BBC staff look North

There's a piece in Media Guardian on the take up of relocation amongst BBC managers ahead of the move to MediaCity at Salford Quays.

A link to it is here.

My response, posted on the site, is this, though I was mainly reacting to moronic posts from readers of the UK's leading liberal newspaper:

Oh dear. marky1982, Kelvin, lhur2006, whoever. You're not going to get a rise out of us.

And please, I urge all these Mancunian sophisticates to resist from coming on here and saying there's a nice deli in Didsbury, or that the Manchester International Festival has just seen Kraftwerk doing Orginal Modern things.

No, this project is actually about getting the BBC a little bit closer to the people who pay for it. Some of them might drink WKD in cheap bars, even.

Nation Shall Speak Peace Unto Nation - so well done to all those BBC folks who have chosen to pack the van and move North. A welcome awaits.

And to the BBC looking for people to get the job done, there are loads of creative people in the North with great ideas excited at the prospect of making programmes for the nation's broadcaster.

More coaching badges than Paul Ince

I mentioned I was doing an FA coaching course here. Well, I passed. Which felt absolutely bloody brilliant. The best thing I got out of today was the real strong bond between the 22 of us on the course. I was on last and there were no shortage of helpers for me setting out the pitch, helping as ball boys (and girls) and taking an active part in the exercise. I hope I was as helpful to the others in their hour of need.

A new physical affliction to add to the swollen Achilles - sunburn on the backs of my knees. Ouch.

After yesterday's Under 11s 11-a-side tournament at Hadfield, where Joe's knee gave out and he had to be carried off in tears in the semi-final, then witnessed his mates lose on penalties, I was feeling a bit down about the whole circus of kids football. I still despair at the behaviour of some adults - and I didn't exactly cover myself in glory by giving the ref some backchat about child protection when he refused to stop the game as Joe was unable to walk. By the way, I've checked, and he should have stopped the game (welfare of the child is paramount), but equally as a parent on the sidelines I shouldn't have opened my mouth.

But there is a minefield here and as zealous as I feel about what I've learned on my course, I question whether common sense and FA policy is swimming against the tide. What should the attitude to winning be? Win at all costs? Or play the right way? At what point is asking kids to make decisions going to work?

It's July - some bookmarks of stuff I've been liking

Blimey - I've been made Man of the Week in Liverpool. Here's me with Frank McKenna and his report on the event we did last week.

Danny Baker's stunningly well-written and brilliantly observed piece on Michael Jackson from The Times in 2005.

When I said last week that it is far from a foregone conclusion that the Tories will sweep to power next year, I had this in mind - Jackie Ashley puts it very well

A very amusing video with Hardeep Singh Kohli.

The Spectator's Debroah Ross has lunch with Jimmy McNulty from The Wire.

Hazel Blears to face wealthy independent opponent at next election.

Adidas Beckenbauer - superb black wheels

OB well on top - good interview with Manchester's top cop by ManCon

Happy to renew our Rovers season tickets

We rebooked our season tickets for the Rovers today. We've decided to get four. One adult and three kids. Hopefully that will work out OK.

The Blackburn End and the Riverside are totally sold out. The family stand is filling up and the special offers on "taking back" the Darwen End with the 15 game £150 offer has gone well.

There will be four games where the Darwen End will be given to the away fans, news of it is here. Two will be Liverpool and Man U, one will be Burnley, presumably on police advice. The other is to be decided. I anticipate that will be a controversial decision. But then I wouldn't want to sit in a lower tier underneath that lot. Equally, Burnley are looking at reducing away fans capacity in the Cricket Field stand.

Having a laugh with Theo Paphitis

The Many Hands Campaign has been designed to get smaller businesses involved in getting their staff to raise money for the Manchester New Children’s Hospital Appeal. I was asked to help out last night as the campaign drew to a close at a reception with Theo Paphitis.

He made a very good point: businesses that encourage their staff to get involved in things like this actually do better. It's great for spirit and has the effect of generating a more selfless attitude.

The campaign has generated £100,000 for The New Children’s Hospital Appeal. And many of the initiatives have been brilliant. A special IoD Award for Innovation in fund raising went to Sheldon Bean from Beanstalk Telecom and Nigel Woolfstein from Wood & Woolfstein Dental Surgery who raised nearly £18,000 with their 24 hour tennis tournament.

Richard Duerr from Manchester jam company Duerr's presented a painting made with their own products, jam, marmalade and the sky was done in tartare sauce. He revealed that the top bid was for £1,050 from Richard's father. Theo offered £5K. Nice one.

My job was to moderate the Q+A. He was a great guy to interview, full of funny stories and really sound advice. He's signed me a copy of his book, so I'll have to read it now. Yes, he's disappointed not to have bought Woolies, and no he wouldn't follow Alan Sugar into a government role. Sort of, I think he'd quite like to be asked.

Bruce Springsteen at Glastonbury

...looked and sounded amazing, especially from comfort of my living room.

Maybe it's the tired and emotional state I'm in, but just had a lump in the throat moment at the greatest line in rock n roll. Which is the 13th line of this.

Aches and strains

My left big toe is sore. My right achilles tendon is swollen. My knees are stiff, and the right one is grazed. I can hardly see straight I'm so tired. And my head is hot. I've got that Sunday evening feeling back. The feeling of pain and contentment, that so punctuated my 20s and early 30s; and I love it.

For the second Sunday running, I've been on my FA Level 1 coaching course at Wilmslow High School. The coach is a proper football geezer called Bill Prendergast, who's been at Crewe Alex and Manchester City. He has similar values to me on kids football and brings a real element of fun to the sessions.

While the lessons on the rules of football and how to operate at junior football level are classroom based, most of the time is spent being subjects in the other 22 coaches drills. It is absolutely brilliant fun. The others are either young blokes about my age who want to help the clubs their children play for, or even younger lads who are keen as mustard and brilliant at football.

Each of us was given a training routine from the FA course handbook to run, starting with a gentle warm up called "traffic lights".

My session involved getting 12 volunteers to play "three pots in" or "three and in" or "Wembley" as we knew it as kids, on four separate pitches, coned off my me. It should have been so simple, but I over complicated it, confused the rest of the players and had to run through it all again. I think part of the problem was I was 19th out of 22 and the rest of them were mentally shot. And I didn't really understand the pitch diagrams in the book.

We're being assesed independently next week, so we have to get it right in every regard. Starting with a session plan.

We drew our running order today for next week's big test. I'm 20th. Wish me luck.

The Leaving of Liverpool

I went to Liverpool today to be a panellist on a debate about the direction the city is going in. The chairman and host was Frank McKenna of Downtown Liverpool in Business (pictured, tieless) and a man with the eye on the prize of being Mayor of Liverpool one day. The debate was recorded and will be broadcast on CityTalk radio soon.

My role in proceedings, I suspect, was to be the gobby Manc who dares to criticise the dignity of This Great City of Ours. Anyway, I have a bit of a thing at the moment about Manchester's complacency and a crisis of confidence. So to hear people in Leeds and Liverpool spend so much energy worrying about "that lot down the M62" seems strange. Odd isn't it, how internal and exernal perceptions can differ so widely?

I also like the Scouse spirit and am not overly given to sneering Manc superiority - not actually being a Manc and all that - so they should have booked Terry Christian if that's what they wanted.

Anyway, I've been so busy rushing to get home through mad traffic, and enjoying curry, beer, kids, Twitter banter and warm weather, I've only just thought about the debate. I managed to say most of the above, and get away with saying - "get your chip off your shoulder" - and not get chucked down the fire escape. I also suggested a single stadium for Everton and Liverpool would be a potent symbol of the city's cultural maturity - adding, "and those Everton fans who say they refuse to share a purple seat with Doctor Fun should grow up."

There seemed to be a consensus that the European Capital of Culture year in 2008 was about the city feeling good about itself, but with little culture and hardly anything European. Unless anyone from the national media (or Manchester) says that, to which the response is that it was a terrific success. It feels like a great big Scouse wedding. Now they're having the scrap in the car park afterwards.

I also seem to remember predicting during the discussion that the Conservatives won't win the next election outright. I think I ought to expand on that sometime soon, but I'm tired and want to listen to some gentle music as I wait for my woman of the hearthfire to return from her girls night out in Burnley.

Some bookmarks at the end of June

A flat in my old house in London is for sale for an eye watering amount of money. I wonder if the lad from the flat on the first floor still keeps his stash of crack in that cubby hole under the stairs.

Real Journalism's David Conn plays sweeper in the epic tale of the BBC Panorama saga - Harry Redknapp, Kevin Bond and Sam Allardyce never sued.

Blogging is dead say the experts - here and here. And do you know what, there's a scientific theory of this, The Hype Cycle - here - blogging is heading for the "trough of disillusionment" and Twitter has someway to go on the way towards the "peak of inflated expectations". Personally I think I'm on the "plateau of productivity" with The Marple Leaf.

David Quinn feels deep in the trough. He shouldn't. Words Dept is a good blog - spread the word.

Augmented reality. Clever stuff.

I bought these trainers in Liverpool today. Couldn't resist.

Season ticket sales going well down Ewood way.

As undergraduate sociologists in the 1980s we would debate the plethora of jokes that would follow a death or a disaster. Coping mechanism, or just heartless twerps? Following the tragic death of Michael Jackson, I present the case for the prosecution.

Seething Wells RIP

I was sad to read today that Steven Wells had died from cancer in Philadelphia. He was a writer for the NME in the 80s – sometimes under the name Susan Williams. There’s a great obituary from James Brown here: “the brilliant NME writer with no real interest in music”.

Other tributes here, here and here is his last column for Philadelphia Weekly. His last published words:

You could blame this fallacy on poor education, cultural deterioration, or simple moral decline.

Me? I blame it on sunshine. I blame it on the moonlight. I blame it on the boogie.

I met him at the Dukes Playhouse in Lancaster in 1982 after he performed at a poetry festival. I loved his punk poet stance and his aggressive polemics. He was probably the first celebrity that I met, though he would have been horrified at the thought.

When I was planning my own fanzine (Positive Feedback) he was so encouraging. He gave us an interview, and wrote back with a load of tips and hints which was brilliant and let us publish his ranting poem: "Agro Britain". So, he’s partly responsible for setting me on my way.

I have just replayed his terrific spoken word single – Agro Britain, Godzilla versus The Tetleybittermen, Ha Ha Ha, Police Dog. Brilliant.

Team Z - the strange world of junior football

It’s been a whirlwind end to the season at Marple Athletic. As you may know, three of our tribe play each week – Joe for the Under 10s and Max and Louis with the Under 8s.

Earlier this month Joe’s team braved torrential rain to compete in a tournament over in Warrington. They topped their first round group. The toughest opponents were a team called – on the programme – Team Z. Then they adopted another name on the score board, then another at a later point. But let’s just call them Team Z. They were big lads and one boy in particular had a great left foot. The last match in the group ended 0-0, which the boys were really pleased about. It certainly gave them the confidence to beat Mossley Hill, who had become a bit of a bogey team in recent tournaments. But something didn’t seem right.

At the Fleetwood tournament in May three of our boys were effectively accused of being over age. This is a tough call to make in kids football. Fielding players from an older age group is bang out of order. Passports were produced. Apologies were made. We’re a pretty serious club and wouldn’t ever do anything like this. It’s been known for players from a YOUNGER age group to make up the numbers, but never older.

ANYWAY! Our lads reached the final where they met the Team Z again. It was a good game. Marple lost after extra time. There was also this bizarre tournament rule once extra time started whereby a player was removed from each team every minute, starting with the goalkeepers.

To cut a long story Team Z won 3-1. As I said, something wasn’t right. In Under 10s football, if there is ever a problem, it’s usually with the parents. Except in this case there weren’t any. One Mum and a bloke in United shorts were running the team and they were pretty low key. And that, we thought was that. The boys were big and we just took it that they must feed them well in Z land.

Every other team they played that day complained about them. This usually happens when teams lose and there were a few teams present with gobby parents with a lot to say for themselves. The complaint was mainly that the kids looked big.

Anyway, wheels turned, days passed, questions were asked. Answers were received. It turned out that two of their players were 12. One was 14. I said I thought they were big. They were disqualified and Marple Athletic were declared the tournament winners.

At the club presentation night on June 12 we were able to present the trophy to the boys and spring this surprise news on them. The delight on their faces was something to behold.

But get this. Two days later they get beaten in another tournament. One of the kids in the team – a very big lad – was also playing for Team Z. But his mother assured he was 10. And that he has now found a nice new club away from the kind of cheats who would field 12 and 14 year olds.

I have seen a whole new world in my three years of involvement in junior football, but this takes some beating.