In the middle of the first half, our defensive midfielder perfectly wellied the ball into the top branch of a tree. The zenith of the ball's parabola matched the height of the tree exactly, and the twigs held the ball in the position where other stadiums have their corporate boxes. The ball was able to watch the match from this position until I knocked it down with a perfectly thrown plank. Because of this, the goalless first half sort of passed me by.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Torpedo Entenhausen 2 - VfL Linden 0
I have transferred my football writing to the official forum of the spare-time league in Bochum. Most match reports follow the standard procedure of discussing goals, fouls, offside decisions, the score and whether a team deserved to win. The official description of the first half of Torpedo Entenhausen's match this week is:
Arbeitszeugnis
I got my Arbeitszeugnis (a kind of public reference) from my job in Bochum today. Last year I wrote that I wanted my reference to say
Of course my reference couldn't say this, as it is a product of depression and self-loathing. I'm probably the only person who could write this about myself, and can be sure that anyone else in the world will find a couple of nice things to say about me.
I opened the letter with a feeling of dread and sadness. It was an intrusion from very unhappy times into my present life. It was a reminder of things I've been trying to forget about. But it says some nice things about me. It lists the things I did in the job when I wasn't depressed. This confuses me.
In order to get a job as a physicist, I have to be able to defend my work in previous jobs. I have to be able to live with the mistakes and successes of previous years, and explain how these experiences will be useful for the future. I have to be able to do this without shaking or crying. I can't just pretend that I fell to earth knowing lots of stuff.
Or I could give in to my natural instinct, and say that I failed at being a physicist. I could then do something completely different without worrying about the past. Until it goes wrong again.
Mr. endofphil came unprepared into the job, was unable to master life's basics such as eating and sleeping, showed a complete lack of interest for anything whatsoever and subsequently spent 6 months staring into space. His only lasting impression was drunkenly juggling lots of mandarines at the christmas party.
Of course my reference couldn't say this, as it is a product of depression and self-loathing. I'm probably the only person who could write this about myself, and can be sure that anyone else in the world will find a couple of nice things to say about me.
I opened the letter with a feeling of dread and sadness. It was an intrusion from very unhappy times into my present life. It was a reminder of things I've been trying to forget about. But it says some nice things about me. It lists the things I did in the job when I wasn't depressed. This confuses me.
In order to get a job as a physicist, I have to be able to defend my work in previous jobs. I have to be able to live with the mistakes and successes of previous years, and explain how these experiences will be useful for the future. I have to be able to do this without shaking or crying. I can't just pretend that I fell to earth knowing lots of stuff.
Or I could give in to my natural instinct, and say that I failed at being a physicist. I could then do something completely different without worrying about the past. Until it goes wrong again.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Torpedo Entenhausen 1 - FC Porno Villa 0
Mark Twain wrote
The major reason for the thirty years are the genders of inanimate objects. If you don't know them, even the most simple sentence has a 2/3 chance of being wrong. My attempts to describe the matches of Torpedo Entenhausen in German are often confounded by a combination of alcohol and der/die/das confusion. Yesterday I made a small step towards learning German: the word for a football pitch is masculine, der Fussballplatz. I found this out because, as manager, I needed to know whether the pitch was waterlogged or not. During a couple of calls to find and pass on this information I was corrected.
So, one noun down, a few thousand to go, and things are fine until summer comes and we play on grass. A grass pitch is also called a 'Feld', which is neutral. Yet it is still a pitch, which is still masculine. I have been learning German for nigh on twenty years, and hold little hope of mastering it in another ten.
Well anyway, the pitch (male) was playable, and the defence (female, but consisting of four males) of Torpedo held firm. We shot the winning goal (neutral) in the second half (female). I wonder how long you have to write like this until insanity (male) sets in.
My philological studies have satisfied me that a gifted person ought to learn English (barring spelling and pronouncing) in thirty hours, French in thirty days, and German in thirty years.
The major reason for the thirty years are the genders of inanimate objects. If you don't know them, even the most simple sentence has a 2/3 chance of being wrong. My attempts to describe the matches of Torpedo Entenhausen in German are often confounded by a combination of alcohol and der/die/das confusion. Yesterday I made a small step towards learning German: the word for a football pitch is masculine, der Fussballplatz. I found this out because, as manager, I needed to know whether the pitch was waterlogged or not. During a couple of calls to find and pass on this information I was corrected.
"So, the pitch. Is it playable?"
"Yes, HE is playable"
So, one noun down, a few thousand to go, and things are fine until summer comes and we play on grass. A grass pitch is also called a 'Feld', which is neutral. Yet it is still a pitch, which is still masculine. I have been learning German for nigh on twenty years, and hold little hope of mastering it in another ten.
Well anyway, the pitch (male) was playable, and the defence (female, but consisting of four males) of Torpedo held firm. We shot the winning goal (neutral) in the second half (female). I wonder how long you have to write like this until insanity (male) sets in.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Kickerfreunde 3 - Torpedo Entenhausen 7
I have progressed to player-manager of Torpedo Entenhausen. This week I was only the manager, as I hurt my foot the day before the match. Manager me fined myself a week's wages, which player me felt was rather unfair but financially irrelevant. It's times like this that the days and nights playing Championship Manager '93 don't seem wasted.
I don't like to take too much credit for the victory, but I did persuade everyone to turn up, on time, at the right ground. I also brought along the kit and two balls to warm up with. As I've never classed organization as one of my strength's, I'm quietly pleased with the start to the 2009 season.
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I see that the Bank of England have started printing money. It seems to be time to turn paper money into solid assets. I bought all the juggling equipment I need last week, and a new pair of football boots. I could stock up on tinned food. One of the comments below the story suggests buying a wheelbarrow to push your money around in when hyperinflation sets in. It would also be a good way of moving tinned food around. While I wait for financial meltdown I could put it on my balcony and fill it with plants. A wheelbarrow it is then.
I don't like to take too much credit for the victory, but I did persuade everyone to turn up, on time, at the right ground. I also brought along the kit and two balls to warm up with. As I've never classed organization as one of my strength's, I'm quietly pleased with the start to the 2009 season.
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I see that the Bank of England have started printing money. It seems to be time to turn paper money into solid assets. I bought all the juggling equipment I need last week, and a new pair of football boots. I could stock up on tinned food. One of the comments below the story suggests buying a wheelbarrow to push your money around in when hyperinflation sets in. It would also be a good way of moving tinned food around. While I wait for financial meltdown I could put it on my balcony and fill it with plants. A wheelbarrow it is then.
Diddle der der, Diddle der der, Diddle der der Dee
A while ago, I wrote that being woken by a telephone makes me nervous. Between 2001 and 2005 a telephone ringing at unsocial hours was almost certainly a call from the control room of the Hermes particle-physics experiment, saying that something was wrong with a souped-up Stern-Gerlach experiment, and that I should stop sleeping and start fixing it. At first it was an exciting challenge, as Stern-Gerlach experiments are fun things. But fun things can become tiresome if you're forced to do them in the middle of a good night's sleep, and by 2005 I was exhausted, nervous, and depressed. The phone calls weren't the only reason, but they didn't help. I dreaded the sound of the phone. I knew that a call would lead to stress, meetings and being made to feel useless. I imagined destroying the phone with a blunt object, or sinking it deep into the river Elbe, weighed down with a couple of stones, and hearing the ringtone fade away...
Now logically, my fear of a ringing phone should have ended by 2006. Nobody rang me any more about Stern-Gerlach devices, and I knew this, but if my sleep was disturbed by a phone ringing, I woke up feeling panicky and nervous. This may or may not have something to do with Pavlov's dogs.
This week I have been trying to change my thought process. When my phone rings I say to myself, "I hope it is a friend wanting to do something, which will be good. I will be hopeful and answer the phone". This morning I was woken by my phone ringing. For two seconds I felt sad and negative, and a little nervous. The move to grab the phone was a slightly panicky motion. I then remembered to say that it would probably be a friend, and felt a little better. It was a friend, and there was no need to feel nervous.
Now logically, my fear of a ringing phone should have ended by 2006. Nobody rang me any more about Stern-Gerlach devices, and I knew this, but if my sleep was disturbed by a phone ringing, I woke up feeling panicky and nervous. This may or may not have something to do with Pavlov's dogs.
This week I have been trying to change my thought process. When my phone rings I say to myself, "I hope it is a friend wanting to do something, which will be good. I will be hopeful and answer the phone". This morning I was woken by my phone ringing. For two seconds I felt sad and negative, and a little nervous. The move to grab the phone was a slightly panicky motion. I then remembered to say that it would probably be a friend, and felt a little better. It was a friend, and there was no need to feel nervous.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Devaluation
There was a time when being called 'Sir' was a time for respect. Damsels in distress, holy grails and all that. After living in Germany for a while, it appeared to be an anachronistic nicety. Now it is a short and polite form for 'Rich useless fat cunt'. Take, for example, Sir Fred Goodwin or Sir Allen Stanford. The whole Knighthood business relies on the respect of the common people, and its been a while since any of these so-called knights challenged anyone to a jousting duel in the name of righteousness. What if 'Sir' becomes slang for 'useless fat bastard'? My husband has turned into a right sir.
It would be quite easy and painless to devalue a name, but how about money? When people retire, they rely on the following generation to do their bidding, carrying them round the world on ferries and eventually changing their underwear. They either get their offspring to work to fund this, or rely on their savings and pension to persuade other people's offspring to do it. But what if the next generation say no? What if they devalue the old money, and return to bartering? What does a Sir Fred Goodwin have to offer them? I hope he has some loving children, and more than a bundle of promises to pay the bearer whatever he wants. Promises can be broken, and bundles of promises can end up as firewood.
I promise to pay any good friend who leaves a comment the sum of one 'I owe you one mate'.
It would be quite easy and painless to devalue a name, but how about money? When people retire, they rely on the following generation to do their bidding, carrying them round the world on ferries and eventually changing their underwear. They either get their offspring to work to fund this, or rely on their savings and pension to persuade other people's offspring to do it. But what if the next generation say no? What if they devalue the old money, and return to bartering? What does a Sir Fred Goodwin have to offer them? I hope he has some loving children, and more than a bundle of promises to pay the bearer whatever he wants. Promises can be broken, and bundles of promises can end up as firewood.
I promise to pay any good friend who leaves a comment the sum of one 'I owe you one mate'.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Citation Needed
Could there be a more German photo than this, taken at the end of my road? Even a picture of Lederhosen-clad men drinking beer, eating Bratwurst, leering at bedirndled Fräuleine with a backdrop of Oompah bands and mountains could not capture the spirit of a country as well as this photo. The literal translation is
Access to the railway is forbidden! Section 58 of the regulations of construction and operation of urban railways.What makes this so very German is
1/ Verboten! Verboten! Das ist hier Verboten!
2/ The little section thingy. A German kezboard even has this on top as 'shift' + '3', relegating the local currency to an Alt-Gr manouvre. Referencing the correct paragraph of legal texts is obviously more important than paying for stuff.
3/ The appeal to a list of rules, rather than to common sense. Section 58 of the rules does of course exist, and says, in legalese, that people should keep off the tracks.
In England a similar sign would say "Please Keep off the tracks", although some more abrupt ones may omit the 'Please'. The specific authority telling you this isn't important, because this is a sign. It carries its own polite authority.
When I become King, all signs will be polite, logical, and carry proven scientific statements backed up by useful references.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Cramp
Of Torpedo Entenhausen's 26 games last year, I took part in 25. Once I came on for the last ten minutes to waste some time, but it felt like an important contribution at the time. The game I missed was due to injury. After playing the last few minutes of a game with cramp, my legs didn't recover. The calf muscles were permanently stiff and a couple of days later I couldn't stretch my legs out. This made walking difficult and painful, so I stayed in bed and got depressed. I got a lift to see the doctor, who told me to take some painkillers, take it easy, and not play football for a while.
I managed to do something similar yesterday. After a week full of doubts and confusion, I came to life on the football pitch. It was only a Sunday kickabout, but I ran around like an idiot, chased every ball, and was in a great mood. As things were going so well, I didn't want to stop. So I kept running until I got cramp. Now walking is slightly painful, especially uphill. I will try to take it easy for a day or two.
I managed to do something similar yesterday. After a week full of doubts and confusion, I came to life on the football pitch. It was only a Sunday kickabout, but I ran around like an idiot, chased every ball, and was in a great mood. As things were going so well, I didn't want to stop. So I kept running until I got cramp. Now walking is slightly painful, especially uphill. I will try to take it easy for a day or two.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Tobleron-e
I decided to liven up my shopping experience by trying to use a Toblerone as the 'Next Customer' bar. This needed a certain amount of planning, as some supermarkets sell Toblerones but have separators with a square cross-section, and some have triangular separators but only flat bars of chocolate.
The supermarket chain Rewe have both triangular-shaped separators and triangular-boxed chocolate with nougat, honey and almonds. They were therefore rewarded with my custom. I actually bought more than I needed to, as I attempted to give body to my ruse. I thus approached the checkout with a full basket of shopping and one Toblerone.
While discussing my plans with a friend last week, I realised that in all my time in Germany I have been pronouncing the name Toblerone wrong. I have been using the english tow-bler-own, whereas the correct pronunciation is somewhere between towbler-owner and tobbler-owner. I also never knew there was a bear hidden in the picture of the Matterhorn. Actually, just sod off and read the wikipedia page.
Anyway, I approached the checkout and tried to make it look like I had two lots of shopping. I decided to go for two mixed-bags of shopping with apples in front, bananas behind, cereal in front, milk behind. In the middle was a Toblerone, it's axis pointing across the band, but with a 10 degree tilt, as though it had been slightly thoughtlessly cast down. A respectful 15cm of empty band each side of the Toblerone made it clear that this was no standard grocery item.
An old lady approached the checkout, her arms struggling to clutch her groceries. In any other circumstances I would have shifted my things together to relieve her straining, but I was on a mission. I put the real customer separator behind my second lot of goods and ignored her visual pleas. She'd just have to hold on.
And then it didn't happen. The checkout lady just scanned everything through, including the Toblerone. She didn't even pause, or look twice, or smile.
The supermarket chain Rewe have both triangular-shaped separators and triangular-boxed chocolate with nougat, honey and almonds. They were therefore rewarded with my custom. I actually bought more than I needed to, as I attempted to give body to my ruse. I thus approached the checkout with a full basket of shopping and one Toblerone.
While discussing my plans with a friend last week, I realised that in all my time in Germany I have been pronouncing the name Toblerone wrong. I have been using the english tow-bler-own, whereas the correct pronunciation is somewhere between towbler-owner and tobbler-owner. I also never knew there was a bear hidden in the picture of the Matterhorn. Actually, just sod off and read the wikipedia page.
Anyway, I approached the checkout and tried to make it look like I had two lots of shopping. I decided to go for two mixed-bags of shopping with apples in front, bananas behind, cereal in front, milk behind. In the middle was a Toblerone, it's axis pointing across the band, but with a 10 degree tilt, as though it had been slightly thoughtlessly cast down. A respectful 15cm of empty band each side of the Toblerone made it clear that this was no standard grocery item.
An old lady approached the checkout, her arms struggling to clutch her groceries. In any other circumstances I would have shifted my things together to relieve her straining, but I was on a mission. I put the real customer separator behind my second lot of goods and ignored her visual pleas. She'd just have to hold on.
And then it didn't happen. The checkout lady just scanned everything through, including the Toblerone. She didn't even pause, or look twice, or smile.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Freibad
I went to a pub last night, and thought I was in for a good night when I got a bingo card. Sadly it wasn't a bingo card, but a reminder of how much I'd ordered. There are several things I didn't understand about this card.
1/ This open bookkeeping can't be in the pub's best interest. Surely either the drip-drip approach of ordering one drink after another, none of which costs much, or the drink-all-you-like-and-hand-over-your-wallet-at-the-end approach would extract more money. Being told exactly how much you've spent after every drink is rather annoying.
2/ 'Kein Eintritt' literally means 'No Entrance': You can't come in. But I was already in. Should I go out again? I decided to stay, as they probably meant 'Eintritt Frei', which is 'Entrance Free'. But they should have said so.
3/ The font used was Comic Sans, or something very similar.
4/ So there is no entrance fee, and no minimum order (kein Mindestverzehr). When did pubs in working-class towns like Bochum start expecting people to pay to go in to a pub, or tell them how much to order? It really was just a pub. No dancefloor, no DJ, nice dark furniture, a billiard table, all the usual pub stuff. The next time I go in, I will walk up to the bar, put on my best Father Dougal accent and ask "Would you like some money?", then follow up with "Is it alright if I order just the one pint, or should I start with a dozen?. I don't want to be putting you out there".
5/ What other things don't they have that other pubs don't have? No entrance fee, no minimum order, no cock-fighting, no fat naked men. Maybe it's too much psychotherapy, but why not advertise with what you do have. Freibad - Cold beer and hot food, solid dark furniture, friendly service and a bit of music. Had they said that I may have stayed for another beer.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Party Girl
I haven't had the pleasure of blogging while drunk for quite a while. I cut back on the old alcohol consumption to stop the cycle of euphoria and desperation. Tonight I agreed to a juggling appearance for the culture office of Bochum university. I did a little 3-ball juggle to Party Girl by Elvis Costello, and it went down very well. This has been one of my forays into perfectionism. I've been trying to cut down on them, and to allow myself little mistakes, but the plan was to juggle perfectly to every beat and lyric of the song.
I know that I can drive myself crazy looking trying to do things perfectly, so I spent the last five minutes before the show convincing myself that it is fine to drop a ball. I picked out two members of the front row to throw the ball back to me if it fell off the stage. I convinced myself that it would be fine to make some mistakes, and that it would be done and finished in 3 minutes and 23 seconds.
It was finished in this time, and I had time to get quite drunk, which is enough for me to load up a picture that is somewhat amusing, but which wouldn't pass my sober blogging threshold. Maybe you can do better in convincing the world to follow your beliefs.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Bicycle Brakes
Some would call it laziness, but I think I have been a victim of "Acclimatization by Slow Change", to use the phrase of R.V. Jones. The brakes of my bicycle have been getting less and less effective over the last few weeks. I took lots of measures to counter this: first pulling harder at the back brake, then pulling harder at the front brake, then dragging a foot on the floor.
By yesterday the procedure to stop my bike was quite complex. Pulling as hard as possible on both brakes achieved only a negative third derivative of distance with respect to time. I was getting faster, but not as quickly as I would have done without applying the brakes*. To stop accelerating, I had to go into a slalom with both brakes on. By bobbing up and down in the saddle and thrusting the bike out at each turn it is possible to slalom quite sharply. This still left me going at a constant speed. To actually stop I had to stop slaloming, put the left foot to the floor and then turn the bike ninety degrees at the last second.
Today I decided to mend the brakes. I just had to loosen and tighten two screws, and took about five minutes. Now I can safely propel myself over the handlebars whenever I feel like it. I will try to tighten the brakes sooner the next time.
* If you understand this, you will also understand the Bild Zeitung headline on the German economy this week "Growth shrinks" (originally "Wachstum schrumpft")
By yesterday the procedure to stop my bike was quite complex. Pulling as hard as possible on both brakes achieved only a negative third derivative of distance with respect to time. I was getting faster, but not as quickly as I would have done without applying the brakes*. To stop accelerating, I had to go into a slalom with both brakes on. By bobbing up and down in the saddle and thrusting the bike out at each turn it is possible to slalom quite sharply. This still left me going at a constant speed. To actually stop I had to stop slaloming, put the left foot to the floor and then turn the bike ninety degrees at the last second.
Today I decided to mend the brakes. I just had to loosen and tighten two screws, and took about five minutes. Now I can safely propel myself over the handlebars whenever I feel like it. I will try to tighten the brakes sooner the next time.
* If you understand this, you will also understand the Bild Zeitung headline on the German economy this week "Growth shrinks" (originally "Wachstum schrumpft")
Monday, December 22, 2008
Out on the Wiley Windy Moors...
... there stand two dry stone walls, facing each other, eighty yards apart. Between them is not heath, but finely cut green grass. For most of their length, the walls are natural stone. Only the central section of each wall is whitewashed.
Haworth West End cricket club possess the highest cricket ground in Yorkshire, and perhaps the most wind-swept cricket ground in the world. Cricket grounds need a sightscreen behind the bowler's arm, so that the red ball is clearly visible to the batsman. On Haworth moor, the white walls serve as a wind-resistant sightscreen. Of course the walls are only about five foot tall, so the sightscreen only really works for very small bowlers.
The pavilion of this cricket ground was the starting point of a fell race yesterday. 279 people lined up to run across Haworth moor and back again, including me and my dad. Running across a moor is similar to running anywhere else. Except every now and again the ground suddenly gives way, and you find yourself with one leg on solid ground, and the other leg knee deep in a mini peat bog. If this happens while tramping uphill or against the wind, you pull your foot out and continue. If this happens going downhill wind-assisted, you either trip and tumble, or come to an emergency stop. I did both a couple of times, and was happy to return to the cricket pavilion with both ankles intact.
View Larger Map
Haworth West End cricket club possess the highest cricket ground in Yorkshire, and perhaps the most wind-swept cricket ground in the world. Cricket grounds need a sightscreen behind the bowler's arm, so that the red ball is clearly visible to the batsman. On Haworth moor, the white walls serve as a wind-resistant sightscreen. Of course the walls are only about five foot tall, so the sightscreen only really works for very small bowlers.
The pavilion of this cricket ground was the starting point of a fell race yesterday. 279 people lined up to run across Haworth moor and back again, including me and my dad. Running across a moor is similar to running anywhere else. Except every now and again the ground suddenly gives way, and you find yourself with one leg on solid ground, and the other leg knee deep in a mini peat bog. If this happens while tramping uphill or against the wind, you pull your foot out and continue. If this happens going downhill wind-assisted, you either trip and tumble, or come to an emergency stop. I did both a couple of times, and was happy to return to the cricket pavilion with both ankles intact.
View Larger Map
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Ultras Bochum 3 - Torpedo Entenhausen 4
This game was postponed due to snow. I therefore dedicate the win to former Blackpool goalkeeper Harry Sharrat, who was booked for making a snowman on his goalline.
Winter has arrived in Bochum, and although there was no snow one week later, the pitch was frozen in one corner. I found this out while trying to turn quickly past a defender. The resulting slip was almost convincing enough to get a penalty. Fortunately I fell on my left knee, which is in much better shape than the right one. And because I fell on ice, the cut wasn't filled with the usual sand and gravel.
This match brought Torpedo Entenhausen an unprecedented (at least in my time) five wins in a row. We thus moved into an unprecedented (at least in my time) fourth place, just in time for the end of the season. The official policy of the team is to play so badly in the first 6 games that we can't get promoted. After that, we are free to win some games. The successful end to the season even brought a goal difference of 0.
Winter has arrived in Bochum, and although there was no snow one week later, the pitch was frozen in one corner. I found this out while trying to turn quickly past a defender. The resulting slip was almost convincing enough to get a penalty. Fortunately I fell on my left knee, which is in much better shape than the right one. And because I fell on ice, the cut wasn't filled with the usual sand and gravel.
This match brought Torpedo Entenhausen an unprecedented (at least in my time) five wins in a row. We thus moved into an unprecedented (at least in my time) fourth place, just in time for the end of the season. The official policy of the team is to play so badly in the first 6 games that we can't get promoted. After that, we are free to win some games. The successful end to the season even brought a goal difference of 0.
Torpedo Entenhausen 8 - Porno Villa 0
I just reread the last entry against SG Sundern, where I wrote
What I didn't mention is how this happened. There was a goalmouth scramble as the keeper could only block a shot. I pushed past a defender and lunged at the ball. With an injured knee. On a cinder pitch. The resulting wound was quite deep, and had me limping for a good few days. Cycling was also painful, so I sat at home a lot and was bored.
This is part of my problem. I am bored, then start doing something, get completely hooked, start diving around and injuring myself, and am then ill/injured. I then become bored, start doing something...
By this match, which was two weeks ago, I had recovered enough to play against my good friends of Porno Villa. They have made many friends in their first season because of their fair play and occasionally open defense. If there is such a thing as a lucky 8-0 win, this was it. Torpedo took almost all their chances to move to -1 goal difference. I spent the whole of the first half in the submerged half of the pitch, and conceded lots of throw-ins.
today I managed to land on exactly the same spot just below the knee and reopen the wound.
What I didn't mention is how this happened. There was a goalmouth scramble as the keeper could only block a shot. I pushed past a defender and lunged at the ball. With an injured knee. On a cinder pitch. The resulting wound was quite deep, and had me limping for a good few days. Cycling was also painful, so I sat at home a lot and was bored.
This is part of my problem. I am bored, then start doing something, get completely hooked, start diving around and injuring myself, and am then ill/injured. I then become bored, start doing something...
By this match, which was two weeks ago, I had recovered enough to play against my good friends of Porno Villa. They have made many friends in their first season because of their fair play and occasionally open defense. If there is such a thing as a lucky 8-0 win, this was it. Torpedo took almost all their chances to move to -1 goal difference. I spent the whole of the first half in the submerged half of the pitch, and conceded lots of throw-ins.
Fat Finger Job Application
I've been putting this off, and got depressed today. I went to the Job Centre on Thursday, and was given four jobs to apply for. I managed to write a job application on Friday, and got it corrected by Sunday. I spent the last two days trying to muster up courage to send it off. I kept putting it off, surfing the internet, walking around randomly, standing on stairs, drinking coffee and juggling. I tried to learn lots of juggling tricks with the left hand on the right and the right hand on the left.
By this morning I was depressed and confused. Everyone I met today commented how awful I look. I slept 9 hours, but was worried the whole time and woke up tired. My coordination is bad today, and in the cafe they laughed at my attempts to fill a cup with coffee from a thermos flask, with the saucer getting in the way.
I decided to break out of this depression by doing stuff. I ate lunch, drank a coffee and set about sending off the application. I checked the last job application that I'd sent off, and saw that I'd included my PhD certificate twice. I renamed the file from MCT0025x00001.pdf to something more sensible. All the time I'm fighting with the thoughts "you can't do this job", "your application is useless", "your letter is cringeworthy". I joined the files together, found a plausible email address, wrote a subject, then my finger slipped. Somehow I found the keyboard shortcut for "send", and sent off an email without any body or attachment.
I then sent the real one, and hope that they take pity on me.
By this morning I was depressed and confused. Everyone I met today commented how awful I look. I slept 9 hours, but was worried the whole time and woke up tired. My coordination is bad today, and in the cafe they laughed at my attempts to fill a cup with coffee from a thermos flask, with the saucer getting in the way.
I decided to break out of this depression by doing stuff. I ate lunch, drank a coffee and set about sending off the application. I checked the last job application that I'd sent off, and saw that I'd included my PhD certificate twice. I renamed the file from MCT0025x00001.pdf to something more sensible. All the time I'm fighting with the thoughts "you can't do this job", "your application is useless", "your letter is cringeworthy". I joined the files together, found a plausible email address, wrote a subject, then my finger slipped. Somehow I found the keyboard shortcut for "send", and sent off an email without any body or attachment.
I then sent the real one, and hope that they take pity on me.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Torpedo Entenhausen 3 - SG Sundern 1
Torpedo Entenhausen collected six points in four days to move firmly into the top half of division 2 in Bochum's spare time league. A 2-1 win with 10 players on Friday was followed by a today's win, where we faced only 10 opposing players.
In both games I landed quite hard with my right knee on the cinder pitch. The cut from Friday had just about scabbed over, but today I managed to land on exactly the same spot just below the knee and reopen the wound. The grazes over the upper shin are still scabbed, but have new cuts mixed in with them.
At least I am better off than teammate Stefan, who had blood running down from both his knees, as though he had been subject to a double kneecapping. After he showered, blood was splattered down the tiles of the shower room. Bernd, a veteran of 20 years playing in the Freizeitliga, said that his elbows and knees are covered in tiny scars.
It wasn't by any means a dirty game, even though the opposition had one player sent off. It just lies in the nature of cinder pitches and human flesh. Somethings gotta give, and it usually isn't the pitch.
In both games I landed quite hard with my right knee on the cinder pitch. The cut from Friday had just about scabbed over, but today I managed to land on exactly the same spot just below the knee and reopen the wound. The grazes over the upper shin are still scabbed, but have new cuts mixed in with them.
At least I am better off than teammate Stefan, who had blood running down from both his knees, as though he had been subject to a double kneecapping. After he showered, blood was splattered down the tiles of the shower room. Bernd, a veteran of 20 years playing in the Freizeitliga, said that his elbows and knees are covered in tiny scars.
It wasn't by any means a dirty game, even though the opposition had one player sent off. It just lies in the nature of cinder pitches and human flesh. Somethings gotta give, and it usually isn't the pitch.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Taxi Zentrale 1 - Torpedo Entenhausen 2
With three games of the season remaining, Torpedo Entenhausen have accumulated the same number of points as in the whole of last season, and look good for a top-half finish. I dashed back from Erlangen for the fixture, but was a bit tired and hungover. This got me thinking about home advantage in the league, as obviously travelling five hours to a game isn't great preparation.
Now that football has turned into a billion business, this question must be worth millions of said units, and whoever solves it could become rich. It has become an accepted fact that the home team has an advantage, and this is reflected in results in all leagues all over the world.
One reason for home team advantage are the crowds, which can boost players and intimidate the referee, but the Spare Time League in Bochum doesn't have any crowds. It is therefore interesting to see that there is still a distinct home advantage. The two divisions in the league had the total results at the end of the season 2008.
Home Wins Draws Away Wins Home Goals Away Goals
Div 2 91 (50%) 18 (10%) 73 (40%) 515 449
Div 1 84 (46%) 22 (12%) 76 (42%) 531 465
Now that seems that there is definitely a home advantage. This could come from the difficulties in travelling across Bochum to get to an away match, funny kick-off times for away matches (some teams play on a Friday), or the strange surroundings and change to routine of an away fixture.
If one of the world's richest football clubs wanted to, they could conduct experiments with local leagues, all without any crowds. In one league all pitches and changing rooms would be the same, like in roman military camps, but players would have to sort out their travelling arrangements. In another league the pitches would vary, but all teams would be bussed together to the away ground. In a third league the teams would be bussed together and play on identical grounds, but be taken ten times around the ringroad before the match. Surely the costs would be small in comparison to hiring a 30 Million Euros player, and the results potentially of great importance.
Now that football has turned into a billion
One reason for home team advantage are the crowds, which can boost players and intimidate the referee, but the Spare Time League in Bochum doesn't have any crowds. It is therefore interesting to see that there is still a distinct home advantage. The two divisions in the league had the total results at the end of the season 2008.
Home Wins Draws Away Wins Home Goals Away Goals
Div 2 91 (50%) 18 (10%) 73 (40%) 515 449
Div 1 84 (46%) 22 (12%) 76 (42%) 531 465
Now that seems that there is definitely a home advantage. This could come from the difficulties in travelling across Bochum to get to an away match, funny kick-off times for away matches (some teams play on a Friday), or the strange surroundings and change to routine of an away fixture.
If one of the world's richest football clubs wanted to, they could conduct experiments with local leagues, all without any crowds. In one league all pitches and changing rooms would be the same, like in roman military camps, but players would have to sort out their travelling arrangements. In another league the pitches would vary, but all teams would be bussed together to the away ground. In a third league the teams would be bussed together and play on identical grounds, but be taken ten times around the ringroad before the match. Surely the costs would be small in comparison to hiring a 30 Million Euros player, and the results potentially of great importance.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Cheers Timo
I am in Erlangen for a quick visit. My PhD Supervisor is going into retirement and holding a goodbye lecture. I just turned up at my old shared flat (the Henke WG) and invited myself in. I keep meaning to give people a bit more notice, but didn't get round to it this time.
I was greeted by a cup of tea, and my ex-flatmate Timo said I could have his room. It has a bed, a computer with internet access and three bottle of beer. The perfect bachelor pad.
I was greeted by a cup of tea, and my ex-flatmate Timo said I could have his room. It has a bed, a computer with internet access and three bottle of beer. The perfect bachelor pad.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Torpedo Entenhausen 5 - Megalomaniacs Herne 3
I've only been blogging victories for Torpedo Entenhausen, as they are much more fun. In reality we are safely in mid-table, far from the disappointment of finishing last (there is no relegation from the second division of the spare time league) and far from the disaster of promotion.
Wemser and Werner, a couple of Torpedo old-timers, returned to the team last week. We played a few matches together when I started almost 2 years ago, and they commented how I have improved my game. I scored one goal, set up two, and ran around a lot before succumbing to cramp in the final minutes. As the substitutes were also knackered, I was told to stand in front of the defence for the final minutes to preserve our precious lead.
I got to select and organise the team for the last two matches, as our captain, organiser and last-ditch defender was on holiday. Those 'wasted' months of playing football manager games were quite useful. Pick your 14 players, send them a text message, choose a formation, learn that the full-back is down with flu, choose another formation. Enter the transfer market by asking Werner to ask his mate whether he fancies a game.
I also got to greet the referee and opposition and win the coin toss by default. While I was winning the coin toss the rest of the team decided which positions to play. I don't think I'm ready for complete control of team affairs yet, and luckily the real captain will be back next week.
Wemser and Werner, a couple of Torpedo old-timers, returned to the team last week. We played a few matches together when I started almost 2 years ago, and they commented how I have improved my game. I scored one goal, set up two, and ran around a lot before succumbing to cramp in the final minutes. As the substitutes were also knackered, I was told to stand in front of the defence for the final minutes to preserve our precious lead.
I got to select and organise the team for the last two matches, as our captain, organiser and last-ditch defender was on holiday. Those 'wasted' months of playing football manager games were quite useful. Pick your 14 players, send them a text message, choose a formation, learn that the full-back is down with flu, choose another formation. Enter the transfer market by asking Werner to ask his mate whether he fancies a game.
I also got to greet the referee and opposition and win the coin toss by default. While I was winning the coin toss the rest of the team decided which positions to play. I don't think I'm ready for complete control of team affairs yet, and luckily the real captain will be back next week.
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