Men-tal Health

I’ve returned from my writing hiatus because of a topic that I really think needs addressing. I’m talking about mental health, but in particular men’s mental health. I know that younger men are terrible when it comes to discussing our feelings. I think New Zealand’s ‘she’ll be right’ culture is to blame. We’ve grown up with staunch rugby players for role models and media portrayals of gruff men who never discuss their feelings. I’ve often joked that as a Kiwi male, we have two feelings – happy and sports. While that may be painting with a bit too broad of a brush, there is definitely an element of truth there. Take these stats for example: 50% of New Zealanders will experience a mental health issue in their life and to extrapolate that further, 75% of suicides in New Zealand are men. Clearly there is an issue here and one that we can’t keep ignoring. From a young age, we’re told that we have to be tough and feeling down isn’t part of that even though I think it is particularly prevalent in young adults.

In my experience, the idea of adult life seems to be one thrust upon you. All of a sudden, you finish school and become an adult saddled with all these responsibilities and no real clue if you’re doing everything right. Personally, I still feel like I’m still 15, and every time I’m out and someone says “watch out for that man”, I’ll look around behind me before realising that they’re referring to me. At some stage you think it’s all supposed to click and someone should hand you the “How to Be an Adult” guidebook, so it’s jarring when you discover people twice your age are still trying to figure it out for themselves, while simultaneously grappling with how to effectively deal with their feelings. Then, you combine this with the role social media plays. We live in a time of instant gratification and oversharing. Every day through Instagram stories, tweets, and Facebook photos, you’re inundated with the best parts of other people’s lives. This can leave us with thoughts of inadequacies and unfair comparisons as you see the highlights of everyone else’s lives, leaving you thinking that yours doesn’t stack up. These are feelings that everyone has, but I think- as men- we are so prone to bottling them up and acting like everything is fine, and therein lies the problem.

I say all of this speaking from personal experience. Over the last couple of years, I got myself into quite a funk. I was feeling depressed and I wasn’t really sure how to get out of it. The only way that I could describe it is like being in quicksand. Every day I would wake up feeling like I was sinking. A feeling that would only increase throughout the day, as if the more I struggled, the deeper it settled in. It would reach a screaming crescendo at the end of the day until I went to sleep. I would then wake up and do the whole thing over. I struggled to properly identify it at the time, but in reality, I was going through a depressive episode. That’s not to say that I was constantly unhappy, but there was a nagging pressure on me at all times. With the value of hindsight, I can see that I was unwell, but at the time, I couldn’t see it because I didn’t talk to anyone about it. Instead, I worked more, took on too many commitments and just generally ran myself ragged as if I could escape these feelings. I felt as if I was broken and lost. I constantly saw all these people on social media living these supposedly great lives and felt like mine was inadequate. This only exacerbated my inability to say how I was feeling.

I am extremely lucky to say that I feel like I am coming out of that episode of my life, and I can put it all down to talking about my feelings. I felt like I was always someone who was prodigiously happy and that I could be a rock for people, so in my people-pleasing ways, it was very difficult to open up about not feeling good. I was worried that my friends would suddenly stop liking me or think that I was too much work to be around. Instead, I have been met with universal feelings of warmth, understanding and admissions of feeling the same. I started off small, with the people closest to me and when that felt good, I started taking it wider and wider. I’m not saying that talking is the end to all mental health issues, but it felt so cathartic. It taught me that while my friends can’t live in my head with me, they can help me live outside of it. I felt as if I was unburdening myself and I felt so much better in realising that everyone has shit going on and no one is living a perfect life. I’ve learned that it’s totally fine to not be the ‘Happy Guy’ all the time and it’s entirely unrealistic to expect yourself to only feel happy. Drake’s song God’s Plan quotes the lyrics “I feel good, sometimes I don’t”. This is a kind of mantra that I repeat to myself when I don’t feel great. If someone like Drake can feel like this, then there’s no reason that I should be exempt. Overall, I’ve had the best reactions from my male friends and that’s why I think this is so significant. These are men that I thought I was close with before, but once we’ve both been open and honest with each other, it feels like we’ve shifted from drinking buddies to real friends. I found that we had been going through the same things and had similar feelings. It really showed me that we need to realise that we aren’t alone in these matters and that being vulnerable and truthful about it is the best course of action, which is why I’m trying hard to open that discourse with all of my friends. No one has to go through life by themselves and asking for help is never a sign of weakness.

If you don’t feel like you can talk to people close to you then I would suggest professional help as a good option. It’s something that I have recently tried for myself and having someone completely unbiased who you can tell anything to can be extremely helpful. Failing that I’m always available for anyone who wants to talk. It can be over a beer, a run or anything that makes you feel more comfortable. My late uncle, Greg, who we unfortunately lost to mental illness, would say “it’s only a fuck up if you can’t fix it”. For a long time, I felt like a fuck up and I really don’t want anyone else to feel the same or like I could have done more for someone. I’m not claiming to have all of the answers, but I’ll do anything that I can do to help. I’m not saying that’s all you can talk about with me now. Please keep up the shit talking, it is definitely one of my best skills in life, I’m just saying now and then if you don’t feel great, let me or someone know about it.  I’m also not saying that I’m miraculously healed, I mean even the thought of posting this makes me worried about seeming uncool, but if it reaches just one person and convinces them to talk about their problems, then it’s all worth it. A great saying I heard recently is “if you’re not doing well, ask someone how they’re doing” and that really solidified this idea in my head that we all have a lot more in common than we think. Everyone is out here trying to figure things out and do their best. We need to look out for each other, and I’m hoping writing like this can be a small catalyst for it.

Take care and remember that I’m always available.

Poetry Part Two

Trying to get the creative juices flowing during this cold start to winter, so I thought I'd try my hand at some more poetry.

Adulthood Angst

Money to be saved

Bills to be paid

Children to be raised

And weekends to be praised

All things that are meant to be a phase.

Instead you’re left in a daze

As you change from a care-free teen

To just another adult trapped in the maze

Winter Ways

Alarm booms blare into half-asleep ears

Eyes crack open unwillingly as dreams and reality briefly intermingle

The cold air wraps around bare ears, while legs lie smugly under blankets

A reluctant acceptance is made and feet thud begrudgingly against a frozen floor

Cold clothes are dragged on and bags grabbed to head out into the wide world

Where the fog in your mind is matched by the fog on the ground

Running Ruminations

Puffed cheeks push out hot air into the crisp night

Knees creak against the patter of shoe on concrete until the soft, squelchy relief of grass

Warm, golden light flows out of homely houses

Harrowing hills test the runner’s resolve to remain rapid

Pace picks up until the final leaf is crunched and the runner’s body reaches rest

The 2015 Cricket World Cup Has Been The Best Ever (Even If New Zealand Doesn't Win The Final)

The 2015 Cricket World Cup comes to a close on Sunday night, when the beautiful Black Caps take on those awful Aussies. I've loved this Cricket World Cup since it started, however before it did, I was a little apprehensive. I failed to grasp how momentous it was to have such an event in my country. One that I had watched on television since before I could remember. Luckily, my friends organised a group to go to the New Zealand Australia game and my lovely Mother purchased me a Semi-Final ticket for Christmas. Those games are two of the greatest sporting memories that I have. Both games that caused elation, nerves and me straining my vocal chords. The last time I hurt my voice because of New Zealand Cricket would be swearing at the demise in another test. I would consider myself to be a quiet sports watcher, but those two games saw me yelling, jumping and fist pumping. When Kane Williamson deposited Pat Cummins for six, I lost my mind and jumped and yelled with everyone else in the stadium and it was beautiful. Even crazier was when Trent Boult bowled Hashim Amla. I found myself on my feet, fists clenched and pumping with a howl climbing out of my throat like I have never heard before. It was two-fold when Grant Elliott hit that winning six. There I was hugging and hi-fiving strangers as the Black Caps overcame their Semi-Final hoodoo and reached their first final.

Grown men hugging. Everywhere.

I was not alone in this jubilation. With the Black Caps winning every game and reaching the final, it's no wonder that everyone has hopped on the bandwagon in hopes of victory. Does this make me bitter? Kind of. I've followed the rollercoaster of New Zealand Cricket since I was a small child. I would say that I have seen more losses than victories and now all of a sudden we win eight games and everyone's a fan? Part of me wants to say no. That you have to earn your stripes watching us get bowled out for under 100 in a test match against South Africa in the middle of the night to enjoy these giddy highs. Then the more logical side of me says that this is amazing. The whole country is talking about the game you love. Kids want to grow up to be the next Brendon McCullum or Trent Boult. Heck, maybe I'll even be able to convince some people to watch a test and sell it on the grounds of it being like five times as good (or just five times as long) as an ODI. However, I urge everyone who has taken a sudden interest in the Black Caps to not allow it to be fleeting. Your support for them should not end on Monday morning because they do this kind of thing all the time and they deserve to be followed and supported, even when they aren't winning.

After Sunday too, Okay? Sweet. Deal.

Do I think the Black Caps will win the final?

No is the short answer, but god, I hope they do. Unfortunately, I've seen too much. The Black Caps have been in two limited overs finals before. Both in the Champions Trophy, which is like the Commonwealth Games of cricket. In 2000, we won when my then hero, Chris Cairns scored an inspired century as we overcame India. In 2009, we made the final again against Australia and batting first we only scored 200, which Australia chased down, winning by six wickets. Now, this isn't that surprising. Australia have often been the final frontier for the Black Caps, especially so in Australia. In 56 games in Australia, New Zealand has only won 18. Take that to the MCG where the final is, New Zealand has only won 4 out of 14. Although, in saying that, we won our most recent ODI against Australia there, all the way back in 2009 when a certain Grant Elliott scored 61. Yet, with a winning percentage of 31% in ODIs in Australia, I'm not that confident. But, as Brendon McCullum says, I should really dare to dream. These aren't the Black Caps that I grew up watching, demonstrated by what will be the team for the final.

You're a dick, Watto.

 Despite our storied past, Brendon McCullum is downright destructive with the bat and is the ballsiest and most of aggressive captain going in world cricket.

Anyone who does this to a projectile being fired at them at 150km/ph has balls.

Martin Guptill does more with two toes on one foot than the rest of us do with five, whether it be insane catches or being the first white man to score an ODI double century.

I always knew that my toes were stopping my sporting ability.

 Kane 'Steady The Ship' Williamson is the best batsman I have ever seen for New Zealand, with poise, confidence and technique, he is due for a big one in the final.

He also catches cricket balls like this.

Ross Taylor might be "out of form" (he is averaging close to 50 in ODIs in the past year), but he has a lot of talent and experience for the big stage.

This dude is an obvious winner.

I doubted Grant Elliott's inclusion before this World Cup. Did he care? Hell no. He proved me and many others wrong as I stood and chanted his name in that Semi-Final. He's an experienced, composed battler, who has seen and done it before against Australia.

He's a pretty awesome dude too.

Corey Anderson is a big brute, who can smash a century off 36 balls and back it up with the third best bowling strike rate in ODI history.

He's also pretty dreamy.

Luke Ronchi was once an Aussie, but he's a definite Kiwi now. His experience of playing agianst the Australian teams and on the MCG will be invaluble down the order.

He was just a sleeper agent, right? Yeah, let's go with that.

Dan 'the man' Vettori is the man, full stop. It's hard to describe him better than that. Our once captain-coach-selector-saviour in the dark ages is coming to the end of his career.I doubted his inclusion in the squad, but he's been the best spinner in the tournament, chipped in some handy runs (including the best boundary to third man in New Zealand history) and of course that catch. If this is his final stage, we owe to him to go out as the champion that he is.

Dan's my fave.

Matt Henry is a late addition to the team, but in a short ODI career, he averages under 20 with the ball and has one five wicket haul to go with two four wicket hauls. His pace and accuracy will be key in the final.

He's new, but he's good.

Tim Southee is great. His bowling in tandem with Trent Boult has been beautiful. Accuracy and swing will test the Aussies and he definitely has the ability to clear any boundary even the boundaries that go as far as the moon that the MCG holds, according to a certain Mr. Hayden.

Piss off, you're out.

Trent Boult is just amazing. The Black Caps haven't had a bowler of his calibre since Shane Bond in his prime. The effortless, glide to the crease before the swinging, pinpoint accuracy at pace has already accounted for 21 victims in this World Cup making it the most a Kiwi has ever taken in a single World Cup tournament. Plus, he has a strange resemblance to Adam Scott, which makes me love him more.

I think it's the small mouth.

So while my head says the Black Caps will lose, my heart says they will win. Everything so far has been fairytale. I know this Australian team is good. They bat deep and their bowling attack is fast and fearsome. But, if you see the way the Australians behave with their sledging and snarling compared to the hard, but fair play of New Zealand, it's obvious who the good guys are. We deserve this. Even if they don't win, I'll still be damn proud of this team. They have played and acted like gracious champions, so in my mind they are already winners.However, the rest of the world doesn't see it that way, so keep backing the Blackcaps and let's dare to dream.

My Attempts At Poetry

#1 The Town

Buildings press hard
into the cold,
glowing night sky.

High heel clacks
reverberate
off deserted shops,

music blares into vacant skulls,
words are shouted,
but barely heard.

Can fulfilling love
really be found
in such a hollow place?

#2 Start Of Winter

Clouds list lazily
across the pastel blue sky.
Their soft demanor
allowing for endless potential
molded in the eye of the beholder.
Trees cling to the last of their green,
preparing to reveal their souls.

As birds sing sweet nothings to each other,
a warmth sets in.
Not in temperature,
but in soul.

Akin to the clouds,
opportunity sits on the horizon,
waiting to be molded.

New experiences, faces and places
all sit within reach.
But they are not to be snatched at,
instead to be enjoyed as they fall like ripe fruit.

Ironic how such warm optimism
can be found
at the start of the years
coldest
and darkest months.

David, Goliath and the Far Away Fan

Stats, stats, stats. I love statistics for many reasons. They can be used to tell a story as I'm planning to do, used to win an argument or on the other hand be too hollow to tell the full story. Before I get into those stats, I'll start with a basic one. Seven. Seven applies to many things, including a pretty enjoyable thriller starring Morgan Freeman and Brad Pitt, but in this case I'm referring to the fact that seven days make up a week. This also comprises the number of days that I was aiming to have between posts. My last post was on the twenty-second of May, so it would seem I have failed at that. I will blame it on the fact that I had work for approximately a million days in a row. As the Shining said 'All monotonous work at the liquor store and no play makes Eddie unmotivated to write his blog' (that's pretty much verbatim, right?). But now that I'm well rested surely this will be my best blog yet (hmmm, perhaps lower those expectations). Okay, away from my digression. The stat that made me ponder this particular blog came to me on a rainy Sunday morning at a bar, surrounded by more than a hundred others (which fascinated me to no end, but that will come later) and it came in the form of this image:

It is well established that I am no mathmagician but with the help of a calculator, I have ascertained that the Real squad is worth roughly 6.6 times as much as the Atleti squad (disclaimer: None of my brain cells were harmed in the completion of this equation). A David and Goliath storyline is quickly established. Real with the two most expensive players purchased in football history in Gareth Bale and Cristiano Ronaldo and a mercenary manager in the form of Carlo Ancelotti. Comparatively, Atleti's stars consist of youth academy starlets Koke and Gabi while their manager is former player Diego 'Cholo' Simeone.

 

Don't mess with a guy who wears black on black on black like a boss

Despite the fact that Atletico had just broken the Barcelona-Real Madrid nine year stranglehold on the La Liga title and were competing in their second European final in three years, they were clear underdogs. This is true of the entire Madrid derby. Real were dubbed the government's team and were associated with money, while Atleti were conceived as more of a working class type team. This is characterised by their stadium locations. Real's Santiago Bernabeu is located alongside banks and businesses in the 'rich' part of Madrid whereas Atleti's Vincente Calderon is located amongst the cathedral and royal palace, emitting an idea of true Spanish heritage earned and not just bought.

Real Madrid stars seemingly even buy their looks

To the game, and for 92 minutes Atletico looked as if they would defy all odds and get only their second European competition win over Real and win the title. But it was not to be. Sergio Ramos equalised in the 93rd minute and into added extra time, Real continued their surge, inflicting an undeserved 4-1 defeat to Atleti. Now, you can hardly call me an Atleti ultra like my friend Riley who convinced me a bar at 6 am before a ten hour shift was a great idea (I had fun really, mate) but when Gareth Bale headed in the goal to take the lead, I felt a sharp jag of pain. I attribute this to the underdog effect.

No, not this guy.

Lahkdar Brahimi attributes the natural affiliation towards the underdog as a reflection of their own issues against a bigger opponent and the desire for a hero. As New Zealanders this idea is even more prominent. With a small population and constantly facing larger opponents, it is only natural that we support others in similar situations. This goal seemed particularly cruel with the worlds most expensive player, costing more than the entire Atleti squad, striking the killer blow. While, it is a ploy to enthral audiences into viewing and purchase products while keeping sport as an economically viable product, I still love the idea of this kind of dramatic storyline playing out through twenty two people kicking a ball from one end of a field to another.

I began with numbers and I want to continue that theme. 19,584. That's the number of kilometres between Auckland and Madrid. Yet on this Sunday morning, The Fox sports bar in downtown Auckland was packed with hundreds of people. Heck, it wasn't even a nice Sunday morning!

Cue wanky picture from my Instagram of the morning in question. Ooh such light flares.

This got me thinking, how do fans such as myself so far away become enamoured with a team? I dubbed idea 'the far away fan' and I feel it is extremely prominent. Of course, I support my local Wellington Phoenix but I also affix myself proudly to Arsenal and the Denver Broncos but why? I have never been to London or Denver so it's hardly geographical. I attribute my Arsenal fandom to my brother. When I was younger, I recall fondly watching games before school. I then began to enjoy the attributes of the club. The style, the idea of not buying titles but nurturing talent (and the winning. Five year old me was a mad glory hunter). The years have gone on and I've continued to be a fan. I've gotten snippy and had countless arguments with others because of their different club affiliation. Think about that for just a second. Two people on the other side of the world, arguing over sports clubs that they have no geographical loyalty, isn't that brilliant? Just another thing about sports that I will continue to be marvelled by and love.

Me + sports sitting in a tree....

 For homework, I encourage you to watch the remainder of the brilliant world cup. Goal galore, dancing and plenty of spirit will all fuel my next blog post called 'Sports on the World Stage'.

They Say A Hero Can Save Us

Mmm, soak in that Chad Kroeger lyric inspired title

"Hate to see my hero @chriscairns168 getting his name dragged through the mud. Backing you all the way Cairnsy! #innocentuntilprovenguilty" That's a tweet from my personal Twitter account from the 10th of February this year. This was on the back of allegations of match fixing directed at Chris Cairns, which he was vehemently fighting against. The part of the tweet that intrigues me the most is the term 'hero'. Now, it's easy to see why Chris Cairns would be looked up to amongst the  New Zealand sporting community and particularly myself. Cairns was our best all rounder since Richard Hadlee and contributed some of the most memorable performances with the silver fern. His 102 against India to win New Zealand its only limited overs trophy thus far as well as his 7/27 against the West Indies to win us the test, comes to mind. It was not only these performances that endeared him to me but also his character. I will always remember injured Chris Cairns coming out  at number eleven to bat with Nathan Astle to put on 118 against England and almost winning us the test. While Astle scored an amazing 222, it is Cairns that stood out to me, trying to do all he could to win for his country. Cairns was not only a hero on the field. In 1993, his sister Louise was tragically struck down by a train. Chris remained strong and even honoured her by walking more than 1000kms to promote rail safety awareness. It's clear to see I hold a lot of adoration for Chris Cairns. Heck, I even went against the rule of meeting your heroes and now his signature is on my Beige Brigade shirt hung in my pool room along with the memories of a nice guy. So here's a guy who is talented at a sport I love, has overcome adversity and in my experiences is an affable character, is it any wonder that he's someone I would aspire to be like and dub a hero? These feelings are what has made this weeks accusations by Lou Vincent and Brendon McCullum that Cairns approached them to fix matches with him, all the more crushing. Imagine your hero being a cheat and bringing down every idea you had of them. While of course, he is innocent until proven guilty and I hope the allegations are refuted, this made me think. Did Chris Cairns ever ask to be my hero? Of course not. He was simply doing his job, yet so often sports stars are dubbed heroes and saddled with expectations. This has led me to explore the idea of the sports star as a hero and whether this is fair or not. Heroes are a constant within sports. Heck, even right now I have a ridiculous amount of worship for that beautiful Welsh man Aaron Ramsey for scoring the winning goal that gave Arsenal it's first title in over nine years.

I never doubted you, Rambo. Fiiiine, maybe a little bit.

There is of course the debatable idea of what constitutes a hero. Christopher Reeve, who portrayed the infallible hero of Superman claimed that a hero is "an ordinary individual who finds strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles". This definition fits in well with sports because of the narratives I alluded to in my last blog. With the media always seeking to create a narrative, there is always the ability to overcome something, whether it be physical injury, return from suspension, a tough background etc. Mark Twain provides what I would say is a great description for why we admire these people as he said "Unconsciously we all a standard by which we measure other men, and if we examine closely we find that this standard is a very simple one, and is this: we admire them, we envy them, for great qualities we ourselves lack. Hero worship consists in just that".

 

Now that's a moustache-pipe combo that you can worship

This makes total sense for my devotion and now despair for Chris Cairns. The admiration for being great and skilled at something I loved, leaves a clear path for hero worship. But is it fair? As aforementioned, are these athletes not just doing their jobs? Is it fair to think of them as some kind of infallible hero just because they're in the public spotlight? This mode has allowed for disappointment after disappointment. Take for example, Oscar Pistorious. Someone I personally admired for his story. An amputee from eleven months old, who doesn't accept being restricted to paralysed events and becomes the first amputee to compete in able bodied competition and even in the 2012 London Olympics. A phenomenal story of perseverance, hard work and not accepting restrictions placed upon you, that anyone could learn from. Fast forward less than a year from his appearance at the Olympics and Pistorious is found to have shot his girlfriend dead. While sanity and motive are questioned in current trials, it is undeniable that a hero was lost to many that day. To less shoot-y experiences, my own with Brendon McCullum come to mind. I still remember it vividly. A fresh faced twelve year old boy asks the BlackCaps wicketkeeper how he differentiates the Marshall twins and is ridiculed for his pre-pubescent voice, until Stephen Fleming tells him to stop being a dick (still got love for you Flem).  In an instant, someone who I admired and who's autograph I wanted, became a dick who insulted pre-teens. This is my first memory of a hero disappointing me and formed a grudge that was only erased by him becoming the first New Zealander to score a test triple century. 

299 and we've still got beef, buddy

I realise this makes me sound cynical beyond my twenty one years (being a BlackCaps and Arsenal fan between 2004 and last Sunday will contribute to this), deriding the idea of allowing sports stars to be your heroes but this my recent disappointment has allowed me to follow the thinking of Noam Chomsky. He stated "I don't feel we should set people up as 'models'; rather actions, thoughts, principles". While I have focussed on the negative and the disappointments, there are still plenty of sports stars who are not only great on their field but off it as well. Type 'JJ Watt' into google and find a young man, who is the best at his position but won't buy extravagant items in fear of his mother's chagrin. A man who will make special visits to bullied children to be their friends, who will fake propose to a six year old, who is sad that she cannot marry him. Here's a man who's actions demand recognition and admiration. Russell Wilson is another. Trawl through his Instagram and find multiple pictures of his weekly visits to Seattle Children's Hospital, fresh off winning the grandest achievement in his sport, in just his second year. Even within Seattle, Richard Sherman is another who is a worthy role model. Brought up in Compton, he fought against the stereotypes to turn to gang violence, graduates from Stanford and becomes one of the best corner backs in the NFL. Yet the media labels him a 'thug' for passion in the heat of the moment after performing the biggest moment in his career. A man who rose from the ghetto to become an articulate role model, advertising those of similar upbringings to not accept being boxed into societal norms.

Don't try him with weak ass media stereotypes

So what should be taken from this whole ordeal? Should we no longer pursue sports stars as heroes? Of course not. Perhaps the hero title should be dropped. Yet there are still many that perform actions that demand admiration and the title of role model, even if they receive less media attention than their wrongdoing counter parts. Instead, this admiration should be taken with a grain of salt. Sports stars are still human and are prone to mistakes, so you have to be comfortable with the idea that while they will bring you great joy, they may also disappoint you. But this is what makes sports great, is it not? The idea of the unpredictable, riding the highs and slumming with the lows and if we can accept that from sport than there's no reason that we can't accept that from those that play it. I want to leave you with a quote from someone who I still call a role model, that has resonated with me this week. Someone who has always acted with integrity on and off the field and come back from injury to be better than before. "When you are chided for your naivete, and you will be, remind your critics that an amateur built the ark. Experts built the Titanic"- Peyton Manning.

This cat is a hero that will never let me down

The Spectacle of Sport

Well I haven't done this in far too long but since I'm now a graduate (wooo!) and don't have much intellectual stimulation in my job, I thought I'd attempt to bring this back as a means of creative output. Topics can often be tough for things like this but I decided to go for a basic premise: my love of sport and its spectacle. Predominantly, people are drawn to things they excel at. Now I would never say that I am good at sport. I've never been the fastest or the most co-ordinated but I suppose every dog has his day (mine being a hat trick for the Metro under 10s, taking 5-15 when I was fourteen and batting three hours to save a game for the second XI) but I would in no way say that I am athletically gifted. What then draws me to spend hours every day reading about various sports from cricket to football to American football? The answer is the spectacle. Sport is a brilliant vehicle for unpredictable outcomes, unknowns becoming heroes, and endless passion. Sport is an international language that leads a young adult from New Zealand to form an association with people in London and Denver through my allegiance to Arsenal and the Broncos respectively. It can be understood and enjoyed by all, young to old such as myself and my grandfather. It is not race dependant nor is it exclusive but instead all encompassing. The unpredictability draws us together and it is two particular recent events that have made me think about this. One is the just completed 2014 NFL Draft and the other is the final day of the English Premier League due to finish overnight New Zealand time.

Me being average at sports since ages ago

 

 

My foray into American football is a recent development but it is quickly becoming my favourite sport. I have always loved statistics which is what endeared cricket to me despite my utter ineptitude at maths (I'm noticing a theme here. Note to self: start doing things that you're actually good at, ya dumbass). While cricket has averages, strike rates and the like, American football has yards per carry, yards per attempt, yards after the catch, I could really go all night but the just of it is that it is a statistician's dream. The NFL also provides some of the greatest sporting spectacle you can find in the world. The Super Bowl is an event watched worldwide even if the majority do not understand what they are watching. The draft is the epitomy of the spectacle that the NFL provides. Literally bright lights, cameras and the Radio City Music Hall in New York to select players out of college (what am I doing with my life again?). All of this but no actual physical activity! Yet plenty of what attracts people to sport: narrative.

 

Oooh flashy

 

These are young men reaching their dreams so the narratives are plentiful. Will the young, athletically talented man from the poor background be able to support his family is the prevalent narrative but this year threw out some interesting ones. When would the ridiculously talented but questionable character Johnny Manziel of Texas A&M be drafted? Would the first openly gay NFL prospect Michael Sam be drafted? Well firstly there was the struggle with Johnny. After sitting there sipping water for twenty one picks filled with close up after close up, Johnny Football was selected by the Cleveland Browns with the twenty second pick.

Mmm, bet you wish that wasn't just water huh, Johnny?

 

Will it be a good pick or will Johnny be another quarterback fail in Cleveland? This is surely a narrative that will be brought up for every one of the sixteen Browns games over the season and one I look forward to following closely. The other is that of Michael Sam. Late last year, Sam became the first ever NFL draft prospect to come out as gay. Many saw a chance for one of America's oldest games to step into the twenty first century but others saw bigoted comments and disapproval. Now Sam is a decent player, being named co-defensive player of the year in his conference last year, surely worth a draft pick but it seemed as if it wouldn't come. Then with the 249th pick of the draft, the St Louis Rams (the team that also selected the first black player into the NFL in 1946) called his name and produced this image.

Spine tingling

 

Again, narratives are prevalent as a man looking to achieve his dreams in the face of adversity is presented to the world. So I definitely look forward to hearing about Michael Sam the football player and less about Michael Sam the gay football player. This small sample size not even including games, shows the great sporting spectacle of the NFL and why it brings people together. The other event which is sure to illicit spectacle is the final day of the English Premier League.

 

While my Arsenal have long since been in the race for the Premier League title, the ending is still exciting. Liverpool, a club of great historical greatness, finally climbed back to the top until a late slip (sorry Stevie) allowed Manchester City back into the race. Now it comes down to the final day. If Liverpool win and Manchester City lose then the title will return to Anfield but all City need is to beat lowly West Ham at home to keep the title in Manchester. I remember City's title two years ago where a last minute goal from Sergio Aguero caused me to jump around at four in the morning as Manchester United missed out on the title. This was the greatest of sports narratives at hand. An Italian passes to an Argentinian, who scores causing thousands of English people to sing their names as the 'little brother' City upset United. Even within the game, sixteenth placed Queens Park Rangers were upsetting second placed City despite being a man down, demonstrating the 'Any Given Sunday' adage that makes me love sport so much. West Ham have pedigree in denying titles as they did twice to Manchester United in the 90s and also contain former Liverpool players, leaving a story book finish possible. I, personally think City will win the title but I've been wrong before about sport and will happily be wrong again but one thing is for certain, I'll be watching and loving every spectacle ladened minute of it.