Thoughts on This and That

Leeds suing Bulls for £3.2m is the title of that particular post on the Red, Amber and Black forum, which is typical of todays media reporting of Bradford chairman Peter Hood’s comment that “If we had to pay £3.2m within 14 days, we could not do it.”

Funnily enough, neither could I.

No documentation seems to exist saying Leeds want £3.2m in compensation over Iestyn Harris’ move to Odsal back in 2004, and Leeds themselves have refused to comment on the case, as it is currently subject to legal proceedings, all of which allows this story to rumble on and the momentum to build, there’s no such thing as bad publicity.

Or maybe, there is, forum topics across Rugby League websites like rlfans.com have sprung up with most fans attacking Leeds for their supposed claim, even a large proportion of their own fans aren’t too happy about it and, to me, it all adds up to the Bulls getting what they wanted from letting this story slip at a fans forum on Tuesday, sympathy and making the Rhinos look like the bad guys.

I can honestly say the story, now almost 4 years old, has bored me now and I’m just hoping it can come to an end, sooner rather than later. If the Bulls are found to have induced Harris to breach his contract, then they will have to take their medicine, if it is as severe as £3.2m then they will be, for the want of a better expression, screwed but one thing is for sure, the lawyers and media will win whatever way, and rugby league won’t.

This little trip was almost two months ago now, but a few problems with blogger meant I wasn’t able to write it up - so here we go….

My first piece of advice to anyone visiting Dublin is not to be tight like me, and go for the local bus into town rather than the airport express one, unless you have a lot of time on your hands. The express bus takes 25-30 minutes, whereas I was stuck on this one in heavy traffic for an hour without even making the centre, and this was a Sunday afternoon in December, hardly peak time I’d have thought, but there you go.

As well as exasperation with the bus the reason I disembarked before making it into the centre was seeing that we were near Croke Park, the home of the GAA and one of the largest sports stadiums in Europe, I thought it might be worth a look round and that it was, although I couldn’t get in I had a walk around the perimeter and, if nothing else, it is impressive in sheer scale. With the traffic not seeming to abate much I walked the rest of the way into the centre, and seemed to be better off for doing that rather than sitting on another bus.

On the first evening I was there I met up with a couple of girls I met travelling, in Amsterdam, way back in 2005. We went round a few studenty bars in the vicinity of Trinity College which had a good atmosphere and were lively, though I was soon cursing the cost of drinking in this part of the world, how the students could afford it I don’t know, but there were plenty of them about.

After a fairly late night I didn’t exactly make an early start to my one full day in the city but I did still manage to take a look at most of the sights I wanted to see, Trinity College itself is an impressive institution and was well worth the tour, the book of Kells was a little bit underwhelming as an experience, and a bit overpriced for me, but still interesting in its own way I guess, if you like that sort of thing. To say I was only there for a couple of days I seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time strolling around shopping streets, Grafton Street itself was very busy and had a bit of life about it, street entertainers, carol singers and the like fought it out for space with the Christmas shoppers but, in all honesty, it could just have been a high street in any large-ish British city (except Bradford obviously), then again what did I really expect? Dublin castle must be one of the most unimpressive anywhere (worse even than Bratislava), though the exhibitions in the Chester Beatty library were fairly interesting, until we all got turfed out because of a fire alarm.

The one sight that did impress me was the Christ Church Cathedral, which was a fairly impressive and a little unique in design and after that I walked through the nearby Temple Bar area, the so-called cultural quarter, which was a little bit too “fake” for my liking - especially given it’s supposed status as being “Bohemian”. I was in a hostel right in the middle of Temple Bar and ended up going out for dinner (ridiculously priced, but not very good fish and chips) with a group of Finnish psychiatric nurses who were staying there, much overpriced lager was drunk as we made our way around a few pubs into the evening, before finally settling on one with a bit of live music, maybe it’s due to the time I went and it was a Monday night, but this so-called “craic” Dublin is famous for wasn’t really presenting itself to me, I could have been anywhere.

I did manage to drag myself out of bed on the Tuesday and had a fairly pleasant day checking out a couple of parks and the National Art Gallery, where I had the privilege of being mistaken for both a Spaniard and an Ulsterman within about 20 minutes of each other (the guy at reception thought I looked Spanish, the woman in the cloakroom detected an Ulster “twang” to my voice!!), before checking out the parliament building and the, admittedly impressive, Dublin City Hall.

Before heading to the airport I decided to sample a pint of Guinness in an out of the way pub, but found it no different to the experience at home, although I was fairly underwhelmed with the place, and feeling very out of pocket, it was a nice little break and it does have it’s attractions but it’s definitely a case of “been there, done that” for me, I can’t see myself rushing back.

As my favourite current band are on tour it was only right that I went along to see them, and that I did on Sunday night at the Academy.

It was a bit of a strange show, BSP always put on a good live performance IMO, but this one seemed a little flat by their standards, there are a couple of factors I could think of to explain it - they are currently showcasing a new album so some of the tracks hadn’t been played that much, and a lot of the audience seemed to have been attracted along by that new record, and not be too knowledgeable about their past efforts, which obviously had an effect on the atmosphere.

As a firmly committed fan I enjoyed the gig, and the balance between the older stuff and tracks from the new album, though I could have done without being soaked in beer by some idiot flinging a pint about, and Noble’s dirty sock being wafted in my face when he went crowd-surfing wasn’t the most pleasant experience of my life!

The new album itself “Do You Like Rock Music” is growing on me, I much prefer their debut “The Decline of British Sea Power”, but this one seems to be enjoying some mild commercial success, so they must be doing something right, then again given the taste of the music buying British public, maybe they are doing something wrong?

When I knew I was going to be in Malaga over the weekend of the Atlético/Real derby, I posted a question on an international Atlético supporters forum I use asking if anyone could recommend somewhere in the city to watch the game, I never expected it to lead me to a seat at the game itself, but I’m not complaining!

Jaime, a season-ticket holding Atlético fan, now working in Malaga, got in touch to tell me he’d be going to the game, but asking if I’d like to meet for a drink over the weekend when I was there, I said that sounded like a good idea, and we kept in touch, then it turned out his cousin (who he goes to the games with) would be working away and therefore unable to attend the game, and I was offered the ticket - it didn’t take me long to accept!

I was picked up from the train station in Malaga just after noon for the 5 hour car journey, after a bit of initial unease (we were strangers after all) the journey ended up being fine, with me taking the opportunity to learn some Spanish football terminology, it practically flew by, and we were parked up outside his uncles home, near the stadium, a good two hours or so before kick-off, which is where the fun started. We heard a big roar and, as we parked up, saw a few hundred people, who turned out to be Real “ultras” charging down the road at the bottom of the street we were on, Jaime had warned me that something like this was very likely but, as we went to inspect what was happening from a safe distance, we saw that there were hundreds of riot police blocking their path, and it just seemed to be a stand-off with the “ultras” throwing things at the police, with a few of them getting deserved beatings.

After meeting Jaime’s uncle in a bar near the stadium for a couple of pre-match drinks, we headed into the stadium in good time for kick-off, the atmosphere was electric, I’ve been to 11 games previously at the Vicente Calderón, but never against really big opposition, and the difference was amazing. I’m obviously not from Madrid, so I can’t buy into the local rivalry, but it was impossible not to feed off the atmosphere generated and the adrenalin was definitely flowing, cranking up even more when the teams came out onto the pitch.

Unfortunately Real scored after 32 seconds, so it all went a little flat, but as Atlético came back into the game so the support came back to life. I’m not going to write a match report, the eventual 2-0 defeat was disappointing and the game petered out a little in the second half, but the atmosphere and sense of occasion was still well worth savouring, and the support was great even when the game was long gone.

One of my pet hates at football nowadays are the fans who sit there taking pictures throughout the game, but I was hoping to get some pictures of the supporters and the stadium on the day, to try and capture the atmosphere a bit, unfortunately I’d left my camera in Jaime’s glovebox when we were distracted by the “ultras” charge, so that was a minor disappointment.

After waiting for the traffic to disperse before setting off (some things are the same the world over) we finally set out for the trip back, the mood in the car was a little tired and despondent, but it perked up after a coffee stop, which I think was down to me inviting Jaime to come over here if there is ever another Bradford derby, I won’t hold my breath on that one though!

Well a new year has brought a new blog, but not dampened my desire to travel, and so it was down to Malaga for a weekend to get some sun, and soak up a little more Spanish culture.

The least said about the flight there the better, when you board a Jet2 from Leeds Bradford to the Costa del Sol you pretty much know what you are going to get in terms of fellow travellers, and the collection of orange middle aged people going to holiday homes, and yobs going down to the Costa to get wrecked and have a ruck didn’t surprise me in the slightest. Luckily I got seated next to a nice couple, who at least had some grasp of the world to prove that not everyone on there was an obnoxious ****, however it’s true to say that most people on there don’t have the slightest idea that Andalucía is probably one of the most interesting parts of the world, they are just happy that they can get pissed up, lie on a beach, and get their full English breakfast every morning, not that I’m a travel snob or anything!

On leaving the airport most were heading west down the coast, whereas I was going East into Malaga itself, after the rainy, grey skies of Northern England it was nice to get some sun and see some blue sky, and I didn’t mind that I’d just missed a train so had to sit outside for half an hour.

After getting into the city my first impression was that, for Spain, it was remarkably quiet. The traffic was still there but there was something a little more peaceful that any of the other big Spanish cities that I’ve been to, a quick cortado and a tapa in a bar quickly got me in the Spanish mood though, but my lamentable Spanish came back to haunt me. A guy in the bar started to talk to me, and I could understand pretty much everything he asked me, but I was unable to reply with much more than “sí” or “no” - I really must start to make more of an effort if I want more rewarding experiences when I’m in the country.

In terms of sights Malaga itself isn’t overly blessed, the historic centre is nice enough to walk around and, despite the proximity of the Costa resorts and the presence of lots of bewildered Northern European daytrippers, quite Spanish. My first port of call was the Picasso museum, only recently opened to cash in on the daytrip crowd, I quite like some of his work. but it was a fairly underwhelming experience, you get herded through rooms full of paintings but with little supporting information and, to be honest, most of his best work is elsewhere. If anything the most interesting part of the museum is the archaeological section in the basements, showcasing where remnants of Roman structures were found during preparation for the building.

After grabbing some lunch I headed to the hostel I’d booked, which turned out to be a bit of a disappointment, recently voted one of the best hostels in the world it seemed to have attracted a clientele not typical of a hostel, with a block booking of older Germans in the city for a festival of theatre omnipresent, so I decided to head out and see what else I could see. I wandered down a pleasant, tree-lined street which led down to the waterfront and ended up at the city’s bullring. Noticing an open door I headed inside and into the seating, and saw what looked to be matador training taking place, no bulls were present but there were around 10 “trainees” who seemed to be being instructed on how to flourish their muletas and, in a way, sitting watching that for five minutes made me appreciate the artistic side of the spectacle a lot more than actually attending a fight itself did.

After heading back to the hostel, to find most of my fellow guests watching a DVD, I luckily managed to get chatting to another new arrival who was looking to experience the city and we headed out for some tapas and a few drinks, eventually settling on a bar “Pepa y Pepe” where we worked our way through the menu, while watching the staff and customers in action. It was one of the traditional Andalusian tapas bars where the staff are rushed off their feet constantly, but the food and drink still manages to come thick and fast, and tasted great. A couple more bars were tried and tested before we headed home, I needed a clear head and the ability to get up at a reasonable time the next morning!

Ronda was my destination on Saturday morning, and I made the choice to take the slowest bus option to get there, due to the scenery that route offered, driving along the coastal road Africa could be seen on the horizon, and the route inland up to Ronda itself offered spectacular views on its passage through the sierra.

Ronda is a wonderful small town, split by a gorge, El Tajo, which was been bridged by the Romans and Moors at various points in the past, most spectacularly with the Puente Nuevo, which bridges a 90 metre drop. The town itself is full of remnants of Roman and Moorish rule, and more landmarks from the Catholic Monarchs to re-assert themselves after the reconquest. The old town is full of narrow streets that demand to be walked, investigated and explored and you couldn’t move for a few minutes without coming across another place of interest, landmark or interesting building. The town is surrounded by unspoilt countryside, and various stunning views are offered along with possibility of lots of trails that can be followed to your hearts content, with more gems to uncover.

I was in the town for six hours, just wandering around and losing myself in the place, and it could have been much longer. After eating in another busy tapas bar I visited Ronda’s bullring, one of the oldest in Spain, which is where the rules of modern bullfighting were first established. The ring itself was an atmospheric arena, even without anything taking place, and the museum and gallery of art contained within were extremely interesting and worth the visit. The town itself has at least 7 other museums, and it’s a place I could see myself re-visiting - though maybe not in the summer months, when I can imagine the hideous levels of tourists that must pass through.

After taking the direct route back to Malaga, and heading back to the hostel, I again met up with Jan and we headed out to eat and do some bar-hoping, eventually ending up in the place we were the previous night. Other highlights of the evening were a Russian bar, where the owner handed us out lots of free vodka shots because I identified the football scarf behind the bar as being that of Zenit St Petersburg, and having to have a mint tea in a Morrocan style tea-room, which we mistakenly entered thinking was a bar!

The next morning I was again up fairly early as I was heading to Madrid for “El Derbi” (separate blog to come on that), but I wanted to see the Alcazar in Malaga before I left. It was an impressive place but, after seeing the Alhambra in Granada, any other can only leave you a little underwhelmed, still it was nice to wander around the gardens for an hour or so, further up the hill the Castillo was, again, not much to write home about - though it did offer superb views over the city and meant even I could take a couple of decent photos!

After an arrival back into Malaga at 2am I had a lie in on my last morning, before spending a few hours wandering about the city before heading to the airport, and home, I took in Malaga’s remaining big attraction, the cathedral, which was a superb feat of architecture, and I headed to the (distinctly average) beach to relax with a book for a bit, and have a seafood paella from one of the bars on the promenade. Knowing I was going back to the wind, rain and grind in a few hours it was a nice little piece of escapism!