TV Ted Ellery
Bench
- Messages
- 2,524
Ok, people of the forum,
Imagine for a moment that you are a Pom. You have a ruddy complexion, your dentist abandonned you in the great denistry desertion of 74', you bemoan thatthe English language has become bastardised through poor education and apathy in the colonies while overlooking the incoherence and slang-riddled speech of many of your compatriots, you have multiple incarnations of Australia's worst paper the telegraph, and in fact most of these are more salacious, and at one stage you elected John Major into government.
The way you approach Sports spectating is also noteworthy. As a Pom you inherit a great legacy of cynicism, skepticism, self-doubt, pessimism and ism, ism which are imbued in the English psyche. One benefit of this way of thinking is that you become adept in the art of self-deprecating humour.
You can also be smug that invariably you were right for not placing any in behind your stars. But remember, while you have no faith you still possess great expectations.
Changing perspectives momentarily, as an English sportsperson of any skill or repute you might be singled out to be burdened with the collective expectations of 60 million voracious, ruddy faced Poms and several acrimonious newspaper editors waiting for you to fall so that they can run that cutting but incredibly witty headline that they have had waiting for the past 2 months. If you think that a lack of personality will delvier you from such a fate, think again. If you think that having no conceivable chance of winning will spare you from this cruel circus, think again.
Returning to your average Billy Pom, not the one who plays tennis and never wins but the one who gets a morbid satisfaction when the nobody in the middle never wins, you will not make any positive prediction before a match begins because you are extremely self-conscious and don't want to look like an idiot if your confidence amounts to nothing. During the course of a game you are less circumspect, you get carried away with the ebbing and flowing of the contest and make a series of bold proclamations inevitably followed by the sober retractions. In the evnt that you win you are understandably intoxicated with joy and crappy Newcastle ale and the headline writers are in such an unfamiliar position that they can only come up with a rushed and banal headline like 'Henman aces the Bemuda Open.'
A loss is the more realistic proposition. You initially unleash your contempt for the team/player and occasionally turn your spite in the direction of the flamboyant and camp Switz referee and you flood his website with abuse. You also scorn the country of the victorious team/player of being over-zealous and infatuated with sports at the expense of arts and intellectual pursuits. After this period of venting your frustration has elapsed you remind yourself that you were indeed right for placing no faith in the team and continue to read the tabloids to find sports news in its accustomed form at page 1 or in the social pages, following the wacky adventures of Becks +Posh+ Spanish nanny or Rooney+ Chav girlthingy.
Now England + their fans are faced with a conundrum.
Do they
(a) Continue their brilliant momentum + embrace this unusual confidence by going for the win. 3-1 would sound lovely.
(b) Hope that Les Parker Jr, curator at the Oval prepares a road so that they can play for the draw.
Or similarly,
(c) Hope that it rains.
(d) Go into the game with a pessimistic outlook so that their hopes will not be dashed when they lose. After all a drawn series in enough to stem the run of 18 consecutive years of losing ashes campaigns.
Imagine for a moment that you are a Pom. You have a ruddy complexion, your dentist abandonned you in the great denistry desertion of 74', you bemoan thatthe English language has become bastardised through poor education and apathy in the colonies while overlooking the incoherence and slang-riddled speech of many of your compatriots, you have multiple incarnations of Australia's worst paper the telegraph, and in fact most of these are more salacious, and at one stage you elected John Major into government.
The way you approach Sports spectating is also noteworthy. As a Pom you inherit a great legacy of cynicism, skepticism, self-doubt, pessimism and ism, ism which are imbued in the English psyche. One benefit of this way of thinking is that you become adept in the art of self-deprecating humour.
You can also be smug that invariably you were right for not placing any in behind your stars. But remember, while you have no faith you still possess great expectations.
Changing perspectives momentarily, as an English sportsperson of any skill or repute you might be singled out to be burdened with the collective expectations of 60 million voracious, ruddy faced Poms and several acrimonious newspaper editors waiting for you to fall so that they can run that cutting but incredibly witty headline that they have had waiting for the past 2 months. If you think that a lack of personality will delvier you from such a fate, think again. If you think that having no conceivable chance of winning will spare you from this cruel circus, think again.
Returning to your average Billy Pom, not the one who plays tennis and never wins but the one who gets a morbid satisfaction when the nobody in the middle never wins, you will not make any positive prediction before a match begins because you are extremely self-conscious and don't want to look like an idiot if your confidence amounts to nothing. During the course of a game you are less circumspect, you get carried away with the ebbing and flowing of the contest and make a series of bold proclamations inevitably followed by the sober retractions. In the evnt that you win you are understandably intoxicated with joy and crappy Newcastle ale and the headline writers are in such an unfamiliar position that they can only come up with a rushed and banal headline like 'Henman aces the Bemuda Open.'
A loss is the more realistic proposition. You initially unleash your contempt for the team/player and occasionally turn your spite in the direction of the flamboyant and camp Switz referee and you flood his website with abuse. You also scorn the country of the victorious team/player of being over-zealous and infatuated with sports at the expense of arts and intellectual pursuits. After this period of venting your frustration has elapsed you remind yourself that you were indeed right for placing no faith in the team and continue to read the tabloids to find sports news in its accustomed form at page 1 or in the social pages, following the wacky adventures of Becks +Posh+ Spanish nanny or Rooney+ Chav girlthingy.
Now England + their fans are faced with a conundrum.
Do they
(a) Continue their brilliant momentum + embrace this unusual confidence by going for the win. 3-1 would sound lovely.
(b) Hope that Les Parker Jr, curator at the Oval prepares a road so that they can play for the draw.
Or similarly,
(c) Hope that it rains.
(d) Go into the game with a pessimistic outlook so that their hopes will not be dashed when they lose. After all a drawn series in enough to stem the run of 18 consecutive years of losing ashes campaigns.
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