Johan Cruyff Taught Me How To Drive On The Motorway

I was 30 when I began to learn to drive, for my 30^th birthday my mother and my girlfriend clubbed together and bought me driving lessons. Perhaps they had grown fed up of ferrying me around all the time. I rode a scooter at the time so I could hardly reciprocate their taxi service.

 

After months of lessons, I passed my driving test on the first attempt (Thanks, Steve at El Passo Driving School) so now I was ready for the open road. Or was I?

 

Those that know me well can vouch that confidence has never really been one of my strong suits. I was hesitant about driving, but after a while I felt comfortable enough behind the wheel.

Except when it came to Motorways.

 

Those gigantic, traffic heavy monsters snaking through the countryside filled me with a dread reserved for titular creatures from horror films. Thankfully for me, my work could be driven to via country lanes. Or if the worst came to the worst, one junction of the M6.

 

It was the sheer volume and proximity of other cars that scared me, having so many vehicles surrounding me made me feel as uneasy and inexperienced as a youth in a nightclub for the first time. I couldn’t even take refuge in the inside lane as that’s where all the articulated lorries lived. I began to think I’d never get over the anxiety of motorway driving.

 

I started to read probably the finest football book I’ve read. Brilliant Orange. The Neurotic Genius of Dutch Football by David Winner.  The book starts out recanting the history of Amsterdam and how the lack of landmass led to the inhabitants becoming creative with the limited space they had. How this spatial awareness was ingrained within the people and how Rinus Michels used the concept of Total Football to craft his Ajax, Barcelona, and later, the Dutch National teams.

 

One of the ideas of Total Football was to make the pitch bigger than it was by being creative with limited space, much like the early Amsterdam inhabitants. This was achieved down to the fluidity of players. Unlike formations of the day, the teams of Rinus Michels swapped positions constantly. They were able to carve open opposition formations with ease by utilizing the limited space each player had by using runs and feints to open lanes, or to create space. The foundation of these teams was the legendary, and sadly recently departed, Johan Cruyff

 

It was learning about the spatial awareness and creating space that made me think instantly of motorways. Instead of a steel sardine hell, I began to look at a busy motorway as if it were a packed midfield; the only difference was the cars were all on the same team. In order to get forward, we had to aware of our own space and look at ways to create space for each other.

 

I began to try and think like Cruyff. If I was in the middle lane and saw a car inside me that was approaching a slow moving lorry, I’d know that they were going to pass so I had to make space for them. Can I make a run down the outside lane to free up my space for them? If not, could I break as if I was going to take it around an opposing player but feint? Would they have to wait for me to make a run before they could pass their lorry?

 

It made motorway driving relaxing, spatial awareness was the key. Nissans became Neeskins, Renaults became Rensenbrink, Haulage became Hulshoff. And I was the number 14, Cruyff.

 

Now, whenever I’m overtaking in the outside lane and I see a can behind me going faster than I am, it’s a winger or a right back making a run, I’m going to cut inside to create the space for them. Sometimes I’m the holding midfielder as people push forward on the counter attack. Sometimes I tuck in between two big defenders in the inside lane. Motorway driving is fun and safe. I no longer feel the anxiety that I first did. I try and think like Johan Cruyff.

 

There have been countless tributes paid to Cruyff, and rightly so. Well, this is mine. Johan Cruyff helped to teach me how to drive on the motorway.

 

Dank u, Mijnheer Cruijff

Cecil And Slacktivism.

There has been a lot of outrage recently regarding the killing, skinning and beheading of Cecil The Lion, the most famous resident of Hwange National Park in Zimbabwe.  Cecil was killed by Walter Palmer, a hunter from Minnesota.  Social Media has been the home of pictures of usually rich white people posing with the spoils of their kill for a while now. But not every picture shared contains a member of the British Royal Family, they also contain people who have travelled to Africa to kill animals.

So, what to do with that anger? How can you turn that anger into something positive? Well, there are charities you can get involved with, even the group with whom Cecil was a case study are accepting donations to further fund their work.  However, times are tough and money is tight.  Besides, what you with your money is your business. So what else can you do?

I know, I’ll share and like a Facebook post, that’ll do!

You see, I know you can say that you’re showing support and solidarity for a cause and that’s good.  The issue I have is one of consistency. That’s the thing with principles, if you don’t stick to them 100% of the time, they aren’t principles. They are a hobby.

The other story that is dominating the news and social media is the one about what is happening in Calais. It is commonly referred to as the Migrant Crisis but I won’t be referring to it as that again. This is a humanitarian issue, replace the word migrants with people and start from there.

The dehumanising process has already begun, don’t ever refer to them as people, let alone people in crisis, as other people might start feeling empathy. It helps that a lot of them aren’t white either, they can’t be like us civilised folk can they?

What you are doing is dehumanising them, calling them vermin and suchlike reduces them to something other than a human being, it reduces them to animals. Go the whole hog and call them swarms, they are animals after all.

But these animals are not like Cecil, these animals are ok to shoot. Send the army there to keep these animals in their pens, shoot them if they try and escape, they’re animals! Nameless, stateless animals, not like Cecil. 

Why don’t you share the outrage for domestic violence, or sexual assault, or sexual abuse (apart from when brown people do it)? Where is the horror for Sandra Bland and the other deaths at the hands of racist police? 

There is an oft shared quote from uber bellend Ricky Gervais which says something along the lines of “If you enjoy seeing animals in pain, you are a cunt”.  Well, if you profess to be a lover of living beings but want people desperate for a better life shot, you are a massive massive cunt.

Don’t worry, animal lover, I’ll still “like” the pic of your Sunday roast.

Black Bean And Lentil Shashlik

I thought I’d try something slightly different last night, usually when I make a shashlik curry I use quorn pieces or mince, but seeing as I’d bought a bag of black beans, I thought I’d use them instead. And I’m really glad I did!

One of the many good things about living in Chorlton is the range and availability of produce and ingredients. One which I’m particularly grateful for is The Hungry Gecko Shashlik Paste

I first fell in love with The Hungry Gecko’s food when Jackie set up her Winnebago in the garden of The Beech Inn. Many a Saturday lunch was spent eating amazing far eastern street food cooked by a Masterchef finalist, so I was delighted when Frosts the Butchers starting selling this delicious paste.

Anyway, for this recipe, you’ll need

1 cup/jar of black beans
Half a jar of shashlik paste
6 tablespoons of mixed lentils
1 onion
1 pepper
1 tin of chopped tomatoes
4 cloves of garlic
6-8 closed cup mushrooms
Tomato Purée
1 teaspoon of chia seeds (optional)
1 teaspoon of mustard seeds (optional)

This is such an easy dish to make, thanks to the amazing taste of the paste. I didn’t use a tin of beans so I soaked the black beans and lentils overnight. Prior to cooking the main dish, I cooked the black beans for 30 minutes and left to the side.

Method

Slice the garlic fine, then in a large saucepan, heat some oil and fry the garlic and seeds (if you’re using them) for 2-3 minutes. Then add the black beans and fry them for a further 2 minutes.

Add the onion and pepper next, I chopped them chunky so that they retained some crunch. Once they’ve softened slightly, add the magic ingredient, the paste!

Stir everything together with the paste and savour the aroma, if it doesn’t get you salivating, I’d get to the doctor to get checked out. After a few minutes, stir in the tomatoes, drain the lentils and add them.

I used a cup of water and a squeeze of tomato purée to create more sauce, this will thicken up brilliantly during the cooking process, so don’t worry if it all looks a bit liquidy.

Let the pot simmer for half an hour and that’s it! Keep stirring occasionally and after thirty minutes, you’ll have a delicious, cheap and healthy dish. This will make 4 portions, so for me, that’s two for the plates and two for the freezer.

I served this with jasmine rice and a roti. So easy to do, so easy to eat and enjoy!

As someone with no culinary training, I welcome feedback and advice on improvements. I hope you enjoy this dish as much as I did.

So Excited, So Scared

Frantic Planet dot blog

In the wake of my lazy, and successful kickstarter, it’s time to announce the hottest product to hit the streets since Buddy Bands.

There’s a tentative release date of around November, but you’ll hopefully be able to pre-order it within the next six weeks. Content-wise, expect a super detailed history of the show’s inception and production, and what happened to each of the important players after it finished airing. The centerpiece of So Excited, So Scared is the breakdown of each of Saved by the Bell‘s 86 episodes. As I’ve found out to my own sleep deprivation, these are an absolutely monstrous cultural landscape to traverse, taking on all the catchphrases and quirks you remember as a kid, but with elements that only become apparent through adult eyes; like television’s worst ever amoral sociopath, plagiarised character traits, unending attempts by the writers to bring down leftie feminism, and…

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The Mask And Feeling Like A TV Host

Hi,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’m still living with Depression but thankfully due to staying on the meds, CBT and a great support network (mostly from my incredibly loving wife who never judges, is forever patient and all round wonderful) I’ve not hit a prolonged bad patch for a while. The only episode I’ve had is when a bout of food poisoning meant I didn’t get the effects of my meds for about a week and did “The Citalopram Slam”

I’ve recently changed jobs. I’m enjoying where I work and they’re a lovely group of people who foster a creative and engaging environment in which to work in. However, I felt like I’ve constantly had to be “On” with my mask of confidence and geniality, not letting them know that the mask hides major depressive episodes.

And it’s exhausting.

I feel like the host of a live TV show that goes on for a few hours, like an awards ceremony. Being as professional and engaging and charismatic as you can (obviously not like when James Corden hosts one). Then they cut to an ad break and you can rest, gather your thoughts and prepare for the next segment.

That’s what a break at work feels like for me. I sit in the canteen and readjust my mask, or leave it off by burying my head in a book so I don’t have to talk to anyone. And I know how that sounds, unsociable, rude, even arrogant. But the truth is it’s exhaustion and fear. I go over my CBT, control my breathing so I can be as calm and focused as I can, then wait for the director to give me the countdown for when the ad break is about to end and start again.

That food poisoning I mentioned earlier? That happened when I’d been at my new job for a month or so. I got a surge of bravery and told them exactly what had happened, about how I’ve been living with Depression for decades and how I take medication to assist me. And they were wonderful about it. It means a lot to know I’m fortunate to have an employer who is sympathetic and knows not what to say to someone with Depression. Couple that with my home life being great, all thanks to my wife of course, things are on the level for me.

There are good days, bad days, good parts of bad days and bad parts of good days. Maybe I won’t need to wear the mask as much as I think I do in future. Not that I’m going to go all Julian Clary and say I was fisting George Osborne, as lovely as that image is.

A List Of Good Things SISU Do For Coventry City Football Club

Exorcising Ghostwatch

A brilliant piece about Ghostwatch. Top top stuff.

Frantic Planet dot blog

Smoke & Mirrors and Steven Seagal on Amazon.com ($3.99)

Smoke & Mirrors and Steven Seagal on Amazon UK (£2.99)

Amazon’s FREE Kindle app for Phones, Tablets, Mac and PC.

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Closer Each Day, Home Is Away. The Plight Of Coventry City

One of the best experience in all my years as a supporter of Coventry City, and football in general, is that of the Away Day. From deciding on how to travel, what time to set off or who is driving, to enjoying a new ground or returning to one of fond, sour or mixed memories. Nothing beats an away day.

Another great thing is that “Holiday Rules” apply, who cares if it has just gone eight in the morning, it’s an away day. Crack open that can, unless you’re the driver of course. The atmosphere is always friendly on the way. You may see total strangers on the train wearing the same top as you. All of a sudden, they are friends. You may see familiar faces who make the same pilgrimage. Like you, they vowed never again after watching a dismal performance in the rain in some northern town that blended in with other towns over your travels. Yep, I love Away Days.

I moved to Manchester about four years ago, so every time I see the Sky Blues, it’s an away day. Meeting friends in Manchester before boarding a train to somewhere more northern, or making my way down south, it’s still the same buzz. Even trips to the Ricoh were great, an away day for a home game is quite the feeling.

However, that’s changed now.

Now it will be an away day for all Coventry fans. Northampton isn’t that far away but whether it be 30 miles or 300 miles, playing home games outside your home city or town is not on. Especially because you know the reason is that a London based hedge fund is doing a runner from its landlord over unpaid rent, leaving the Coventry taxpayer and a charity to foot the bill.

SISU don’t care about Coventry, they never have. They don’t care about football either. They care about profit. Should they get their profit by stitching up the fans who work those few hours extra to afford their escape for a few hours a week, or by using every loophole they can find to avoid paying what they owe, tough shit, welcome to Capitalism, baby!

How long will Coventry City Football Club not be based in The City of Coventry? A year or two? The smart money seems to be on that, with the Brandon Speedway track looking like a potential new ground. What if that doesn’t come to fruition? Solihull Sky Blues? This is Franchise Football and that suits SISU down to the (new) ground.

Not a penny more. That is the rallying cry I’ve heard. Not a penny more, no more cash being handed over by the fans to the owners. Will we support Coventry should they return from their years in exile? I honestly don’t know if I will. I’m hoping to see something along the lines of what has happened at Wrexham, or Barry Town (who have had it worse than us).

For the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I have a football team to support any more. It’s hard to explain how that feels. They’ve always been a constant in my life. Consistently shit, I hear you guffaw. Yeah, but they are MY team, that’s the point.

Not a penny more.

The Hard Done By, Glory Hunting Man Utd Fan.

There are few things in football more tragic— okay, I mean funnier— than a hard done by Manchester United fan. On the off chance a decision goes against them, and double points if it happens at Old Trafford, you can hear them. From Essex to Thailand, the bemoaning is from the same hymn sheet. The Good Book of Fergie has been translated into more languages than The Bible (allegedly). I wouldn’t be surprised if we were visited from beings beyond our galaxy and their first words were, “He shouldn’t be reffing at this level, that was a disgrace.”

Their symphony of caterwauling was heard around the world after Real Madrid beat ‘Man Yoo’ in the Champions League. Of course, what went wrong was when Cuneyt Cakir had the temerity to send off a Man Yoo player. At home! Where was Hans Blix when you needed him? Stuff North Korea, this was the real danger, Hans. Sure, had Arbeloa not jumped, he’d have got Nani’s boot in his throat but this is Old Trafford, you just don’t do that Cakir.

And of course, that cost Man Utd the game. Not the way Mourinho reacted quickly to the sending off by adjusting his formation, nor Fergie’s hesitance in changing his. It was the sending off that knocked Man Utd out of the Champions League. ‘Oh yes, it was!’ sings the chorus. And boy, did we hear about it.

Now, I live in Manchester and support a struggling midlands team. To be honest, on the whole, Man Utd fans in Manchester are wonderful, knowledgeable supporters of the beautiful game. However, I have found, and this isn’t exclusive to Man Utd, fans who aren’t from here have a reputation for being annoying. What irritates me most about them is their sense of entitlement. As if they have a right to be in the latter stages of the Champions League, be in the top one the league and have all decisions go their way.

Oh you’re knocked out of a highly lucrative competition that you’ll be in next year? Boo-hoo-hoo. Come back to me when your team gets relegated or goes into administration. Come back to me when you know your best players have been sold for pittance so you can dent your debts.

As I say to glory hunters: I’m not a better fan than you; I’m a different fan. In a parallel universe, my strugglers are the most successful team in England, with the largest stadium, the largest trophy cabinet, the most lucrative sponsorship deals, pay tens of millions in transfer fees, and where the newly appointed head of the FA is a fan. In that same universe, Man Utd are a struggling Football League side who have won one trophy in their history and are ‘financially embarrassed’. In that universe, I am still a fan of my under-performing side, but there is no way on earth you would be a Man Utd fan.

Perhaps I’m just old and jaded. We have the red button generation now, where you can choose which game to watch and choose who to cheer on. At least my friends who support Man Utd, Arsenal and Chelsea always cheer on my club as well. And it isn’t limited to the big clubs; even Liverpool fans cheer us on.

Still, if we can’t have a sense of entitlement, what can we have? A sense of perspective, that’s what.

From FarmVille To HarmVille – The Virtual Vigilante

I once got sucked into the addictive world of FarmVille, the Harvest Moon lite game that is on Facebook. It got to the stage where I was timing stuff like crops being ready to harvest when I got home from work. I had a few days offline and gave it up.

It seems as if there has been a few add ons to the game. Worryingly it looks as if they have spread from beyond the FarmVille app to the online farmers Facebook wall. Namely, manure spreaders and pixelated pitchforks. I first noticed this before, and blogged about Winterval and Silly Season, where manure was coming over from FarmVille in the form of ridiculous knee jerk statements about Muslims all hating everything British, despite them being British themselves. I put it down to FarmVille going beyond the parameters of its app.

However, the app has turned into a Silicon Salem Witch hunt over the last fortnight. The pixelated Pitchforks have been lighted and have made their mob handed way to the wall of unsuspecting online farmers.

I’ve noticed a few different pictures of someone who it is claimed, with no proof, is Jon Venables, one of the boys who killed James Bulger. Of course, the virtual vigilante gang don’t refer to the deceased toddler as “James”, but Jamie. Something his family never did. This isn’t the first time that someone has been accused online of being one of the Bulger killers. In a tragic story, a man killed himself after months of abuse.

In true Facebook fashion, if you didn’t share this picture then you are supporting paedophiles, or something. Well, this is why I didn’t share it and why you shouldn’t have. Do you think that there is even a shred of possibility that the bloke(s) in the photo might not be Jon Venables? If there isn’t, what evidence do you have because I’d like to know. Venables has been recalled to prison so why share this info now? Contrary to right wing beliefs, prisoners don’t all have Facebook in their cells.

Do you think that you might be subjecting an innocent man to potential abuse that could lead to his death? Do you think you have done your bit by sharing an unsubstantiated photo? Did you stop and think before hitting the share button? No,of course you didn’t.

I’m not protecting a paedophile by not sharing a picture that I have no idea where it came from. I’m protecting what is probably an innocent man. I’m pretty sure that in a few months, a different picture will emerge, possibly of me, declaring that this is actually Venebles. We got it wrong last time, sorry about that, but this is him, it definitely is.

I won’t be hitting the share button, I’ll be more than likely hitting the “Remove friend” button. Hopefully the next FarmVille update with have a “Contain manure via Snopes” feature.

Put the pitchforks down, or use them to harvest that fresh batch of crops. And no, I don’t want to play FarmVille with you or be your neighbour on FarmVille, because the chances are your farm is run by Tony Martin.