I like many sports, but if forced to watch but one for the rest of my life, it would be what the rest of the world knows as football. I follow several teams in England as best I can, rooting in particular for Newcastle in the Premiership and Exeter City in a much-lower division.
I also enjoy good sportswriting, and reading this tonight, I gave a shout of recognition. Writing in the Times of London, the splendid Rod Liddle notes:
Chronic and preferably cruel injustice is a much underestimated attraction in football.
Yup.
I will be posting on various things in the week to come. I’ve got reviews of a couple of books to put up (including Men Speak Out), and will try and say something intelligent about Planned Parenthood, race, and the complex legacy of Margaret Sanger.
But it’s Saturday, and if I post at all on the weekends, it can’t be about anything too serious. My wife has been in Europe (doing various volunteer things) since last Sunday, and I miss her. She’ll be home in two days time. The stereotype of the generally neat married man who reverts to appalling slobbery when his spouse goes off for a few days is a time-honored one: yes, things are looking a little chaotic around the homestead these days. Newspapers and magazines on the floor; laundry arranged in sensible; adequately folded piles; coffee cups resting on any ledge they can find. And Hugo, unbathed as yet today.
I’ve let go of so many bad habits over the last few years. An earlier incarnation of Hugo on his own would have seen me in a home littered with filled ashtrays. Liquor bottles would have poked their heads out of the trash as well. Bits of clothing and long strands of hair, forgotten and discarded by those whose visit had had but one purpose, would have lingered under chairs for weeks or months. On these scores, all is different now. Continue reading ‘Of sweat and scent: in defense of infrequent bathing’
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