We lost 2-1 at soccer last night - I think perhaps the lowest score since I've been playing indoor. We played OK generally but our shooting was poor and their goalie was talented. I like to play pretty hard, and I had a series of clashes with one particular guy on the other side.
We were one goal down with a minute to go, and my adversary had the ball. He was a bit slow getting rid of it, and I took it off him. He didn't like the way I did it, mouthed off and lashed out at me, giving away a free kick. With 5 seconds on the clock I took the kick and sprayed it. As the hooter I sounded I went to shake hands but he refused.
The referee we always have lately is a clown, and usually pretty inconsistent. The first time we had him, I enquired politely what a free kick was for. He replied "It's a bit hard to explain..." Clown. He can't work the remote-control scoreboard, so we spend the whole game wondering what the score really is.
He can apparently read minds. He has given free kicks on occasions when I have won the ball with a bit of incidental contact because "you weren't really going for the ball". He is often late on the court, arriving up to 2 minutes after the clock has started running. Last night he was late for the start and again for the 2nd half, which is just ridiculous. The timing is all automatic and there is no way to reset the clock, so that time (which we pay for) is just lost.
I was feeling generally aggrieved at the clown, the stroppy opponent who wouldn't shake, and of course losing. There's nothing you can say about bad refereeing. His decision is final, and if you've lost the match it just sounds like sour grapes anyway. But I am sick of waiting for him to come on the court, so I vented my frustration to the centre manager. I pointed out that if a player is late on court the team is penalised 2 goals. He didn't really get my point of view - I'm sure it was just another whinge to him.
I know this is not the World Cup. My team are all close to, or over 40 and at times we probably look like a sweaty unfit pack of sad dads. But - we pay to play. We are customers. There's got to be a bit of respect for the players from the referees.
Showing posts with label clowns. Show all posts
Showing posts with label clowns. Show all posts
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Mr Magic wants you to say "woo."
We tried something new, and took the boys to the Clarence Pool on Sunday.The kids pool is all pretty much the same depth, and Michael can't scamp in and out of it like he does at the Aquatic Centre. It was really quiet there, only one other family in the kids pool. The boys liked it a lot. Michael hopped right around the perimeter of the pool, like a little Vietnamese water puppet.
On the way to the pool driving down the Southern Outlet (which I suppose makes it an Inlet), I had noticed the big top of Silvers Circus poking up from the Domain. We decided on the spot to go to the circus in the afternoon. We went home for a snooze after swimming, then back down the Outlet to the Domain.
It had rained earlier in the day, but was now very hot and steamy as we parked on the grass and walked into the big tent. Even though the tent was just about half full, our designated seats were behind a pylon. Once we realised no-one was coming to take the better seats, we snudged along a bit to where we could see the action.
The main man, ringmaster and magician, looks like a Ricky Gervais character - portly, with a ridiculous sharp "magician" beard. His schtick was way over the top, in fact he would make Ian Turpie look dry. He said his stuff portentuously, then raised his hands (allowing his spangly cape to flare), and waited for us to applaud.
This was "Silvers Grand Magic Circus" - so Mr Magic and his leggy assistants filled about half the running time. Disappearing into cupboards, folding themselves impossibly into drapes, turning into doves - they did it all, very impressively.
Clowns came, clowns went.
Michael found it all too loud and a bit overwhelming. Marcus loved it. At intermission he shouted "It's amazing! It's all amazing!" A boy came on sweeping the stage with a wide broom. "Wow! That broom's amazing!"
What really was amazing was the weather. An equatorial downpour had arrived during the first act. As I went out to get a coffee, I was puzzled to see people coming back looking like they'd been doused with a firehose. There was a gap between the tents of about an inch, and anyone walking between them came out sodden. Looking out from under the catering tent, I could see the whole town copping a once-a-year torrent.
Back under the big top, in the second act there were various jugglers and acrobats. I might be a bit spoiled, but I think they were about the standard of the average street busker. The circus acts obviously have a big advantage in props, costumes, stage space, not-being-shat-on-by pigeons etc. But in pure "that's amazing" terms, they were just OK. At the end of their stint every one, without exception, gave the crowd a big wind-up or hand-to-the-ear as if to say 'I want more than just applause, I want to hear "woo"'.
The one standout act I thought was the Hoop Lady. She had hoops comin' and goin'. She hula'd on the ground, she hula'd standing on a big disco ball, she hula'd ten hoops, she hula'd thirty hoops. She really showed those hoops who was boss.
At the end Mr Magic laid it on thick again about how their best publicity was word of mouth, so go out there and tell your family and friends. Well, I just want to tell you all I give it a C+. The + is especially for the guy who spent most of the second half digging a canal with a mattock to let the water backstage drain away. Well done son.
On the way to the pool driving down the Southern Outlet (which I suppose makes it an Inlet), I had noticed the big top of Silvers Circus poking up from the Domain. We decided on the spot to go to the circus in the afternoon. We went home for a snooze after swimming, then back down the Outlet to the Domain.
It had rained earlier in the day, but was now very hot and steamy as we parked on the grass and walked into the big tent. Even though the tent was just about half full, our designated seats were behind a pylon. Once we realised no-one was coming to take the better seats, we snudged along a bit to where we could see the action.
The main man, ringmaster and magician, looks like a Ricky Gervais character - portly, with a ridiculous sharp "magician" beard. His schtick was way over the top, in fact he would make Ian Turpie look dry. He said his stuff portentuously, then raised his hands (allowing his spangly cape to flare), and waited for us to applaud.
This was "Silvers Grand Magic Circus" - so Mr Magic and his leggy assistants filled about half the running time. Disappearing into cupboards, folding themselves impossibly into drapes, turning into doves - they did it all, very impressively.
Clowns came, clowns went.
Michael found it all too loud and a bit overwhelming. Marcus loved it. At intermission he shouted "It's amazing! It's all amazing!" A boy came on sweeping the stage with a wide broom. "Wow! That broom's amazing!"
What really was amazing was the weather. An equatorial downpour had arrived during the first act. As I went out to get a coffee, I was puzzled to see people coming back looking like they'd been doused with a firehose. There was a gap between the tents of about an inch, and anyone walking between them came out sodden. Looking out from under the catering tent, I could see the whole town copping a once-a-year torrent.
Back under the big top, in the second act there were various jugglers and acrobats. I might be a bit spoiled, but I think they were about the standard of the average street busker. The circus acts obviously have a big advantage in props, costumes, stage space, not-being-shat-on-by pigeons etc. But in pure "that's amazing" terms, they were just OK. At the end of their stint every one, without exception, gave the crowd a big wind-up or hand-to-the-ear as if to say 'I want more than just applause, I want to hear "woo"'.
The one standout act I thought was the Hoop Lady. She had hoops comin' and goin'. She hula'd on the ground, she hula'd standing on a big disco ball, she hula'd ten hoops, she hula'd thirty hoops. She really showed those hoops who was boss.
At the end Mr Magic laid it on thick again about how their best publicity was word of mouth, so go out there and tell your family and friends. Well, I just want to tell you all I give it a C+. The + is especially for the guy who spent most of the second half digging a canal with a mattock to let the water backstage drain away. Well done son.
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