Sea and Land, Land and Sea

When I think it no longer matters,

when I think that the sea has finally swept our footprints from the beach,

it all returns: a tide stronger and deeper than ever.

then I remember, and know that nothing has changed.

Memories are not footprints: I was the beach: you are the ocean.

You go where you will.

But whatever other shore you wash up on,

a part of you always washes up on me, cleans my thoughts, and sets me free.

I love cricket, so why am I not going to the Wanderers anymore?

I always loved cricket.
It was the first game that I was able to play as a boy, and although I was never really very good at it, I couldn't get enough. Pickup matches in parks, and later in boarding school would always find me amongst the hopefuls last to be picked, but first in enthusiasm!

TV came very late to my family, so the habit of being at the ground stuck with me.
In the early 2000's I moved to Rosebank: and one of the attractions was the Wanderers just down the road. Close enough to walk to, in fact. So I was one of those people that you see on TV, where there are more players on the field and in the dressing rooms then there are stretched out in the stands.

It never worried me that they weren't large crowds watching cricket. In fact, in some way that was part of its attraction. The fact that the game persisted at the grassroots level despite everything else, for me that was always pretty cool. Truth to tell, you get bigger crowds at the club games than at the Currie cup and similar provincial games. And I still wander down to the zoo lake these days, and idly stand by in the late mid-afternoon sun on Saturday afternoon and watch for a while. Mostly the spectators are family and friends, and it's a pretty safe space for kids to run around and make a noise. So maybe that's why cricket is still so popular with ordinary people.

you might say it's a little bit odd that I no longer attend any of the international matches up there at the big Wanderers Stadium. It's not a friendly place any more to take your friends for a day's outing. From the security guards with their officious, invasive, and plain stupid regulations, which they enforce as if the purpose of the game was to provide them with the platform to exercise their authority; to the rip off vendors, whose sole aim is to foist off bad food at ridiculous prices: heaven help you if you have any sort of dietary restriction, because they confiscate your food/drinks at the gates and make you sit hungry for the rest of the day.

Now I read that the cricket authorities have appointed a marketing firm to find out why people are you no longer coming to their grounds. I guess that they are worried the advertisers will leave them if the grounds are empty ~after all, the shorter forms of the game feed off the atmosphere of the grounds, and that's what the advertisers hook into.

I could have told them the answers to why people are staying away: first off the game is set up for corporate advertising, and not for the people who love and watch the game. We are not consumers, looking to be wooed away from other attractions. We are cricket lovers, come for the cricket. Places where the cricket is no longer the primary concern, why would we be there?

Sad, isn't it? Our cricket administrators just don't get it:
If English football has shown one thing, it's that the fans will tolerate anything when the game is the thing.
It's not too much cricket that's the problem ~it's too much hoopla tied to commercial interests.
You can't build the love of the game through marketing experiences, and finding more and more "exciting" experiences. Sooner or later, something more "exciting" comes across the horizon. Without the true fans there is no game, so put your money into building up cricket lovers, down there at the grassroots.

And here is the funniest thing of all: if I don't watch it at the ground, chances are I won't be watching the match on TV either.

The picture is from a game between South Africa and Sri Lanka at SuperSport Park in Centurion in December of 2003, which is still a much more fan oriented venue than its bigger brother down the drag in Illovo, Johannesburg.

Rome and the Barbarians: the never-ending rise of empire

Even though the Barbarians hated Rome, they feared it more. When they destroyed it, its spirit remained and has infused every empire since, all of whom have suffered, or in the case of America, are suffering its fate.

While it is true that the citizens of empire are not evil, the mist of the spirit of Rome clouds their eyes, distorts their judgement, and drugs their senses.
They become "Romans", renamed as Americans, or Colonialists, or Soviets.

When the Barbarians bring down the walls, they take on the spirit of Rome. It is a battle they cannot win, in the spirit of Rome they find their match. Their hearts become Roman.

The spirit infuses their language, it becomes patronising, the language of the master is always the language of Rome. This is how Empire stamps its authority: by taking the spirit of Rome and suffusing it throughout its language.

When the Roman speaks, the peoples know their places.
When the fall comes, the Roman loses not only empire, but also the preeminence of language.
We are all Romans: we are all Barbarians.

Solitude

Solitude is my one true childhood friend: he sat with me in new places, walked with me on strange roads, & slept with me in strange bedrooms.

This is not solitude born of loneliness.

This is the quiet space where reflection comes easy.

I met him in childhood, lying solitary on my back looking up at the clouds, in silent imaginings.

He stayed with me for a long time, as the family moved from town to town, in year and out.

He went his own way when I went to university, and later, after I married and had children I thought he had left me forever.

But now he has returned, and we renew an old and valued friendship.

I have the time for him again, and he for me.