“When morality comes up against profit, it is seldom that profit loses.” Shirley Chisholm
Fortunately, this week proved otherwise…for now. Later in the week I found myself kneeling at my Mum’s feet, a position I appear to have adopted at regular points in life.
Tasked with her daily exercise routines – “I bloody hate the gym!” – she patted me on the head and pointed out that I had a shock of grey hair.
I pointed out that I had just gone 58. And then she was off scooting around the room, stick in hand, mischievous grin as if to say “what?”
Greed
The worst kept secret in football came out this week. Despite an embarrassing climbdown, notable for several shadowy figures eventually crawling out of the woodwork to spin meaningless platitudes, the money men still own what was once a working man’s pleasure.
Ironically, the monetisation of top level sport has destroyed much of what gave sport its universal appeal…and apparent value. However, the money men do not care; this was all about greed, nothing else.
What they seem not to understand is that it is very hard to make money out of sport in general; investors deep deep pockets and passion.
And what they cannot feel is what they have never experienced, for they are outsiders looking in, jealous of the creations they covet, willing to pay whatever price simply to belong.
Have they ever experienced the tears and toil, joy and pain, agony and ecstasy of playing or supporting any team? Life outside of a spreadsheet is far more complicated than anything money can cure. Sport is life.
This is why kids of today are so limp-fisted – few of them have access to sport – it will not end well for generations to come.
Football is not the only sport in the grip of the money men either. But shareholdings do not bestow true ownership of clubs like Barcelona, Juventus and Manchester United.
The suits are mere custodians; they did not invent the game nor can they possibly understand it. You cannot treat a clubs like a KFC franchise, clubs belong to communities, to fans and to the sports they represent.
Sadly, its not just football in the grip of the money men.
As Chris Waters, The Yorkshire Post’s excellent cricket writer wrote (17/4) re the infantile concept of money laden The Hundred due to launch this summer.
…the ECB seems to be on a crusade to make it as far removed from cricket as possible…have you noticed how the only people who seem to want The Hundred are those who stand to benefit financially: players, coaches, counties, broadcasters, and so on. No-one with half a brain has any truck with the concept.
Nor did they with the so-called Super League.
When The Penny Drops
Bradford city centre is becoming “overloaded” with low cost flats, and planners will no longer push for city apartment schemes to include affordable housing. So ran the headline to an article that could have been headed Stating The Bleeding Obvious.
Which brings me to another patently obvious fact; should the apartment/flat/shoebox market dry up – as it will – how do Bradford Council achieve 7,000 new city centre homes, key to their Local Plan 2020-38? In short – they do not. Wakey, wakey Susie?
And Finally
Watching the evening news I was informed that it was not cows who were to blame for global warming but cats and dogs. I’ve never seen a cat or a dog drive a Humvee but still I listened on.
Pets and pet food create methane so owners were being urged to switch to meat free diets. I can just imagine the reaction if I had fed my murderous Gladstone a stick of broccoli.
The journalist then went on to introduce a “professional dog walker”.
Can you imagine sitting with the careers officer and telling them you wanted to be a professional dog walker? A quick slap around the head and it would be the Army for you.
What qualifications do you need to scoop shit up into a plastic bag? I thought the job description of nail technician was taking the proverbial but this hits new heights.
Back to the interview as a nice lady explained the responsibilities of professional dog walking as if akin to piloting an Airbus; the discussion turned to diet.
A cropped haired woman told how her rescued Staffie was now vegan; I have never seen a more miserable looking mutt in all my life. I swear it had a Greenpeace collar and a CND tattoo.
It was time for a beer!
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