At the start of the year, i finally resolved to get fit, as i usually do as a new year's resolution, which normally last an indeterminate amount of time from a few hours to a couple of weeks at most, before settling down to a unhealthy life of idleness and sloth.
At the turn of the year, my life was not really any great shakes, i was miserable, fed up, stressed out, depressed about things that had been going off in life which i didn't think i could change, and my self confidence was more or less bumping along at rock bottom. I was overweight, unfit, drinking too much, smoking heavily, not eating good food, and to be honest i wasn't anywhere near my best, and mentally and physically a human train wreck. Not nice to say it, not nice to even have to accept it, and i more than anything there was some sort of acceptance that i had to change things.
Part of that had to come with getting a little bit fitter, not suddenly turn in to a Iron man, living on a athlete's diet, and spending every single waking moment thinking about exercise and living life like a Trappist month, but just doing that little bit that made me a little bit fitter, and with that maybe it could improve my life that little bit more.
January was an interesting month, as New Year's Day was the watershed moment, the day i told myself that i would get up, go for a run, and try and run the excess of nearly a full bottle of Jack Daniel's consumed alone the previous night after work. I got up at 1 in the afternoon, put on a pair of tracksuit bottoms, a hoodie top pulled up, and my pair of Nike Air Rift's as they was the nearest thing i had that resembled running shoes and off i went coughing and spluttering as i tried to run to the bottom of the road, and did a short run that was more or less around the block. I did this again a couple of days later, and just by going 2 or 3 times a week, I'd gone from coughing and gasping my way around the block, to jogging 5k runs, the times were not quick, nor did they have to be, but there was something in it, i began to feel a bit stronger, a bit happier and whilst i was doing this, i was self motivating myself telling myself that you can't change the past but you can change your future.
Runs would then start with loads of good intentions, thinking to myself I'll feel better for a run, before getting out there and being on a run and thinking that i hope nobody see's me, why the bloody hell am i doing this, I'm knackered, i want to stop, i want to go home, it's cold, it's wet, before thinking that I've come this far, not long to go, then nearly home, and crikey, i could do a bit longer at this, and then i would get in, and feel proud of what i had done, have a bit more energy and rest and relax in a nice long hot bath, and feel that little bit better about myself for doing it.
My running has been steady and consistent, I've been getting out there a couple of times a week, not really worrying about how quick I've been going, or being overly concerned about progress or a lack of progress, but just doing what i can do within my limits, and enjoying the benefits of it. What did happen was that i felt like i enjoyed it enough, and enjoyed the benefits a lot more to make a commitment to carrying on for a few more months, and i made that commitment by entering a 10k and deciding to benefit a very worthy cause by doing it for charity. In my case the Sheffield Children's Hospital as i have a couple of close friends who came close to losing their baby son a couple of years back, and i saw at close quarters the superb work they do, and besides i spent enough time in there as a child through various escapades that it was time to give them a little bit back.
I've been a runner now for 5 and a half months, it's not that long, but it is long enough for me to know that it is now something that i don't just do, because i feel that i should do, or feel under pressure from myself to do it, it is more something that i want to do deep down. I get up earlier just so i can go out there and get a run in at the start of my day, or when i get back from work, i do a quick change and get out there and have a run, because it is something that i actually want to do, and look forwards to doing. The hardest thing now is to stop myself from doing too much and injuring myself, as if i could, i would go out there every day such is the enjoyment that i get out of it.
Recently i felt the need to push myself to the next level, and after chatting to a couple of people who i work with who also run, i decided to give myself perhaps the biggest test so far, and that was to up my runs from my usual 5k and the occasional 7k, to trying to do 10k. I got up early in the morning to give myself enough time to do it, and have plenty of rest time afterwards, and the night before i planned out the route i would take, and i was really looking forwards to the challenge. It was a big success, as i really paced myself during the early section of my run, which meant there was enough in the tank for a long 2k hill climb, and after the 2k hill climb i had already passed the 6k mark, and then afterwards after breaking the hill climb i felt my body click in to another gear, where the running was more and relaxing, effortless and for the first time i felt like i was in the zone. I ended up doing just under 11k in an hour and 30 minutes. The time irrelevant, but the distance massively important.
I'm thinking about a lot of other things that have stemmed from the running, I've not smoked for almost 4 weeks with one relapse in between (which i felt deeply ashamed about), limited my alcohol intake drastically, and tried to reduce the amount of crap food that i eat, and replace it with healthy food. Salad's instead of chips, and try and avoid Kebab's as much as possible. It's not been any conscious attempt to diet, but i just feel that i don't really have the urge to drink alcohol for the sake of it at the moment, and i don't feel the need to snack, or to eat crap comfort food.
The biggest thing for me, and this is going back to the start of this blog, is that the problems and issues that i faced in my life before the start of my running seem a lot less severe than they did, and the fitness has given me a lot more energy, the psychological effect has made me a lot more relaxed and chilled out, and you know what i feel absolutely great for doing it. I've lost weight, and the most important thing for me, without sound arrogant and aloof is that my self-confidence and self-perception has improved beyond belief.
I've well and truly got the running bug, and it is great.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
That was the season that was
After a predictably depressing end to a season where we had looked like bouncing back to Championship for lengthy periods of the season, and we still had a chance until the last kick of the season, but somehow contrived to lose it, i feel it is right to have a period of reflection to let the season go before chancing my arm, and writing about the season that was, as a whole and not just concentrating on the season's end of that had the biggest influence between the thin dividing line between success and failure.
It was quite fair to say that the 2011/12 season kicked off, and myself and quite a few other Blades weren't exactly filled with optimism about the season that to follow. I had predicted a season of difficult transition as we adapted to our new life in League 1, and with it had to come the inevitable blood letting, and how easy or difficult it would prove to get rid of several personnel who had underperformed the previous season to the extent that we had to endure the most distressingly inevitable relegation that we had gone through in my own living memory, and the living memory of most Blades under the age of 40.
The first key moment came within 3 weeks of the 2010/11 season finishing. The first swift and sudden sacking of Micky Adams, the fourth manager of the season and the man who couldn't not stem the tide, and tried and failed to add passion as he attempted to steer us away from the inevitable relegation that we was stumbling towards. The second came and gave the long suffering supporters something to actually smile about with a brave and courageous 2-2 draw with the cream of the Manchester United youth team, for our youth team in the FA Youth Cup Final in front of a packed house at Bramall Lane, and the third came with the highly contentious appointment of former Wednesday hero, and manager Danny Wilson. Most supporters didn't want Danny Wilson, and were vehemently against his appointment, to the extent that a highly vocal segment of support congregated at Bramall Lane to protest against his appointment.
The other moment came, and was probably one of the most decisive moments of the season, in a hotel room at the Premier Inn, in Rhuddlan, Rhyl, where our expensive and under-performing striker Ched Evans was involved in the events that would lead to his incarceration at the end of the season.
Effectively the size of the job was enormous (I'll try and avoid the word Massive, just don't like that word), he was charged with reviving the fortunes of a club that had slept walked in to League 1, also he had to provide some form of stability at a club that had already gone through 4 managers in the preceding 10 months, he had to slash the wage bill that had become wildly unsustainable, and build a side with little money available to him. The key thing was now to do all this, whilst getting results out on the pitch, as make no bones about it, his appointment was risky to say the least as his background meant that he was under a lot of pressure to deliver results sooner rather than later, as he would be under the spotlight, and his past connections meant that we would get very little grace if we started the season slowly.
What was impressive was the way that he went out about his business in the close season, he seemed like a man with clear idea of how to achieve what he what wanted to achieve, and his efforts in getting out there and visiting fans forums, speaking with refreshing honesty and openness sowed the seeds for Glasnost and Perestroika between club and it's supporters.
Several of the high earners got shifted from the wage bill, the divisive Darius Henderson, the poor Mark Yeates both went, as did several high earning and mercenary loan players who had been brought in to deliver instant results and failed miserably, and the squad was bolstered by the likes of Chris Porter, Jean Francois Lescinel, Ryan Flynn, and most crucially one week in to the season the highly rated midfielder Kevin MacDonald who had lost his way at his previous club came on a one year deal. Deadline day also seeing the sudden departures of Daniel Bogdanovic who had failed to perform and i know most were more than happy to see the back of him, and the young and promising striker Jordan Slew for £1m to Blackburn. The bit of business that Danny Wilson wished he must have done at that time, was getting Ched Evans off the wage bill, our £3m striker now found himself on a rape charge, had not even come to close to repaying any of the expenditure that we had made on him, and was injured at the start of the season.
The Blades started the season well, producing some encouraging, attractive football which delivered positive results, as well as beginning to take a large and vocal support to away games, and by September we already had points in the back, in what was shaping up to be a close fight between Charlton, Wednesday, Huddersfield and ourselves. We even saw a reappearance as substitute at Scunthorpe from Ched Evans who bagged an equaliser.
The first real rough patch we hit this season began towards the end of September, and lasted through until the first week of November, where dropped points against Wycombe, Exeter, Leyton Orient, Charlton, and maybe most crucially losing a 2 goal lead to a robust and physical Sheffield Wednesday side during the first derby game of the season at Bramall Lane. Prehaps most culpable during the period of poor from was goalkeeper Steve Simonsen, who cost the Blades 4 points with howlers against Sheffield Wednesday, and another the following the weekend during the 6th minute of injury at Leyton Orient, which lead to his dropping and the selection of the promising but inexperienced George Long who didn't appear to be ready for the first team.
I think a crucial moment of the season came during the last weekend of November, when after a win at Chesterfield despite not playing paticularly well, was followed by the bombshell news of the death of Gary Speed. He had not been paticulary successful at Bramall Lane, but had been well liked and well respected, and was known personally to a lot of the players at Bramall Lane, and especially Ched Evans. I think the death hit home harder at Bramall Lane than it did anywhere else, as we had been his last club before he took to international management with Wales, and it seemed a lot of our side had lost a good friend as well as former manager, and i think that they grew as players, and as men after this tragic event, as it had an galvanising effect on the side.
We really did begin to hit form, after getting cut adrift from Charlton, Wednesday and Huddersfield at the top of the table, and a run of 10 wins from 11 games from November to late Janurary in all competitions ensured progress to the 4th round of the FA Cup, and also meant that as the sides above us began to stutter with games coming thick and fast, and we had moved back in to the top 2. Instrumental in all this was the style of football, where United had begin to win games, and win games well, with a very attractive brand of possession football where instead of slinging the ball forward to try and batter opposition defences down, United had a cerebral approach with their probing and pentrating , and usually found opening's, and Ched Evans had gone from cutting a solitary, dejected figure ploughing a lone furrow up front in a role unsuited to his strengths, to a player brimming in confidence, who if he got a chance you knew he would be odds on to score, and if he didn't then he would score with the next chance.
We suffered a defeat at Charlton in late Janurary which effectively meant that they was too far away for us to catch, the prolonged patchy form of Sheffield Wednesday meant that we had suddenly developed a gap between ourselves and them, and we looked to be well on our way to promotion with a tremendous backs to wall win at Huddersfield where we went a goal up after 5 minutes, and then spent the remainder of the match keeping them from getting back in to it, the win putting Town out of the reckoning for automatic promotion, and Lee Clark out of the job the following morning. The following week we registered a regulation 2-1 win against a direct and overtly physical Preston side, but in the course of the Preston match came when Kevin MacDonald pulled up with a calf injury during the first half and was unable to continue and was ruled out for the next few games.
The Derby match at Hillsborough came, and anything other than a win for the home side would have meant that the gap that had started the day at 5 points with 2 games in hand would not be virtually insurmountable. Hillsborough that day was packed for a the biggest derby game in years, and it was a tight, edgy affair in the first half, and Wednesday came out and seized the initiative during the second half where United couldn't handle the physical, robust style of football they played that day. I thought that day that had Kevin MacDonald been fit and played that day, he would have been the player who made us tick, as he had dictated the pace of a lot of games, and had been a joy to behold.
The following couple of games had been somewhat strange. A 2-1 win the following Wednesday being overshadowed by news breaking during the second half of Wednesday sacking United hate figure Gary Megson, and then the following Saturday we had been 2-0 and cruising against a mediocre Oldham side, having lost Neil Collins before the game due to personal issues before also losing Jean-Francois Lescinel to a season ending injury, Matt Lowton to a pointless sending off, then in the dying seconds Harry Maguire also saw red for a last ditch challenge that also cost a penalty, and sealed Oldhams comeback from 2-0 down to a 3-2 win. Losing the back four that had almost picked itself all season, was a huge blow, and this ensued that we hit a short spell of poor results, and the only win in 5 coming from on a sunny day at Brentford.
By the time the Blades faced Notts County, it was now neck and neck with the 5 point gap and 2 games in hand being eroded by Sheffield Wednesday, and it was very much now a case of get a bit of form back and trying to keep up with Wednesday. The performance at Notts Co that night was excellent, as we routed them 5-2, and entered a real purple patch as the goals flew in, and the free-scoring Ched Evans was in the form of his life.
What was to come next was the turn of events that was to shape the season, and to my mind set it chain the events that settled the destiny of our season. After a 5-2 win at Rochdale, the next day there was a court case commencing at Caenarfon crown court, and involved Ched Evans and the rape charge that he had found himself on the previous summer. The following Saturday Ched Evans scored late on, ripped his shirt off in what seemed like a huge release of pressure, and shortly after was substituted to a huge, and prolonged standing ovation. The following Friday came the shock news that Ched Evans had been found guilty and sentenced to 5 years imprisonment. This cast a huge shadow over the rest of the season, as it divided fans, some of whom believed he was innocent, some believed he was bang to rights, but the next day we had a huge game at MK Dons, where we turned in a subdued, disjointed performance, and in injury time at 1-0 down, James Beattie failed to score from 2 yards out whilst at Hillsborough, Wednesday scored a dramatic winner at approximately the same time Beattie was failing to score. This meant that both clubs went in to the last games of the season neck and neck on points, with United having the superior goal difference.
The last two games, saw two more disjointed performances, as we found ourselves two down at home to Stevenage in a fixture we needed to win, as Wednesday had chalked up three more points earlier in the day, and although we gamely fought back to gain a 2-2 draw, it quite simply wasn't enough on a cold and wet day at Bramall Lane. The following weekend we was at Exeter, and was relying on a win, and Wednesday failing to win, and on a drizzly day in the South West, it wasn't to be.
This took us through to the play offs. After the alarming events of the previous three weeks, and the heartbreaking end of season collapse, coupled with our abysmal record in the play-offs, there was a definite air of pessimism around Bramall Lane, and although we edged through in two tense, scrappy games against Stevenage, we went to Wembley, some hopeful, but the majority not expecting much and travelling in the vain hope that our cruel luck would change. The game was dire, both sides creating very little during a sweltering hot day at Wembley, it would eventually come down to a penalty shoot out, and the 22nd penalty was the decisive one, and was the penalty Steve Simonsen blazed over the bar.
I think this season was a mixed season, there was a lot of big positives. Danny Wilson performing extremely well under the circumstances and made United a pleasure to watch. We saw two players who had not got off to the best of starts in their United careers in Neil Collins and Michael Doyle becoming key players, and probably the most reliable performers we had, we also saw the progress of Matthew Lowton and Harry Maguire (Maguire who excelled and looked like an experienced Centre-Half and playing an almost unheard of 50+ games at the tender age of 18), the one player who was the talisman, the player we turned to, and the man who we relied upon, and who delivered was Ched Evans, and i think the events at Caernarfon Crown Court did shape our destiny this season.
The biggest plus point of this season is that for the first time in a few seasons, we had a team who you wanted to watch, a team who played really attractive football, who gave value for money, and more crucially the fans got behind, and we a lot of previously disenchanted United regulars, began to enjoy their football again. In a way last season it was like United had started treading the road to redemption. People began enjoying their football again, and although it was a huge blow getting relegated to League 1, i really did find it a division where i enjoyed my football, and particularly travelled as a part of a loud and vocal away travelling support. Quite simply the biggest disappointment that despite all the good football, and enjoyment that i got out of it, there sadly wasn't a way that we could get the prize of promotion that looked to be our for quite a while, and as a even sadder postscript is that with the state of the finances at the club, and the new financial fair play rules, that we will in all probability see a different side next season as this one breaks up.
Still i will be back next season, and maybe, just maybe it will be our year, but how many times has that been said before?
It was quite fair to say that the 2011/12 season kicked off, and myself and quite a few other Blades weren't exactly filled with optimism about the season that to follow. I had predicted a season of difficult transition as we adapted to our new life in League 1, and with it had to come the inevitable blood letting, and how easy or difficult it would prove to get rid of several personnel who had underperformed the previous season to the extent that we had to endure the most distressingly inevitable relegation that we had gone through in my own living memory, and the living memory of most Blades under the age of 40.
The first key moment came within 3 weeks of the 2010/11 season finishing. The first swift and sudden sacking of Micky Adams, the fourth manager of the season and the man who couldn't not stem the tide, and tried and failed to add passion as he attempted to steer us away from the inevitable relegation that we was stumbling towards. The second came and gave the long suffering supporters something to actually smile about with a brave and courageous 2-2 draw with the cream of the Manchester United youth team, for our youth team in the FA Youth Cup Final in front of a packed house at Bramall Lane, and the third came with the highly contentious appointment of former Wednesday hero, and manager Danny Wilson. Most supporters didn't want Danny Wilson, and were vehemently against his appointment, to the extent that a highly vocal segment of support congregated at Bramall Lane to protest against his appointment.
The other moment came, and was probably one of the most decisive moments of the season, in a hotel room at the Premier Inn, in Rhuddlan, Rhyl, where our expensive and under-performing striker Ched Evans was involved in the events that would lead to his incarceration at the end of the season.
Effectively the size of the job was enormous (I'll try and avoid the word Massive, just don't like that word), he was charged with reviving the fortunes of a club that had slept walked in to League 1, also he had to provide some form of stability at a club that had already gone through 4 managers in the preceding 10 months, he had to slash the wage bill that had become wildly unsustainable, and build a side with little money available to him. The key thing was now to do all this, whilst getting results out on the pitch, as make no bones about it, his appointment was risky to say the least as his background meant that he was under a lot of pressure to deliver results sooner rather than later, as he would be under the spotlight, and his past connections meant that we would get very little grace if we started the season slowly.
What was impressive was the way that he went out about his business in the close season, he seemed like a man with clear idea of how to achieve what he what wanted to achieve, and his efforts in getting out there and visiting fans forums, speaking with refreshing honesty and openness sowed the seeds for Glasnost and Perestroika between club and it's supporters.
Several of the high earners got shifted from the wage bill, the divisive Darius Henderson, the poor Mark Yeates both went, as did several high earning and mercenary loan players who had been brought in to deliver instant results and failed miserably, and the squad was bolstered by the likes of Chris Porter, Jean Francois Lescinel, Ryan Flynn, and most crucially one week in to the season the highly rated midfielder Kevin MacDonald who had lost his way at his previous club came on a one year deal. Deadline day also seeing the sudden departures of Daniel Bogdanovic who had failed to perform and i know most were more than happy to see the back of him, and the young and promising striker Jordan Slew for £1m to Blackburn. The bit of business that Danny Wilson wished he must have done at that time, was getting Ched Evans off the wage bill, our £3m striker now found himself on a rape charge, had not even come to close to repaying any of the expenditure that we had made on him, and was injured at the start of the season.
The Blades started the season well, producing some encouraging, attractive football which delivered positive results, as well as beginning to take a large and vocal support to away games, and by September we already had points in the back, in what was shaping up to be a close fight between Charlton, Wednesday, Huddersfield and ourselves. We even saw a reappearance as substitute at Scunthorpe from Ched Evans who bagged an equaliser.
The first real rough patch we hit this season began towards the end of September, and lasted through until the first week of November, where dropped points against Wycombe, Exeter, Leyton Orient, Charlton, and maybe most crucially losing a 2 goal lead to a robust and physical Sheffield Wednesday side during the first derby game of the season at Bramall Lane. Prehaps most culpable during the period of poor from was goalkeeper Steve Simonsen, who cost the Blades 4 points with howlers against Sheffield Wednesday, and another the following the weekend during the 6th minute of injury at Leyton Orient, which lead to his dropping and the selection of the promising but inexperienced George Long who didn't appear to be ready for the first team.
I think a crucial moment of the season came during the last weekend of November, when after a win at Chesterfield despite not playing paticularly well, was followed by the bombshell news of the death of Gary Speed. He had not been paticulary successful at Bramall Lane, but had been well liked and well respected, and was known personally to a lot of the players at Bramall Lane, and especially Ched Evans. I think the death hit home harder at Bramall Lane than it did anywhere else, as we had been his last club before he took to international management with Wales, and it seemed a lot of our side had lost a good friend as well as former manager, and i think that they grew as players, and as men after this tragic event, as it had an galvanising effect on the side.
We really did begin to hit form, after getting cut adrift from Charlton, Wednesday and Huddersfield at the top of the table, and a run of 10 wins from 11 games from November to late Janurary in all competitions ensured progress to the 4th round of the FA Cup, and also meant that as the sides above us began to stutter with games coming thick and fast, and we had moved back in to the top 2. Instrumental in all this was the style of football, where United had begin to win games, and win games well, with a very attractive brand of possession football where instead of slinging the ball forward to try and batter opposition defences down, United had a cerebral approach with their probing and pentrating , and usually found opening's, and Ched Evans had gone from cutting a solitary, dejected figure ploughing a lone furrow up front in a role unsuited to his strengths, to a player brimming in confidence, who if he got a chance you knew he would be odds on to score, and if he didn't then he would score with the next chance.
We suffered a defeat at Charlton in late Janurary which effectively meant that they was too far away for us to catch, the prolonged patchy form of Sheffield Wednesday meant that we had suddenly developed a gap between ourselves and them, and we looked to be well on our way to promotion with a tremendous backs to wall win at Huddersfield where we went a goal up after 5 minutes, and then spent the remainder of the match keeping them from getting back in to it, the win putting Town out of the reckoning for automatic promotion, and Lee Clark out of the job the following morning. The following week we registered a regulation 2-1 win against a direct and overtly physical Preston side, but in the course of the Preston match came when Kevin MacDonald pulled up with a calf injury during the first half and was unable to continue and was ruled out for the next few games.
The Derby match at Hillsborough came, and anything other than a win for the home side would have meant that the gap that had started the day at 5 points with 2 games in hand would not be virtually insurmountable. Hillsborough that day was packed for a the biggest derby game in years, and it was a tight, edgy affair in the first half, and Wednesday came out and seized the initiative during the second half where United couldn't handle the physical, robust style of football they played that day. I thought that day that had Kevin MacDonald been fit and played that day, he would have been the player who made us tick, as he had dictated the pace of a lot of games, and had been a joy to behold.
The following couple of games had been somewhat strange. A 2-1 win the following Wednesday being overshadowed by news breaking during the second half of Wednesday sacking United hate figure Gary Megson, and then the following Saturday we had been 2-0 and cruising against a mediocre Oldham side, having lost Neil Collins before the game due to personal issues before also losing Jean-Francois Lescinel to a season ending injury, Matt Lowton to a pointless sending off, then in the dying seconds Harry Maguire also saw red for a last ditch challenge that also cost a penalty, and sealed Oldhams comeback from 2-0 down to a 3-2 win. Losing the back four that had almost picked itself all season, was a huge blow, and this ensued that we hit a short spell of poor results, and the only win in 5 coming from on a sunny day at Brentford.
By the time the Blades faced Notts County, it was now neck and neck with the 5 point gap and 2 games in hand being eroded by Sheffield Wednesday, and it was very much now a case of get a bit of form back and trying to keep up with Wednesday. The performance at Notts Co that night was excellent, as we routed them 5-2, and entered a real purple patch as the goals flew in, and the free-scoring Ched Evans was in the form of his life.
What was to come next was the turn of events that was to shape the season, and to my mind set it chain the events that settled the destiny of our season. After a 5-2 win at Rochdale, the next day there was a court case commencing at Caenarfon crown court, and involved Ched Evans and the rape charge that he had found himself on the previous summer. The following Saturday Ched Evans scored late on, ripped his shirt off in what seemed like a huge release of pressure, and shortly after was substituted to a huge, and prolonged standing ovation. The following Friday came the shock news that Ched Evans had been found guilty and sentenced to 5 years imprisonment. This cast a huge shadow over the rest of the season, as it divided fans, some of whom believed he was innocent, some believed he was bang to rights, but the next day we had a huge game at MK Dons, where we turned in a subdued, disjointed performance, and in injury time at 1-0 down, James Beattie failed to score from 2 yards out whilst at Hillsborough, Wednesday scored a dramatic winner at approximately the same time Beattie was failing to score. This meant that both clubs went in to the last games of the season neck and neck on points, with United having the superior goal difference.
The last two games, saw two more disjointed performances, as we found ourselves two down at home to Stevenage in a fixture we needed to win, as Wednesday had chalked up three more points earlier in the day, and although we gamely fought back to gain a 2-2 draw, it quite simply wasn't enough on a cold and wet day at Bramall Lane. The following weekend we was at Exeter, and was relying on a win, and Wednesday failing to win, and on a drizzly day in the South West, it wasn't to be.
This took us through to the play offs. After the alarming events of the previous three weeks, and the heartbreaking end of season collapse, coupled with our abysmal record in the play-offs, there was a definite air of pessimism around Bramall Lane, and although we edged through in two tense, scrappy games against Stevenage, we went to Wembley, some hopeful, but the majority not expecting much and travelling in the vain hope that our cruel luck would change. The game was dire, both sides creating very little during a sweltering hot day at Wembley, it would eventually come down to a penalty shoot out, and the 22nd penalty was the decisive one, and was the penalty Steve Simonsen blazed over the bar.
I think this season was a mixed season, there was a lot of big positives. Danny Wilson performing extremely well under the circumstances and made United a pleasure to watch. We saw two players who had not got off to the best of starts in their United careers in Neil Collins and Michael Doyle becoming key players, and probably the most reliable performers we had, we also saw the progress of Matthew Lowton and Harry Maguire (Maguire who excelled and looked like an experienced Centre-Half and playing an almost unheard of 50+ games at the tender age of 18), the one player who was the talisman, the player we turned to, and the man who we relied upon, and who delivered was Ched Evans, and i think the events at Caernarfon Crown Court did shape our destiny this season.
The biggest plus point of this season is that for the first time in a few seasons, we had a team who you wanted to watch, a team who played really attractive football, who gave value for money, and more crucially the fans got behind, and we a lot of previously disenchanted United regulars, began to enjoy their football again. In a way last season it was like United had started treading the road to redemption. People began enjoying their football again, and although it was a huge blow getting relegated to League 1, i really did find it a division where i enjoyed my football, and particularly travelled as a part of a loud and vocal away travelling support. Quite simply the biggest disappointment that despite all the good football, and enjoyment that i got out of it, there sadly wasn't a way that we could get the prize of promotion that looked to be our for quite a while, and as a even sadder postscript is that with the state of the finances at the club, and the new financial fair play rules, that we will in all probability see a different side next season as this one breaks up.
Still i will be back next season, and maybe, just maybe it will be our year, but how many times has that been said before?
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Fear and Loathing at Wembley
In 3 days time i will be making the trip to Wembley for the Play-Off final. In my footballing supporting life it will be about the 7th or 8th showpiece event that i have attended, and on each and every occasion, i have come away bitterly disappointed, that although I'd hoped we would come away delighted with a famous victory, instead I've come away with a horrible, nauseous feeling of that we have blown it again.
The best bit about the day is getting there, and not meaning the trip down there, but the game that seals qualification to attend a showpiece game, be it a Cup Semi-Final or Play Off Final, and the sudden dawning on you that yeah, we have reached Wembley and one game stands between us and promotion to a higher division, or yeah, we are now one game away from a Cup Final. You dare to dream.
The fortnight before the game usually builds up slowly but surely, as you check you have got enough money to go, and make financial adjustments to ensure that you have got enough spending money (and this in my case means having enough money to purchase enough alcohol to sink a battleship should we be successful), then you go down and have to queue for tickets, and feel a little tingle of excitement when you get your tickets, and that big day seems just that little bit closer. You make your travel arrangements, be in on a train, in a car, on a coach, but you arrange all this with your friends, and decide on where you are drinking before the match.
The worst feeling up to this point is the night before the match, as work provides a distraction, as does functioning in day to day life, the normal run of the mill diverts your attention slightly, but you still are thinking about the match, and sometimes you allow yourself to get carried away, with what will it be like if we win, its only natural because when your a football fan, deep down you believe that this will be the day that you forget about the past, break the jinx's and throw off the shackles of negativity and depression over previous glorious, and more pertinently inglorious defeats.
Your head hits the pillow the night before, and you close your eyes, yet you can't sleep, your mind is racing, what will it be like?, will we win, a lot of your excitement revolves around your friends, and a good day out, and you dream to think what it will be like to win, and share and celebrate the victory with them. Your mind is racing, dreaming, hoping and thinking that tomorrow could be the best day of your supporting life.
You wake up the next morning, and your buzzing, you might not have had much sleep as your head was spinning faster than you wanted it to do with your dreams, but your up and about and bouncing around your house, getting ready for the match with all the hope, expectation and excitement that you have got, and this, this is the day that you finally achieve something, you have your day in the sun and boy, your going to love it today, and you now know this will be the best day of your life, bar none. Nothing could go wrong, nothing could spoil it, and this is going to be day that you'll remember for the rest of your life.
You leave the house with a spring in your step, and go and meet your mates, and your all up a bit earlier than you'd ideally like, but you've all got the same spring in your step, the same hope in your heart, and you all feel the same way about the football team who you love and adore, who have let you down in the past, but the team you've always found forgiveness for, the team you can forgive for breaking your dreams in the past, because today will be different, today will be day that you leave the boulevard of broken dreams, and in a few hours you'll be travelling back home victorious, proud and with something to shout from the rooftops about and nothing will stop you.
Before the match you go to the pub, it is packed, absolutely rammed full of like minded individuals, all singing, all wearing the red and white, all massively proud of your club and every one has got a spring in their step, and a smile on their face. There is old timers who have followed the club for 50 years or more, and the little kids looking a bit overawed and overwhelmed about the big day at Wembley, the lads on the piss, the girlfriends who have come to their first match in ages because it is a big game, a good day out, but what everyone wants for, and what everyone hopes for is success and you feel that fuck it, yeah, today is the day.
Before the match, you walk up to the ground, enjoy a bit of good natured banter with the opposition supporters, sing the club songs, and soak up the atmosphere. Your nerves reach breaking point as the match approaches, and you get in the ground, walk up the gangway and see the pitch, see the red and white, hear the songs which sounds like a wall of noise, and you think this is it, this is our day, this is gonna be it.
The match kicks off, a sloppy pass here, a mistimed tackle there, and the opposition are all over you, they are better than you, more up for it than you, and all you can feel is helplessness, pain, hate, hate, hate. Nobody is singing, nobody is smiling, its like you are sat in a car waiting to crash and there is nothing you can do to stop it from happening, and you know it is going to happen, and there is nothing. It is impossible to get up and sing, it is impossible to feel anything other than disappointment, hate and despair. The opposition score, you are a goal down, and you try your hardest to think positively, that this will be your day, that you will get back in to the match and you will go on and win it, but you can't, you hamstrung by your own worst fears, nightmares, and you don't want to be here, but would rather be anywhere but here, watching this shit, feeling the pain.
The full time whistle blows, and you've lost, you've blown it again. The old timer shakes his head, and has that look of a weather beaten man who has been there and seen it all before because he probably has, whilst the little kid who is there for the first time is crying, his tears smudging his red and white face pain, and it hurts you, because he feels the same as you, yet you've felt this pain before and this is his first time, and he has never known pain like this before. You all feel the same hurt, the same pain and the same mutual loathing, and it fucking hurts.
The trip home is morose and subdued, nobody wants to really say anything, nobody wants a laugh, and you sit there on a train that takes fucking forever to get back home, armed with a load of cans, and nothing to do to drink, drink to forget, drink to wash the pain away, and there is now nothing else to do than get pissed. Your phone bleeps with gloating messages from friends who support other clubs, but they don't register and you don't respond, because really you emotions might get the better of you, and you might act in a completely different way to the normal, sane, rational person that you are. You get home, and all you want to do is go home, get in bed, and go to sleep and forget.
Another game, another set of hope and dreams shattered, and you might as well have been better staying in bed, cos for all the good it has done, your skint, and you've fucking blown it all again.
The best bit about the day is getting there, and not meaning the trip down there, but the game that seals qualification to attend a showpiece game, be it a Cup Semi-Final or Play Off Final, and the sudden dawning on you that yeah, we have reached Wembley and one game stands between us and promotion to a higher division, or yeah, we are now one game away from a Cup Final. You dare to dream.
The fortnight before the game usually builds up slowly but surely, as you check you have got enough money to go, and make financial adjustments to ensure that you have got enough spending money (and this in my case means having enough money to purchase enough alcohol to sink a battleship should we be successful), then you go down and have to queue for tickets, and feel a little tingle of excitement when you get your tickets, and that big day seems just that little bit closer. You make your travel arrangements, be in on a train, in a car, on a coach, but you arrange all this with your friends, and decide on where you are drinking before the match.
The worst feeling up to this point is the night before the match, as work provides a distraction, as does functioning in day to day life, the normal run of the mill diverts your attention slightly, but you still are thinking about the match, and sometimes you allow yourself to get carried away, with what will it be like if we win, its only natural because when your a football fan, deep down you believe that this will be the day that you forget about the past, break the jinx's and throw off the shackles of negativity and depression over previous glorious, and more pertinently inglorious defeats.
Your head hits the pillow the night before, and you close your eyes, yet you can't sleep, your mind is racing, what will it be like?, will we win, a lot of your excitement revolves around your friends, and a good day out, and you dream to think what it will be like to win, and share and celebrate the victory with them. Your mind is racing, dreaming, hoping and thinking that tomorrow could be the best day of your supporting life.
You wake up the next morning, and your buzzing, you might not have had much sleep as your head was spinning faster than you wanted it to do with your dreams, but your up and about and bouncing around your house, getting ready for the match with all the hope, expectation and excitement that you have got, and this, this is the day that you finally achieve something, you have your day in the sun and boy, your going to love it today, and you now know this will be the best day of your life, bar none. Nothing could go wrong, nothing could spoil it, and this is going to be day that you'll remember for the rest of your life.
You leave the house with a spring in your step, and go and meet your mates, and your all up a bit earlier than you'd ideally like, but you've all got the same spring in your step, the same hope in your heart, and you all feel the same way about the football team who you love and adore, who have let you down in the past, but the team you've always found forgiveness for, the team you can forgive for breaking your dreams in the past, because today will be different, today will be day that you leave the boulevard of broken dreams, and in a few hours you'll be travelling back home victorious, proud and with something to shout from the rooftops about and nothing will stop you.
Before the match you go to the pub, it is packed, absolutely rammed full of like minded individuals, all singing, all wearing the red and white, all massively proud of your club and every one has got a spring in their step, and a smile on their face. There is old timers who have followed the club for 50 years or more, and the little kids looking a bit overawed and overwhelmed about the big day at Wembley, the lads on the piss, the girlfriends who have come to their first match in ages because it is a big game, a good day out, but what everyone wants for, and what everyone hopes for is success and you feel that fuck it, yeah, today is the day.
Before the match, you walk up to the ground, enjoy a bit of good natured banter with the opposition supporters, sing the club songs, and soak up the atmosphere. Your nerves reach breaking point as the match approaches, and you get in the ground, walk up the gangway and see the pitch, see the red and white, hear the songs which sounds like a wall of noise, and you think this is it, this is our day, this is gonna be it.
The match kicks off, a sloppy pass here, a mistimed tackle there, and the opposition are all over you, they are better than you, more up for it than you, and all you can feel is helplessness, pain, hate, hate, hate. Nobody is singing, nobody is smiling, its like you are sat in a car waiting to crash and there is nothing you can do to stop it from happening, and you know it is going to happen, and there is nothing. It is impossible to get up and sing, it is impossible to feel anything other than disappointment, hate and despair. The opposition score, you are a goal down, and you try your hardest to think positively, that this will be your day, that you will get back in to the match and you will go on and win it, but you can't, you hamstrung by your own worst fears, nightmares, and you don't want to be here, but would rather be anywhere but here, watching this shit, feeling the pain.
The full time whistle blows, and you've lost, you've blown it again. The old timer shakes his head, and has that look of a weather beaten man who has been there and seen it all before because he probably has, whilst the little kid who is there for the first time is crying, his tears smudging his red and white face pain, and it hurts you, because he feels the same as you, yet you've felt this pain before and this is his first time, and he has never known pain like this before. You all feel the same hurt, the same pain and the same mutual loathing, and it fucking hurts.
The trip home is morose and subdued, nobody wants to really say anything, nobody wants a laugh, and you sit there on a train that takes fucking forever to get back home, armed with a load of cans, and nothing to do to drink, drink to forget, drink to wash the pain away, and there is now nothing else to do than get pissed. Your phone bleeps with gloating messages from friends who support other clubs, but they don't register and you don't respond, because really you emotions might get the better of you, and you might act in a completely different way to the normal, sane, rational person that you are. You get home, and all you want to do is go home, get in bed, and go to sleep and forget.
Another game, another set of hope and dreams shattered, and you might as well have been better staying in bed, cos for all the good it has done, your skint, and you've fucking blown it all again.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
An absent fathers tale, Part 3 (The Reprise)
Yesterday i had arranged to go round to my ex-wives house. I was quite nervous about going as i didn't know what the atmosphere would be like with myself and my ex, and it was the first time that i had seen Harrison for a number of months.
I drove there and arrived 20 minutes early, so i parked around the corner for 15 minutes, smoked a couple of fags (still trying to kick the habit), listened to a bit of music (The Jam), and did a bit of Facebooking talking about last nights match and preparing myself for the impending despair of another fuck up from the club that i love. That 15 minutes seemed a lot longer, it was a bit like waiting outside the Doctor's waiting room hoping for the all clear, but thinking there might be bad news instead, and i was not really in the mood for raking up the past mistakes, and it all turning out sour the moment that we saw each other, and desperately hoping that we wouldn't want to kill each other and hate each others guts. Hate is such a horrible, destructive emotion, and it takes a lot more energy and effort to hate, than it does to love or respect, or even treat someone with dignity, but sometime hate can be the over-riding emotion above everything else.Since our marriage break up, the love we once had a few years back had been replaced by hatred, bitterness and mutual loathing of each other, and to be quite honest it had been like living through a car crash in slow motion, in the sense of the foreboding of what was going to happen but feeling completely powerless to stop it all.
I was also very nervous about seeing Harrison, as i had not seen him before Christmas, and i was really looking forwards to seeing him. Loads of stuff raced through my mind, how much had he grown, how much more was he saying, what did he look like now, how would he be with me, would he pick up on any tension, and the absolute fucking killer. Would he even know that i was his Daddy? It is an absolutely horrific feeling that being a parent who loves their kid, that your kid doesn't even know who you are, and it is not a feeling that i would ever want to have to live through.
So i started the car, and drove the 200 yards around the corner to my ex-wives house, where i parked outside, took a huge deep breath and got out of the car, locked it all up, and walked up the path to her house where i saw the most amazing beautiful little man looking out of the window and smiling at his Daddy, and it melted my heart. The ex opened the door and invited me in, and within 30 seconds i was messing about with Harrison, playing with his toys with him, and it was really like i had never been away from him for the last 5 months, and much to amazement he actually knew who i was, and had wanted to see me. I got slapped, punched and fought with, as that as a healthy vibrant 3 year old boy, he is keen on the rough and tumble, and seemed to enjoy it. I looked at him happy and smiling and i thought that there is something, very, very special there and i really did feel that father and son bond, and wondered if my Dad had thought about the same when i was at the same age, and i bet that he did.
What was even more amazing is that for the first time in years there seemed to be no friction or animosity between me and my ex-wife. She made the a coffee exactly the same as she used to a few years ago, although i've still an aversion to skimmed milk, and refilled the coffee for me without me even asking for it. We had quite a lengthy conversation about a lot of things, and there is still a long way to go to fully rebuild the trust and mutual respect that you need to co-exist as separated parents, but we have made a start, and quite frankly that makes me happy and it takes a lot of weight and stress off my shoulders. What was really encouraging for me, is that a lot of stuff we talked about was the future, and how we saw it, and how we both said to each other that we still want the best for each other, and actually meant it. One of the hardest things about separating when you are both the parents of a child, is when one parent meets someone else, as being a father, you don't really want to think about another man stepping in to your role in family life, and i felt it was quite important to know about my ex-wives new relationship, because you want and need to know what sort of bloke is going to play a part in the upbringing of your child. She was happy to tell me all about her new bloke, and he did seem to across really well, as a proper decent bloke, and i was relieved to know that, and having assessed and analysed the situation, i can feel comfortable with him being in my son's like, and you know what, deep down i feel really happy that my ex-wife is happy and content in a relationship with someone who seems like a decent bloke. Having said that i did have to ask the all important question of what football team does he support, and i was relieved to hear that he wasn't a Wednesday supporter, because as stupid as it seems one of the things that i want to pass on to Harrison is my lifelong love of Sheffield United. As it goes he is a Liverpool fan, not ideal in raising H a Blade, but a it will make passing it on a bit easier.
Since August 2010 when i split with my ex wife, my life has been insanely stressful, and i would be a massive liar if i said that at times things hadn't got on top of me, and stress me out beyond belief, but now it is May 2012, i can sit here and finally say that the stress has started to lift off my shoulders, and now things have got to the stage where i can stop worrying and stressing about the acrimonious split and divorce with my ex-wife, as i have to be honest it has been a bitter, nasty and protracted split, but i can look towards the future as a father to Harrison, and someone who can and will a strong, and respectful relationship with my ex-wife and that is the way it has to, and it will be. It's all not going to be easy, and i know that it will not be easy, but with a lot of hard work, and i think that we can build a lot of trust and respect, and that in the long run will be a good thing.
And as if yesterday wasn't already good enough, the Blades beat Stevenage to get to the play-off final and a trip to Wembley beckons.
Life is good.
I drove there and arrived 20 minutes early, so i parked around the corner for 15 minutes, smoked a couple of fags (still trying to kick the habit), listened to a bit of music (The Jam), and did a bit of Facebooking talking about last nights match and preparing myself for the impending despair of another fuck up from the club that i love. That 15 minutes seemed a lot longer, it was a bit like waiting outside the Doctor's waiting room hoping for the all clear, but thinking there might be bad news instead, and i was not really in the mood for raking up the past mistakes, and it all turning out sour the moment that we saw each other, and desperately hoping that we wouldn't want to kill each other and hate each others guts. Hate is such a horrible, destructive emotion, and it takes a lot more energy and effort to hate, than it does to love or respect, or even treat someone with dignity, but sometime hate can be the over-riding emotion above everything else.Since our marriage break up, the love we once had a few years back had been replaced by hatred, bitterness and mutual loathing of each other, and to be quite honest it had been like living through a car crash in slow motion, in the sense of the foreboding of what was going to happen but feeling completely powerless to stop it all.
I was also very nervous about seeing Harrison, as i had not seen him before Christmas, and i was really looking forwards to seeing him. Loads of stuff raced through my mind, how much had he grown, how much more was he saying, what did he look like now, how would he be with me, would he pick up on any tension, and the absolute fucking killer. Would he even know that i was his Daddy? It is an absolutely horrific feeling that being a parent who loves their kid, that your kid doesn't even know who you are, and it is not a feeling that i would ever want to have to live through.
So i started the car, and drove the 200 yards around the corner to my ex-wives house, where i parked outside, took a huge deep breath and got out of the car, locked it all up, and walked up the path to her house where i saw the most amazing beautiful little man looking out of the window and smiling at his Daddy, and it melted my heart. The ex opened the door and invited me in, and within 30 seconds i was messing about with Harrison, playing with his toys with him, and it was really like i had never been away from him for the last 5 months, and much to amazement he actually knew who i was, and had wanted to see me. I got slapped, punched and fought with, as that as a healthy vibrant 3 year old boy, he is keen on the rough and tumble, and seemed to enjoy it. I looked at him happy and smiling and i thought that there is something, very, very special there and i really did feel that father and son bond, and wondered if my Dad had thought about the same when i was at the same age, and i bet that he did.
What was even more amazing is that for the first time in years there seemed to be no friction or animosity between me and my ex-wife. She made the a coffee exactly the same as she used to a few years ago, although i've still an aversion to skimmed milk, and refilled the coffee for me without me even asking for it. We had quite a lengthy conversation about a lot of things, and there is still a long way to go to fully rebuild the trust and mutual respect that you need to co-exist as separated parents, but we have made a start, and quite frankly that makes me happy and it takes a lot of weight and stress off my shoulders. What was really encouraging for me, is that a lot of stuff we talked about was the future, and how we saw it, and how we both said to each other that we still want the best for each other, and actually meant it. One of the hardest things about separating when you are both the parents of a child, is when one parent meets someone else, as being a father, you don't really want to think about another man stepping in to your role in family life, and i felt it was quite important to know about my ex-wives new relationship, because you want and need to know what sort of bloke is going to play a part in the upbringing of your child. She was happy to tell me all about her new bloke, and he did seem to across really well, as a proper decent bloke, and i was relieved to know that, and having assessed and analysed the situation, i can feel comfortable with him being in my son's like, and you know what, deep down i feel really happy that my ex-wife is happy and content in a relationship with someone who seems like a decent bloke. Having said that i did have to ask the all important question of what football team does he support, and i was relieved to hear that he wasn't a Wednesday supporter, because as stupid as it seems one of the things that i want to pass on to Harrison is my lifelong love of Sheffield United. As it goes he is a Liverpool fan, not ideal in raising H a Blade, but a it will make passing it on a bit easier.
Since August 2010 when i split with my ex wife, my life has been insanely stressful, and i would be a massive liar if i said that at times things hadn't got on top of me, and stress me out beyond belief, but now it is May 2012, i can sit here and finally say that the stress has started to lift off my shoulders, and now things have got to the stage where i can stop worrying and stressing about the acrimonious split and divorce with my ex-wife, as i have to be honest it has been a bitter, nasty and protracted split, but i can look towards the future as a father to Harrison, and someone who can and will a strong, and respectful relationship with my ex-wife and that is the way it has to, and it will be. It's all not going to be easy, and i know that it will not be easy, but with a lot of hard work, and i think that we can build a lot of trust and respect, and that in the long run will be a good thing.
And as if yesterday wasn't already good enough, the Blades beat Stevenage to get to the play-off final and a trip to Wembley beckons.
Life is good.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Happy Birthday
Today would have been my Dad's 63rd Birthday, but sadly it is a birthday that he is no longer around to celebrate, and that is a huge shame.
He died 8 years from Pancreatic Cancer, and it was a huge, insanely devastating blow, and something that took me a long, long time to get over, as within the space of 3 months, the person who offered me the most guidance in life, was like a best mate, and the man who helped shape me in to the man that i have become today was gone. For a long time after it happened, i was like a lost soul, lacking that guidance, lacking any sense of purpose, but as time went on, i learned to live with it, learned how to deal with it, and although i have never stopped missing him, i have learned how to cope with the grief, cope with him not being, here, and most importantly be able to take control of my own life without his guidance, and become a man that he would be proud of.
As much as i miss him, and my mind often wanders back to my Dad, but now it is not that sense of feeling that he is not there, just random thoughts of what he would be like now, what he would think about certain things, what sort of stuff he would be doing, and one thing that gives me a bit of strength is how well i did cope in the end on my own two feet, and i think that deep down that although there is a lot of stuff that i would change in my life, that is a given, there is a lot of stuff that he would immensely proud of.
He would have been proud that i would have made him a Grandfather, he would have been proud of the fact that i have to battle some adversity in life and battled through it, he would have been proud that i turned my life around from being a pot smoking waster who drifted along from dead end job to dead end job to being a hard working train driver who lives in his own home, ended up actually learning to drive (which he always badgered me to do but i never got round to doing), he would have also been very proud of my sister, and on her wedding day when i gave her away, in a sense it wasn't me giving her away but it was my Dad giving her away.
I wear my Dad's gold chain around my neck, i have worn it for the last few years, i was given it and didn't know what to do with it, so i wore it and have never taken it off since that day, because with that chain, it means whenever i wear that chain, my Dad lives on as a part of me, and next week i will see my son Harrison and when i look at him i will also see that he is with H, as he lives on through the both of us, and H look's even more like him that i have ever done.
As a role model, guide and mentor in life, what you did for me when your alive i will never forget, and the memories and thoughts of you now your no longer here, still offer me a lot of guidance in life
I Still Love You Dad, Happy Birthday, and I'll see you for a drink, but not for a good few years yet.
Nick
He died 8 years from Pancreatic Cancer, and it was a huge, insanely devastating blow, and something that took me a long, long time to get over, as within the space of 3 months, the person who offered me the most guidance in life, was like a best mate, and the man who helped shape me in to the man that i have become today was gone. For a long time after it happened, i was like a lost soul, lacking that guidance, lacking any sense of purpose, but as time went on, i learned to live with it, learned how to deal with it, and although i have never stopped missing him, i have learned how to cope with the grief, cope with him not being, here, and most importantly be able to take control of my own life without his guidance, and become a man that he would be proud of.
As much as i miss him, and my mind often wanders back to my Dad, but now it is not that sense of feeling that he is not there, just random thoughts of what he would be like now, what he would think about certain things, what sort of stuff he would be doing, and one thing that gives me a bit of strength is how well i did cope in the end on my own two feet, and i think that deep down that although there is a lot of stuff that i would change in my life, that is a given, there is a lot of stuff that he would immensely proud of.
He would have been proud that i would have made him a Grandfather, he would have been proud of the fact that i have to battle some adversity in life and battled through it, he would have been proud that i turned my life around from being a pot smoking waster who drifted along from dead end job to dead end job to being a hard working train driver who lives in his own home, ended up actually learning to drive (which he always badgered me to do but i never got round to doing), he would have also been very proud of my sister, and on her wedding day when i gave her away, in a sense it wasn't me giving her away but it was my Dad giving her away.
I wear my Dad's gold chain around my neck, i have worn it for the last few years, i was given it and didn't know what to do with it, so i wore it and have never taken it off since that day, because with that chain, it means whenever i wear that chain, my Dad lives on as a part of me, and next week i will see my son Harrison and when i look at him i will also see that he is with H, as he lives on through the both of us, and H look's even more like him that i have ever done.
As a role model, guide and mentor in life, what you did for me when your alive i will never forget, and the memories and thoughts of you now your no longer here, still offer me a lot of guidance in life
I Still Love You Dad, Happy Birthday, and I'll see you for a drink, but not for a good few years yet.
Nick
Wednesday, May 09, 2012
Ambivelence
As i write this, i'm sat at home with a packet of Golden Virginia (the giving up smoking went right well at the end, as it was time to start again before i killed someone, and got a bottle of Jim Beam on the go, and sat playing on the internet once again. When i was in a relationship nights like this were few and far between, and i used to enjoy them, but what used to be an occasional event, has sadly become an all too frequent occurance.
At 34 years old i shouldn't really be sat up until all hours, drinking, smoking and just passing time, i should be happily married, settled down with a couple of kids, with all the trappings but i'm not. People see me as a single lad with seemingly plenty of time to go out and enjoy life, and feel envious, but the reality is not something to be envious of, as like with all things it gets mundane, boring and tiring after a while.
So how do i get out of this rut. Find a relationship and settle down once again, but that is easier said than done. There has only really been two women i can say that i have been in love with, one was my ex-wife and the other was the girl who i went out with straight after i split with my wife. In the first case the split was inevitable as things had gone irreversably wrong and the split was only a matter of time, and in the second case it was a case of too much, too soon as i was just coming out of a long term relationship and maybe i should have taken a bit of time out for the relationship game in the first case, but it was there, and i enjoyed it, and began falling in love with her, but too much, too soon.
Too often now i find myself, not really caring too much about stuff, but just about caring enough to keep going. I don't want to be seen as the bloke who goes out there and blows it all and loses everything, so that is my motivation to keep going, to keep the mortgage getting paid, to keep on getting up to go work, and to keep just plodding on, for what at times seems to be little or no reward, but the rewards might come sooner, or they might come later, but that does remain to be seen.
One thing i do have going for me is my friends. The last couple of years i have learned who my friends are, and who aren't. That has been a very important lesson. Last Saturday i went to watch Sheffield United (another lifelong disaster zone) down at Exeter, with a group of very good mates, in fact i would say some of my best friends ever went down, lads i could trust with my life, that is maybe the most important thing in my life, and i had the rare chance to see maybe the biggest lifelong friend i have ever had, my little sister for a few hours, which is always a good thing, and i even treated her to her dinner! Having a good time with good friends and good company always leads to a bit of a comedown when it comes to being up alone late at night, confronting my demons, and wondering where other stuff went wrong.
One of lifes greatest problems and issues is that we always want what we haven't got. I've got a decent house, brilliant job, lovely son, and some great mates but sometimes maybe i don't see that, and concentrate on what i haven't got.
Prehaps the answer isn't at the bottle of a bottle, but finding someone new who i can fall in love with and spend the rest of my life with, and someday Sheffield United will actually be successful and make all the effort worthwhile, maybe that is the answer, but who knows.
One thing i do know is that in the words of U2, i still haven't found what i'm looking for, but then again part of the fun is looking for it.
At 34 years old i shouldn't really be sat up until all hours, drinking, smoking and just passing time, i should be happily married, settled down with a couple of kids, with all the trappings but i'm not. People see me as a single lad with seemingly plenty of time to go out and enjoy life, and feel envious, but the reality is not something to be envious of, as like with all things it gets mundane, boring and tiring after a while.
So how do i get out of this rut. Find a relationship and settle down once again, but that is easier said than done. There has only really been two women i can say that i have been in love with, one was my ex-wife and the other was the girl who i went out with straight after i split with my wife. In the first case the split was inevitable as things had gone irreversably wrong and the split was only a matter of time, and in the second case it was a case of too much, too soon as i was just coming out of a long term relationship and maybe i should have taken a bit of time out for the relationship game in the first case, but it was there, and i enjoyed it, and began falling in love with her, but too much, too soon.
Too often now i find myself, not really caring too much about stuff, but just about caring enough to keep going. I don't want to be seen as the bloke who goes out there and blows it all and loses everything, so that is my motivation to keep going, to keep the mortgage getting paid, to keep on getting up to go work, and to keep just plodding on, for what at times seems to be little or no reward, but the rewards might come sooner, or they might come later, but that does remain to be seen.
One thing i do have going for me is my friends. The last couple of years i have learned who my friends are, and who aren't. That has been a very important lesson. Last Saturday i went to watch Sheffield United (another lifelong disaster zone) down at Exeter, with a group of very good mates, in fact i would say some of my best friends ever went down, lads i could trust with my life, that is maybe the most important thing in my life, and i had the rare chance to see maybe the biggest lifelong friend i have ever had, my little sister for a few hours, which is always a good thing, and i even treated her to her dinner! Having a good time with good friends and good company always leads to a bit of a comedown when it comes to being up alone late at night, confronting my demons, and wondering where other stuff went wrong.
One of lifes greatest problems and issues is that we always want what we haven't got. I've got a decent house, brilliant job, lovely son, and some great mates but sometimes maybe i don't see that, and concentrate on what i haven't got.
Prehaps the answer isn't at the bottle of a bottle, but finding someone new who i can fall in love with and spend the rest of my life with, and someday Sheffield United will actually be successful and make all the effort worthwhile, maybe that is the answer, but who knows.
One thing i do know is that in the words of U2, i still haven't found what i'm looking for, but then again part of the fun is looking for it.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Ched Evans, my view
Friday the 20th of April 2012, was a dark day for the football club i support. The striker and star player, Ched Evans was found guilty of raping a 19 year old girl, and sentenced to 5 years imprisonment. At the time i was incredibly upset and sad that a player who i had supported, and given the benefit of the doubt to until such a time he was convicted or cleared in a court of law.
I'd followed the trail closely for a few days, and learned a lot of stuff i didn't know before, a lot of it due to the legal system, and a couple of legal professionals on a football forum that i frequent, and i gained a lot of insight, and the details of the night seemed murky, and i was not 100% convinced that he was guilty of the crime that he had committed but i had a nagging feeling that he would get found guilty.
I find any form of sexual assault on a woman, disgraceful, sickening and people who sexually attack and abuse women, are scum, the lowest of the low, and deserve having their bollocks cutting off. I find the act of rape pretty indefensible, and sickening, as i always imagine what it would be like if someone raped a female member of my family, and it gets my blood boiling at the mere thought of it.
I also believe in making my own decisions and we are all responsible for all our own thought processes, and thinking about way to come to make decisions, and therefore if we make a decision then i usually take it was my moral obligation to follow the decision that i have made, as i would not be true to myself or others if i didn't follow anything views, that i had formed through my own educated opinion.
One thing that based on the evidence that i have heard and seen, and i thank the power of the internet for giving me a lot of information, and enabling me to look in-depth at the evidence that is presented before me. And i strongly believe that Ched Evans is not guilty of the offence of rape, and i strongly feel that he has been set up on this occasion, and that a serious miscarriage of justice has taken place.
I base this opinion on a lot of stuff that i have seen in the social networking media, including a lot of support from people in Ched Evan's hometown of Rhyl, a lot of support from his team-mates, and a lot of support from the world of football, which i don't think wouldn't have been the case if it was clear cut, and Ched had been guilty of the offence of Rape.
What does concern me, and makes me angry is the girl who has been allegedly raped, has not been painted in a particularly good light. The day after she was allegedly raped she the toxicology report that she had Cocaine and Cannabis in her system, and therefore must had been spiked. From my own personal knowledge of drugs, then Cocaine wouldn't have made her docile, in fact the quite the opposite, and Cannabis is a drug that is difficult to spike somebody with unless you lace their food with it, and lets face it, if you was going to spike somebody then it would be a date rape drug rather than Cannabis.
The girl is not thought of highly in local circles in Rhyl from what i have read, where she has been named and several allegations against her Character have been made, including accusations that she has a Cocaine habit, she has already made an allegation of rape against somebody else in the past, she has a reputation of being an 'easy lay', and her family are not spoken of particularly highly. Then this was made worse by the girl in questions twitter account being made public, including her speaking of what she was going to spend the money on when she had her windfall (Pink Mini Coopers, and trips to Australia and Ibiza), and also allegations that she was out on the lash the following weekend. This to me doesn't not stack up with what you would normally expect from the victim of a rape, who to my mind would be traumatised to the extent that she would be mentally affected to the extent that it would be a long time until she plucked up the courage to go out drinking alcohol on a night out.
With this case too much doesn't stack up, including a lot of things that have appeared about her, and i think that had the jury had seen some of this evidence, which admittedly not admissible in a court of law, then i think that a different verdict would have been reached.
Like i have said, this is only my opinion so people are free to criticise it, and call me every name under the sun, but i have my right to my own opinion and i stand by that. I think due to the seriousness of the allegation of rape, that it is something that making a false allegation of for financial gain for is almost as bad as the act of rape, and i hope that in this case the allegation is correct on the basis of that if the allegation is found to be false and made for purely financial gain, it is something that is nearly as bad as the act of rape itself.
For a man to accused of rape, it is socially degrading, demeaning and an accusation of rape is something that a man will have to wear for the rest of his life, and walk round with the social stigma, which if is he is genuinely guilty then it is genuinely deserved, but if it is a false allegaton then it is something that the person making the false allegation will have to live with for the rest of their lives, and that is mainly destroying the life of someone who is innocent.
As for my own view, i think that the only crime that Ched Evans' is guilty of is that of being stupid enough of allowing himself to get drawn in a situation where there was the potential of an allegation of rape, but i think that in this case the girl in question knew what has happening at the time, consented to having sexual intercourse with Ched Evans, and purely and simply i think that Ched Evans is not guilty.
The final thought on this is that here has been a couple of footballers convicted of rape during the last couple of years. Marlon King and Tes Bramble, but in both of those cases there was nowhere near the amount of support and the nowhere near the same amount of questions being placed against the guilty verdict, and i think that is something that has to be question why it has happening now with this case and not those.
I'd followed the trail closely for a few days, and learned a lot of stuff i didn't know before, a lot of it due to the legal system, and a couple of legal professionals on a football forum that i frequent, and i gained a lot of insight, and the details of the night seemed murky, and i was not 100% convinced that he was guilty of the crime that he had committed but i had a nagging feeling that he would get found guilty.
I find any form of sexual assault on a woman, disgraceful, sickening and people who sexually attack and abuse women, are scum, the lowest of the low, and deserve having their bollocks cutting off. I find the act of rape pretty indefensible, and sickening, as i always imagine what it would be like if someone raped a female member of my family, and it gets my blood boiling at the mere thought of it.
I also believe in making my own decisions and we are all responsible for all our own thought processes, and thinking about way to come to make decisions, and therefore if we make a decision then i usually take it was my moral obligation to follow the decision that i have made, as i would not be true to myself or others if i didn't follow anything views, that i had formed through my own educated opinion.
One thing that based on the evidence that i have heard and seen, and i thank the power of the internet for giving me a lot of information, and enabling me to look in-depth at the evidence that is presented before me. And i strongly believe that Ched Evans is not guilty of the offence of rape, and i strongly feel that he has been set up on this occasion, and that a serious miscarriage of justice has taken place.
I base this opinion on a lot of stuff that i have seen in the social networking media, including a lot of support from people in Ched Evan's hometown of Rhyl, a lot of support from his team-mates, and a lot of support from the world of football, which i don't think wouldn't have been the case if it was clear cut, and Ched had been guilty of the offence of Rape.
What does concern me, and makes me angry is the girl who has been allegedly raped, has not been painted in a particularly good light. The day after she was allegedly raped she the toxicology report that she had Cocaine and Cannabis in her system, and therefore must had been spiked. From my own personal knowledge of drugs, then Cocaine wouldn't have made her docile, in fact the quite the opposite, and Cannabis is a drug that is difficult to spike somebody with unless you lace their food with it, and lets face it, if you was going to spike somebody then it would be a date rape drug rather than Cannabis.
The girl is not thought of highly in local circles in Rhyl from what i have read, where she has been named and several allegations against her Character have been made, including accusations that she has a Cocaine habit, she has already made an allegation of rape against somebody else in the past, she has a reputation of being an 'easy lay', and her family are not spoken of particularly highly. Then this was made worse by the girl in questions twitter account being made public, including her speaking of what she was going to spend the money on when she had her windfall (Pink Mini Coopers, and trips to Australia and Ibiza), and also allegations that she was out on the lash the following weekend. This to me doesn't not stack up with what you would normally expect from the victim of a rape, who to my mind would be traumatised to the extent that she would be mentally affected to the extent that it would be a long time until she plucked up the courage to go out drinking alcohol on a night out.
With this case too much doesn't stack up, including a lot of things that have appeared about her, and i think that had the jury had seen some of this evidence, which admittedly not admissible in a court of law, then i think that a different verdict would have been reached.
Like i have said, this is only my opinion so people are free to criticise it, and call me every name under the sun, but i have my right to my own opinion and i stand by that. I think due to the seriousness of the allegation of rape, that it is something that making a false allegation of for financial gain for is almost as bad as the act of rape, and i hope that in this case the allegation is correct on the basis of that if the allegation is found to be false and made for purely financial gain, it is something that is nearly as bad as the act of rape itself.
For a man to accused of rape, it is socially degrading, demeaning and an accusation of rape is something that a man will have to wear for the rest of his life, and walk round with the social stigma, which if is he is genuinely guilty then it is genuinely deserved, but if it is a false allegaton then it is something that the person making the false allegation will have to live with for the rest of their lives, and that is mainly destroying the life of someone who is innocent.
As for my own view, i think that the only crime that Ched Evans' is guilty of is that of being stupid enough of allowing himself to get drawn in a situation where there was the potential of an allegation of rape, but i think that in this case the girl in question knew what has happening at the time, consented to having sexual intercourse with Ched Evans, and purely and simply i think that Ched Evans is not guilty.
The final thought on this is that here has been a couple of footballers convicted of rape during the last couple of years. Marlon King and Tes Bramble, but in both of those cases there was nowhere near the amount of support and the nowhere near the same amount of questions being placed against the guilty verdict, and i think that is something that has to be question why it has happening now with this case and not those.
Friday, April 13, 2012
The Weakness Of The Mind
I'm 34 years old. Grown up, got a decent job, house and car, but i do have a dirty little habit, and one that i'm ashamed of, and that is for the last 20 years i have been a smoker.
During the last 20 years i have made several attempts to give up. Some have lasted a couple of hours, some have gone on for a few weeks, but it would be wrong to say that some have been more succesful that others, and this is another case of one being unsuccessful, and i hate myself for it.
I got up yesterday, faithfully stuck my nicotine patch on, and felt a little bit of pride at breaking the 3 week barrier of not having a cigarette and beating the odd craving here and there. During the last 3 weeks i have felt a lot better, kept up with my running and progressing with that, by running further and not getting as out of breath, kept up with my healthy eating, and generally felt in better shape than i have done for years.
Yet, at work tonight, and it was a good night at work, relatively stress free, and pretty straightforward, i felt the urge for a cigarette and told myself that i can have some cigarettes and start again on Sunday, so i ended up going home from work in the car, and stopping off at a 24 hour garage, and buying 20 Marlboro Lights and smoking them until my heart was content on the drive home from work, and now i'm sat in the kitchen enjoying a well earned Jim Beam and Coke after work, writing this out, and got another fag on the go.
I feel stupid, i feel weak and i feel like i have let myself down, let others down who have had faith in me, and helped to encourage me in my attempt to kick the evil weed. By not having a cigarette for 3 weeks i'd felt good, i'd felt proud of what i had done, and now all that has gone to waste.
I'm going to go to bed in a minute and grab some sleep before getting back up at dinnertime, and then get out on the beer, watch Sheffield United and then have a good night up town, but today i' m going to smoke and i'm going to smoke as much as i want, but then when i wake up on Sunday morning, i'm going to lament the demise of Attempt Number 156 to give up smoking and get cracking on Attempt Number 157, and hopefully it will last for the rest of my life.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
An absent fathers tale Part 2
I wrote my initial blog a couple of days back, and it was hard to write, and even harder to publish to put out in the open about my situation, and be frank about the situation that i have found myself in with regards to getting access to my son.
The first thing i noticed, and i was genuinely humbled about, is the number of people who have spoken to me about what i have written in that initial blog, and to be quite honest I've been humbled about what people have said about it, but the support i have got behind me, and people in the same situation have. It was not a blog about me as such, i was more recounting my experiences of what it is like to be an absent father, and to make a point that when it comes down to it, an absent father is not necessarily an absent father through choice, and it sometimes comes down to the mother, and the choice's they make. I'm not saying i was perfect, because i wasn't, and there was so much better i could have done at certain points, but there comes a point where i look at my situation and i can look at myself in the mirror and say to myself i don't deserve what is happening to me.
What i find frustrating is there are cases where the father becomes estranged from a child through no fault of his own, through his own reckless actions. Things like abusive behaviour, domestic violence and genuinely being a complete bastard to the mother of his child. I was none of this, yet it seems to the situation that where the father has been a complete bastard, he still gets the right to see his child as the mother See's it in the child's best interest's to let the father keep contact, but in other cases where there has not been the backdrop of violence and abuse, that the contact ceases at the whim of the mother of the child. I know because if i didn't know my own situation i would be asking the question of 'why doesn't she want him to see his kid?', and that is the conclusion i would draw, and i think it is something that i feel a lot of stigma about, and i hate having that question asked of me.
It's a hard thing to say, but there is a part of me that wishes that i had been violent towards my ex, as it would be an explanation as to why I've not got access, but if i had gone down that route, i would probably have ended up in Prison, ended up with a criminal record and no hope of seeing my son in the future. Sometimes i think that i have to endure the provocation that i have done in the past from my ex, as she wants me to turn round and be aggressive, so she can get the Police involved, and push me further away from ever getting access, but i value my pride, dignity, career, life and hold on to the chance of getting regular access to much for me to be lose control.
The last occasion i was supposed to see my son, was on a Wednesday last December, I'd become anxious and nervous the day before, due to the atmosphere when i was picking up and dropping my son off, and i was concerned that the abuse i was getting was neither warranted or called for, and i asked a mutual friend (well her best friend) to speak to her about her conduct, and that at the time i didn't feel comfortable picking my son up from my ex's house due to these reasons, and that is what lead to the stopping of contact, and the abusive phone call i received that night. At that point i had pretty much had enough of the insults, abuse and provocation, and had decided it was time to get it all sorted out, before things did get out hand, and i did or something that i would later regret. It might sound like a soft way out, but it was not a situation i wanted to place myself, or my son in.
People keep asking me how i do i cope with the situation that i find myself in, and the answer is that it is not easy. I think about my son a lot, and when i say a lot, he is usually the first thing i think about in the morning, and the last think i think about at night, and usually what i think about most of the day as well. It is incredibly hard to stay strong, and not to like down, and let it destroy my life. I'm quite lucky at work, because i enjoy my job, and when I'm working i find it quite easy to switch off from everything else that is going off around me in my personal life, and concentrate on my work. In a way it is like taking one head off, and putting another one on. As strange as it might seem, i do quite a lot of stuff now that is conducive to a healthy lifestyle. I eat healthier than i used to, making sure i get three meals a day and not just living of fried food and takeaways. cutting down on Alcohol, going running 2 or 3 times a week, which is usually good as it puts any negative thoughts to the back of my mind, and i come back refreshed, energised and with the endorphins rushing around my body. I try and be as open to friends about what i' going through, as it is like an escape valve, and it is good to talk about what I've been going through and it means that i don't bottle it all up. 8 years ago i lost my father to cancer and i fell to pieces for quite a while after that, but what i did learn is a lot about the human mind and how it works, and the ways and means of keeping mentally fit. Nothing can ever replace my Dad, but i think that horrible experience i went through in losing him, has given me a bit more inner strength, and knowledge that i can draw upon, and i think that the estrangement from H could have had very different consequences and an effect on my life if i had gone through the trauma of bereavement with the loss of my Dad. In another way blogging this is an help, as it is cathartic as it is enabling me to express the feeling's that come with estrangement from your child.
So what now? That's the £64,000 dollar question, and one that i can't quite answer as i don't know myself. I'm going to keep fighting hard to get access to my son, as i owe it to him to be a loving and responsible father, and a father who i can show to my son that i love and care for him. I can't just turn around and walk away forever as that will cause more damage in the long-term that a bit of short-term pain could ever cause anyone, and the last thing i want to happen, and the thing that i will absolutely not let happen is for him to grow up thinking that his Dad never gave two fucks about him.
I get my wage slip tomorrow, and it will be a flat month without any overtime in it, as i hope that it will just about bring me under the threshold as to which i can claim legal aid and be able to use solicitors in my fight to gain access to my son, although at this moment in time I'm confident that will be the case. It will be a tight month, and i will be just about making ends meet this month, it's gonna be crap but that's the way it will be, and I'll deal with it. So that is the first big question, will i get legal aid, or won't i get legal aid. If i can it would be great and means that things can proceed through the legal avenue's should it have to come down that road, but if not then I've got to look at the other options. If there is one thing that I'm open to, and that is the fact that without legal aid, i can still do it, and that would be either paying a solicitor on account on a monthly basis, or doing as much of it myself that i can and this will be the biggest challenge as i will have to go to court and fight my own legal battle's with an array of legal professionals. It's probably going to be one of my biggest challenges yet, but i think that with the right approach and commitment it is something that i can do.
The bottom line is that i never really wanted things to go down this road, and i want all the issue's relating to my sons upbringing resolving as quickly and as amicably as possible. In an ideal world my marital split would have been straightforward and we would have parted as friends and brought H up in a stable environment, but that's not happening, but hopefully at some point in the future as the scars of a messy split heal, it can also herald the start of a new beginning.
Monday, March 12, 2012
An absent fathers tale.....
I read an interesting online that had been published in the Daily Mail, and it painted the side of a loving, caring absent father, who was an absent father for a while through no choice of his own, and it shows what some people are capable of in their desire to hurt somebody else.
At the moment, I'm an absent father not through my own choice but through the choice of my ex-wife who for whatever reason she fits, has decided to decline me all access to my son Harrison, as she in her own words, can look after him with the help of her aged parents and the help of her friends, and 'doesn't need me about'.
I'll be the first to be quite open and honest admit that our marriage broke down because of two people rather than just apportioning the blame on one person. For my own part i became difficult to be around, sullen and withdrawn and quite often i would just go to work and i didn't be at home around my ex, and struggled with adapting to having a baby to look after as well, with the demands my shift work put on me. For the first time i got to the stage where i didn't want to go home from work, didn't want to spend time at home, and didn't want to spend time with my family, but on the face of it, we portrayed ourselves as the classic happy family, although the people closest to us, saw through the cracks.
Since we have split up, things have got a lot worse, and what was indifference when we was married, has escalated in to some horrendous arguments. Most of the time i have held back from responding to the provocation and hurtful remarks that have been made towards me, and there has been some horrendous things said and done, but these remarks have been made towards me to try and provoke a reaction. I have only responded once to the provocation i have faced, and that was after a jibe from her mother about my deceased father, and i regretted what i had said as i gave them reaction they wanted, but it has been a hard road to go down, as even something as simple as collecting or dropping of my son H leads to abusive remarks being made about me and my family, provocative comments, derogatory comments, general put downs and criticism of my parenting skills, the accusations, and other things.
I'm a big lad, and i have been around enough to be take to take a bit of stick and dish it out, but there are boundaries and the boundaries have been crossed, to the extent where i have had to endure offensive comments about my sister i have been told I'm a waste of space who will never have a decent job or do anything with his life, been told that my parents don't do anything or even care about H, when my father has been dead for the last 8 years, and then there was the coup de grace, when i was told 4 days before Christmas that i was not to see H any more, and at the same time that his life would be better if i hung myself.
What i don't and what i do understand is why it has had to get to this stage. I think when it comes to a relationship breakdown, there is a lot of advice out there, and some of it will be along the lines of resolve your differences for the sake of a child, and then some of it will be fuck the other person, take them to the cleaners and try and punish them for the breakdown of the marriage. With the benefit of hindsight maybe my marriage was destined not to work out, but it is over and next month will mark the passing of the first full year since the decree absolute coming through.
At the moment I'm trying to get legal aid to see my son, and it is quite honestly looking unlikely that i will be granted it, and even less likely that i will be able to afford the solicitors fee's to get access to the family courts. I can't afford this going down this route as I'm already under a lot of pressure financially, with paying a full mortgage, maintenance, car, and a whole other range of bills which leave me with very little each month. So therefore until i get either get legal aid, or get enough money together to pay for the solicitors bills i have no real hope of gaining access to my son.
This hurts, and it hurts more than people would think. Absent father to most people are fathers who don't care, fathers who run away from responsibility, fathers who don't care about their kids. It's a stigma that society puts on people, and a stigma that is completely unwarranted as there are lot of absent fathers who would love access to their children, but can't due to the actions of the mother of their child. If you think that I'm a deadbeat Dad, then i would like you to spend a day in my shoes, and it's not pretty. I can't go anywhere because as soon as i see a child the same age as my son, i think of H, and what he is like now, and what i am missing out. I can't look at photo's on Facebook of my friends kids as it brings it all back that I'm not seeing H, i have had to put all the photo's of H that are around my house away, I've had to put all his toys and stuff in the shed out of the way as it is too painful to see them, and the hardest thing is seeing a brand new bike that was bought for him by sister as a Christmas present gathering dust, as I've still not seen him before Christmas. You can try and hide from it, but the bottom line is that not seeing Harrison is like walking around with a ghost on my shoulder, and it is a ghost that is always there and someone that will never leave me, because i still love my son, i know he is still alive, still living, still breathing and still very much a part of me, although he is not there any more, he is still there, and i think that maybe i could have been able to handle it if he had died as a baby a little bit better because there could have been a bit of closure to it all, instead of having to get up every morning and love, and think of a child that i will never be able to see.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Keeping and Losing New Years Resolutions.
At the turn of the year, I'll be the first to admit that things hadn't gone the way i would have liked in 2011, so the mission was on to change things in 2012. There was no great goal for me, just a series of broad ideas and things i could try and do, to shake off the effects of an unhappy 2011, and make 2012, my year, and a happy year.
I worked a late shift on New Year's Eve, and got home at half past 1, where i drained 2 full bottles of red wine, ate a 14" inch Asda Pizza with god knows how many calories and minimal nutritional value, and smoked at least a dozen fags, whilst sat there, drunk, slightly overweight, tired and miserable. I also knew that somethings had to change, and knew that maybe it was time not to keep on making excuses and get a grip of my own life again.
I got up at dinnertime on New Year's Day, feeling a bit ropey, feeling a bit hungover and ready for a few hours of sloth, sitting on my arse doing nowt, before going to work and being in the same cycle all over again. But what i did was something completely different. I poured myself a large glass of dilute orange juice, put on an old pair of tracksuit bottoms, a waterproof jacket and my pair of running shoes, that was the legacy of my latest futile attempt at running, and then turned my iPhone on, put the headphones on, and went running.
It wasn't the most successful run, i think i did a left, ran 100 yards to the bottom of the road at gentle pace, coughing and spluttering all the way, and hacking some up some dirty greenies, as i struggled and gasped for air. I did the grand total of 1.8k (i know because during my new hobby, my iPhone is now my best friend as it gives me the music that keeps me running, and records how far i have run, and how quickly (or slowly in my case) i have run. Most of it was spent walking trying to catch my breath, whilst the running parts was absolute torture. I arrived back home 15 minutes later, out of breath, sweating and feeling worse as my legs ached, my chest hurt, and i felt shattered, but it may go down as one of the best things i have done in my life, as if i hadn't made the attempt to do that run, then i might never have done it, and that single decision could influence the rest of my life.
I went again a couple of days later, in driving rain and gale force wind and left marginally better, and was marginally quicker, and my legs ached a little less than the first time i went, and i felt a bit better than i did that first time, but what came over me the rest of the day was a small but noticeable sensation of feeling a little bit happier, a little bit healthier, and a little bit more alive. I didn't enjoy being out in the cold and the wet, i didn't enjoy struggling with the run, but the pain was worth the gain.
A few days later, instead of my third run i had been and had a game of football, where i was still showing the classic signs of the unfit, overweight heavy smoker, who thought they could still play, but in all reality was slow, off the pace and to be quite honest a bit of an embarrassment, but i did feel a little bit fitter, made a couple of more runs that i had done before and noticed that i didn't hurt as much afterwards than i would normally do.
When i did my third run, it was teatime, and the Blades were at home that night, i could quite easily had my tea, watched telly, facebooked or tweeted until it was time to go to the match, but i had to go for a run, i had done two already and felt better for them, and i didn't see why i should let them first, painless efforts be in vain, so i decided at 5pm, i would be out on the street, trying to get and stay a bit fitter. I went out and did it, i was still slow, still coughing and spluttering but i got in a rhythm, and instead of doing 1.8k, i decided to keep straight on, instead of turning left and heading home, and try and do a longer run. I thought i might as well do it, as what did i have to lose, and as i went straight on, i felt mentally stronger, a little less physically weaker and more importantly i wanted to do it. I ended up doing a mixture of running and walking for the rest of the run, but i had challenged myself to do that bit more, I'd met that challenge and i felt absolutely superb for doing it.
It's not all been easy, and i have had to keep up some motivation to do it, tell myself that i need to do it, and force myself to get out there at times, whilst at other times i have felt an urge to throw on my running gear and just run because it is what i want to do. The thing is after nearly 4 weeks of this new fitness regime, I'm enjoying it, I'm feeling a lot better in myself both mentally and physically and in a way I'm doing something that is positive with my life. The greatest thing is the benefit that i feel from my new found running hobby. They are multiple, i feel stronger, i feel healthier, my breathing is better, i feel mentally stronger, i feel happier, I'm eating better, I'm sleeping better and i wonder why i didn't take up this before.
As i am 34 years old, and have not been in fit since i was a teenager, it is quite a bit step for me to take up a challenge like this, but I'm enjoying it that i feel that at time i have to reign myself in a bit, not push myself too much at this early stage, and be careful to avoid picking up injuries that will stop me from making the progress that i have recently made. The challenge now for me is to continue with my running and set myself a real goal. I'm toying with doing the Sheffield Half-Marathon in May. It is too soon to say if i will keep this up for long enough to be able to do the Half-Marathon, or that i will be able to do this in 4 months time, but it is a challenge, and it is a goal, and if i manage to do it, it will bring me a lot of benefit, but to be able to cross the finish line, having achieved it and done something worthwhile with my life will be one hell of a great feeling.
Now, i feel that I'm beginning to get a bit of control back over my own life and my own destiny, and that is one thing that is incredibly empowering
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Depression in Sport
On a bright November Sunday morning i got up after a restless nights sleep, with a few personal issues going through my head regarding my divorce and my son, and my head was a bit of a mess. I felt tired, lacking a bit of energy and focus, but showered and got my head right for work. I took the train down to Nottingham, had some banter with one of the blokes in the office about the previous days football, and then went down to the messroom to grab a coffee before i did anything at work.
I got in to the messroom, dumped my work bag, and made myself a coffee, and saw a driver who i talk to about football quite a lot called Tony, well talk about football a lot, he is another football nut, and i think we was started to talk about a dodgy penalty at Old Trafford the previous day, when i half heard something on the news, about some tragic news from the world of football. BANG, the news ticker said 'FAW ANNOUNCE WALES MANAGER GARY SPEED HAS DIED AGED 42', i can still remember what it said word for word, because the chill that went through me will live with for a long time. BANG, my mind was in racing, how, what, who, what the fuck. BANG Gary Speed has died BANG ex-Blades manager has died. It was one of those moments i was absolutely speechless, and i made my excuses that i needed the toilet, walked out the messroom and stood in silence on the top end of a deserted Platform 5 at Nottingham fighting back the tears and wondering how the fucking hell has Gary Speed. I went back in to the messroom where everyone was talking about it, and sat down and started looking at the news on my iPhone to try and compute some sense in to it, and find out what had happened. BANG Gary Speed hangs himself BANG Gary Speed, Suicide BANG Why, why why?. Slowly through the day i managed to keep it all together and work, but with Gary Speed never far from my thoughts. I remember going home that night and sitting on the train thinking about it, not far from tears, and when i got back to Sheffield that night, i turned Radio 5 live on, listened to the news and drove home sobbing, not just for Gary Speed, but the cruelness of the disease of the human mind that is depression, and still in complete and utter disbelief of the death of someone who was the classic case of the last person you would have ever thought would have committed suicide.
I thought a lot about Gary Speed during the following days, remembering the wily old pro who joined us from Bolton, remembering the bright young coach on the staff at Bramall Lane, and finally Gary Speed the manager who to be quite honest and frank wasn't a great success at the Lane, but on reflection the club was a fucking shambles and very few managers would have enjoyed success. It was whilst reflecting on his time as manager that a few things started coming together. One was a radio interview i had heard where it seemed that he didn't know how to sort out the problems at Bramall Lane, and it gave me a real insight that he was either out of his depth, or he didn't have confidence in his abilities. Something else that i picked up without prehap's realising it at the time, was how downbeat and uninspiring he could sound at the time. Possibly it was something that you could be critical of at the time, but to me reflecting with the hindsight of Gary Speed taking his own life, maybe he was suffering from depression at the time he was Sheffield United manager, maybe he was masking it and hiding the truth, although the truth will never be known to anyone apart from one person, and sadly that one person never disclosed the truth and took it to the grave with him.
During the past week, there was a fascinating and insightful programme on BBC about Depression in Sport, that was hosted by Andrew Flintoff, where he, and other spoke open and candidly about the depression that blighted their lives, and it came out with cold hard truth's. The most fascinating person to appear was Steve Harmison the former England fast bowler, who i remember being called 'a puzzle in a riddle wrapped in an enigma' such was the fluctuations in his form. I remember Grevious Bodily Harmsion on his day being the best fast bowler i have seen in my time watching Cricket. Seriously fast, and unplayable on his day, but his day was not often enough, and more often than not you would see him bowling poorly, erratically and ineffective, with all the negative bodily language that you can throw a cricket ball at. I'm no anthropologist but looking back the fact that he spent time during his career suffering with depression is no great shock, and he must have spent years like that.
Sportsmen are the last people you would expect to suffer with depression. Young, fit adults doing something that the majority of people would want to do for a living, but top level sport is the people at the very top of the game, and this brings unique pressure to perform at the very top of the game, and put every single last ounce of effort in to achieving sporting greatness, and when they pull up short, it can be a depressing thing. In normal life if you are suffering from depression, you can hide away, but once you cross the white line, and playing sport at the highest level there is nowhere to hide, and maybe when you want to hide, the attention on you is magnified.
Within the world of Football, there is now money and pressure involved to such an extent that it is literally a pressure cooker, and results mean everything, and a mistake could end up costing million upon millions of pound. Instead of your legacy being somebody who put everything in to being the best they could and known for the amount of effort or professionalism you gave, you could be the man who would be known for eternity for a mistake you made, or for costing your team a victory. Throw in to this the blanket coverage that Football receives in the media, the way that during the internet age, whatever you do, is examined instantly on forums, facebook, twitter and various other digital media and social networking sites.
With the huge number of football message boards about, the one player that plays for my club that springs to mind is a loyal, hard-working if somewhat limited midfielder called Nick Montgomery, or Monty as he is known. Monty joined Sheffield United straight from school, made his debut for the club at the age of 17, and 11 years on is something of a stalwart having clocked up somewhere in the region of 400 appearances for Sheffield United. I can't recall a single appearance where Monty had not put a proper shift in, i remember Monty dislocated his shoulder and then turning out again the week after as the side needed him, i can sadly remember seeing Monty subjected to abuse week in, week out, and i have seen him absolutely slaughtered on the Football Forum's time and time again. Imagine Monty reading some of the stuff written about him, it could absolutely destroy his confidence, send him spiralling in to depression, and for what. Earning a decent wage and putting a shift in. It's a sobering thought.
After watching the Depression in Sport documentary, i thought that it would be a good topic to blog about, and today's news about Dean Windass making 2 suicide attempts and suffering from depression gives me a good example to use as i finish this entry. Here was a bloke who earned good money, and got a decent living out of the game, but has been unable to cope with the end of his career. His 18 year marriage has ended, he has not got much money left out of what he made out of the game, suffering with a alcohol problem and the vast majority of people will say it is his own fault, but the reality is that Dean Windass is still a human being, who makes mistakes, and has to bear the consequences, and as a human being is not infallable from Churchill's black dog of depression following him about. The simple reality of it all is everybody is a human being, with thoughts, and emotions all of their own, and the saddest thing is we are just as susceptible to this sad disease as the next person
Friday, January 13, 2012
7 years. Compare and Contrast
I'd forgotten about this blog, but have intended to continue blogging if you get my drift, so sat round on a Friday Night with nothing much to do, i thought i would revisit it, and then try and start doing some blogging again. I'd always enjoyed enjoy entertaining the idea of doing it, enjoy the writing, and somehow i managed to become side tracked along the way.
What was interesting is how much my life has changed immeasurably during the 7 years, but sometimes i feel like i'm another crossroads in my life 7 years on, and the more things change, it become quite apparent that the more things stay the time. To mark my comeback in to the world of Blogging, i'll try and do a recap over the last 7 years of my life although there is quite a lot to go at.
Looking at my blog, the one thing is that strikes me is that i was a single lad at the time, and enjoyed going out on the pull, and the thrill of the chase. Well seven years has changed a lot of things, and my perception of relationships. Roughly a year on from my last blog update on here, i went out on a Sunday Night for a few beers with one of my mates, and i met Joanna who quickly became many different things to me, my soul-mate, my best friend, my girlfriend, my lover and i loved her lots, maybe too much, but as time passed things changed. We got engaged after a few months, it was a drunken engagement in the back of a black cab. We was talking about if we would ever get married to each other, and one thing led to another and we got engaged there and then. We bought a house, ended up getting married and having our son, Harrison, but somewhere along the line it started going wrong, we both fell out of love, took each other for granted, and ended up drifting apart to the extent where the end was inevitable and it came after less than two years of marriage. Not long after i split with Joanna, i started seeing a girl called Laura, and it was great, i'd moved out of the family home, got a new flat and a new girlfriend but at the time i couldn't see that it was too soon to enter a relationship after the breakdown of a long term relationship and i called it all off before Christmas 2010. It was one of the hardest things i have ever had to do, but it was the right thing to do, and relationship wise i have been single and happy for most of the last year. I'm not actively seeking a relationship, but it would be nice if one happened along the way. One big difference is my attitude towards relationships, and one thing that showed me the change is the fact i had a couple of one night stands last year, and the sense of pride, not being able to wait to tell the lads about another notch on the bedpost was replaced by a sense of self-loathing and disappointment with playing with someone else's emotions as well as my own. Maybe it is maturity, or seeing things with a bit more clarity. Back to my marriage break-up. It was a difficult situation, but the one thing that did surmise it perfectly was the fact that i had planned a monster session with the lads to 'celebrate' my divorce, but in the end when the decree absolute came through i changed my mind as i didn't get married to get divorced and felt a sense of failure, although i hold on to the hope that we can begin to start an amicable relationship for the sake of our son Harrison as it is what he deserves, and the bitterness and acrimony does nobody any good in the end.
Something else i noticed was my lack of enthusiasm for work, and reading between the line, back at the time, i was at some point going to leave the company i was working for, and more through their choosing than my own. I was working as a Customer Host on board a train, and earning good money for what i was doing, but taking too much time off work, i had too much of a casual attitude towards work, and was maybe taking the piss a little bit. Well 7 years on, i'm still there. I wanted to leave for quite a while but nothing came up as i was too lazy to look for something else, and i also was a dead cert for the sack at various time. I can't pinpoint when it changed, but i began to knuckle down, work hard and ended up having three promotions and now i'm a depot driver working at Nottingham Station. I've gone from being a potential sacking to being well regarded by my management. Instead of being off sick all the time, i'm very very rarely off work. I enjoy my job, enjoy working with the people i do, i see that i have got a steady settled job and going to work is a pleasure for me now, and i hope it stays like that.
Over the last 7 years, i had the best day of my life. The 9th of June 2009, when i had that overwheming moment where nothing else mattered, and i felt pure and unadultered love that only a new parent can experience. We had a boy called Harrison and i love him more than anything in this world. Becoming a parent for me was an experience that was full of hope, someone to take over from me in this world, somebody who i could hand down my dreams and aspirations to and take them over, and share the enjoyment of Harrison achieving the stuff i had always wished i had achieved.
One thing i wish i had done, and this goes back to another regret, but a lot longer back, is to keep a diary to record what i was doing at the time, and how i felt about things, because there has been a lot of stuff gone off over not just the last 7 years, but the last 34 years that seemed important at the time, but over the passage of time has been forgotten about and replaced with new memories. Looking back at my old blogs of 7 years ago, i find fascinating to compare and contrast with how things are today. In a way if i had continued then a blog with 7 years of entry's could be the same as 7 years worth of stuff scrawled away in a beaten up old diary.
If this turns out to be my last blog for the next 7 years and i come back to it at the age of 41 (sobering thought as at 27 when i last blogged i didn't realise how quickly being 34 would come around) it will be interesting to see how life was in Jan 2012, although all i have done with post is to try and recount a few things from the last 7 years, without going in to much detail so far in this post. I will try and paint a more accurate picture of how things are at the present time in future posts if i get around to keeping it going for longer this time.
I'm not sure what i will be putting on here in the next few weeks, but what i will endeavour to do is try and write about whatever takes my fancy, be it about football, life, politics, current affairs, music, what i've been up, or what i've had for my tea (salad if your wondering, i'm on a health kick).
Thankyou for reading, and until next time, take care.
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