A Tale of Two Tailgates–Part 2: NASCAR

NASCAR is one of America’s most popular sports, which is why most people in the world know absolutely nothing about it. For the uninitiated, NASCAR stands for National Association of Stock Car Auto Racing (the “Auto” was clearly added so that the acronym ended in CAR) and involves normal looking saloon (sedan) cars being driven around in circles for several hours at around 200mph. The sport has its roots in the 1920s prohibition era and the world of illegal moonshine running. Back in the day, illegal liquor entrepreneurs were often on the run from the law and therefore needed fast cars to ensure they didn’t get caught… basically it was exactly like the Dukes of Hazzard but in black and white. Just like your modern day British, Max Power reading Kevs, Chavs and townies in Essex, Kent and the Home Counties (think Jersey Shore), they took normal, everyday cars, and modified them so that they would go nufty quick and impress shallow women with God awful accents… although I don’t think the modifications generally extended to base cannons, spinners and undercar lighting. Of course, when you get a lot of young guys with fast cars knocking about, the inevitable happens and they start to race each other. What started out as just another elegant proof of Darwin’s theory of natural selection, over time became more organized and NASCAR was born.

When I told people in New York I was going to a NASCAR race, the most common response I got was a disbelieving “Why on Earth would you want to do that? You know it’s just a bunch of rednecks watching cars drive in circles right?” Undeterred, I bought tickets and press-ganged a friend into coming along and made my way to the city of churches and home of NASCAR, Charlotte, North Carolina. I was keen to fit in as much as possible so I paid a visit to the NASCAR Hall of Fame, which is also in Charlotte, to learn about the sport and buy myself a little something to make myself look the part. Remembering that a friend of mine had warned me that backing the wrong driver could lead me to getting buried in a hail of fried chicken bones thrown by rival fans, I shrewdly decided to get myself a Dale Earnhardt Senior cap. Non-NASCAR fans of course will have no idea who Dale Earnhardt Senior is… or more accurately was. Dale Earnhardt was like the Ayrton Senna of NASCAR, both in that he was highly successfully, and, that he tragically died during a race in front of a TV audience of millions… no doubt doing what he loved… that is of course assuming what he loved was experiencing severe and ultimately fatal head trauma. Unlike Ayrton Senna however, Dale Earnhardt Senior had a dodgy moustache and went by the nickname… The Intimidator. I only hope he didn’t coin the nickname himself as calling yourself The Intimidator is definitely not cool. I figured that choosing to represent the memory of a late legend would make me immune from getting abuse from other fans. Now that I was appropriately kitted out, it was time to get hold of the other NASCAR essential… a cooler full of beer… refreshingly in this day and age, bringing vast quantities of booze into the stadium is positively encouraged at the NASCAR. So I made my way to the supermarket to load up on generic, cheap American piss… in this case Budweiser. I figured that taking a load of poncey Eurolager just wouldn’t be in keeping with the all American aesthetic and would mark me as an outsider from the start. On leaving the supermarket, with a case of Budweiser under my arm, and a flaming number 3 emblazoned Intimidator cap on my head, I got confirmation that I had achieved the look I was after. An elderly black gentleman sitting on a bench outside the supermarket called after me as I walked by… “Hey redneck!” Ummm… he can’t be talking to me… hang on… he is talking to me… Mother Fucker… this is awesome! Naturally I retaliated as any good redneck would by calling him a nnnnn……….othing at all, I just ignored him, and made my way back to the car… smiling to myself. Who says getting racially abused is always a bad thing?

Lowe’s Speedway is an intimate venue with a capacity of over 150,000. The majority of people that go there can be described by picking a selection of the following words… stupid, poor, white, Christian, patriotic, trash. OK, so it sounds harsh, but even though I went with an open mind, hoping to find something in the NASCAR scene that the sophisticated New Yorkers and so called “educated people” were missing, I found not one shred of evidence to contradict the common perception of the NASCAR fan. I’m just telling you what I saw… Around the car parks there were sporadic tailgates, however these were a poor imitation of the ones I had witnessed in Alabama. The gas-fired barbeques had been replaced with the sort of cheap, semi-disposable tat that people in the UK buy from the supermarket on the occasional days that the Sun decides to make an appearance… although passable in the UK… an embarrassment in the US. The middle class dips, lovingly marinated meat on sticks and home made jambalaya, had been replaced by pathetic burnt sausages and cardboard burgers… and not a condiment in sight. No chinos, polo shirts and friendly conversation here. The scene is wife beaters, dungarees (overalls) and mutual suspicion… no collars please, we’re rednecks. Amongst the concession stands around the race track were mysterious, windowless, tobacco brothels, erected by Marlboro, Camel and Skoal where a strictly over 21 crowd queued up eagerly to get their hands on new and exciting ways to hasten their death. If tobacco wasn’t your thing then you could endanger your life by joining the military at the recruitment stand next door… and if that wasn’t your thing you could always go and talk to some churchman or other eagerly mining the rich seam of gullible souls...

There were more surprises waiting when we got inside the racetrack. After a hearty rendition of God Bless America it was time for… the prayer. God… I mean Jesus… I mean something secular… Gordon Bennett… does it ever end? Up steps local Charlottan (I’m guessing that’s the term for someone from Charlotte), Pastor Billy Ray something or other and the crowd solemnly bows their heads to wait for his transparent fawning at the imaginary feet of an omnipotent, and no doubt American, God… He was a bit inarticulate for a Pastor so I apologise in advance if this resembles a 7 year olds Christmas thank you letter…

“God… we thank you for the wonderful world we live in… a world in which half the population is starving, whilst we in America have plenty to eat. Thank you for the bounty of this great country… and for making us free [so… why didn’t you make everyone free?] Thank you Lord for making the world this way [hang on minute… did he just thank God for making a world in which half the people are starving… even if that was a factually incorrect statement]… and we thank you for sending your son Jesus… and making us in your likeness [Really… God is a Redneck?] We ask you to protect our troops in Eye-rack and Afghanistan, who are fighting to protect this country and its freedom… and thank you for this race today… and for the drivers. Please show them guidance, keep them safe and protect them with your love. Let’s hope we see a great race today [because God loves NASCAR]… Amen”

To which the crowd obediently murmur an affirmative “Amen”… whilst I snigger to myself and roll eyes until I’m looking at the inside of my own head… what absolute drivel… at least British trash have the sense to be self-absorbed atheists. The prayer was followed by more praying to America’s other mindless religion as the crowd starts to sing… “Oh say can you see…. By the dawn’s early light…”

And then it’s time to start racing…“Gentlemen… Start Your Engines!!!” The cars roar into life and speed off on the first of 333 laps around the mile and a half oval. As the cars sweep past our seats the noise is both deafening and thrilling in equal measures… well at least the first time it is… ok maybe the first 20 times to be fair… but eventually monotony sets in as the cars spread out around the track and the atmosphere is left thick with the continuous high pitched humming sound of car engines and the smell of burning rubber… and around they go… again and again and again… Thankfully, there is absolutely no value whatsoever in paying attention to what’s going in the race during the first 300 laps or so. You see, driving at high speed is dangerous, even if you are just going in circles. This inevitably means that, from time to time, usually about every 50 laps or so, there will be a crash or spin, leading to a caution flag, which heralds the deployment of the safety car. Under the safety car the race is effectively reset to the start, which means that if you were getting bored of the old race, or don’t like who’s winning, you just have to wait and you’ll get a new race as soon as someone does the decent thing and loses control of their vehicle… oh… and there’s always a caution flag for some reason or other in the last 25 laps so you just have to sit back and wait for that.

In the meantime, instead of concentrating on the cars, you can watch the crowd… and what a treat they are. Wall to wall white trash. Within about half an hour, some retard about three rows in front of me, who happens to be wearing dungarees without the slightest hint that he’s doing it for a laugh, has managed to get himself into a fight. I have no idea how the fight started, although I suspect it was some disagreement about which driver was the best at driving around in circles, but it was a welcome distraction from the formation driving on the track as two gangs of hicks angrily faced off against each other. I’m usually scared of fights for fear of being the tragic bystander who ends up being put in a coma by a stray fist, flying chair or gunshot, but for some reason, I didn’t feel at all threatened by the violent scenes unfolding in front of me. Instead I just got my camera out and started taking pictures as if I was watching monkeys fighting in a zoo. I also got the impression, assuming the IQ of the protagonists was probably in the low fifties, if things had spilled over the ensuing scene would have been reminiscent of the movie The Matrix… in that I could probably process information so much quicker than the hicks, for me time would indeed have appeared to have slowed down and I would be able to evade their punches with ease by weaving around a little bit… either that or it was the case of Budweiser that made me feel invincible. This was the first of two fights in my section of the crowd, the second involved a guy in his fifties getting attacked by a guy in his twenties and getting led away by medical staff. Very uplifting I’m sure you’ll agree… and totally unlike anything I’ve seen elsewhere in America.

True to form, after over three and a half hours and 300 laps of exceptionally boring racing, a car spins off into the infield and the safety car comes out to indicate the start of the actual race. The cars assume the formation they started the race in… From the restart a driver that has led almost none of the previous 300 takes the lead and stays there till the chequered flag. Great, after 4 hours, 333 laps and 500 miles we have a winner and his name is Billy Bob something or other Junior… probably. Can we go now? 150,000 drunk people, with the sound of the engines still ringing in their ears, return to their vehicles drive home… well at least some do, many have brought their homes with them so can just sleep in the car park… So would I recommend going to a NASCAR event? Well… if you’re the sort of person who likes people watching, sniggering to yourself as you quietly judge them and have always wanted to experience being in the audience of the Jerry Springer Show, then sure thing, go for your life… If you’re not that sort of person then it’s probably not worth it… I guess what I’m saying in a roundabout way is that NASCAR sort of sucks…

A Tale of Two Tailgates - Part 1: College Football

I’ve been away recently visiting some more of the real America beyond the Hudson River, specifically Forrest Gump’s home state of Alabama and God’s home state of North Carolina. This isn’t going to be an extended postcard giving you a blow by blow account of what I got up to, because to be honest, I can’t be bothered to write about it right now. Suffice to say my travels took in much of what you’d expect from a trip to the American heartland including guns, barbeque, fishing, nearly drowning in a river whilst fishing, fried chicken, bacon, bourbon, bacon infused bourbon and casual racism (more on that in the next post). What I will do is give you an insight into some areas of American culture that few people from the outside world get to see in real life… namely college football (of the American variety), NASCAR (America’s most popular motor racing series) and the all important tailgating scene that goes along with them… and as the title suggests I’m going to write it in two parts…

Firstly, for the British people who are most likely completely unaware, a tailgate is a small party held around the back of someone’s car, mostly involving food, booze and games such as beer pong and corn-hole (don’t worry… it’s a family game). I know, this sounds like a shit way to spend an afternoon, and it certainly would be if you tried it in your own driveway around the back of a Ford Fiesta or Fiat Panda, however, when you multiply a tailgate party by several thousand, then it becomes sort of like a festival. Tailgates are most synonymous with college football games, as they offer a method of getting outrageously drunk before a game, which is necessary because you can’t drink inside the stadium. Remember whilst Americans can vote, get married, own guns, be put to death by the state, drive and fight for their country by the time they reach 18, they are not considered responsible or grown up enough to drink until they are 21, which pretty much means that most college students can’t drink… legally. Of course, as with all patently stupid laws, this one is widely broken and as far as I’m aware few people go to the game sober… even though it is hard to tell out here as Americans are capable of performing all sorts of excitable, extraverted acts (e.g. dancing, singing, whooping, high fives) stone cold sober and with a complete absence of irony. Over time the humble tailgate has grown ever more sophisticated and now often features gazebos, gas powered barbeques and flat screen TVs connected to satellite dishes, making some tailgate parties better appointed than many people’s living rooms. Well, that’s what it’s like at the college football… at the NASCAR most of the fans are sort of poor and stupid with a corresponding negative impact on the quality of the tailgate… but I’ll get on to elitist NASCAR bashing next time. Let’s start with the college football…

The football game I went to see was in the college town of Auburn, Alabama and was between the Auburn Tigers and the Clemson… erm… Tigers. I guess there are only so many cool animals out there to name a team after. At the time of writing the Tigers from Auburn are ranked number 1 in the national college football standings, which is a very big deal indeed. Nobody really understands why they are number 1 though, as the standings are calculated by a computer model so complex that the person who developed the formula was awarded the Nobel Prize for Mathematics in 1987… much to the consternation of European mathematicians who rightly pointed out that, although the formula was indeed elegant and fiendishly complicated, it had been applied to something utterly frivolous… and besides… what were Norwegians doing watching American college football anyway. The English of course evened the score back in 1998 when Professors Duckworth and Lewis won the Nobel Prize for developing a formula that so accurately predicted the results of cricket games that they no longer needed to be played any more, saving an awful lot of time and bother, and enabling everyone to get on with the important business of having afternoon tea.


Anyway… the sleepy town of Auburn normally has a population of about 50,000 souls, approximately half of which are students. However, on game day, 90,000 people roll into town, mostly in large SUVs, to relive their college days (Americans are inexplicably proud of the academic institutions they attended), support their local football team and generally drink, eat and wait for the game to start. As a result pretty much every square inch of campus is filled with tailgate parties. It’s basically like a festival for mostly white, middle folks where the standard uniform appears to be chino shorts and polo shirts… apart from for the fraternity pledges who have to wear suits in 95 (American) degree heat to avoid getting hazed by fraternity house seniors… or maybe it’s just that they’ll be thrown out of the fraternity for non-compliance, one or the other. For the benefit of British readers, a pledge is a first year student who wants to join a fraternity… which is a club founded on the principles of nepotism, secret handshakes and a loose grasp of the Greek alphabet… all the Gamma Phi Delta bullshit you see on American college films is fraternity related… pledges have to do silly demeaning things to be accepted as a member… I guess it’s like a Masonic lodge for kids. For the benefit of Americans, we don’t have any of that stupid nonsense going on at British Universities. In Britain that sort of stupid nonsense happens at posh high schools... at least according to my state school prejudice it does. Anyhow, the atmosphere was awesome, everyone was very friendly and more than willing to share their booze, food, and conversation with you… particularly if you randomly shout “War Eagle” at them… the Auburn equivalent of starting an In-Ger-Land chant in a pub full of Chavs.

After seven hours of drinking in the sun, you’re about ready to go and watch the football game. There’s no booze allowed in the stadium so you swig down whatever you have left and head off to the stadium in high spirits. At the stadium you marvel at the spectacle of 90,000 noisy Alabamians cheering for their team, as the pre-game buildup gets ever more ridiculous featuring marching bands, cheer leaders, the compulsory rendition of the national anthem, a dancing tiger and a real life eagle flying around the stadium. Then the game starts… which is sort of incidental if you don’t give a monkey’s about college football, which if you’re British is probably the case, so I won’t bore you with the details, particularly as it lasted over three hours and after drinking all day I don’t remember that much of it. The interesting bit is that, deprived of alcohol, the exact opposite of what happens at most sporting events happens… the crowd gets soberer and soberer. By the time the game ends some people have already started on their hangovers, whilst the people that thought ahead and smuggled in hip flasks full of bourbon are still jumping around excitedly… although, on reflection, these may well have been normal sober Americans… it’s hard to tell sometimes. All in all though, a great sporting experience of the sort we just don’t get in the UK (although admittedly I’ve really only told you about the drinking part of it) and I’m pleased to say that the Tigers won… the ones from Auburn that is… After a victorious home game the now sober crowd heads across campus to spontaneously vandalize an innocent tree by throwing toilet paper over it. We of course have similar football (soccer) related traditions in the UK, although instead of throwing toilet paper at trees the British prefer to throw street furniture through shop windows, set fire to cars or beat one of the opposition supporters to a jammy pulp. But as I’ve said before you don’t really get much violence at American sporting events… well at least I didn’t think you did until I went to watch NASCAR… which I’ll tell you about the next time.

Why do people think Americans are stupid?

So how’s the book going Chris? Why thanks for asking. Well I’ve nearly finished the first and most difficult part of writing the book, that being rationalizing and editing what I’d already written. I’ve never been a completer finisher, which is why it has taken me a little time to complete this first phase. Now I’m on to the more interesting bit of writing some additional content which I never got round to writing the first time around… some of which I’ll share with you through this blog… So here’s one that I’ve been thinking about writing for some time but wanted to get my thoughts straight on as I didn’t want to accidentally insult my gracious host nation. It’s a question that I get asked by people back home nearly as often as “have you put on any weight?” so I figure I should try and answer it… The big question is of course “are Americans actually stupid?”

Now I’m not doing this to be deliberately antagonistic to Americans as I’m actually quite fond of them as a people and it’s extremely bad form to be rude to your hosts. However, you can’t get away from the fact that if you posed the Family Fortunes (or the uncharacteristically more negative Family Feud in the US) style question - “A word that you would use to describe Americans?” on the streets of Britain, anywhere in else Europe… or maybe anywhere in the world for that matter (I have actually checked this with Chinese, Canadians, Mexicans, French, Germans and many more)… our survey would more than likely come back with an unflattering top three of fat, stupid and maybe obnoxious or loud. Other more complimentary descriptors such as friendly, optimistic and… well I’m sure there is a third one… would sadly come lower down the list. Part of this general negativity is obviously out of spite and jealousy fuelled by America’s status as the world’s only Superpower and the size of their fridges, but of course there is no smoke without fire and insults that people choose are grounded somewhere in their experience… hence the French smell, the Spanish are lazy and Chinese people tend to be on the short side…

So to make sure I don’t alienate Americans that are reading this I’m going to start by being reasonable and get to the answer… which is of course is yes… some Americans are stupid… in fact lots of them are… but not all of them. The ones reading this for instance aren’t and are no doubt aware that there are plenty of stupid people in their country that they regularly try and disassociate themselves from… and it’s not even a coasts versus middle bit discussion… there are smart and stupid people living throughout the country, just like they do anywhere else in the world, although they do tend to get more extreme in their opinions and stupidity the further they get away from big cities. I mean it’s ridiculous to think a whole nation could be stupid, particularly one that has brought us world changing inventions such as the frisbee, miniature golf and the snuggy and as a result has more Nobel prize winning scientists than any other country. So for the smart Americans reading this then see this as an education if you were oblivious and a self help guide to make sure people from the rest of the world don’t mistake you for one of the stupid Americans. For the British people reading this getting ready to sneer at Americans for being stupid… one word… Chav… OK maybe two more words… Jade Goody. Remember no country has a monopoly stupidity, it’s just that some countries are less good at hiding their idiots. So here are a few reasons why Americans get tarred with the stupid brush…

Reason 1: Asymmetric Ignorance. Put simply, too many Americans tend not to bother themselves with the world outside their country. Famously only 10% of US Citizens actually have a valid passport, rather less famously the actual figure is closer to 25%. But it’s not all about travel… I don’t joke around when I refer to this country as planet America as it is like its own little culturally self sufficient bubble… it doesn’t need anyone else’s culture, news or sports as it has plenty of its own that it’s content with. Whilst the level of contentment is commendable the lack of curiousity leads to a knowledge vacuum when they meet aliens from another world outside of the US. On the other hand the rest of the world has been watching America with a mixture of fascination and raised eyebrows for some time, as the US exports its culture, both good and bad, better than any other nation on Earth through its movies, convenience lifestyle concepts and music. Therefore the rest of the world ends up knowing a lot more about America, than Americans tend to know about the rest of the world… which is sort of fun because you can lie to them about stuff and they just believe you.

Reason 2: If a stupid person doesn’t know they're stupid… are they still stupid… YES. I’ve mentioned before that British people always take every opportunity available to take the piss out of each other. In fact many of my closest friendships are based on this mutually sadistic agreement. This means that if you do happen to be stupid, even temporarily so, you’ll find out about it very quickly, because people will call you things like spacko, div, retard and mong. The side effect is that people think twice about what they say to avoid the savaging they will get if they slip up. In the US people tend to be more positive, always reaching for a compliment over a put down, even if they totally don’t mean it. Everyone is awesome and all round winners, which is great for people’s self confidence but also means that there’s no correction mechanism to filter what comes out of people’s mouths. Therefore even congenitally stupid people feel empowered to air their opinions about whatever they want without fear of retribution. No doubt British people think equally stupid thoughts but as the saying goes “It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.”

Reason 3: If you are stupid… maybe try being dignified and people won’t notice. Self control is very important to British people and outbursts of real or contrived emotion are to be avoided. To be overly emotional is often seen as self indulgent and attention seeking which is to be avoided at all costs. Seeing a grown adult crying without the stimulus of severe emotional or physical trauma will have British people rolling their eyes and saying “for goodness sake, have some dignity” in no time… and will lead them to the conclusion that you lack self awareness and are therefore mentally deficient… of course applying our own cultural parameters. So Americans… crying and telling people that you love them (even your mom), or crying when you’re telling people why it’s not your fault you’re fat will get you the stupid American label. Also whooping and being generally excitable (like contestants in The Price is Right) will do the same… at least if you’re sober it will… you can do anything you like when you’re drunk no questions asked… Just work lowering that shame threshold a bit whilst you’re sober and you’ll be racing up the perceived IQ charts before you know it.

Reason 4: Stupid people in America get more airtime… American TV worked out a long time ago that stupid people make for good television. This coupled with the lower level of self awareness and higher threshold for shame means that it’s very easy to get idiots to act like the idiots they are on TV shows like Jerry Springer. These shows are then beamed around the world to an audience eager to reinforce their American stereotypes.

Reason 5: You are what you elect… or nearly elect. Conservative MP Neil Hamilton once remarked that you could put a donkey up for election as the Conservative candidate in the Tory stronghold of Tatton and it would still win. (Incidentally he managed to lose.) In America you could probably put a donkey up for election as the Republican presidential candidate and expect to get a few Electoral College votes from the southern states… as long the donkey was an American patriot, believed in the baby Jesus, loved the military and was generally anti-abortion. If it was an elephant it would do even better. To date nobody has tried out this theory, but there have been notable attempts to temper the intellectual elitism associated with difficult jobs like running a country by trying out everyday morons like Ronald Reagan (I’m not sure if I’m allowed to have a go at him… but I just have), Dan “Potatoe” Quayle, George W Bush and of course Sarah Palin… For the rest of the world, American elections act like an elaborate national stupidity meter. More recently Americans have come up with a new way to count their idiots by inviting them to join a club specially created for stupid people. They call this club the Tea Party. It’s proved partially successful, but scientists now believe the methodology is flawed as for some reason it only counts stupid white people.

Reason 6: Religious people… millions of them… particularly those crazy evangelicals that have found God… who conveniently says they should give the church a tenth of their earnings so the pastor can spend it on a big house, big cars and rent boys… Whether it’s speaking in tongues, collapsing in a fit when touched by the holy spirit, believing literally in the word of the bible, and then feeling it’s OK to modify it and interpret it at will… or just praying to the baby Jesus in a Southern drawl, mostly atheist Europe shudders inwardly when we see people who have so completely outsourced all of their higher thought processes to the pages of a book that was written a long time ago… much as it would be great if people did that with my book.

Reason 7: Mormons – a word with one "m" too many if ever there was one. Chalk up another several million idiots. If you believe the ramblings of an illiterate charlatan who gets his inspiration from looking at stones in the bottom of his hat then you’re an idiot… fact

There are more reasons... like taking things too seriously, being too literal, over zealously following rules, being too fat and growing mullets… but to be honest you can apply those traits to Germans and nobody thinks they’re stupid. But maybe I’m over analyzing this… on a recent trip back to London I was discussing this topic with an American friend who now lives there. I mentioned that I was trying to write a piece on the topic of American intellect, or perceived lack of it, and was at pains to not alienate American readers. After a brief discussion she agreed I was over complicating things and that the real answer was far more straight forward. Let’s just say if she had written this blog then it would have been only three words long… and those words would have been “Because they are…”

World Cup Soccer Ball

As most of the World knows The World Cup (no sports qualification required) is currently going on in South Africa and both England and the USA have made it past the Group Stage. So to start off, and to save me some time and effort, British people can pause here and rant internally to themselves about Americans calling football…  (internal retch) soccer, and about how The World Cup deserves to have the word “World” in it because it actually features teams from the World… unlike the Rounders “World” Series, which limits its international participation to the Toronto Blue Jays… It’s all terribly predictable and I’ve never met an American who will care, think you’re clever or funny, and actually like you more for pointing out these facts… In fact they’ll just quietly think to themselves that you’re a dick… So your only audience is other British people who will no doubt emphatically agree with you, which is all very good and national identity reinforcing, but ultimately pointless… just like everything else is… assuming that there is no God and nothing lasts forever… even cold November Rain… due to the inevitable entropy death of the universe… some time after the Earth is swallowed by our own Sun in its fiery death throes. So now you’ve got over your instinctive ant-eye American-ness and briefly considered nihilism, but rejected it for also being pointless, we can continue with a football based post about the World Cup. And for anyone out there who vehemently hates football you can just fuck off… it’s not my fault you were a sports retard at school and / or bullied by jocks which everyone knows are the main reasons for people not liking team based sports… that and the aggression it appears to provoke in stupid violent people who like football because it’s the only sport they understand the rules to.

So, contrary to popular belief, well, at least in New York, the Americans are actually totally aware that the World Soccer Ball Cup is going on and have been watching it on the TV when they can get a moment away from their desks… it’s not quite like England yet, where many work places are struck with an unofficial wild cat strike when an England game is on, but it’s certainly more enthusiasm than I expected… admittedly my expectations were low. They even know the rules and cheer at all the right bits and can name at least three players on their side. In fact many of the younger generation have even played the game at school, although in the public conscience, soccer is still a long way behind the home grown American sports. Admittedly I’ve been a bit out of the touch with football since I arrived here, and a steady diet of commercial breaks means that my attention span has dropped so low that I can’t actually watch 45 minutes of continuous sports action without getting distracted… so following the games has been difficult. In my concentration breaks away from the game I talk to other people, surf the net, read, do shit with my phone or watch Americans watching the football which is sort of interesting…

After some study I’ve come to the conclusion that although Americans have picked up the basics, they’re still not seasoned at being football fans… It’s all a bit like “my first soccer match” at times. Now although that sounds very patronizing, because it is, I’m not having a go and accusing the Americans of not understanding what’s going on. I’m just saying they’re less experienced at being football fans so haven’t learnt some of the subtleties of how to react to events on the field. Let me take you through the group games to explain…

In Game 1 the USA, against the odds, drew 1-1 with England. England are of course a team full of under-performing superstars (also featuring Emile Heskey and Peter Crouch), whilst the US team, in real life, is a team of mediocre to deeply average players (apart from Tim Howard who according to ESPN is one of “the top 5 goal tenders in the world”… even better the Sylvester Stallone was in Escape to Victory) who play for second string English clubs, or even worse, MLS teams, but who nevertheless are playing pretty well so fair play to them. So a 1-1 draw was a shock which prompted the immortal, and I hope ironic headline in the The New York Post “USA wins 1-1” (the concept of a tie is one that Americans still need to get used to) and no doubt the same game report in the British newspaper The Sun had the headline “Robert Green is a Twat!” Anyway to my surprise, despite having to put up with the obnoxious USA! USA! USA! chants in the pub, nobody here gave me any shit about the game afterwards. No smugness, no “I thought you guys were meant to be good?” or “we’re shit and you couldn’t even beat us” – nothing. What are you doing guys? If it had been the Irish (World champions at being smug winners (and drawers) and generally annoying to the English) I’d have never heard the end of it… unless of course the Americans didn’t realize they were underdogs in the game, which would be a worrying development.

In Game 2 things got better as the US lost 2-2 to Slovenia, a team they expected to beat, after nearly completing “one of the greatest comebacks in World Cup history”… thank you for your insight again ESPN. Apart from the near “miracle” comeback, otherwise known as nearly scoring three goals in 45 minutes against inferior opposition, the significance of this game is that the US seemingly got their first taste of being completely fucked over by the referee. For those that didn’t see it… the Yanks scored a perfectly good goal, that would have been the winner, but it was inexplicably disallowed by the ref for no reason whatsoever. In most of the rest of the World, who are  used to this sort of stuff happening, after a brief moment of disbelief there would be anger, verbal abuse, chants of “the referee’s a wanker”, maybe a few death threats and possibly some good natured ultra-violence at a city centre street café later in the evening… whatever you do it doesn’t matter, nothing will change the result but it’s good to let off steam in a show of national solidarity. The Americans on the other hand got stuck in disbelief, like a puppy that had been kicked in the face… stayed there for a bit (hey surely guys – this can’t happen right?), tried to rationalize the situation (a very sincere “that referee must be blind or mentally handicapped to get that call wrong… or be ant-eye American” was my favourite), suggested TV replays be introduced, convinced themselves that there had never been a bigger or more important injustice in the whole history of World Cup football (at least in the 2 games they had watched), until eventually it dawned on them, several days later that there would be no inquiry, FIFA would not give them the goal after watching the TV replays, and that they would just have to get over it and get on with their lives. So next time Americans remember… don’t dwell in disbelief too long, don’t rationalize... just release some choice c-bombs and f-bombs at the ref, tell the opposition fans they’re a bunch of jammy c**ts and that it doesn’t count (very childish I know.. well apart from the foul language) and move on… well I say move on, you can moan about it almost ad infinitum… but don’t have any hope that anything will change… because it won’t… that’s just football… one day you’ll be the jammy c**nts… like you were in the first game of the group…

Lastly we move to the third group game where the USA were on the on the verge of giving up on football altogether. Again they had a completely decent goal disallowed by the ref and after dominating the game, they were heading toward a 0-0 loss and elimination from the tournament… but just as Americans were thinking “This Soccerball game sucks ass! I’m never watching this European shit again”… the Baby Jesus intervened and Landon Donavon… who once played 7 games for Bayer Leverkusen… who nearly fought the vicious chicken of Bristol… and this season played 10 whole games for Everton… got a winner in stoppage time… And in that moment Americans got to taste the best that football has to offer… the sudden shift from hopeless despair to jumping up and down, cheering at a piece of furniture and hugging people you don’t know… until everyone realizes they’re being silly and should stop. As the American commentators contemplated whether there had ever been a better ending to a soccer game in recorded history, and drew comparisons to Disney films I nearly threw up… but was left wondering that maybe the moment in history had come when Americans might actually start to like football or soccer… or whatever they want to call it… Shit! What if they get really good at it? Noooooooo! Back the drawing board… time to start inventing another wildly popular global sport methinks… and this time make sure it includes elements of communism, blasphemy and doesn’t have any breaks… that way the Americans won’t ever want to play…

In other news England played terribly and barely scraped out of the easiest qualification group in the whole tournament, finishing second to the once derided US team… leaving us to face our good friends the Germans. Cue xenophobic wallowing in post World War gloating from my compatriots (hmmm – it’s a shame I don’t get to see if the Americans would do the same…) before we inevitably get knocked out on penalties… (Americans – that is exactly how optimistic every British person is about the game.) But for now, both England and the US are through and I’ll be supporting both teams for the remainder of the tournament… unless of course we meet again in the final… which I think we can safely bet against… Until then here’s some classic British coverage from the ‘94 World Cup in the USA… Eat My Goal!!!!

Most things in the world just aren’t cricket

It’s been a while since I last wrote anything, mostly on account of being busy and spending any free time writing the book… which is nearly through it’s first iteration… I’ve successfully  outsourced cover graphics to my younger brother who has kindly provided the new banner to the blog… which for this post is quite  appropriate as I spent most of the weekend trying to turn America into England by playing cricket for three consecutive days with a bunch of travelling English folks and some local expats… completely the opposite of my last Memorial Day weekend which I spent floating down a river in Texas with a bunch of rednecks. Out of the 30 or so players that took part over the weekend, not a single one of them was actually American, which isn’t surprising given the most worldly wise American will generally know a maximum of 3 things about cricket… 1) that it lasts for an extraordinary length of time, 2) that it can end in a draw and 3) that you get meal breaks. Some Americans on the other hand know almost a negative amount about cricket…

So I was talking to a guy at work and mentioned to him that I was playing cricket over the weekend. Americans are very amused by me playing the British stereotype over here so I try not to disappoint them. To my surprise he replied “Oh – I actually once learnt the rules to cricket”. I responded with a slightly disbelieving “Really?”. He continued “Yeah I watched a whole game and actually thought I understood it…” Encouraged that there was at least one American in the world that might know the rules of cricket I asked him what he thought of it. “I really enjoyed it. It’s weird though… I then watched an Australian cricket game and they have completely different rules.” Now I was confused. “Um… not really. Cricket is cricket. Maybe you watched two different types of cricket. Like the five day version and the one day version.” He continued “no, the rules were completely different. The scoring was different and the fields were different shapes…”. That threw me, and then I twigged. “Now tell me… are you actually talking about rugby?”. A smile of slow recognition crossed his face “Oh yeah… that was it. Now tell me… why are the rules different in Australia?” Trying not to sound too condescending I responded “Umm… because you were watching Aussie Rules Football… It’s a completely different game…” So sadly the guy knew nothing about cricket, but now thanks to me he has at least linked the extra-American sports knowledge he did have with the correct sports… and learnt that the most common reason for the same sport to have wildly different rules in different countries is that they are in fact different sports.

So I’m not sure what I can do to educate Americans on the great game of cricket, as no doubt many thousands of people have tried and failed in the past… and I don’t have room here to re-write Wisden’s Cricket Almanac… so I’m going to cheat. Just like chimps share 97% of the same DNA as humans… and you could describe people as tall, shaved chimps with opposable thumbs… I’m going to look for my own sporting chimp that the Americans understand… and my chimp will be baseball… So Americans imagine baseball… British people… if you imagine cricket and reverse everything I say you’ll understand baseball… sort of…

The Field of Dreams

Take your baseball diamond and move it into the centre of the outfield. Then get rid of 1st and 3rd bases, you won’t be needing  them… fuck it get rid of the 2nd base whilst your at it. In this game you’re going to get runs by  running to the pitchers mound, which come to think of it should be flat. OK we’re now going to replace home plate with 3 waist high sticks and balance little sticks on top of them… this will be your new strike zone and we’ll call it the wicket. And remember it’s one strike and you’re out. OK lastly the foul lines can be erased, everything is fair territory, so to make up for it you get 2 extra players so spread them out wisely. Maybe put in a silly mid on, a short fine leg and a 3rd man… Lastly dress all of your players in white pyjamas and now you’re all set… hang on… take those gloves of fielders, catching is going to hurt if you get it wrong.

Hit them for Six

Everyone has to bat… this isn’t the American league. You can swap that round bat for a nice big flat one and you don’t have to run when you hit the ball so take it easy and protect your wicket… and  remember you’re in (at bat) until you’re out. Put some protective gear on because the pitcher is allowed to hit you and don’t forget to protect your nuts or you’ll never have children. Home runs are now worth 6 runs, hitting the fence will get you 4 runs and if you fancy  getting tired and running you get 1 run for running to where the pitcher is pitching from and another one if you make it back again before getting thrown out. You can get out in many of the usual ways although you only get 1 strike and there’s no tagging or double plays… oh and if you get hit blocking the wicket you can get be out leg before wicket (lbw)… and don’t tell the umpire to fuck off or call him a cheat or you will be out for ungentlemanly conduct.

Pitching a Googly

Pitchers, you are now called bowlers. The bad news if that you have to pitch with a straight arm, the good news is you can have a run up and bounce the ball on the ground. Your job is to hit the wicket. You can pitch as many balls (in a baseball context) as you like, there are no walks, but the batter can run on a wild pitch and if you pitch out it will cost you a run. Bouncing the ball on the ground means that a whole new world of stupidly named pitches are open to you including the Googly, Chinaman (not racist… just invented a long time ago), Bouncer and Yorker so use them wisely. You have 6 pitches at a time and then it’s time for someone else to have a turn… and you have to field. You’d be surprised how long batters can stick around when they have a big bat and don’t have to run when they hit the ball. You can expect about 300 runs a day to be scored so kiss goodbye to perfect games and no hitters.

Time for Tea…

OK teams… listen… here are the basics of the game. Each team will have 2 innings and there are 10 outs in each inning. You have 5 days to play the game and the winner will be the team with the most runs… on the condition that you manage to get all of the other team out… twice. If you don’t then after 5 days we’ll call the game a draw, because everyone has to go back to work. Play will start each day at 11am and finish sometime between 6 and 7pm depending on how how fast the game goes. I know it’s a long day so lunch will be served at 1pm and afternoon tea will be served at 3:40pm. There will be quiche, sausage rolls, crisps, jam tarts, maybe some Jaffa Cakes and of course all the tea and squash you can drink… and if it rains it’s tea time all day… how awesome it that? So Americans, even if you don’t understand how to actually play the game after reading this, you should now be able to distinguish it from rugby and Aussie rules football… at least that’s some improvement.

Incidentally the teas here started on a high on the first day with delivery pizza… a first for me at a cricket game although very fitting for the US. The teas then went into terminal decline with brownies and cookies on the Sunday… not a savoury mini scotch egg in sight… and finally we hit rock bottom on Monday with absolutely nothing to eat, which of course is terrible form…

UK Politics for Americans

So as many Americans will be  blissfully unaware it was the General Election in the UK last Thursday… and I’m sure Americans will be appalled to find out that absolutely nobody won… it wasn’t even a tie, it’s just that absolutely everybody lost. When the US election is on there’s a special news show on the BBC that follows the results as they come in, just like the coverage you no doubt get in the US. I discovered that there is not a reciprocal deal in place on US TV and there is almost no coverage… aside from a short news segment on BBC America (traitors) and an interview with a designated British representative on The Colbert Report (US comedy show). So this post is really for the benefit of Americans to give you a summary of what happened, even though it won’t impact your lives in the slightest.

OK so first the contestants. The incumbent was Gordon Brown who at least 30% of Americans might have heard of. He’s the guy that eventually hounded Tony Blair out of his job as Prime Minister on account of a pact they made at a restaurant in North London 15 years ago. A lesson for everyone about promising things whilst you’re drunk. Gordon Brown is what we call in England “A Miserable Scots Git” and is deeply unpopular because he can induce depression just by looking at you… a bit like Medussa. He is of course popular with other Miserable Scots Gits so he actually ended up doing pretty well in Scotland. The party he leads, the Labour Party, is what Americans would call the Socialist Communist conspiracy that is trying to ruin our American way of life party… and yes Tony Blair was a Socialist, which will no doubt make some Americans feel like dirty US traitors for loving him so much. Their base support unsurprisingly is poor people who are fond of Socialism because it means they get more stuff without having to do anything for it. Typically their support tends to be in places like the inner cities, the North of England, Wales and of course Scotland.

In the posh corner you have David Cameron and the Conservative party – aka the Tories. They are the right of centre party who are on the side of people with money who don’t want to pay tax for the upkeep of poor people. For reference Margaret Thatcher was a Conservative. There are parallels to the US Republican Party but in general the Conservatives are more rational, intelligent, less right wing, well rounded human beings who don’t believe that the baby Jesus has a role to play in politics. We don’t really have an analogous party to the modern day US Republicans because we don’t have enough crazy, paranoid people to vote for them. Maybe if you mix the British National Party (the racist party) with UKIP (anti-Europe), the Christian Party (Jesus) and The Monster Raving Looney Party (They are real, Sarah Palin would make a good candidate) then you would get close. Between them they get about 2% of the UK vote. To give you some sort of idea… if there was an election between the Republicans and the Democrats in the UK, and in fact in most other countries on the planet, the Democrats would win by a landslide. Anyway, most rich people who live in the countryside vote for the Conservatives. The Tories are pretty much hated by the working classes, Scots and real Welsh people because, in the 1980s under Margaret Thatcher, they decimated the once proud British mining, steelmaking and manufacturing industries that provided jobs for them and replaced them with un-unionised call centres.

In the bleeding heart liberal corner we have the Liberal Democrats who for the last 90 years have been the third party. Liberal Democrats are pleasant, ideological people, but probably ineffectual, a result of not being in power for 100 years. They are popular with students who don’t know any better and people from working class backgrounds who instinctively hate the Tories, but who have socially climbed to a position where they live in a constituency in which Labour have no chance of winning. One thing that all prospective Prime Ministers generally have in common is that they are all intelligent, which obviously isn’t a requirement in the US and indeed can often count against you. Of course these are all grotesque stereotypes and there are plenty of floating voters in between but by and large that’s the bedrock of each parties vote accounted for. The battle of course is to pick up the independently minded voters who actually have the capacity to change their minds.

So this is how elections work… The Prime Minister can stay in power for up to five years, although has a right to call an election at any time during that period. This often depends on important factors such as their own popularity and the weather. When an election is called the Queen dissolves Parliament and a campaign lasting between 4-6 weeks starts. Like in the US, parties raise money to fund their campaigns, but unlike the US there is no political advertising on TV outside of a handful of equally allocated 5 minute slots, typically shown after the evening news. The entire campaign budget for a party will be around £10-£20m or $15m to $30m (at today’s impressively low exchange rate which is in part due to nobody winning the UK election). Compare that to Obama’s campaign funds of around $750m and you’ll see what a totally different ball game the British elections are... that ball game being cricket of course… This year was a first for the UK in that we had live TV debates, mostly because Gordon Brown was completely desperate. You’re always on a hiding to nothing as the incumbent in a TV debate so you only agree to it if you know you’re going to lose anyway. The highlights of the campaign were Nick Clegg, the Liberal Democrat leader surging 10% in the polls overnight after the first TV debate and Gordon Brown calling an old Northern scumbag (core Labour voter) a “bigoted woman” off camera when he thought nobody was listening. Clearly plenty of the electorate agreed with him as it didn’t dent his impressively low opinion poll standings one bit.

So campaigning aside, to win the election you have to win a majority of the 650 seats in Parliament… which for Americans is 326… there’s none of the filibustering nonsense in British politics, you can’t stop a vote taking place just by being a minority of obstinate assholes. Absolutely anyone can stand for election in one of the UK’s 650 constituencies as long as they pay a £500 deposit which they get back if they receive more than 5% of the vote. This leads to one of the best aspects of a British election which is the inclusion of joke parties such as the Monster Raving Loony Party (who stand for amongst other things prescribed chocolate on the NHS and the inclusion of secret pass phrases in school exams, which if included anywhere in student’s answers will automatically result in the award of straight A’s to that student) and numerous other slightly creepy loners in fancy dress costumes. All polling stations are run by old people wearing cardigans who keep themselves going through the day with flasks of hot tea, malted milks (cow biscuits), Shorties and maybe the occasional decadent bourbon (that’s another biscuit (cookie) Americans, not liquor). Polling day is also the only time most of the British public actually visit their local church hall or community centre.

Polls close at 10pm at which point a number of Britain’s shittest towns, like Sunderland, have a race to see who can declare the first result of the election. Absolutely no one cares, but nobody has the heart to tell them they’re wasting their time. Then we’re on to the announcement of the results, which from my vantage point in the US seems farcical and a bit like a Monty Python sketch. Invariably the local leisure centre is the venue, it doesn’t matter if you are the Prime Minister, Leader of the Opposition or the Chancellor of the Exchequer… for election night you have to slum it with everyone else. There’s refreshingly little slick stage management. The candidates, including all the ones in fancy dress costumes are lined up and some old guy wearing ceremonial chains (the returning officer) reads the results in the style of an autistic Victorian school master. The winner is congratulated, gives some bullshit speech thanking everyone that counted the votes, as well as the old guy in chains, before jumping into a waiting getaway car which whisks them back to the safety of London, relieved that they don’t have to be condescendingly nice to the electorate for the next few years.

Usually this system means that you always get a clear winner because the system favours parties that have slightly more votes than the next best party… to give you an idea the Conservatives got 36% of the vote and won 306 seats… the Liberal Democrats got 23% of the vote and got 55 seats. None of it makes sense but it’s just the way it has always been. On this occasion however nobody won, mostly on account of David Cameron being too posh and Scotland being over-represented in Parliament. So what we have now is called a Hung Parliament (the Americans have even seen the innuendo in this term), which means that the parties will have to work together to form a stable coalition government… a bit like they always fail to do in Italy… either that or we’ll have another election in a few month’s time to see if the UK electorate are any better at making up their minds the next time around. Oh… and of course whoever ends up forming a government needs to ask the Queen for permission to do so… I don’t think she’s allowed to say no. Until then Gordon Brown is still Prime Minister… in accordance with the constitution, which of course has never been written down so doesn’t actually exist… Thank goodness we have the British sense of fair play to rely on…

Bringing a Wayne Rooney Wedding to Pennsylvania

So it was a first last weekend in that I went to an American wedding… Or at least half an American wedding as the groom was actually British. You’ve all been to weddings so I don’t have to explain what they’re like. Suffice to say this one involved the exchanging or vows, rings and visas to enable the happy couple to continue to live together after the service. There were two main differences from the weddings I’ve been to in the past. The first is that I was allowed to take a large gin and tonic into the service which was sort of novel. The other is that the whole service took part in front of a large mural graphically depicting a man being eaten by a lion, which was in turn getting stabbed in the head by men on horseback. As you can imagine this makes for some memorable wedding photographs.

The wedding took place in a small town in Pennsylvania just over the border from New Jersey. It’s one of those quaint towns full of antique shops which feels all together like you’re not in America any more. In the UK these sorts of towns are generally populated by old cardigan wearing couples who live their lives in one continuous loop which involves going to church, rummaging through antiques, complaining about gypsies and having afternoon tea. In the US these sorts of quaint towns are generally very popular with homosexuals. So after the service I accompany a girl to buy cigarettes at a local store. We ask directions from the hyper-camp guy at reception. He instructs us that there is a store around the corner which he thinks is Mexican or something. So we go to the Mexican store to find there’s nobody there. There’s also a suspicious lack of sombreros and donkeys. Eventually an Indian (Indian American as opposed to American Indian) guy appears from the back of the shop to serve us. This is not quite the Mexican experience that had been advertised. After we turn to leave he returns to the back of the shop and flushes a toilet leaving us in no doubt that we had disturbed the Indian Mexican guy whilst he was in the middle of having a big shit. Probably best not to hang on to the change.

So naturally as it was a wedding I got drunk and managed to hit the dancing zone rather earlier than I normally would. This was partially on account of being able to drink throughout the service. The only real differences in the reception formalities are that there are less speeches and more set piece dances. Not only do the bride and groom have to dance, but also the father and the bride and the mother and the groom. The groom also sneakily gets out of having to say a speech. Later in the evening, feeling a bit worse for wear, I brought my own brand of belligerent British rudeness to proceedings. I was at the after party and was for some reason was starting to get abuse from a couple of American guys… probably on account of me being short, drunk and British. Of course, not one to take things lying down I retaliated and figured it would be best to use a first strike nuclear tactic by calling the pair of them a “bunch of c***s” (ryhmes with hunts). Now in the UK this is considered fairly rude, although in certain circles, such as amongst my friends and Irish people, it’s just another word you can use to give your opinions extra oomph. In fact a friend of mine even has it as a nickname. In the US however it’s totally unacceptable and is tantamount to pissing on the American flag… which the person’s mother happens to be using as a blanket at the time. Now of course having been here for over a year I knew full well that this would get a reaction. By all accounts one guy (who happened to be the bride’s brother) was probably on the verge of punching me but settled for the retort “I don’t know why you’re trying to start something, you know I could just pick you up and put you in my pocket”. In response I turned to his friend, who happened to be ginger and asked him if he knew that his sort were persecuted in the UK. He didn’t and spent the rest of the evening coming to terms with his new status as an oppressed minority. This was of course all banter and I hope they didn’t take it too seriously… The bride and groom are still talking to me so I can’t have been that bad. I might refrain from drinking whiskey at the next wedding I go to though as it tends to make me become an obnoxious c**t!

Anyway… In other news my homeland appears to be cut off from the rest of the world due to volcanic activity, which has stranded various people I know including the groom from the wedding, on either side of the Atlantic. Seems like those Icelandic folks are so annoyed that the British are using anti-terror legislation to prevent them siphoning our money out of the country, that they have prayed to Odin and asked him to punish us with a cloud of brimstone and ash. I read in the papers today that the airspace restrictions are “the worst in living memory” which is a ridiculous statement to make. For the sake of argument if we say living memory is 80 years that takes us back to 1930 when drunk aristocrats were still messing about in bi-planes. Unless the journalist would consider lack of aeroplanes as an airspace restriction then they should have just had the balls to say “worst airspace restrictions ever” or “worst airspace restrictions since Icarus”. That living memory nonsense is such a cop out.