The Twaddle: Third Rate Football?

[Notice the Mystic Meg-ness of the Leeds prediction...]

Football is a culture, not a sport. Not anymore, anyway; since the boom in multimedia coverage of the sport since the 1950's, it has found a place, in some way, into everyone's heart. People show at least a feigned interest in a team whether it be a Premiership side, a Conference dweller or your local Sunday League squad at the nearest playing fields. I respect this very much, but... I cannot stand the opinion that top-League football is better simply because it's top-League. It is an opinion that is obnoxious, narrow-minded and basically foolish: just because a team is in the Premiership for example, it does not mean they are an interesting team to watch.

However, as much as I hate to admit it, money makes a winning football team. This is glaringly apparent: Leeds United are in millions of pounds worth of debt and if they fail to hold onto Premiership status, they will sink – fast – due to the fact they will have to sell good players to make up for losses, making them a bad team, possibly seeing the team drop another league in a season, in turn losing interest from big business and sponsors, losing them more money... can you see where this is going? Look at Barnsley, Sheffield Wednesday, Wimbledon, QPR... they've all experienced Heaven and Hell.

On the other hand, however, look at the top 3 teams in the Football League at the moment (well, for the rest of the season most probably) – Arsenal, Manchester United and Chelsea. Anything that links them? Duckloads of cash. Manchester United has support all over the world and, in Singapore of all places, they have a whole Manchester United department store, the biggest in the world. Is it needed? Do these people show true support? Well, when asked, 95% of shoppers and staff in the store could not point out Manchester on a map of England – not even the manager. But, I mean, honestly – who cares? Brainwash the public and steal their money! Rawk. It won't matter in a few weeks when that cash buys some La Liga, Serie A or Bundesliga player worth millions...

...Which is also a point I'd love to make. Hartlepool United signed and are now playing their only international player, one Joel Porter from Australia. He's alright, yeah, but other players aren't pushed aside to accommodate him. The thing about Hartlepool United is that they hold onto their cultural and geographical status by developing a wonderful youth academy that has brought us talent from Antony Sweeney, Matty Robson, Jermaine Easter, Steven Istead, Darren Craddock and John Brackstone to name but a few. I cannot stand France In Red, a.k.a. Arsenal, Inter Manchester or Blue Europe (or Chelsea)'s attitudes to English football, neglecting the much needed youth talent in favour of international players who, although great in their own right, draw attention away from the English game and ignore the whole idea of an England side, making up the steaming foetid heap we are now internationally. That Chelsea game where they played 11 foreigners two seasons ago was ridiculous – teams shouldn't even be allowed to field more than half a side of foreign players anyway.

Higher league football has lost the plot – it is away from the fans and into the big business; full of geographically spaced supporters in it for the glory; and, fundamentally, it's disregarding grass-roots football. It enrages me when people constantly brag about Premiership teams who are, to be fair, so boring to watch and performing so badly: the likes of Middlesbrough, Everton, Spurs and, admittedly, my own interest (Aston Villa). But where's the sense of joint support and community spirit in the following of these clubs? Armchair disciples. What's so sad about it is that many won't have been to more than a couple of their home games in a lifetime.

I, on the other hand, have not missed a home match in the past two and a half years. Victoria Park, home to the local Nationwide Division Two side Hartlepool United, is possibly the biggest centre of human bonding in our town on a Saturday afternoon, probably being the biggest people gathering in the immediate area. But what's so good about it?

We're lucky, as a town, to have a pretty good football team. Having just been promoted last season and flying high in Division Two, occasionally flirting with the playoff positions, there's actual material to watch. Having also been unbeaten in the league at home for over 400 days, the longest club to be undefeated at home in the Football League, there is a sense of safety in the fortress of a stadium. But, this is beside the point; atmosphere makes football. The fact everyone sings together, singing in the same accent, singing with the same love or hatred for whatever they are singing about. The fact you actually KNOW people who are standing next to you, yes, STANDING! In legal terracing, the best form of stand, sadly banned in the Premiership. The shared sense of community duty to support your home side, the pride involved and so on – it's fantastic. So what if the players aren't big names? They will be, were, or at least have a right to be on the side.

So in retrospect I say to you Armchair Disciples to show some real support and to respect fellow football teams. You are, if anything, the “worse fans”, not because of your support for a worse team but your general lack of good sportsmanship. Football is not about the money, it's about the collective enjoyment. And, rightly said, support for a different culture only separates you from your own – I mean, really! Who'd want to become a wannabe Manc, Scouser or Cockney?

The Twaddle: i h8 teenage poetry

Trends come and go, it has to be said; this phenomenon is found particularly among teenagers, striving to be different yet looking remarkably similar. There was the Korn stage... then the Slipknot stage... then the multitude of chore-on-music fusions; the punk stage! Oops, sorry, wannabe-punk stage, “for they just were sk8r bois, she said see yer later boi”.

One thing will always remain through music-defined teenage culture though: random angst, and the best, most pity-gaining ways of expressing it. This, quite nicely, brings me to poetry. Not any old poetry, oh no – poetry that must, I repeat, must contain themes of violence; suicide; unrequited love (or as I like to define it, asking someone out when, to be honest, you lack the stones – subliminal messaging, if you will); or, usually, hate.

I have seen this everywhere – poetry that lacks the primary elements of language, form and structure. Poetry that, when analysed properly, can actually be seen as lies through use of wording and rhyme. Poetry that epitomises “what you see is what you get”.

“So”, I hear you ask, “how do I write bad poetry? I mean, I am a very mysterious metalhead, after all. Please tell me, how do I express suicidal tendencies so my friends can stroke me on the head and comfort me every time I quiver my lip?”

Yes indeedy. Well, it follows the same basic rules, which are mixed and matched to gain the sympathy the “poet” hopes to gain. They are outlined in these simple stages:

1. Swear as often as possible, particularly when the reader least expects it.
2. Use the words “alone”, “darkness”, “knife”, “suicide”, “falling”, “depressed”, “blood”, “silence”, “night”, etc. frequently.
3. Use capital letters – of course, you're shouting throughout this, aren't you?
4. Make sure it rhymes, for God's sake! It's poetry! Even if it means going slightly off on a tangent! Actually, no, take the other approach – short line length, absolutely no rhyme.
5. Assonance? Consonance? Who are they?
6. Line length? OK, now you've lost me.
7. Announce in roundabout ways that tonight is your last night on Earth.
8. By no means express emotion through comparison or metaphor. Simply say how you feel.
9. Please... please, please, please! Spell like you do on MSN Messenger! That means plenty of “U”, “2”, “h8” (particularly h8) and, of course, “luv” (because it's just not a jot on love – “luv” doesn't mean anything in comparison to love, it trivialises the concept of love; this so-called “term” is used in relationships when both sides of said relationship know that it means nothing).

So yeah. I hate “new age” poets. It all makes me cringe. They all lack the skills to truly construct poetry to manipulate the reader to their point of view. Even I, who am now in my second year of English Literature, have no idea where to start. However, I do know there's more about poetry than speech with a line length limit. I promise you that you will not find a teenage piece of poetry that means anything to anyone else. The key to good poetry is to be able to relate to, conjure up or manipulate readers' feelings and thoughts to give insight into the poet's life; not to ask somebody out with, not as an excuse to swear and, in particular, not to tell them straight up what the problem is – you could write a story or passage to do that.

Poetry is an age-old skill, not a modern art – it should be respected and used correctly and not abused at the hands of the greasy, the partially vocally broken, the pity-seekers or the morally deaf that see it as rebellious, clever or witty.