Buddy guest blogs

Hey Coach Pearl

Are there any vacancies on your staff? Or is more formal attire required.

Or maybe with my skills, I should be applying to Coach Fulmer:

I’ll do anything:

I’ll be the mascot

-Big Orange Buddy
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Out for lunch today I overheard a father at the next table say to his toddler son “How would you like to wear a track suit like that?”

He said it like it would be some kind of joke or punishment or something.

You could tell it just slipped out. You could tell that he was thinking “Did I just say that, like that, out loud? I know they heard me.”

And I’m thinking – “Hey, we’re just at the next table. We heard you.”

And then he says to us “That’s a really nice track suit.”

Errrm….thanks. Fact is, you don’t see an outfit like that in South West London every day.

Not something you’d expect from the Welsh

An Irishman, a Scot, an Englishman and a Welshman all walk into a bar. No, that can’t be right, at least three of them must have been smart enough to duck.

Seriously though, of those four – which is the least bright? Did you say the Irish fellow? Shame on you. You’re not allowed to say that anymore. It’s racist. The Irish have their own box now to tick on forms. You can’t have said Scottish or English because they have different cultural stereotypes. So it must have been the Welsh guy. He must be the stupid one.

The thick Welshman was a new stereotype for me when I came over here. I had no idea. But it’s pervasive. I once had a long, long conversation in the first class smoking carriage of a train to York with a Welsh fellow. We traded secrets about how we’d played on our regional accents (I can still sound Southern if I want to) acted dumb and gotten away with – if not murder – then free bus fares and out of traffic tickets and used it to gain advantage in sales. How we laughed. How we garnered the sulking, resentful looks of the English on the train. Surely, they didn’t think the Welsh really were that stupid, surely they must have had some suspicions all along?

In an age of offense, there do still remain some groups it’s ok to pick at. Groups which it’s still OK to make fun of – like Redneck Southerners or Welshmen from the Valleys. Hey, it’s all for a laugh right?

Apparently so. The Adverstising Standards Agency has rejected a series of complaints about an ad which cast less than flattering light upon the Welsh intellect:

The advertising watchdog has rejected 21 complaints about a commercial which featured a Welsh team in a quiz show. Complainants said the advert for Welsh firm Brecon Five’s vodka presented Welsh people as of low intelligence.

It showed a woman called Jones getting a question about a philosopher right, before a voiceover that said: “That’s not what you’d expect from Wales”.

Hardy, har, har.

The Advertising Standards Authority (ASA) ruled it was light-hearted and unlikely to cause widespread offence.

Well, it’s not likely to cause widespread offense outside Wales, I guess. I mean, I admit – I’m not offended and my mother’s maiden name is Welsh and all.

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And in other news from Wales, this story also struck me funny.

Warren Gatland [the new Welsh rugby coach] has dismissed the notion that there is a widespread drinking culture in Welsh rugby.

Mwwwa, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. ROFL, LMAO

That’s not what I’d expect from Wales. Or rugby players.

And in other sporting news…

I don’t really much care for baseball. But I just want to acknowledge Jen – my expat blogger near neighbour – and her team winning the World Series. That must be amazing. That must feel like, well, like your team winning the World Series.

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I don’t much care for NFL Football either. Tennessee didn’t have a team when I left the US and no other team ever captured my loyalty. But apparently the NFL is looking to win hearts and minds on foreign soil. Namely British soil. In the Independent:

Rebuilt Wembley Stadium hosted the first regular-season NFL game in Europe, and fans of all teams have flocked to northwest London to see the New York Giants beat the Miami Dolphins 13-10.

But instead of drawing lots of British fans, a lot of the folks there were American.

Many in the sold-out stadium came from the United States, and the dreary sky poses no problem.

I’m sure the expat contingent in London put up a good showing, too. There’s no firm estimate of how many Americans live in London, but we could probably just about fill Wembley stadium*. But the story nicely captures the feelings of a small contingent of Brits who love them some American football – all apparently hooked from catching a game on tv.

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* but not Neyland stadium.

wet, wet Wimbledon

Although my neighbourhood is considerably further down market, I’m really just around the corner from Wimbledon. It’s technically walkable – but it’s a long walk – made longer by the way the roads are cut. If I were a crow, it would be a pretty short flight.

My point is, I’ve lived really close to Wimbledon for a number of years and I’ve never been. In the opening days of the tournament you can queue for tickets at the grounds and it’s quite likely, with a little luck and a little patience that you’ll get to see someone quite famous. And I don’t even think it’s that expensive really – not in the early days.

But the truth is, I’ve never really gotten in to tennis. I can’t play it and I can’t follow it. When my c-section anaesthetist suggested that we might be anticipating the imminent arrival of a Wimbledon tennis star – me and the Vol-in-Law just scoffed. His tennis skills are almost as low as mine.

But I have to admit that I usually really like the buzz around Wimbledon. There’s the usual hope and aspiration that maybe this year there’ll be a British tennis star who’ll win the big giant cup. This year -despite lack of play from rain – the British hopes were dashed astonishingly early.

Financial spillover

I know someone who lives in Wimbledon who rents his house out every year for the tournament and makes a bucket load of money. Although we don’t live that close, we live close enough (you can pick up a special tournament time bus to Wimbledon near our house). Soon we should have a new bus route that stops almost right in front of our house (though thankfully in just the next road over – so we don’t have buses going in front of us). Maybe next year we could at least organise a house swap? That might be cool.

The real spillover

Of course, the real spillover effect we get is the weather. It’s a quite a cliche to say “Oh, it’s Wimbledon – so it must be rainy” – and indeed this year that’s been the case. And we get Wimbledon’s weather. During this tourney, it seems like it rains almost exclusively during the hours of play. Early in the morning, it’s lovely – blue skies, but ten the sky is leaden and by the time of kick off (or whatever the tennis equivalent might be) which is around 11 it seems to be pitching it down.

But at least we didn’t get this.