rates of 4.5 per cent growth with envy, since others in the Group of Seven leading industrial nations could manage little over 2 per cent. In the late 1980s, the continued Japanese expansion was greeted with startled awe and Japan's future domination of the global economy seemed assured. An asset boom gave rise to incredible calculations: the land value of the Imperial Palace grounds in central Tokyo was notionally worth more than the entire state of California.
But it did not last. The bursting of the asset price bubble in 1990 ushered in Japan's "lost decade" when property values fell by as much as 80 per cent and economic growth slid to the bottom of the G7 league as the country moved in and out of recession. Prices in general began to fall, heightening the debt burden of companies. As deflation stalked the land, Japan's economy became regarded as a basket case, with zombie companies kept alive by equally insolvent banks, staggering government inefficiencies financing roads going nowhere, crippling public debt and a looming demographic time bomb.
With such differences in performance, "except Japan" has been the watchword of economic comparisons. The "except Japan" argument has three strands: the country's economic performance is radically different from other rich countries; its culture is so weird and the concerns of its population so unique that the latest global reform ideas are inapplicable; and the political system is so opaque that reforms could not be implemented anyway.
All three are increasingly wrong, according to many of the country's most forward-looking thinkers.
Fukunari Kimura, economics professor at Keio University, says the most serious misconception of Japan is that "it is not normal". He points to its steady recovery over the past five years, the longest growth spurt in Japan's postwar history, and how similar its recent trade integration with developing Asia has been to that undergone by other rich countries such as the US.
The Japanese economy is indeed much more normal now than it has been for decades. The recovery has been long by Japan's standards but not particularly vigorous. With annual real growth rates in gross domestic product of between 1.5 per cent and 2.5 per cent since 2003, Japan is now back in the middle of the G7 pack - it outpaced the eurozone and the US in the first quarter of this year. More important, the economy now seems able to grow at these steady but uninspiring rates, just like other advanced countries.
Even though interest rates at 0.5 per cent are much lower than in Europe or the US, after adjusting for inflation the real rate of interest faced by companies and households is similar - positive and low. Wage growth has also lagged behind corporate profits, just as in every other G7 country.
Household savings rates have been low and fallen in most G7 countries as consumers have taken advantage of greater access to credit, low interest rates and the expectation of continued steady growth. Japan is no different. While in 1990 its households were the misers of the world, squirreling away 15 per cent of their incomes, by 2005, the household savings rate had fallen to 3.1 per cent.
Moreover, almost every issue of public concern in today's Japan is the same as prevails in other advanced countries. Rising income and regional inequalities, the fairness of pension reforms and how to retain women (especially mothers) in the labour market are at the top of the domestic political agenda.
Fear of China's rising economic power haunts Japan as it does the US and the eurozone. As elsewhere, the concerns are misplaced, according to Chi Hung Kwan of the Nomura Institute of Capital Markets Research, who points out that Japan's exports to the US are not even in competition with those from China, since the two countries produce radically different products, something that Japan shares with the eurozone. Rather, in common with the rest of the G7, the success of Chinese low-wage sectors has benefited Japan greatly, through falling import prices, while Japanese export prices have risen.
There are are, of course, exceptions to all this normality. Japan's inflation rate is negative, although the sustained growth of the economy is expected to return it to positive territory next year. The rise in the number of elderly relative to young people is more acute than elsewhere. The country remains difficult for foreign investors, with few takeovers of Japanese entities - the cumulative stock of foreign direct investment as a share of GDP stands at 3 per cent in Japan, in comparison with 22 per cent in the US and 37 per cent in the UK.
Japan's labour market has changed radically for the young, who work on flexible contracts, but not for those who started work before the 1990s.
The weakness of the yen, too, is sometimes difficult to explain, especially given Japan's huge trade surplus. But the most convincing and verifiable cause is that Japanese households are beginning to ditch their previous unusual bias for holding all their savings domestically.
The Japanese diversification of household savings shows another weakness in the "except Japan" argument. Japan, like most other countries in the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, is feeling its way towards further reform. Monetary policy is now based on an inflation target. The OECD last week showed that a series of pension reforms since 1990 has already cut the generosity of the Japanese public pension system by 15 per cent, pretty much the same as in most other large advanced economies.
Maternity and childcare rights have improved markedly, with the aim of changing companies' and women's wary attitude to childbirth. The government's innovation strategy is centred on opening Japan to foreign influences, not finding the next technological gizmo.
The speed of change will be driven by politics and slow demographic shifts. But the need for reforms and the inevitable obstacles along the way to make the economy more dynamic provide the same challenge that faces every other G7 country.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
More Charlotte
As promised... more on this highly addictive singer.
Here are links to the videos of 5:55, The Songs That We Sing, and The Operation.
Let yourself be caught by her.
Here are links to the videos of 5:55, The Songs That We Sing, and The Operation.
Let yourself be caught by her.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Please sign up here...
...against the horrible London 2012 logo.
http://www.gopetition.co.uk/petitions/change-the-london-2012-logo.html
http://www.gopetition.co.uk/petitions/change-the-london-2012-logo.html
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Late but fun
I should have posted this link to a flickr album of last New Year's Day party in New York City earlier. Some pics are really great. Thanks Arun!
Saturday, June 02, 2007
someone else's thoughts on the Wembley match
A quick browsing through my blog shows that, as much as I try to post once a week, there are some weeks in which I am either not creative or not with much available time - and then I resort to copying / pasting. Indeed, I reckon two thirds of whatever I ever posted in here was not "original content". Shame on me.
Still one can't blame me for stealing others's ideas, since I always make it very clear all the sources which I use in the posts. And it's not any different now, as I was trying to figure what I would write about England 1 - 1 Brazil last night at Wembley. I just exchanges a couple of emails with my friend and 'sanity checker' Tomas about it, and I guess I won't do better than pasting here what he wrote about the game.
Which is a fair analysis, anyway. So here you go.
> bonjour dude,
>
> for what it's worth, i thought the football last night was pretty shit. i
> was also fairly amused by many english commentators claiming that england
> had played well and desreved the win, despite the facts that brazil had a
> perfectly good goal ruled offside in the first half, and that ledley king
> should clearly have been sent off about 5 mins later for hacking wagner love
> when he was in on goal. i hate second choice steve. if you look ate the side
> he's playing now, it's essentially exactly the same as the one sven played,
> except steve has a far more naive understanding of tactics and is generally
> a fair deal shitter. so, well done the english FA. also, i don't understand
> why frank lampard is still seen as a choice, let alone an automatic choice.
> he was rubbish much of the season for locomotiv west london, and i can't
> remember a game in which he has played well/controled a game for england.
> so, i'm jumping happily on the 'lampard out' bandwagon. also, wes brown -
> what's the point. give up and draft someone from the under 21s instead. at
> least they might be good one day. wes will never get there, and it's
> apparent to everyone apart from the man with the brightest teeth in the
> stadium.
>
> oh, yeah, and i though brazil were fair, no better.
>
> what i'm obviously wiating for now is for you to tell me that you didn't
> see it.
I did Tom, and I agree with you.
Still one can't blame me for stealing others's ideas, since I always make it very clear all the sources which I use in the posts. And it's not any different now, as I was trying to figure what I would write about England 1 - 1 Brazil last night at Wembley. I just exchanges a couple of emails with my friend and 'sanity checker' Tomas about it, and I guess I won't do better than pasting here what he wrote about the game.
Which is a fair analysis, anyway. So here you go.
> bonjour dude,
>
> for what it's worth, i thought the football last night was pretty shit. i
> was also fairly amused by many english commentators claiming that england
> had played well and desreved the win, despite the facts that brazil had a
> perfectly good goal ruled offside in the first half, and that ledley king
> should clearly have been sent off about 5 mins later for hacking wagner love
> when he was in on goal. i hate second choice steve. if you look ate the side
> he's playing now, it's essentially exactly the same as the one sven played,
> except steve has a far more naive understanding of tactics and is generally
> a fair deal shitter. so, well done the english FA. also, i don't understand
> why frank lampard is still seen as a choice, let alone an automatic choice.
> he was rubbish much of the season for locomotiv west london, and i can't
> remember a game in which he has played well/controled a game for england.
> so, i'm jumping happily on the 'lampard out' bandwagon. also, wes brown -
> what's the point. give up and draft someone from the under 21s instead. at
> least they might be good one day. wes will never get there, and it's
> apparent to everyone apart from the man with the brightest teeth in the
> stadium.
>
> oh, yeah, and i though brazil were fair, no better.
>
> what i'm obviously wiating for now is for you to tell me that you didn't
> see it.
I did Tom, and I agree with you.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
A cinq heures cinquant-cinq
I came to Paris to spend the long weekend, and rented a car to wander around. I had learned from my previous stint in France that driving around Paris (instead of taking the subway) is a priceless pleasure - you get stuck in traffic, that's a fact, but you're surrounded by so many mesmerizing pieces of sculpture and architecture that it feels like a stroll in an art gallery. As I say, in Paris, I don't care about getting lost (which I often do), cause there's always a pleasant new scenery to look at from the car window.
Yet another thing I recall from when I lived in France is that the joys of Parisian wanderings are enhanced by a fitting soundtrack. I used to drive from Fontainebleau to Paris, stuck for ages in A6 and the Périférique, but to the tune of chansons françaises like "L'Eté Indien", "L'Envie d'Aimer" and "En Se Retrouvera" it felt like touring, not commuting. This weekend, though, I found myself with a rental car, but no soundtrack.
There are harder problems in life than that, I know, and that one was easily solved as I stepped into my long-time favourite Fnac store at the Forum Les Halles mall and headed for the "Noveau" shelves. I spotted Charlotte Gainsbourg' debut album, "5:55", which I had read about somewhere, and decided to give it a try. After listening to it some 3 or 4 times in one day, I got completely addicted and can't let it go.
I wouldn't be able to label it, honestly - something like mood music with virtuoso pianos mixed to electronic drum beats - but it is marked, above all, by Charlotte's delicate voice, whispered in a way that lend the songs an intimate and sexy edge. It sounds like she in a room, looking through a window in a rainy afternoon, while her lover takes a nap in the bed.
Lyrics that talk about love and worship to the lover accentuate the sensuality, like in "Everything I cannot see", the "poppiest" track. But the lyrics of the title song (and arguably best track) dwells on a different level - "5:55" talks about subconscience, about being half-awake and half-asleep at the same time. It is a song I would like to wake up to every day.
Given my enjoyment on the first 24 hours of ownership of this album, expect plenty more about it in the days to come in this page.
Yet another thing I recall from when I lived in France is that the joys of Parisian wanderings are enhanced by a fitting soundtrack. I used to drive from Fontainebleau to Paris, stuck for ages in A6 and the Périférique, but to the tune of chansons françaises like "L'Eté Indien", "L'Envie d'Aimer" and "En Se Retrouvera" it felt like touring, not commuting. This weekend, though, I found myself with a rental car, but no soundtrack.
There are harder problems in life than that, I know, and that one was easily solved as I stepped into my long-time favourite Fnac store at the Forum Les Halles mall and headed for the "Noveau" shelves. I spotted Charlotte Gainsbourg' debut album, "5:55", which I had read about somewhere, and decided to give it a try. After listening to it some 3 or 4 times in one day, I got completely addicted and can't let it go.
I wouldn't be able to label it, honestly - something like mood music with virtuoso pianos mixed to electronic drum beats - but it is marked, above all, by Charlotte's delicate voice, whispered in a way that lend the songs an intimate and sexy edge. It sounds like she in a room, looking through a window in a rainy afternoon, while her lover takes a nap in the bed.
Lyrics that talk about love and worship to the lover accentuate the sensuality, like in "Everything I cannot see", the "poppiest" track. But the lyrics of the title song (and arguably best track) dwells on a different level - "5:55" talks about subconscience, about being half-awake and half-asleep at the same time. It is a song I would like to wake up to every day.
Given my enjoyment on the first 24 hours of ownership of this album, expect plenty more about it in the days to come in this page.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
And you'll never walk alone....
When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm
Is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark
Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain
Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
the game.
Full stop.
Everyone is talking about the midfield battle - but with both teams probably fielding three defensively minded midfielders each, I actually think it'll be a match decided on the sides. Especially given Finnan's outstanding season.
I predict a 2-1 Liverpool victory. Milan up front in first half with Kaka.Second half Milan is all on counter-attack but we draw through a Stevie G belter from outside, and seal sixth trophy with a header from substitute Peter Crouch, in a cross coming from the right - either by Finnan or Pennant.
Oh, crystal ball, crystal ball,...
Everyone is talking about the midfield battle - but with both teams probably fielding three defensively minded midfielders each, I actually think it'll be a match decided on the sides. Especially given Finnan's outstanding season.
I predict a 2-1 Liverpool victory. Milan up front in first half with Kaka.Second half Milan is all on counter-attack but we draw through a Stevie G belter from outside, and seal sixth trophy with a header from substitute Peter Crouch, in a cross coming from the right - either by Finnan or Pennant.
Oh, crystal ball, crystal ball,...
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Lunch with Gore Vidal
I am probably infringing some sort of copyright law by pasting here this extremely amusing interview with Gore Vidal, published in this weekend's edition of the Financial Times , but, anyway.
I'd feel worse by preventing people from freely reading this. And honestly, I guess so would Mr. Vidal.
Lunch with the FT: Gore Vidal
By Victor Mallet
Published: May 18 2007 18:51 | Last updated: May 18 2007 18:51
Gore Vidal is ensconced in his wheelchair in a corner of the Mandarin Grill, Martini at his elbow, by the time I run up the stairs of Hong Kong’s most venerable hotel to meet him. Daren Simkin, his young assistant, has got there before me with his charge and is nursing a beer on the far side of the table.
I am eager to know what the famously witty Vidal is really like, but his clothes - grey suit, Paisley tie - and his imperturbably regal manner, disturbed only by a loose quiff of white hair, give nothing away. His first words do not help. As if to put the journalist interviewer at ease, Vidal launches unprompted into a series of reminiscences about his late friend Gavin Young, correspondent for the Observer during the Vietnam war. ”He was absolutely fearless because he was drunk all the time,” drawls Vidal.
Somewhat nonplussed - I never knew Young - I turn the conversation to Hong Kong. ”The one thing I most hate in the world is shopping,” Vidal replies promptly. ”I have no interest in retail goods. What draws most people here repels me.” I think we are going to get on.
The 81-year-old American writer has a curious reputation among Europeans born a generation later: he is the famous author that people feel they ought to have read but usually have not. I had struggled to find his works in Hong Kong, but in Melbourne I was luckier and found him represented in almost every section of a bookshop, including history, politics, fiction and biography.
Vidal the author thus resists pigeonholing. Vidal the political and social commentator is easier to pin down. Scion of a political family and a failed politician himself, he can be guaranteed to be colourfully scathing about George W. Bush and to defend liberal values: among other achievements, he wrote The City and the Pillar (1948), one of the first post-war novels to deal with homosexuality.
The author is in town to publicise Point to Point Navigation, his new memoir, at the Hong Kong International Literary Festival. He orders half a dozen oysters, a Bloody Mary and Dover sole, while I opt for an artichoke soup, the sole and a glass of wine.
Vidal explains that he is taking a break from campaigning in the US for the Democrats, although campaigning against the Republicans would be a more accurate description, given his low opinion of both sides. Surely, I ask, President Bush cannot be as stupid as many foreigners believe?
Vidal is adamant that he is, that the American right effectively staged a coup d’etat after 9/11, that there is a constitutional crisis in which the republic has been replaced by an empire, and that there is a case for impeaching Bush. ”Once you’re imperial you have an emperor and once you have that you’re finished,” he says, recalling his recent reading of Aristotle’s Politics. ”And that has been our condition, taken advantage of by a bunch of sleazy gas and oil hustlers.”
If there is one thing that incenses Vidal about his fellow Americans it is ignorance. Bush, he says, ”knows nothing and he doesn’t want to know anything. He has no curiosity. Have you watched him speak? That little-boy face, mouth ajar, dazed eyes. The rumour round Washington is that he’s gone back to drinking. Well, thank God, he might make a little more sense. A group of us each vowed we would send him a bottle of whisky, but I think it’s heroin probably that he would need.”
He pauses briefly to ask the chef, who has approached our table with an amuse-gueule of truffled lobster and avocado, if he remembers Gavin Young. The young Scotsman is even more bemused than I.
Then it is back to politics, the crisis facing America and the folly of detention without trial. ”A few weeks ago, the administration got rid of Magna Carta and habeas corpus... That is Mr [Alberto] Gonzales, our Attorney-General, who thinks he’s Attorney-General of Mexico. Where he belongs. No, that is not a racist remark. But it’s on the edge.”
This offensive remark is deliberate, calibrated. Vidal sometimes gives the impression of trying too hard to deliver the perfect bon mot for a dictionary of quotations. I can almost see him placing inverted commas around his own words. Asked a little later whether he wants to be remembered as a writer or a political figure, he explicitly offers me something to quote: ”I couldn’t care less how I’m remembered. People who go in for posterity have none.” By the evening, speaking from a stage at the University of Hong Kong, Vidal has polished his answer to the posterity question. ”As far as I can tell, posterity has done nothing for me. I’m going to do nothing for it.”
But Vidal the lunchtime orator is beginning to warm up as his oysters arrive. Not for nothing did Howard Austen, his recently deceased friend of more than half a century, call him Me Me.
”Since I’ve known most of the American historians, I never took seriously anything they wrote. Therefore I wrote 20 novels based on American history because I wanted it to be accurate,” Vidal says. ”I address the crisis facing us, that we are the most hated nation on earth, and I am one of the big explainers of what we have done. Other writers can’t do it because they don’t know anything about the history of the United States, much less Islam, Saladin, Genghis Khan, Mao Zedong.”
He interrupts his self-praise briefly with praise for his Bloody Mary (”Bliss, absolute bliss, fresh tomato”), before returning to his theme. ”I said [Bush] would be the most hated president in our history. It didn’t take much prescience to do that, and still people come up to me in airports and say, ’How did you know that about him?’ And I always say, ’By the pricking of my thumbs, I can tell that evil this way comes.’ Americans are very superstitious” - Vidal is joking now, after his misquotation from Macbeth - ”and I am a witch.”
So is Bush stupid, or evil? Surely there’s a difference? ”He has acted in an evil way is the most I can say about him. Anybody who has killed hundreds of thousands of people in the Middle East is an evil man. If he was suddenly called up at Nuremberg, which I would love to see happen, he’d say, ’I don’t know. They didn’t tell me that.’”
Do any of the likely presidential candidates offer more hope? ”Nobody’s any good. Hillary’s the brightest.” Barack Obama? ”He’s pretty... he could very well sweep the election. The country is so anti-black and is dying to vote for one as a form of redress.”
The arrival of the two Dover soles for Vidal and me, and a giant ribeye steak for Daren, marginally lightens the mood at the table. US politics, I suggest, seem a bit depressing. ”More than a bit,” replies Vidal, then adds in mitigation: ”Perfect asparagus.” But does he have anything cheerful to say about the world, Mandarin Grill aside? Was he always this dyspeptic?
”I wrote a book called The Golden Age, which was about 1945 when we all got out of the army. There was a burst of energy in all the arts and I thought finally America’s going to develop a civilisation, and how wonderful it is to be at the beginning of it. And then we didn’t. The Korean war started, and we’ve been in war ever since. That cooled my sincerity about optimism.”
Vidal may be an egotist but he has carefully avoided talking about his own feelings. I suggest cautiously that he seems rather British in the way he conceals his emotions. He puts it down to class, not country. We talk about how Jackie Kennedy was criticised for not weeping at her husband’s funeral and about the film The Queen, in which Helen Mirren (another old friend) plays Queen Elizabeth as she comes under fire for not grieving publicly at the death of Diana, Princess of Wales.
I venture that the most moving part of his latest book is his description of Austen’s death, a chapter that ends with the nurse weeping and the tearless Vidal writing: ”I envied him - the WASP glacier had closed over my head.” So he would like to weep, but cannot? ”Yes,” he concedes. ”I feel like it, but I don’t, I can’t. People who weep, I envy. After all, I spent most of my life in Italy... They get rid of everything, they weep all the time.”
Neither religion (he is appalled by it and is a fan of the atheist Confucius) nor sex (he claims he never did it with friends anyway) provides much comfort for the ageing Vidal, famous for advising people never to miss a chance to have sex or appear on television. ”It’s a joke, but my jokes are taken literally because I come from a literal country,” he says. ”Aids has disabused me of the values of casual sex.”
Dessert arrives, followed by cognac for him and calvados for me. Simkin hurriedly passes a pill to the diabetic Vidal as his spoon hovers over a sugary hazelnut creme brulee. As the restaurant empties, our two-and-a-half-hour lunch drifts pleasantly on with anecdotes from Vidal about a beautiful Indian Maharani in Jaipur, a bridge-playing British diplomat in Mongolia and a Hennessy brandy heiress.
Later that day - when talking at the university - he says something that I recognise as quintessential Gore Vidal. Asked about the greatest moment of his life, he replies: ”The one thing Cassandras like to be is right. The numerous times I’ve been able to say, ’I told you so’ - that is joy.”
At lunch I ask him whether he regrets not going to university after the war. ”Are you crazy? Would you rather be a published author, lecturing at Harvard, than going to Harvard?” he replies. ”All my ex-classmates were majors in the air force, that sort of thing, and there they were, juniors at Harvard. I went up there to speak, and half the audience were people I’d been at school with a few years before - and the waves of hatred that I felt coming up towards me from the audience! It was the highest moment of my life.”
It is, of course, another Gore Vidal joke. But, like a lot of his jokes, it is laced with venom, arrogance and a hefty dose of truth.
Victor Mallet is the editor of the FT’s Asia edition.
Mandarin Grill, Hong Kong
6 oysters
1 x artichoke soup
1 x organic salad
2 x Dover sole
1 x Australian ribeye steak
2 x hazelnut creme brulee asparagus, mashed potato
1 x apple crumble
1 x dry Martini
1 x Bloody Mary
2 x glasses of Sauvignon Blanc
1 x Tsingtao beer
1 x cognac
1 x calvados
mineral water
coffee
Total: HK$4,273.50 (₤277.93)
I'd feel worse by preventing people from freely reading this. And honestly, I guess so would Mr. Vidal.
Lunch with the FT: Gore Vidal
By Victor Mallet
Published: May 18 2007 18:51 | Last updated: May 18 2007 18:51
Gore Vidal is ensconced in his wheelchair in a corner of the Mandarin Grill, Martini at his elbow, by the time I run up the stairs of Hong Kong’s most venerable hotel to meet him. Daren Simkin, his young assistant, has got there before me with his charge and is nursing a beer on the far side of the table.
I am eager to know what the famously witty Vidal is really like, but his clothes - grey suit, Paisley tie - and his imperturbably regal manner, disturbed only by a loose quiff of white hair, give nothing away. His first words do not help. As if to put the journalist interviewer at ease, Vidal launches unprompted into a series of reminiscences about his late friend Gavin Young, correspondent for the Observer during the Vietnam war. ”He was absolutely fearless because he was drunk all the time,” drawls Vidal.
Somewhat nonplussed - I never knew Young - I turn the conversation to Hong Kong. ”The one thing I most hate in the world is shopping,” Vidal replies promptly. ”I have no interest in retail goods. What draws most people here repels me.” I think we are going to get on.
The 81-year-old American writer has a curious reputation among Europeans born a generation later: he is the famous author that people feel they ought to have read but usually have not. I had struggled to find his works in Hong Kong, but in Melbourne I was luckier and found him represented in almost every section of a bookshop, including history, politics, fiction and biography.
Vidal the author thus resists pigeonholing. Vidal the political and social commentator is easier to pin down. Scion of a political family and a failed politician himself, he can be guaranteed to be colourfully scathing about George W. Bush and to defend liberal values: among other achievements, he wrote The City and the Pillar (1948), one of the first post-war novels to deal with homosexuality.
The author is in town to publicise Point to Point Navigation, his new memoir, at the Hong Kong International Literary Festival. He orders half a dozen oysters, a Bloody Mary and Dover sole, while I opt for an artichoke soup, the sole and a glass of wine.
Vidal explains that he is taking a break from campaigning in the US for the Democrats, although campaigning against the Republicans would be a more accurate description, given his low opinion of both sides. Surely, I ask, President Bush cannot be as stupid as many foreigners believe?
Vidal is adamant that he is, that the American right effectively staged a coup d’etat after 9/11, that there is a constitutional crisis in which the republic has been replaced by an empire, and that there is a case for impeaching Bush. ”Once you’re imperial you have an emperor and once you have that you’re finished,” he says, recalling his recent reading of Aristotle’s Politics. ”And that has been our condition, taken advantage of by a bunch of sleazy gas and oil hustlers.”
If there is one thing that incenses Vidal about his fellow Americans it is ignorance. Bush, he says, ”knows nothing and he doesn’t want to know anything. He has no curiosity. Have you watched him speak? That little-boy face, mouth ajar, dazed eyes. The rumour round Washington is that he’s gone back to drinking. Well, thank God, he might make a little more sense. A group of us each vowed we would send him a bottle of whisky, but I think it’s heroin probably that he would need.”
He pauses briefly to ask the chef, who has approached our table with an amuse-gueule of truffled lobster and avocado, if he remembers Gavin Young. The young Scotsman is even more bemused than I.
Then it is back to politics, the crisis facing America and the folly of detention without trial. ”A few weeks ago, the administration got rid of Magna Carta and habeas corpus... That is Mr [Alberto] Gonzales, our Attorney-General, who thinks he’s Attorney-General of Mexico. Where he belongs. No, that is not a racist remark. But it’s on the edge.”
This offensive remark is deliberate, calibrated. Vidal sometimes gives the impression of trying too hard to deliver the perfect bon mot for a dictionary of quotations. I can almost see him placing inverted commas around his own words. Asked a little later whether he wants to be remembered as a writer or a political figure, he explicitly offers me something to quote: ”I couldn’t care less how I’m remembered. People who go in for posterity have none.” By the evening, speaking from a stage at the University of Hong Kong, Vidal has polished his answer to the posterity question. ”As far as I can tell, posterity has done nothing for me. I’m going to do nothing for it.”
But Vidal the lunchtime orator is beginning to warm up as his oysters arrive. Not for nothing did Howard Austen, his recently deceased friend of more than half a century, call him Me Me.
”Since I’ve known most of the American historians, I never took seriously anything they wrote. Therefore I wrote 20 novels based on American history because I wanted it to be accurate,” Vidal says. ”I address the crisis facing us, that we are the most hated nation on earth, and I am one of the big explainers of what we have done. Other writers can’t do it because they don’t know anything about the history of the United States, much less Islam, Saladin, Genghis Khan, Mao Zedong.”
He interrupts his self-praise briefly with praise for his Bloody Mary (”Bliss, absolute bliss, fresh tomato”), before returning to his theme. ”I said [Bush] would be the most hated president in our history. It didn’t take much prescience to do that, and still people come up to me in airports and say, ’How did you know that about him?’ And I always say, ’By the pricking of my thumbs, I can tell that evil this way comes.’ Americans are very superstitious” - Vidal is joking now, after his misquotation from Macbeth - ”and I am a witch.”
So is Bush stupid, or evil? Surely there’s a difference? ”He has acted in an evil way is the most I can say about him. Anybody who has killed hundreds of thousands of people in the Middle East is an evil man. If he was suddenly called up at Nuremberg, which I would love to see happen, he’d say, ’I don’t know. They didn’t tell me that.’”
Do any of the likely presidential candidates offer more hope? ”Nobody’s any good. Hillary’s the brightest.” Barack Obama? ”He’s pretty... he could very well sweep the election. The country is so anti-black and is dying to vote for one as a form of redress.”
The arrival of the two Dover soles for Vidal and me, and a giant ribeye steak for Daren, marginally lightens the mood at the table. US politics, I suggest, seem a bit depressing. ”More than a bit,” replies Vidal, then adds in mitigation: ”Perfect asparagus.” But does he have anything cheerful to say about the world, Mandarin Grill aside? Was he always this dyspeptic?
”I wrote a book called The Golden Age, which was about 1945 when we all got out of the army. There was a burst of energy in all the arts and I thought finally America’s going to develop a civilisation, and how wonderful it is to be at the beginning of it. And then we didn’t. The Korean war started, and we’ve been in war ever since. That cooled my sincerity about optimism.”
Vidal may be an egotist but he has carefully avoided talking about his own feelings. I suggest cautiously that he seems rather British in the way he conceals his emotions. He puts it down to class, not country. We talk about how Jackie Kennedy was criticised for not weeping at her husband’s funeral and about the film The Queen, in which Helen Mirren (another old friend) plays Queen Elizabeth as she comes under fire for not grieving publicly at the death of Diana, Princess of Wales.
I venture that the most moving part of his latest book is his description of Austen’s death, a chapter that ends with the nurse weeping and the tearless Vidal writing: ”I envied him - the WASP glacier had closed over my head.” So he would like to weep, but cannot? ”Yes,” he concedes. ”I feel like it, but I don’t, I can’t. People who weep, I envy. After all, I spent most of my life in Italy... They get rid of everything, they weep all the time.”
Neither religion (he is appalled by it and is a fan of the atheist Confucius) nor sex (he claims he never did it with friends anyway) provides much comfort for the ageing Vidal, famous for advising people never to miss a chance to have sex or appear on television. ”It’s a joke, but my jokes are taken literally because I come from a literal country,” he says. ”Aids has disabused me of the values of casual sex.”
Dessert arrives, followed by cognac for him and calvados for me. Simkin hurriedly passes a pill to the diabetic Vidal as his spoon hovers over a sugary hazelnut creme brulee. As the restaurant empties, our two-and-a-half-hour lunch drifts pleasantly on with anecdotes from Vidal about a beautiful Indian Maharani in Jaipur, a bridge-playing British diplomat in Mongolia and a Hennessy brandy heiress.
Later that day - when talking at the university - he says something that I recognise as quintessential Gore Vidal. Asked about the greatest moment of his life, he replies: ”The one thing Cassandras like to be is right. The numerous times I’ve been able to say, ’I told you so’ - that is joy.”
At lunch I ask him whether he regrets not going to university after the war. ”Are you crazy? Would you rather be a published author, lecturing at Harvard, than going to Harvard?” he replies. ”All my ex-classmates were majors in the air force, that sort of thing, and there they were, juniors at Harvard. I went up there to speak, and half the audience were people I’d been at school with a few years before - and the waves of hatred that I felt coming up towards me from the audience! It was the highest moment of my life.”
It is, of course, another Gore Vidal joke. But, like a lot of his jokes, it is laced with venom, arrogance and a hefty dose of truth.
Victor Mallet is the editor of the FT’s Asia edition.
Mandarin Grill, Hong Kong
6 oysters
1 x artichoke soup
1 x organic salad
2 x Dover sole
1 x Australian ribeye steak
2 x hazelnut creme brulee asparagus, mashed potato
1 x apple crumble
1 x dry Martini
1 x Bloody Mary
2 x glasses of Sauvignon Blanc
1 x Tsingtao beer
1 x cognac
1 x calvados
mineral water
coffee
Total: HK$4,273.50 (₤277.93)
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Genesis
It has been almost 3 years now since Sebastião Salgado launched a project called Genesis. In it, the famous photographer wanted to go to all sorts of remote corners of the planet, and give us a glimpse of what life used to be before mankind took over and started changing nature.
In that journey, he has so far taken astonishing pictures of Antarctica, Patagonia, Galápagos, Xingu, Namibia, Sudan, Rwanda, and, latest, Kamchatka peninsula in Russia. A selection of some of these pictures can be found at the Guardian.
All of the trademark black-and-white stills are jaw-dropping. Like these penguins gathering on an iceberg in Antarctica.
In that journey, he has so far taken astonishing pictures of Antarctica, Patagonia, Galápagos, Xingu, Namibia, Sudan, Rwanda, and, latest, Kamchatka peninsula in Russia. A selection of some of these pictures can be found at the Guardian.
All of the trademark black-and-white stills are jaw-dropping. Like these penguins gathering on an iceberg in Antarctica.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Allez le rouge et blanche
Yesterday night I stood on the Kop, holding my red scarf, and sung "You'll Never Walk Alone", as the home players ran around the field thanking the supporters for their intensive cheering during the electrifying Cup semi-final that had just ended.
No, I wasn't at Anfield. No, I'm not fantasizing on it either.
I was invited by my friend Jan to watch his team, Standard de Liege, play Anderlecht on the second leg of the demi-finale of Coupe de Belgique. Standard had won the first leg away 0-1, a surprise result given that Anderlecht is the current league leader and constant Champions League participant.
Besides eating French fries with mayonnaise in the rain while drinking a couple of pints of Jupiler, I watched a very entertaining match with a fantastic atmosphere. Unfortunately I didn't take my camera, so I will illustrate with some pics from Standard's website.
First half
Standard played on a 4-4-2 with a midfield a la anglaise - relying heavily on the industry of their central midfielders, Belgian teenagers Defour and Fellaini. Their strategy consisted of exchaging side passes in the opposition midfield till it reached one the team's two most skilled players - right midfield Sergio Conceição and centre forward Jovanovic.
Backed not only by the relentless chant of the self-called Kop, but also by noteworthy performances of their almost flawless centre-backs (Brazilian Dante, former Juventude player, and Senegalese Sarr), Standard pushed forward, and should have scored on the first half. But actually only Jovanovic showed some willingness to shoot, the others being a bit too reluctant when near the area.
Anderlecht was keeping it tight with a line of three in the midfield, right in front of the back line. And though the three up front were always ready to launch counter-attacks, their most dangerous player was Argentine right-midfield Biglia - who a couple of times cauught Standard's left back lost in marking and appeared to shoot.
Second half
Anderlecht endured till the break but were surprised by a goal at minute 46. I was surprised as well - I heard the crowd yell but I was actually still at the toilet at the time. When I sat, I saw an Anderlecht onslaught - they had nothing to lose anyway - which ended up in a goal by minute 60.
Standard's coach then reacted by taking off Jovanovic's partner in attack (Lukunku, an ineffective tall centre-forward) and replacing him with Portuguese elder Sá Pinto. Guess what, it worked. He helped regain midfield in a time when Anderlecht was regaining confidence. And, most importantly, he earned a penalty "from heaven" when stealing the ball from a centre-back and stopped by the keeper.
The subsequent goal was cold water to Anderlecht but sparked the Kop. From then on, Standard fans were more worried about coordinating the Mexican wave and the Ole chant.
The fans
Liege is in a French-speaking part of Belgium, and hence the chants were another foray into my learning of français. Not that they were too elaborate:
"Hey! Hey! Tous ensemble, tous ensemble!"
"Allez les rouges... allez les rouges... allez le rouge et blanche..."
And also some other chants that I couldn't really understand. Best one was a sequence of sentences uttered by one side of the stadium, and repeated 3 seconds later by the other, that ended up with a massive "Ole ole" chant.
The stadium resembled La Bombonera - tall, steep stands, with ribbons, flags and banners flying, as you can see in the pic above. I was on a seat in the third floor, but the side of the field, not in the Kop. By the way that is one thing I was likened to Standard - they look up to Liverpool, with the stands, the nonstop cheering, and the playing of You`ll Never Walk Alone in the End. Unbelievable.
Saturday, last home match of the season against Club Brugge (who Standard will play in the Cup final, in 10 days) - I'm there!!! Tous ensemble, tous ensemble!!!
No, I wasn't at Anfield. No, I'm not fantasizing on it either.
I was invited by my friend Jan to watch his team, Standard de Liege, play Anderlecht on the second leg of the demi-finale of Coupe de Belgique. Standard had won the first leg away 0-1, a surprise result given that Anderlecht is the current league leader and constant Champions League participant.
Besides eating French fries with mayonnaise in the rain while drinking a couple of pints of Jupiler, I watched a very entertaining match with a fantastic atmosphere. Unfortunately I didn't take my camera, so I will illustrate with some pics from Standard's website.
First half
Standard played on a 4-4-2 with a midfield a la anglaise - relying heavily on the industry of their central midfielders, Belgian teenagers Defour and Fellaini. Their strategy consisted of exchaging side passes in the opposition midfield till it reached one the team's two most skilled players - right midfield Sergio Conceição and centre forward Jovanovic.
Backed not only by the relentless chant of the self-called Kop, but also by noteworthy performances of their almost flawless centre-backs (Brazilian Dante, former Juventude player, and Senegalese Sarr), Standard pushed forward, and should have scored on the first half. But actually only Jovanovic showed some willingness to shoot, the others being a bit too reluctant when near the area.
Anderlecht was keeping it tight with a line of three in the midfield, right in front of the back line. And though the three up front were always ready to launch counter-attacks, their most dangerous player was Argentine right-midfield Biglia - who a couple of times cauught Standard's left back lost in marking and appeared to shoot.
Second half
Anderlecht endured till the break but were surprised by a goal at minute 46. I was surprised as well - I heard the crowd yell but I was actually still at the toilet at the time. When I sat, I saw an Anderlecht onslaught - they had nothing to lose anyway - which ended up in a goal by minute 60.
Standard's coach then reacted by taking off Jovanovic's partner in attack (Lukunku, an ineffective tall centre-forward) and replacing him with Portuguese elder Sá Pinto. Guess what, it worked. He helped regain midfield in a time when Anderlecht was regaining confidence. And, most importantly, he earned a penalty "from heaven" when stealing the ball from a centre-back and stopped by the keeper.
The subsequent goal was cold water to Anderlecht but sparked the Kop. From then on, Standard fans were more worried about coordinating the Mexican wave and the Ole chant.
The fans
Liege is in a French-speaking part of Belgium, and hence the chants were another foray into my learning of français. Not that they were too elaborate:
"Hey! Hey! Tous ensemble, tous ensemble!"
"Allez les rouges... allez les rouges... allez le rouge et blanche..."
And also some other chants that I couldn't really understand. Best one was a sequence of sentences uttered by one side of the stadium, and repeated 3 seconds later by the other, that ended up with a massive "Ole ole" chant.
The stadium resembled La Bombonera - tall, steep stands, with ribbons, flags and banners flying, as you can see in the pic above. I was on a seat in the third floor, but the side of the field, not in the Kop. By the way that is one thing I was likened to Standard - they look up to Liverpool, with the stands, the nonstop cheering, and the playing of You`ll Never Walk Alone in the End. Unbelievable.
Saturday, last home match of the season against Club Brugge (who Standard will play in the Cup final, in 10 days) - I'm there!!! Tous ensemble, tous ensemble!!!
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Indulging in mainstream tourism
When traveling on leisure, I try to avoid becoming a tourist stereotype. I consider myself past the stage of being a camera-toting vacationer, taking all sorts of pictures to post on fotolog to my mama. And I guess I've also grown a bit old and picky for the rough nights that generally accompany the "off-the-beaten-track" journeys - which, generally, are full of camera-toting vacationers anyway.
Still, it is hard not to indulge myself on a bit of mainstream sightseeing when I had one afternoon to walk around a city as nice as Brugge. Especially when in company of my friends Nicolas and Carolina, camera-toters to the core, but in a way that makes it seem quite a cool thing to do.
So here you have myself striking a pose over one of Brugge's many canals.
Still, it is hard not to indulge myself on a bit of mainstream sightseeing when I had one afternoon to walk around a city as nice as Brugge. Especially when in company of my friends Nicolas and Carolina, camera-toters to the core, but in a way that makes it seem quite a cool thing to do.
So here you have myself striking a pose over one of Brugge's many canals.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Musings about the French language
I'm sitting in a self-service restaurant inside the boarding area of Roissy airport in Paris, on a connection from Belgium.
In front of me a sign reads "A L'epoque de Clement Ader". My limited French allows me to understand it is about an engineer from the turn of the (last) century. And it shows some things that happened at his time, such as "1905 - Les frères Wright parcourrent 38km en 38mn sur le Flyer III".
I am considering learning French. It is close to Portuguese and therefore might be easy. You must be touched by the way it sounds. Merci, fermè, non, allez, all sung with mouthful and lippy hisses, like in Marie Antoinette's court.
Plus Paris is an inspiring place and knowing French is really handful there. And France Football and L'Équipe are great papers.
And old French songs are très cool.
All right. Will start learning.
In front of me a sign reads "A L'epoque de Clement Ader". My limited French allows me to understand it is about an engineer from the turn of the (last) century. And it shows some things that happened at his time, such as "1905 - Les frères Wright parcourrent 38km en 38mn sur le Flyer III".
I am considering learning French. It is close to Portuguese and therefore might be easy. You must be touched by the way it sounds. Merci, fermè, non, allez, all sung with mouthful and lippy hisses, like in Marie Antoinette's court.
Plus Paris is an inspiring place and knowing French is really handful there. And France Football and L'Équipe are great papers.
And old French songs are très cool.
All right. Will start learning.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Baghdad blogger
Click here to see CNN's Baghdad Blogger.
This is excellent, mind-broadening, highly recommended reading.
The program on CNN international is definitely my top pick of the year.
This is excellent, mind-broadening, highly recommended reading.
The program on CNN international is definitely my top pick of the year.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
My world
Places I've been to are indicated in red*
This is my world and I am
A world leader pretend
This is my life, and this is my time
I have been given the freedom to do as I see fit
It's high time I raise the walls that I constructed
(R.E.M.)
*places I've spent at least 8 hours in.
This is my world and I am
A world leader pretend
This is my life, and this is my time
I have been given the freedom to do as I see fit
It's high time I raise the walls that I constructed
(R.E.M.)
*places I've spent at least 8 hours in.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Will we pull this one off?
We need you, Anfield Road, to beat Chelsea. That's a fact.
We also need Mascherano to rule over the midfield with grit, but without compromising flair.
We also need Pennant to dribble and cross like he's been doing of late.
We also need Crouchinho to keep up with the neat finishing.
And we need inspired performances from our dynamos Carragher, Finnan, Riise, and, most of all, from our captain Steven Gerrard.
"In distant Athens, we'll win it six times"
Sunday, April 01, 2007
What I'm listening to
Marching the hate machines
Thievery Corporation (featuring Wayne Coyne)
Well let's start by
making it clear
who is the enemy, here
And we'll show then
that it's not them
who is superior
It's gonna be bad,
It's gonna be wrong,
It's gonna feel... good.
Marching the hate machines into the sun
Marching the hate machines into the sun
Saturday, March 31, 2007
North Face jacket, again
So, for those who complained about the lack of pics in here.
This is me posing in front of Moscow State University (one of the seven sisters).
Again the North Face jacket saves me from the cold, just as it did in NY last December.
This is me posing in front of Moscow State University (one of the seven sisters).
Again the North Face jacket saves me from the cold, just as it did in NY last December.
Friday, March 30, 2007
England are abysmal
I watched parts of England v Andorra, and most of Italy v Scotland this week. Two very bad games, which triggered a wave of the usual self-whipping articles in British media. "Why are we so crap" , "McClaren out", etc.
One of these was an unusually cheap article at GU Sports Blog (link here) which was just worth it for a spot-on comment from a guy called Chariostsofnandralone.
That's the ultimate beauty of blogging - comments that are often better argued, more entertaining reading than the posts themselves.
So I paste down here the guy`s comment. Enjoy.
The reason England can't play slow, measured, possession International football is the same reason Manchester United haven't been able to play the slow, measured, possession Champions League football SAFergie has wanted to since 1999. English football doesn't produce skilful enough players and the Premiership doesn't allow teams to play proper, skillful football.
It's no good kidding ourselves that Lampard, Neville (take your pick), Terry, Lennon, Owen, SWP, Johnson, even the oft-lauded Scholes and the rest have anything like the same individual ball control and passing skill as their Italian, Brazilian, French, Argentinian, Spanish and even Ghanaian or Mexican counterparts.
Without instantly controlling the ball, being comfortable in possession, keeping possession when in tight with the opposition, passing the ball between teammates without losing control English players lose that extra yard and split-second needed to outplay any decent opposition. When you lose posession carelessly in the Premiership you usually get the ball back a few seconds later.
Why do Chelsea and Arsenal and Liverpool buy so many non-English and non-Scottish players. It's not just because they're cheap.
Ray Wilkins has said when he trained with ACMilan back in the day, the game of passing the ball amongst a circle of players would go on forever until himself or Mark Hately in the middle kicked one of the Italian players. In England the ball is frequently mis-controlled or mis-hit and the player in the middle makes the interception.
Never was the gulf more evident than watching Italy-Scotland tonight (Scottish players suffer from exactly the same pell-mell style physical domestic football).
The gulf in individual skill level between the two teams was embarrasing. Every single Italian player looked like a top-class footballer, athletic, fit, comfortable in possession, balanced, two-footed.
For Scotland, apart from possibly Barry Ferguson, every player was a gawky, uncoordinated, clumsy and sometimes slow amateur in comparison who treated the football like some kind of slippery Mexican jumping bean to be chased with all their might but always just out of control. It looked like footballers in Scotland don't practice their ball skills in training but are introduced to an alien spherical object just before kick-off with the same effect as serving raw meat to starving lions in the Colliseum.
Brown, Miller - much perspiration but little skill - and the rest were all shown up by a brilliant 25 minute cameo from Del Piero, a proper footballer, just like the rest of the Italians.
As long as Premiership Academies keep emphasising the physical over the skillful throughout the age groups, there is no hope for England or Scotland.
One of these was an unusually cheap article at GU Sports Blog (link here) which was just worth it for a spot-on comment from a guy called Chariostsofnandralone.
That's the ultimate beauty of blogging - comments that are often better argued, more entertaining reading than the posts themselves.
So I paste down here the guy`s comment. Enjoy.
The reason England can't play slow, measured, possession International football is the same reason Manchester United haven't been able to play the slow, measured, possession Champions League football SAFergie has wanted to since 1999. English football doesn't produce skilful enough players and the Premiership doesn't allow teams to play proper, skillful football.
It's no good kidding ourselves that Lampard, Neville (take your pick), Terry, Lennon, Owen, SWP, Johnson, even the oft-lauded Scholes and the rest have anything like the same individual ball control and passing skill as their Italian, Brazilian, French, Argentinian, Spanish and even Ghanaian or Mexican counterparts.
Without instantly controlling the ball, being comfortable in possession, keeping possession when in tight with the opposition, passing the ball between teammates without losing control English players lose that extra yard and split-second needed to outplay any decent opposition. When you lose posession carelessly in the Premiership you usually get the ball back a few seconds later.
Why do Chelsea and Arsenal and Liverpool buy so many non-English and non-Scottish players. It's not just because they're cheap.
Ray Wilkins has said when he trained with ACMilan back in the day, the game of passing the ball amongst a circle of players would go on forever until himself or Mark Hately in the middle kicked one of the Italian players. In England the ball is frequently mis-controlled or mis-hit and the player in the middle makes the interception.
Never was the gulf more evident than watching Italy-Scotland tonight (Scottish players suffer from exactly the same pell-mell style physical domestic football).
The gulf in individual skill level between the two teams was embarrasing. Every single Italian player looked like a top-class footballer, athletic, fit, comfortable in possession, balanced, two-footed.
For Scotland, apart from possibly Barry Ferguson, every player was a gawky, uncoordinated, clumsy and sometimes slow amateur in comparison who treated the football like some kind of slippery Mexican jumping bean to be chased with all their might but always just out of control. It looked like footballers in Scotland don't practice their ball skills in training but are introduced to an alien spherical object just before kick-off with the same effect as serving raw meat to starving lions in the Colliseum.
Brown, Miller - much perspiration but little skill - and the rest were all shown up by a brilliant 25 minute cameo from Del Piero, a proper footballer, just like the rest of the Italians.
As long as Premiership Academies keep emphasising the physical over the skillful throughout the age groups, there is no hope for England or Scotland.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Recommendation
When in the UK a couple of months ago I first heard Gnarls Barkley, which were kind of hyped there then.
Now I'm addicted. I'd say it adds the modernity and inventiveness of my beloved Flaming Lips with jazzy black vocals.
To know what I'm talking about, click here to check the videos of either Crazy or Smiley Faces in YouTube.
Now I'm addicted. I'd say it adds the modernity and inventiveness of my beloved Flaming Lips with jazzy black vocals.
To know what I'm talking about, click here to check the videos of either Crazy or Smiley Faces in YouTube.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
McJob
Here is a link to a great discussion about McDonald's jobs, in the always excellent commentisfree section of Guardian Unlimited.
Best part is the comment of a guy called Unicycle Fascist who is actually defending McJobs, and spanking students of social studies on his way.
Best part is the comment of a guy called Unicycle Fascist who is actually defending McJobs, and spanking students of social studies on his way.
Monday, March 19, 2007
It's summertime
To my friend Roberto Sakura.
(The Flaming Lips)
It's summertime
and I can understand if you
still feel
sad…
It's summertime
and though it's hard to see its true
possibilities…
When you look inside - all you'll see...
When you look inside –
all you'll see is a self-reflected inner sadness!
Look outside!
I know that you'll recognize
it's summertime!
(The Flaming Lips)
It's summertime
and I can understand if you
still feel
sad…
It's summertime
and though it's hard to see its true
possibilities…
When you look inside - all you'll see...
When you look inside –
all you'll see is a self-reflected inner sadness!
Look outside!
I know that you'll recognize
it's summertime!
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Gilberto Silva
Here is a link to an excellent wikipedia article (a featured article, by the way) about this outstanding character who is Gilberto Silva.
A model player, a model person, a pride to my country.
A model player, a model person, a pride to my country.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Authenticity
I have engaged on re-reading "On Writing Well" by william Zinsser, which I had taken a look at during universiity. Excellent book, a must-read for any prentense, amateur or wannabe writers like myself.
The book brings a series of commandments useful to any writer: avoid clatter; be authentic; be human. The last thing people need is a series of vague, long, unnecessary words that tell meaningless things.
There is also one powerful message in one of the earlier chapters: writing is not easy, It is hard, toiling, tense, and exasperating. Many people tend to think it is not, and therefore express the wish that they become writers "when they retire" - as if writing was a much less important profession than the others, as if anyone could become a proper writer at the flick of a finger.
I had not realized the power of that statement until a mundane event during dinner last night. I noticed that the starter I ordered was really good: a burrito made of bacon and aspargus. I thought, "hm, maybe next time I have a dinner at home I surprise my guests with this starter. Or, think about it, I can improve it, and make a prsociutto and aspargus burrito, with soy sauce..."
Stop. If you don't know me, I have never - ever - cooked a single meal that did not come out of the microwave or steam pot. Yet recently I have developed a sudden interest for cooking - some form of delirium which arose after watching too much Gordon Ramsay while in the UK. But who am I to think I can go on and create something nice to eat just because I had a whim of 'creativity'?
With writing is the same. Blogs accept anything (as a quick browse thorugh this one will show), but let's respect real writers. Non-fiction writing is a profession, a very difficult one. Fiction writing is a form of art, of craftmanship, and as any craftmanship it takes practice. Let us not fool ourselves that we are George Orwell. Or Will Zinsser.
So the blogger's challenge is to keep it real. Keep it authentic. Do whatever we do in life first, and when we write, let's not invent too much. Let's communicate. Let's be clear.
Anyway, just realized I had that moment of insight while eating an aspargus burrito in a self-proclaimed Argentine Steak House in Samara (interior of Russia), while a local singer went on, his guitar the only background, on a rendition of "Nothing's Gonna Change My Love For You" with a thick, nonchalant Russian accent.
Now talk about authenticity.
The book brings a series of commandments useful to any writer: avoid clatter; be authentic; be human. The last thing people need is a series of vague, long, unnecessary words that tell meaningless things.
There is also one powerful message in one of the earlier chapters: writing is not easy, It is hard, toiling, tense, and exasperating. Many people tend to think it is not, and therefore express the wish that they become writers "when they retire" - as if writing was a much less important profession than the others, as if anyone could become a proper writer at the flick of a finger.
I had not realized the power of that statement until a mundane event during dinner last night. I noticed that the starter I ordered was really good: a burrito made of bacon and aspargus. I thought, "hm, maybe next time I have a dinner at home I surprise my guests with this starter. Or, think about it, I can improve it, and make a prsociutto and aspargus burrito, with soy sauce..."
Stop. If you don't know me, I have never - ever - cooked a single meal that did not come out of the microwave or steam pot. Yet recently I have developed a sudden interest for cooking - some form of delirium which arose after watching too much Gordon Ramsay while in the UK. But who am I to think I can go on and create something nice to eat just because I had a whim of 'creativity'?
With writing is the same. Blogs accept anything (as a quick browse thorugh this one will show), but let's respect real writers. Non-fiction writing is a profession, a very difficult one. Fiction writing is a form of art, of craftmanship, and as any craftmanship it takes practice. Let us not fool ourselves that we are George Orwell. Or Will Zinsser.
So the blogger's challenge is to keep it real. Keep it authentic. Do whatever we do in life first, and when we write, let's not invent too much. Let's communicate. Let's be clear.
Anyway, just realized I had that moment of insight while eating an aspargus burrito in a self-proclaimed Argentine Steak House in Samara (interior of Russia), while a local singer went on, his guitar the only background, on a rendition of "Nothing's Gonna Change My Love For You" with a thick, nonchalant Russian accent.
Now talk about authenticity.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Championship
Seriously, now I've been following the English Second Division for a change. In the first division, it seems that Champions League places will eventually fall into the usual suspects, and relegation is waving very strongly to Watford, Charlton and West Ham, so the only race left is between Bolton - Spurs - Pompey - Reading - Blackburn - Everton for a Uefa Cup place - let's face it, not so thrilling.
In the Championship, on the other hand, things are much more contested.
First of all, only 8 points separate the top club now (Birmingham) from the 8th (Cardiff) - only 4 between 3rd placed West Brom and Cardiff.
Second, the season has seen many teams go up and down - though Birmingham and Derby have looked the most consistent (as also observed by Roy Keane), and Sunderland and Wolves are on the rise, in other times Preston, Cardiff and even Stoke and Colchester (now 9th and 10th) were the top tips.
Third, this season has seen some very exciting players - though I can only see hints of them at BBC Sport or at Cup matches, the most promising ones are David Nugent at Preston, Gareth Bale at Southampton, Steven Ward at Wolves, and four Arsenal academy graduates on loan: Larsson, Muamba and Bendtner at Birmingham, and Lupoli at Derby. Also worth mention are the experienced Trinidad pair of Dwight Yorke and Stern John at Sunderland.
Fourth, there are the "friendly managers" - it's always nice to follow Steve Bruce and Roy Keane venturing into coaches (though I'm not a United fan).
Well, to me, it is more interesting than the state leagues in Brazil this month. But many things are more interesting than state leagues. Not Big Brother, but many others.
In the Championship, on the other hand, things are much more contested.
First of all, only 8 points separate the top club now (Birmingham) from the 8th (Cardiff) - only 4 between 3rd placed West Brom and Cardiff.
Second, the season has seen many teams go up and down - though Birmingham and Derby have looked the most consistent (as also observed by Roy Keane), and Sunderland and Wolves are on the rise, in other times Preston, Cardiff and even Stoke and Colchester (now 9th and 10th) were the top tips.
Third, this season has seen some very exciting players - though I can only see hints of them at BBC Sport or at Cup matches, the most promising ones are David Nugent at Preston, Gareth Bale at Southampton, Steven Ward at Wolves, and four Arsenal academy graduates on loan: Larsson, Muamba and Bendtner at Birmingham, and Lupoli at Derby. Also worth mention are the experienced Trinidad pair of Dwight Yorke and Stern John at Sunderland.
Fourth, there are the "friendly managers" - it's always nice to follow Steve Bruce and Roy Keane venturing into coaches (though I'm not a United fan).
Well, to me, it is more interesting than the state leagues in Brazil this month. But many things are more interesting than state leagues. Not Big Brother, but many others.
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