Pandagate

Last week, I became involved in a minor spat over the BBC's inclusion of a panda in its Women Faces of the Year 2011. I wrote mini-profiles of a list of people of which I had no input over the choice. I say minor: it was enough to make the front page of several papers including, disappointingly, The Guardian. It was meant to be a light-hearted piece in keeping with a tradition in which Peppa the Pig and Benson the Carp had featured in previous years in both the male and female lists. However, given the justified anger at the BBC's failure to include a woman in their nominations for Sports Personality of the Year, and being an extremely thin day for news, the choice of the panda was seized upon, out of all proportion, as another example of BBC misogyny.
It was interesting that most of the argument was played out on Twitter. I enjoy Twitter for various reasons but the very nature of the medium does lend itself open to frenzied responses and bandwagon jumping. Once a row has started and a trend begun, here's an opportunity for everyone to charge in with an opinion. This can be fun and entertaining, but the importance of the subject can spiral out of all proportion.
Another amusing aspect of the whole business was that many of the abusive emails and tweets I received, including one which read "all men are apes" were far more sexist than anything being complained about. Insult to apes, methinks.

Dublin Marathon

A week before the race was due to take place I developed a heavy cold and for a while I thought I might not be able to participate. I knew that as long as I didn't have a temperature I'd take part even if I had to walk most of it. However, by the time race day arrived I was feeling a whole lot better. The first half of the race went by in less than two hours but I was already beginning to sag and the rest of the race became a matter of survival. There were some lovely moments. I was amused by three signs. Where else but in Ireland would you read "Run like you're late for Mass". One attractive girl held a sign saying, "You're all Kenyans to me". Needless to say, the Kenyans cleaned up in the elite race. Another sign read, "Toenails are overrated". Any runner will know the significance of that: I now sport three black toenails on my left foot. The weather had been sunny in Dublin until race day. The first three and a half hours of my race were not too bad - just the occasional shower. But in the last hour the heavens opened. Despite that, the crowds came out and cheered us on. I do so appreciate these people - my name was on my racing bib thanks to Ama from Afrikids, which I'd used for my last marathon in Edinburgh, and the number of times I heard, "Come on, Bob" or "Fair play to you Bob" was uncountable. I ran a lot of the time next to a man wearing nothing but a pair of running shoes and a thong. He had "Good Luck" written on his buttocks. There were 15,000 of us running - from 51 different countries. Our hotel was full of Italians. It was the biggest show in town and afterwards, when I went to enjoy plenty of the black stuff, some pubs were discounting drinks for those wearing their medals. Even though I was a lot slower than last year, I know that my cold had probably cost me at least 15 minutes - I came in at 4 hours 27 minutes. But I feel a great sense of achievement and am glad that I've been able to raise more than £1300 for Afrikids so far and am hopeful for more.

Marathon

Began the 9th week of my training for October 31st's Dublin Marathon with a three-hour run, approximately 20 miles. Went well but was glad of a massage aterwards. I'm running for a purpose. Next April I'm one of a small team that aims to drive a couple of ambulances from Southampton to Bolgatanga in the north of Ghana. This will mean driving through France, Spain, Morocco, Western Sahara, Mauritania, Senegal, Mali, Burkina Faso and Ghana. We expect it to take three weeks. We'll pay our own costs but we need to raise money for the ambulances themselves and everything else including fuel to get us there. Please donate if you can, however small. There are hardly any doctors in the area and the number of people who turn up dead on arrival at the hospital because they had no ambulance to bring them is unnacceptably high. You can donate at http://www.justgiving.com/Ambulances-to-Africa

Thanks.

My Dear Brother Pete

We buried my brother Pete on Friday in a beautiful spot in the churchyard in Wheatley near Oxford where we grew up as kids. It's difficult for all of us when you see your brother/son/Dad/friend being lowered into the grave when only a few days before he was his usual ebullient self. Strangely, though, I felt euphoric. During the preceding days, trying to come to terms with the shock of his unexpected death, helping to arrange all the many details required for the funeral, worrying about family squabbles and so on, was quite draining. However, on the day, with all the heightened emotion, meeting so many of his friends from different walks of life, reacquainting myself with so many relatives who made great efforts to come despite short notice, the consumption of a fair bit of alcohol to help with the release of emotion, and the fact that everything turned out so well with scarcely a hitch made for an extraordinary day that will long live in the memory.
Now of course, there exists a permanent gap that Pete once filled with which we will have to live and with which only time will help us cope.

Owen Edwards

While writing an obituary of the first chief executive of S4C in Wales, Owen Edwards, for the Guardian this week, (read it here at www.guardian.co.uk/media/2010/sep/08/owen-edwards-obituary)I was reminded of the turmoil and the division that existed not only between the English and Welsh speakers but of the Welsh and the English generally that existed in the 1970s and 1980s in particular, in the land of the daffodil and dragon.
When Willie Whitelaw reneged on a Tory manifesto pleadge to establish a Welsh language TV channel it provoked sit-ins, sabotage and even the threat of hunger strikes. Eventually he agreed on a three-year experiment that Owen Edwards carefully negotiated, and as a result, the channel is now part of the Welsh national fabric.
In the meantime, Welsh nationalist extremists had been setting fire to second homes belonging to English people whom they believed were guilty of freezing out locals in a kind of modern-day imperialism. "Come home to a real fire", went a coal TV advert that was satirised in the Welsh nationalist context by Not The Nine O'clock News.
Yet, it took many years before the Welsh Assembly was eventually established and the successful demands of the Welsh language lobby added to the factors that prevented a serious demand for a Welsh republic on anything similar to their Celtic cousins north of the border.
I have a very distant connection with Welsh nationalism. I recently discovered that a possible relative of mine, a William Chaundy, served alongside Owain Glyndwr in the Battle of Otterburn fought against the Scots in 1388. Glyndwr later staged a rebellion against his English masters and declared himself Prince of Wales. I don't know if William joined his rebellion or not. I wonder what Owen Edwards would have thought of him.

World Cup Lessons

1. I've argued before about the introduction of technology. Nuff said.
2. The handball rule should be altered. This must be the most inconsistently applied rule in the game. The idea of a penalty being given for handball after the ball has been blasted on to the arm of a defender at a free-kick when there's no time to get it out of the way is simply ludicrous. You'll never get rid of different interpretations by referees, but to reduce the inconsistency why not only make it handball from the hand to the elbow. Besides, this would have confirmed the legality of Luis Fabiano's excellent goal against ...(can't remember, but you know the one I mean).
3. Don't accuse those of us who proclaim that England won't win a particular game (most notably against USA and Germany) of being anti-patriotic pessimists. Some of us have dropped the delusions of past imperialism.
4. Don't think that just because England put in a couple of poor performances (as against USA and Germany), that they're bound to get better in the next one. If the system's broke, it doesn't suddenly fix itself.
5. Lay off Wayne Rooney. As a Man Utd fan, I'm as disappointed as anyone that he played poorly. BUT Rooney isn't a genius. Even at his best, he's good but not great. He rarely beats a player, his ball control is only adequate. He's never been a George Best. Also playing him next to a donkey for the first couple of games didn't do wonders for his confidence in Capello's system.
6. FIFA must introduce an appeals panel. It seems to me to be an infringement of human rights that a player can fake an injury that results in a red card for an opponent who can do nothing about it. I don't believe this undermines a referee. He can't be expected to see everything especially as players have become so adept at the sneaky elbow to the face and play-acting etc. The appeals panel (see above) can then sanction punishment against the offender.
7. Make vuvuzelas compulsory for all England crowds. This could be the best way to drown out The Great Escape.
8. Never let Emmanuel Adebayor near a TV studio. I haven't understood a word he's said. On the other hand, make Clarence Seedorf a permanent fixture. And Robbie Savage on radio too.
9. Allow the use of super slo-mo HD replays of players' faces only once per half.
10. Replace Capello with Guus Hiddink immediately.

Edinburgh Marathon

Well it's over. 4 hours and 10 minutes. I was hoping to break 4 hours but in 25 degrees of heat, the last six miles were really tough. It was very sad to hear that one runner died of a heart attack.
It started off lovely and cool, with an overcast sky, and the first 8 miles went by at an 8 minute per mile rate. I felt great. I tried to imagine I was being chased by a mad Scotsman in a kilt and tam o'shanter. When I turned round I was. A whole gaggle of them. But at least I wasn't overtaken by the Loch Ness monster. Listened to Desert Island Discs for 45 minutes on my digital pocket radio and when that finished, I'd got half-way round in 1 hour 55. Then the sun came out with a vengeance, in 79 per cent humidity. Despite taking on lots of water and energy drinks throughout, there was one point at around 20 miles when I was so thirsty I had to beg a bystander to let me finish her bottle of water which she did very graciously. Then, at the next water station I downed an energy drink so quickly I got a stitch which meant stopping every so often to stretch my stomach muscle. That put paid to the sub-four hour bid. At the end they gave you a medal that weighed seemingly half a ton depicting Edinburgh Castle. I was so knackered, it could have been the Taj Mahal and I wouldn't have complained. I joined a queue, as you do. I thought it was the queue to get out. In fact, it was to have an official photo taken. I dread to think what I must have looked like.
However, I thoroughly "enjoyed" it or do I mean "endured" it? I was pleased in that seven years ago I completed the London Marathon in almost exactly the same time. And the other good news is that I reached my £1000 target for Afrikids. In fact, as I struggled over the last few miles (most people around me did as well) it was the thought of the kids in Ghana that helped keep me going. That and Florence and the Machine on my ipod!
The biggest disappointment, however, was that this year you didn't get a free pint. Ah well. It was a great experience and, extraordinarily, having joked with my daughter Kate's friend Lois that we would race each other, and having not seen her once during the actual race, we finished within a minute of each other. And thanks to Kate and Sarah for the Bobby God and Run Lois Run signs that they made for us.
And, of course, thanks again to all of you who sponsored me.