Friday, 26 October 2007
Whose shoes are the greenest?
Town's opponents this weekend, Bradford City, may be down towards the bottom of the fourth division, but an environmental study published last week ranks Bradford top of the league of Britain's greenest cities.
Blundell Park should witness a clash of the ecological titans tomorrow, then, given the new pecking order of football on the Humber – because when Town fans look at the league positions of Hull and Scunthorpe, Grimsby turns a particularly vivid shade of green as well.
True, the Mariners have a long way to go in the battle against global warming. Substantial areas of the polar icecaps melt every time Town concede another daft goal and waves of heat emanate from Alan Buckley's head. And the worldwide average temperature increases by as much as 1ºC for every month that Town spend outside the promotion positions because of all the hot air generated by the internet messageboards.
The club's new stadium, if it comes to fruition, is unlikely to enhance our green credentials. Out-of-town developments are notorious for encouraging car use, and out-of-town football grounds are doubly notorious for having massive car parks with only one exit road, so that after you've sat and watched rubbish football for an hour and a half you have to sit in your car with your engine running for another hour and a half while you queue up to get out of the bloody place and forget about the whole miserable experience.
Furthermore, let us not overlook the club's habit of rescheduling daytime matches for the peculiar timeslot of Friday night. Not only is Friday night football a blasphemy against all that is good and holy on God's sweet earth: it also incurs unnecessary floodlight use. By the time the club suits have been through the fixture list with a red pen, the club must have a carbon footprint big enough to melt Alaska.
Grimsby's contribution towards saving the planet should not go unrecognised, however. One of the key messages of the green movement is to buy local and cut down on the air miles travelled by the goods we consume before they reach us. And Alan Buckley, to his ecological credit, has always operated a 'buy British' transfer policy, in stark contrast to the carbon emissions racked up while Lennie Lawrence and Russell Slade shipped in 19 trialists every week from France, Norway and the Democratic Republic of Congo.
Most of all, a truly sustainable society, rather than depending upon throwaway goods, builds things to last, so that sturdy, reusable shopping bags, for instance, are preferable to plastic carriers. And while the Mariners have recently tended towards the use of disposable managers, it's a fine example of recycling to use the same one three times over.
Blundell Park should witness a clash of the ecological titans tomorrow, then, given the new pecking order of football on the Humber – because when Town fans look at the league positions of Hull and Scunthorpe, Grimsby turns a particularly vivid shade of green as well.
True, the Mariners have a long way to go in the battle against global warming. Substantial areas of the polar icecaps melt every time Town concede another daft goal and waves of heat emanate from Alan Buckley's head. And the worldwide average temperature increases by as much as 1ºC for every month that Town spend outside the promotion positions because of all the hot air generated by the internet messageboards.
The club's new stadium, if it comes to fruition, is unlikely to enhance our green credentials. Out-of-town developments are notorious for encouraging car use, and out-of-town football grounds are doubly notorious for having massive car parks with only one exit road, so that after you've sat and watched rubbish football for an hour and a half you have to sit in your car with your engine running for another hour and a half while you queue up to get out of the bloody place and forget about the whole miserable experience.
Furthermore, let us not overlook the club's habit of rescheduling daytime matches for the peculiar timeslot of Friday night. Not only is Friday night football a blasphemy against all that is good and holy on God's sweet earth: it also incurs unnecessary floodlight use. By the time the club suits have been through the fixture list with a red pen, the club must have a carbon footprint big enough to melt Alaska.
Grimsby's contribution towards saving the planet should not go unrecognised, however. One of the key messages of the green movement is to buy local and cut down on the air miles travelled by the goods we consume before they reach us. And Alan Buckley, to his ecological credit, has always operated a 'buy British' transfer policy, in stark contrast to the carbon emissions racked up while Lennie Lawrence and Russell Slade shipped in 19 trialists every week from France, Norway and the Democratic Republic of Congo.
Most of all, a truly sustainable society, rather than depending upon throwaway goods, builds things to last, so that sturdy, reusable shopping bags, for instance, are preferable to plastic carriers. And while the Mariners have recently tended towards the use of disposable managers, it's a fine example of recycling to use the same one three times over.
Labels: bradford, buckley, environment, global warming, hull, lawrence, recycling, scunthorpe, slade, transfers, transport, travel
Friday, 19 October 2007
The man on the Cleethorpes omnibus
Signing players is like catching a bus – you have to wait ages, and then two come at once. And then the privately owned, deregulated bus operator claims some of its routes are making a loss and threatens to close them down unless the council hands over thousands of pounds of public money in 'subsidies'.
Alan Buckley's record in the transfer market is mostly admirable, and sometimes astounding. Buckley is aware of this, and has shrewdly reminded us of it by suggesting that Martin Butler could be the new Garry Birtles. Not all of the manager's acquisitions down the years were quite that successful, however, and it is telling that he refrained last season from comparing Martin Paterson with, say, Murray Jones.
While Town were negotiating his transfer, Butler was described by the club as "an unnamed striker". GTFC then had to confirm his identity, as the media reported it before the deal was finalised – but the commercial department was already complaining to the PR office that if this new striker didn't have a name then they'd have a nightmare getting a certificate of authenticity for his shirt when they flogged it on eBay.
There are times when we need to put aside our reservations and just place a little faith in a manager with a record unrivalled in the Mariners' 129-year history. When Town and Southend were scrapping for top spot in the old third division in 1990, Southend signed a young centre-half from Arsenal, who were top of the league, and the very same day Buckley signed an old centre-half from the club at the very bottom, and we all sighed and lamented Town's characteristic lack of ambition.
That club was Halifax; the player was Paul Futcher; and the rest is history. Nearly 15 years of giddy overachievement, to be precise.
So what of Town's other new player, Shaleum Logan? Other than scoring on his debut against Rochdale last week, the Manchester City loanee showed good pace, agility and tackling – pretty much justifying the description of him by City manager Sven-Goran Eriksson, who said he seemed reminiscent of a younger Ashley Cole.
The defining passage of Cole's recent autobiography is that in which his agent phones up while Cole is driving, with the details of Arsenal's new contract offer, and the player swears bitterly and almost crashes in disgust at the prospect of having to live on £55,000 a week.
It is to be hoped, then, that Sven was referring solely to Logan's playing style, as Cole would clearly be better off travelling by bus, and we can't have important first-team players relying on the 9X to get to Blundell Park. You have to wait ages for it, and then two come at once.
Alan Buckley's record in the transfer market is mostly admirable, and sometimes astounding. Buckley is aware of this, and has shrewdly reminded us of it by suggesting that Martin Butler could be the new Garry Birtles. Not all of the manager's acquisitions down the years were quite that successful, however, and it is telling that he refrained last season from comparing Martin Paterson with, say, Murray Jones.
While Town were negotiating his transfer, Butler was described by the club as "an unnamed striker". GTFC then had to confirm his identity, as the media reported it before the deal was finalised – but the commercial department was already complaining to the PR office that if this new striker didn't have a name then they'd have a nightmare getting a certificate of authenticity for his shirt when they flogged it on eBay.
There are times when we need to put aside our reservations and just place a little faith in a manager with a record unrivalled in the Mariners' 129-year history. When Town and Southend were scrapping for top spot in the old third division in 1990, Southend signed a young centre-half from Arsenal, who were top of the league, and the very same day Buckley signed an old centre-half from the club at the very bottom, and we all sighed and lamented Town's characteristic lack of ambition.
That club was Halifax; the player was Paul Futcher; and the rest is history. Nearly 15 years of giddy overachievement, to be precise.
So what of Town's other new player, Shaleum Logan? Other than scoring on his debut against Rochdale last week, the Manchester City loanee showed good pace, agility and tackling – pretty much justifying the description of him by City manager Sven-Goran Eriksson, who said he seemed reminiscent of a younger Ashley Cole.
The defining passage of Cole's recent autobiography is that in which his agent phones up while Cole is driving, with the details of Arsenal's new contract offer, and the player swears bitterly and almost crashes in disgust at the prospect of having to live on £55,000 a week.
It is to be hoped, then, that Sven was referring solely to Logan's playing style, as Cole would clearly be better off travelling by bus, and we can't have important first-team players relying on the 9X to get to Blundell Park. You have to wait ages for it, and then two come at once.
Labels: birtles, buckley, buses, butler, cole, futcher, logan, rochdale, transfers, travel
Friday, 31 August 2007
One step forward, two steps back
Until lately I was never much of a one for walking anywhere. True, walking is less strenuous than running, or surfing, or screaming abuse at Dave Challinor for 90 minutes. But it is still physical activity, and therein lay the problem.
But the doctor said if I didn't reduce my cholesterol then my heart might stop at any moment (the risk presumably being heightened while screaming abuse at Dave Challinor). My options were to do some exercise, give up pies and ale, or take some tablets with terrifying potential side-effects (warning: may cause drowsiness, nausea, or the sudden melting of your liver).
Of these three unappealing prospects I settled on exercise. And rather than spend two or three nights a week in one of those appalling gyms, dribbling like a lab rat wired to an electric shock machine, I settled on the much more dignified business of walking. Walking is environmentally sound; it gives you time to think and daydream; and, most importantly of all, it is much cheaper these days than getting the bus.
Furthermore, walking is the favoured form of activity of many top athletes and sports professionals. Anyone who has watched international football recently will know that members of the England team, for example, clearly prefer 90 minutes of walking to any kind of running at all.
And walking to and from the football is an important part of many supporters' matchday rituals – which is being destroyed by the move to new stadiums in the middle of nowhere.
Town are away at Shrewsbury tomorrow, a fixture traditionally enriched by the leisurely stroll to Gay Meadow from the superb Three Fish pub in the town centre. But the Shrews have now moved to a depressing-looking new ground on cheap land out of town. Any seasoned user of foot power will tell you it's the walk first, then a few pints – not the other way round. So after a pre-match drink that journey to the edge of Shrewsbury would feel more like 30 miles than three – and, as if this were not already too great a feat of endurance, instead of having a nice long bath at the end of it you'd have to watch a fourth division football match.
And this would apply equally to the Mariners' proposed new stadium. When (and if) we make it to the Fentydome, I'll miss that stroll along the Grimsby Road from the Rutland Arms. I'll miss the lovely Huddersfield couple who run the chippy we always stop at. And I certainly won't be joining in with the chant "Driving down the A180 or perhaps using a park-and-ride system to seeeeeee the Buckley's aces/And then waiting two hours to get out of the car park afterwards".
But the doctor said if I didn't reduce my cholesterol then my heart might stop at any moment (the risk presumably being heightened while screaming abuse at Dave Challinor). My options were to do some exercise, give up pies and ale, or take some tablets with terrifying potential side-effects (warning: may cause drowsiness, nausea, or the sudden melting of your liver).
Of these three unappealing prospects I settled on exercise. And rather than spend two or three nights a week in one of those appalling gyms, dribbling like a lab rat wired to an electric shock machine, I settled on the much more dignified business of walking. Walking is environmentally sound; it gives you time to think and daydream; and, most importantly of all, it is much cheaper these days than getting the bus.
Furthermore, walking is the favoured form of activity of many top athletes and sports professionals. Anyone who has watched international football recently will know that members of the England team, for example, clearly prefer 90 minutes of walking to any kind of running at all.
And walking to and from the football is an important part of many supporters' matchday rituals – which is being destroyed by the move to new stadiums in the middle of nowhere.
Town are away at Shrewsbury tomorrow, a fixture traditionally enriched by the leisurely stroll to Gay Meadow from the superb Three Fish pub in the town centre. But the Shrews have now moved to a depressing-looking new ground on cheap land out of town. Any seasoned user of foot power will tell you it's the walk first, then a few pints – not the other way round. So after a pre-match drink that journey to the edge of Shrewsbury would feel more like 30 miles than three – and, as if this were not already too great a feat of endurance, instead of having a nice long bath at the end of it you'd have to watch a fourth division football match.
And this would apply equally to the Mariners' proposed new stadium. When (and if) we make it to the Fentydome, I'll miss that stroll along the Grimsby Road from the Rutland Arms. I'll miss the lovely Huddersfield couple who run the chippy we always stop at. And I certainly won't be joining in with the chant "Driving down the A180 or perhaps using a park-and-ride system to seeeeeee the Buckley's aces/And then waiting two hours to get out of the car park afterwards".
Labels: challinor, drinking, fentydome, idleness, new stadiums, shrewsbury, travel, walking
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