Anatomy of a Scene- “Moneyball” Ending

This is a kind of blog I’ve been thinking about doing for a while. As mentioned previously, film is one of my passions and I’ve already written the occasional post about some of my favourites. The problem with doing that more regularly is that films are so vast, to be able to get out every thought I had on them would take a lot of words and pages and neither I, nor any potential reader, have that much time.

So, meet “Anatomy of a Scene.” To satisfy my urge to gush about some of the best films out there by honing in on one specific moment in the film, rather than the whole thing. Now, I am not an expert in the technical side of filmmaking so the analysis won’t be geared around the correct terms of camera angles and so on, but I am going to try and be quite microscopic in my approach. Hopefully showing how even the subtlest things can have such a powerful impact within a film scene.

To start with then: the closing scene of the 2011 film, “Moneyball.” I re-watched it again recently and enjoyed it even more than the first occasion. To give a very short synopsis, it’s based on the real-life story of the Oakland Athletics baseball team and their general manager Billy Beane (played masterfully by Brad Pitt) who attempted to change the face of the game by picking a team of undervalued players based on unusual statistical data.

I have never watched a game of Baseball in my life so it is no way just a film for lovers of the sport. I admit that my love for sports statistics probably means I was still the target audience, but behind all that, the film has a real, universal heart to it. The last scene shows Beane driving away from the stadium, having just been offered a lucrative deal to become manager of the Boston Red Sox. He picks up a CD his daughter has made him and puts it in the car CD player. The full scene can be viewed here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-K4or2Hlbjs

The Song:

The song his daughter has recorded for him is a cover of Lenka’s “The Show.” It becomes clear very quickly if you really listen carefully to the lyrics that this is intended as far more than just a sweet moment or a backing track; it’s a metaphor for the central, internal struggle of the entire film.

“I’m just a little bit caught in the middle.”- This could be a number of things, most obviously Beane’s decision whether to stay with Oakland or take the money and glamour of the Red Sox offer. It can also be viewed as his position within Baseball as a whole, having become a figurehead for this bold, new approach to player selection and subsequently a target for the traditionalists who view it as an affront to the game.

“I don’t know where to go. Can’t do it alone, I’ve tried.”- Even more on-the-nose here in regards to the previous points, with Beane having struggled throughout the film to convince even members of his own team that their new direction is the right one.

“I’ve got to let it go. And just enjoy the show.”- Beane’s relationship with Baseball is not a happy one. He was a promising young player who never lived up to the stratospheric expectations of him and his management is inspired by an obsession with winning rather than a love of the game. He doesn’t even watch the matches, often hiding away in the gym whilst they’re played. This fitting reminder by his daughter to “just enjoy the show” is all the more poignant as “The Show” is literally a term coined to refer to Major League Baseball itself.

The Acting:

Pitt portrays Beane as a no-nonsense hardman for most of the film, unafraid of confrontation and someone who treats players as nothing but commodities in his ruthless negotiations with other teams, often spitting chewing tobacco as he does so. This context is important as it makes the rare show of emotion from him in the final scene all the more significant.

Watching Pitt after he puts the CD in and it begins to play is to watch an expert in subtle emotional cues. He smiles when his daughter begins to sing, displaying only fatherly delight and pride. Then as she goes on and he starts to process what the lyrics are saying, his expression changes to a much more thoughtful one. His mouth begins to close as he clenches his jaw slightly, showing that he has recognised the message of the song and how it relates to his situation.

And then, we begin to see tears start to appear in his eyes and his lip twitches and wobbles as the emotion begins to take hold of him. This then prompts the first actual gesture or action, as he brings his hand to his face in an attempt to repress his crying.

When his face comes back into focus, we only see his eyes now. They are tinted with tears still and he blinks frequently, as if trying to get rid of them. Beane is not the kind of man to weep openly so the audience get the feeling this is about as vulnerable as the character gets. He looks up, checking the rear-view mirror a few times, before we begin to see the wrinkles around his eyes start to crease, suggesting he has broken back into a smile. It’s the subtlest sign, but it suggests in that one moment, Beane has made his decision.

The Camera

The movement of the camera only serves to elevate Pitt’s acting and hence, the overall emotional impact of the scene as a whole. At first the camera moves around a fair amount, following Pitt’s actions. We zoom into him putting the CD in and then move to his hand on the steering wheel. We then get a close-up of the CD player itself, as if hearing his daughter’s words directly. And then we pan out and get a side angle of Pitt, which remains unchanged for the next thirty seconds. This is so we can get the best view of Pitt as he goes through the previously explored series of emotions. Once he begins to tear up, the camera zooms in again, as if making sure he really is choked up.

An even subtler change is that the camera begins to bump and shake along with the movement of the car, ever so slightly shuddering the picture. This coincides with Pitt changing to his reflective expression and could be a metaphor for the cogs beginning to turn in his head.

Finally, the focus of the lens changes so that Pitt is now blurry and the outside of the car is highlighted. It’s nothing special, mainly showing queues of cars in traffic or shipping containers in the distance, but it is visually reminding the audience of Beane’s decision: does he leave his home? And then his face comes back into focus again, the camera zooming tight on his misty eyes. It means we are not granted the full view of his face and therefore can’t be totally sure what expression he ends on. We think he smiles, but the position of the camera means we are still left wondering as the credits start to roll.

Premier League 2021-22 Review (and reacting to my predictions)

It’s easy to feel this way after the climax of every Premier League season, but this last campaign really has been one for the ages. The last week, and especially the final day, of nail-biting, thrilling football was surely one of the best finishes ever. The title, the top four, the Europa League and relegation were all still to play for at the very end and there were twists and turns from the first whistle to the last.

Think of the matches and moments we’ve been privileged to witness so far this season. From Cristiano Ronaldo’s spectacular return to Old Trafford; Salah’s consecutive goal-of-the-season contenders against City and Watford; Newcastle’s Saudi Takeover and rejuvenation under Eddie Howe; the thrashings like Chelsea 7-0 Norwich and City 7-0 Leeds or, you know, anytime anyone played Manchester United…; the thrillers like Liverpool’s visits to Tottenham, Chelsea, Brentford and City (no coincidence the Reds are involved in nearly all the season’s best games); the emotional return of Christian Eriksen and the crucial role he played in the Bee’s superb season; Everton’s dramatic safety-clinching comeback against Crystal Palace and Frank Lampard celebrating on a roof. And finally, Manchester City putting their fans through emotional torture on the final day yet again before securing the title with an epic, extraordinary five-minute turnaround.

I last wrote on football before the campaign started, foolishly setting out my predictions: https://georgefbrown.wordpress.com/2021/08/10/premier-league-predictions-2021-22/. Now, it is the nature of the game that doing this is inevitably going to end up with you looking foolish, but I’m prepared to face my failings head on. So, here is my review of every team’s Premier League campaign and an embarrassing reflection on my misguided opinions nearly twelve months earlier…

20th– Norwich
My Prediction- 14th

I said: “Norwich will do the best of all the promoted sides in my opinion. I think they’ve copied the Burnley method of going up, not over-spending and accepting relegation and then ensuring they’re best placed for a successful return.”

How it turned out: Christ this is a bad start. You can see the logic in my argument and I think it wasn’t just me that thought they surely couldn’t be as bad as their previous Premier League attempt. And yet they were. It turns out there was no method in place whatsoever. They just recruited horribly and looked out of their depth from the very first game to the last. I hope they don’t bounce back up this time, they just serve to weaken the overall quality of an otherwise exceptional division.

19th– Watford
My Prediction: 16th

I said: “I am expecting them to have sacked their current manager Xisco Munoz by Christmas and for them to experience some humbling defeats along the way but ultimately to just about secure their survival in their first year back.”

How it turned out: Well, I got one thing right! Though predicting Watford to sack a manager is like predicting it will be chilly in December. They definitely experienced some humbling defeats along the way as well, but despite three different managers, they did not secure their survival and to be honest, never really looked like getting close either. One joy has been seeing Roy Hodgson gloriously expose the flaw in Watford’s continual managerial merry-go-round; if you treat your managers as expendable, they won’t even pretend to give a shit about the club in return. Again, like Norwich, no-one will be sad to see them go.

18th– Burnley
My Prediction: 17th

I said: “By all normal measures, Burnley should once again be favourites for relegation. They’ve not signed anyone of note, have a wafer-thin squad and a lack of genuine quality. And yet it’s foolish to write off Sean Dyche’s Clarets.”

How it turned out: Close enough! This is definitely worth a half-mark. Burnley struggled all season really and ultimately the caveat I mentioned was proved redundant as they were no longer “Sean Dyche’s Clarets” by the end. And so ends an iconic era of uncompromising, ugly, ‘Brexit-ball’ football.

17th– Leeds
My Prediction: 7th

I said: “Here is my surprise package of the season, though I’m not even sure it’s that much of a surprise.”

How it turned out: Okay, this is as bad as it gets. I don’t think the general consensus was that Leeds would be in a relegation battle before the season began, but I don’t think many were stupid enough to put them as high as seventh! Above Tottenham! What was I thinking! A mixture of poor recruitment, Bielsa’s stubborn refusal to adapt his risky style and in fairness a large amount of bad luck and an endless injury list has contributed to a near-disaster of a campaign. Jesse Marsch came in and has just about kept them up, though the fact I seem to only recall Leeds winning games in the last minute says it all about how chaotic and close-run it was.

16th– Everton
My Prediction: 11th

I said: “They are going to have to do well very quickly or the fans will turn on the former Liverpool manager. Uninspiring signings like Andros Townsend and Demarai Gray added to the chaos means that Europe is probably once again out of their reach.”

How it turned out: Europe was most certainly out of their reach! Again, it is really not a surprise that it didn’t work out for Rafa Benitez at Everton, that seemed doomed from the very start. However, I certainly didn’t expect for it to get quite so bad. There seemed a point around early April when it was starting to look nailed-on that Everton would be relegated. In the end, their maniacal home support got them over the line and I’m personally delighted that Frank Lampard has just about saved his plummeting managerial reputation. Where they go from here though is anyone’s guess.

15th– Southampton
My Prediction: 20th

I said: “This may appear a bold choice straight off the bat, but Southampton seem to be following a strict “How to get Relegated” business plan. Whilst I don’t expect them to be quite as bad as recent whipping boys like Norwich and Sheffield United, I think they may well be propping up the table in the end.”

How it turned out: I maybe went a bit too far with my doomsaying for the Saints. They were never going to finish below teams like Norwich and Watford in hindsight and Ralph Hassenhuttl deserves credit for keeping an average squad relatively steady every season. To be honest though, take James Ward-Prowse’s penalties and free-kicks out of this side and they’re a relegation waiting to happen.

14th– Aston Villa
My Prediction: 9th

I said: “They seem to be a club on the rise with astute signings in the transfer market and steady improvement on the pitch. I still think they’ve invested that 100 million (for Jack Grealish) wisely enough to have another successful season and even better last year’s eleventh place finish.”

How it turned out: One of the low-key biggest disappointments of the season. Yes, Grealish left and that was always going to leave a hole but they also threw significant money at the problem. I thought the sacking of Dean Smith was harsh and after huge initial promise, they fizzled out under Steven Gerrard. Need to do much better next year.

13th– Brentford
My Prediction: 19th

I said: “It’s always good to see a club that attempts to do things differently and a side that plays good, attacking football do well. However, that is where the good will ends as I think even Brentford fans would admit they’ve got a challenge to extend their Premiership journey beyond one year.”

How it turned out: I’m genuinely thrilled I got this one wrong. What a breath of fresh air Brentford have been this season. From the atmospheres generated at the big games under the lights at the new Brentford Community Stadium to their hybrid mixture of pleasant, free-flowing passing with scrappy, get-the-big-men-up tactics. From Ivan Toney being really good at penalties to Thomas Frank being ridiculously, madly optimistic and honest in interviews. And of course Eriksen, who went from feel-good story to arguable signing of the season.

12th– Crystal Palace
My Prediction: 18th

I said: “The main reason the Eagles have been such a steady mid-table side in recent years is down to the underrated management of Roy Hodgson and now he has been replaced by Patrick Vieira, whose own managerial record is limited and patchy at best, I don’t expect them to be quite as tough-to-beat. Throw in the number of experienced players who have left or out of contract and I think Palace’s lengthy stay in the top league may come to an end.”

How it turned out: Palace, for me, have been the surprise package. I wasn’t alone in questioning the Vieira appointment but it’s proved to be inspired, bettering Hodgson’s points, goals and goals conceded totals and getting them to a FA Cup semi-final to boot. They’ve replaced those “experienced players who have left or are out of contract” with brilliant, young signings like Marc Guehi and Michael Olise. Chelsea will take Conor Gallagher back next season though, thank you very much!

11th– Newcastle
My Prediction: 15th

I said: “They’ll still have too much to go down. Keep Callum Wilson and Allan Saint-Maximim fit and they’ll score enough to secure a good few wins along the way. Which will no doubt keep Steve Bruce in a job and ensure the fans keep moaning. I could probably copy and paste this for next year as well.”

How it turned out: I’m not even disappointed at this prediction. For Newcastle, the entire narrative of the club altered when Mike Ashley finally sold to its new mega-rich Saudi owners. Though that shouldn’t gloss over the exceptional job Eddie Howe has done in moving them completely clear of relegation trouble. Yes, he had money to spend in January but it was still mainly a bang-average team he inherited. I know one thing for sure: I won’t be predicting Newcastle to finish fifteenth next season now!

10th– Wolves
My Prediction: 12th

I said: “I would argue Wolves are the toughest team to call before this season kicks off. I don’t know much about their new coach Bruno Lage and thus they could either revel in a much-needed change and push for Europe again or get even worse and slide towards a relegation battle.”

How it turned out: Well, I hedged my bets massively with that prediction and it paid off! In the end, tenth position is possibly even a disappointment for Wolves, considering they spent a large chunk of the season seriously pushing for European places. Bruno Lage has proven himself to be a shrewd tactician and they’re the kind of team who give everyone a game, but their lack of goals has prevented them from getting any higher.

9th– Brighton
My Prediction: 13th

I said: “Oh Brighton. Every year I want to put them higher up, as I think nearly everything is in place for them to be a successful and consistent Premier League side. And yet they adamantly refuse to address their most obvious issue: their lack of a proven goal-scorer. Until then, I think it will be much of the same: they’ll consistently be near the top of possession and expected goals stats and yet they’ll still find ways to lose games they should win comfortably.”

How it turned out: I’m actually gutted with my prediction of 13th as I should have backed my gut a bit more with Brighton, they’ve threatened to be a top-ten side for a while and this year they’ve finally achieved it. All of the doubts I expressed are still completely valid, they still miss too many chances. But Graham Potter is the most underrated manager in the league and they’re also a good watch every week so it’s difficult not to be pleased for the Seagulls.  

8th– Leicester
My Prediction: 5th

I said: “They still look the team best placed to challenge the top four of last season and I would really love them to finally break their duck after consecutive near misses.”

How it turned out: For Leicester this season, it was a case of a team just running out of steam. The side that had achieved back-to-back fifth placed finishes and an FA Cup win was always going to go past its peak at some point and so it proved. Key injuries didn’t help them; as soon as Vardy and Fofana returned at the end of the season, their form improved dramatically. Neither did their simply woeful record at defending set pieces, the opposition getting a corner was like getting a penalty against the Foxes. Now you’d expect key players like Tielemans to move on and a rebuild to happen in the summer. You just wonder if they’ll forever kick themselves that they didn’t reach the Champions League when they had the chance.

7th– West Ham
My Prediction: 10th

I said: “After their best season in a generation last year, unfortunately it would seem that the only way is down for West Ham. The lack of major transfer activity and the added demands of weekly European Football will mean that repeating the sixth-place finish should prove too much of an ask.”

How it turned out: Well, the position was wrong but my reasoning was actually pretty spot on when it came to predicting West Ham’s season. Ultimately, the demands of Thursday-Sunday football on a small squad did prove too much, both in terms of finishing sixth again and in actually trying to win the Europa League. However, still a brilliant season and they’re definitely the best side outside the traditional top six. Winning the Europa Conference League should be a very realistic goal next season.

6th– Man United
My Prediction: 3rd

I said: “Have United finally clawed their way back to the top of English football? They’re certainly as close as they have been for the past seven years, with the additions of Jadon Sancho and Raphael Varane to a squad that finished second last season surely meaning they are due a more sustained title challenge this time around.”

How it turned out: I mean the joke is not on me here, it’s on United themselves. Not only did they get absolutely nowhere near the top four, let alone the title, but they’re surely the worst ever team to even finish sixth. Six consecutive away losses to finish, beaten 9-0 on aggregate by Liverpool and conceding four away to City, Brighton, Leicester and Watford (Watford!). Lowest points tally in the Premier League era, a goal difference of zero at the end and some of the most pathetic performances I’ve ever seen from a football team. The only silver lining is that under Erik Ten Hag, surely they can’t possibly get any worse.

5th– Arsenal
My Prediction: 6th

I said: “Not having any European Football for the first time in decades might be a blessing in disguise as they can purely focus on the league and I like the summer signings of White and Lakonga, with more potentially yet to come. Arteta really needs to achieve something this season to finally prove his worth, but I still think there is too big a gap to bridge for them to get into the Champions League places.”

How it turned out: I’m taking this as another half-mark. I knew Arsenal would do better than the previous seasons as the squad improved and they only had one competition to focus on, but even in their best moments this season, there was always this lingering feeling that they’d crack when the pressure was on. Losing the top four slot to Tottenham in the way they did is going to have done some damage. Similar to Leicester from the last couple of years, you wonder if they’ve just missed their big chance.

4th– Tottenham
My Prediction: 8th

I said: “This is very much a compromise of a prediction. Should a certain talismanic striker leave, I honestly think that Spurs, title contenders only a few years ago, might struggle to make the top ten. Should he stay and get back to being the best striker in the league, they’ll have an outside crack at the top four.”

How it turned out: Well, I’m going to get my excuses in early here. Had I known that Kane was going to stay and even more importantly, had I know Antonio Conte was going to replace the hapless Nuno as manager, there was no way I would have predicted Spurs to finish as low as eighth. Conte is in the very top tier of managers and as soon as he came in, Spurs had a chance. It’ll be a really interesting summer for Tottenham now: either they back the Italian in the transfer market and allow him to build a team that might actually challenge for trophies or they’ll mess it up and he will leave in a strop as he eventually does with every side he manages.

3rd– Chelsea
My Prediction: 2nd

I said: “Their squad depth is second only to City’s and they have added one of Europe’s top strikers in re-signing Romelu Lukaku. If he can finish some of the chances that went begging last season, the Blues will hope to follow up their victory over City in the European final by taking their league title off them as well.”

How it turned out: By no means Chelsea’s worst season since I started supporting them, but definitely the most disappointing. From being in a three-horse title race until early January to finishing nearly twenty points behind City and Liverpool. Throw in the two cup final defeats on penalties and the heart-breaking loss to Real Madrid in the Champions League and the season ended up a massive damp squib. The sanctions on Abramovich and the takeover negotiations were obviously an unhelpful distraction, but the moment things really seemed to fall apart was when Lukaku gave ‘that’ interview in December. Instead of being the striker to make the difference in a team that missed too many chances, he ended up being the league’s biggest flop.

2nd– Liverpool
My Prediction: 4th

I said: “Liverpool’s 2020-21 campaign was so completely bizarre, that you can take practically nothing from it. Mo Salah will score twenty plus goals because that’s what Mo Salah does, but I think the Champions League and Premier League winning side is just beginning to edge past its best and securing a top four spot will be a more realistic target this time around.”

How it turned out: I was right in thinking you couldn’t take anything from their 2020-21 campaign. I just didn’t know how much of an outlier that season was in terms of Liverpool’s true level. Fast forward a year and they’ve hit 90+ points again in the league as well as reaching three cup finals, winning two with one still up for grabs. They’re an amazing side that, with the additions of Konate and Diaz, looks like it’s actually been refreshed and gone up a level again. And yet, they still didn’t win the league…

1st– Manchester City
My Prediction: 1st

I said: “The best by miles last season have added Britain’s most expensive footballer to their already impressive ranks and may yet add England’s captain as well. That would arguably provide them with the most formidable squad English football has ever seen and with Pep Guardiola in charge, the relentless drive for success is not likely to stop any time soon. It says it all about City’s strength that even retaining the Premiership title may not be considered a success if they still fall short in Europe. That will be the real test once again.”

How it turned out: Fittingly, the only prediction I got exactly right was the Champions. Not that it took a genius to see that one coming. They’re a genuine winning machine and despite the fact that they seem to enjoy putting their fans through complete emotional torture on the final day of the season, they yet again pulled off a famous recovery. However, I had to get in my line about “falling short in Europe” as that is perhaps my best bit of foresight of all. They’re fitting Champions once again and one of the best sides of the entire Premier League era, but a team that’s as good as they are can’t keep falling at the final hurdles in Europe. It remains their holy grail.

Derry Girls- Laugh till you Cry

It has been a long time since I’ve written a blog. It’s not that it’s been a deliberate neglection, but rather it has just fallen so far down the priority list this last year, it’s practically been buried into the ground. If you read my little mission statement that I outlined in my very first blog (not that I’m suggesting you do) you’ll see that I wanted to use this page as an outlet for my passions; essentially anything that I care about enough that I feel the need to put my feelings towards it on paper, or yknow WordPress. This has previously included why Chelsea shouldn’t sack Frank Lampard (that one was proven almost immediately idiotic), the f***ing European Super League (still fuming about that) and then any books or films that I fell in love with. And it is the latter that is the reason for me ending my self-imposed blog hiatus now.

I have just watched the final ever episode of Derry Girls. And though I am prone to over-exaggeration and have a tendency to declare the last good thing I’ve seen as “the greatest ever”, I am actually pretty confident in this latest shotgun reaction: Derry Girls is the past decade’s best, and defining, television comedy.

I actually first discovered the show around three years ago, in a pre-Covid world, when I was living abroad in Germany. I think I was randomly suggested some small clip compilations on YouTube and when caught in one of those mindless YouTube cycles where all your body is capable of is clicking the next video, I found Derry Girls for the first time. Perhaps on some level, I was crying out for the comfort of traditional British humour in my unfamiliar surroundings and that’s why it connected with me. Or it could be that the show is just really, really bloody funny.

It is perfectly suited to my sense of humour. Not necessarily jokes every minute and not anything dramatically cruel or shocking. Not quite a PG kind of comedy, but certainly 12A. It’s gentle humour, not clever or experimental, just real people making fun of each other like real people do. It’s something I mentioned in my love letter to Gavin and Stacey (https://georgefbrown.wordpress.com/2021/01/16/a-love-letter-to-gavin-and-stacey/) and it’s not as easy or as unremarkable as it sounds. It’s incredibly hard to write, and then to recreate on screen.

This is linked to the fact that the show is so intrinsically tied to its setting; you can’t ignore the Derry in Derry Girls basically. It is a snapshot of one specific place in one very specific era, with an incredibly important historical context. And it’s based on the creator’s (Lisa McGee) own childhood experiences in that place. So, it’s not really a surprise that it all feels real. To some extent, it probably is. However, the next reason I think the show deserves so much credit is that it would be easy, within the cosy little world it creates, to get comfortable and unambitious with its content. Instead, McGee takes risks with her themes and plotlines and they all pay off.

Even though great efforts are made to make it seem like the 1990’s, we still have clever little hints to the issues of today. One of the girls, Claire, is revealed to be a lesbian in Series One, and that is quickly and happily accepted by her friends and family. Without stereotyping, I think it’s a fair statement that your average Catholic family in 1990’s Northern Ireland might not have been quite so understanding, so it’s certainly a deliberate move on the part of the writer to normalise this. And, as with everything in Derry Girls, it allows for some fantastic and unproblematic comedy. One of my favourite scenes in the last series is Claire’s parents talking to an openly gay friend about their daughter, I can’t quote it directly but it’s something like: “Our daughter’s one too, though she’s still young, so she’s not fully qualified yet.”

And this risk-taking continues with the show’s outright refusal to ignore the darker side of the time period. It weaves the everyday, nonsensical issues of teenage life in with the major events of The Troubles seamlessly: Season One concludes with the girls joining Orla in a joyful step-aerobics session on stage whilst her family watches the news coverage of a nearby bombing on television, the girls celebrate James’s decision to stay in Derry whilst waiting for President Clinton to make a speech and in the finale, Erin and Orla’s eighteenth birthday party is somewhat overshadowed by the referendum on the Good Friday Agreement. Which leads me to my final point:

I recently listened to the podcast, Brydon &, where he was joined by his Would I Lie To You co-star, and one of my favourite TV personalities, David Mitchell. During their chat, Mitchell outlined that he thinks very strongly that comedy is the hardest thing to do and, most strikingly, the very highest form of art. I agree with him. It’s one thing to create tension and drama using real-life events, its another to subtly comment on them whilst managing to make someone laugh at the same time. And that’s what Derry Girls does. In the final episode, the two opposing sides of the referendum are embodied in a childish falling out between Erin and Michelle whilst the entire Troubles conflict is represented through a hilariously terrible school play (taking me back to the shameless, cringeworthy cliches of GCSE drama performances).

Just when Derry Girls has you laughing your head off, that’s when it makes you cry. And it’s all so deliberate and expertly crafted. It’s precisely because we are so familiar and comfortable with these characters that it affects us so much when things go wrong for them. Obviously, there was the genuine gut-wrencher of the death of Claire’s dad in episode five (spoilers, sorry), but there are subtler touches like Michelle actually looking affected by the horrendously amateur Troubles sketch as it caused her to think of her ostracised and imprisoned IRA fighter brother or my personal favourite moment of the whole show: Joe putting his hand on son-in-law Gerry’s shoulder when they watch the bomb report, having spent practically every other second of the series chastising him with increasingly inventive insults.

I honestly can’t speak highly enough of the show and I could keep writing for a lot longer about its considerable merits, but I’ll end with this: In a world of endless sequels and various “universes”, there is a real lack of anything new or original. And then Derry Girls stepped forwards. And somehow a comedy set in 90’s Northern Ireland has become the defining show for our new, modern era.

The Good (and lots and lots of Bad) of the European Super League

Yesterday may have been the biggest day in European football history. The announcement that twelve of Europe’s biggest teams, including six from the Premier League, have signed up to a new competition that they can run themselves is truly a seismic moment. I cannot remember a day like it in my time as a football supporter. Nothing has united all football fans in a common cause quite like this. There were numerous posts on social media declaring “football is dead.” This is a threatened shake-up to football’s structure and to the hierarchy of power within the football world. But what does the news that Arsenal, Chelsea, Liverpool, Man City, Man United and Tottenham have signed up to a breakaway competition actually mean? And is it the doomsday scenario that it seems to be?

Bad: Greed, greed and more greed.

It is impossible to start with anything else. This is not a sporting decision. As much as the chairmen of the clubs and instigators of the Super League might want to say otherwise, everyone can see that this is a decision taken in the interest of business and nothing else. Quite simply, the richest clubs in Europe have decided that they can be making even more money and that they’re now prepared to make that happen. The promise of an initial £3.5 billion investment from J.P Morgan for all of the Super League’s founder clubs is really the only detail that matters. It’s all the owners are thinking about. And given that these men that run the elite clubs are among the wealthiest in the entire world, this can only be seen as insatiable greed in its most detestable form.

Good: UEFA had this coming.

Despite all the blame that is rightly being laid at the doors of the clubs in question, it is also important not to be fooled into thinking that UEFA, or any of football’s other governing bodies, are the victims here. Indeed, one of the few good things to come from this announcement is that it is a wake-up call that UEFA have sorely needed. The people that run football are fundamentally inept. Take away the corruption, the racism scandals and the petty squabbles of the last ten years and UEFA is still a failing organisation. They have failed to control the egos of the continent’s elite clubs for far too long and something that has seemed inevitable for the last few years has finally occurred. Is it really any surprise that the leaders of the clubs, who despite all their failings are obviously all experienced businessman and negotiators, think they can run things better? Look around at other sports to see how a proper governing body acts. The RFU and the Gallagher Premiership recently relegated their reigning champions and most successful club, Saracens, for breaching salary cap restrictions. They saw something they didn’t like and acted quickly and emphatically. The crimes of our biggest football clubs make Saracen’s misdemeanour look like nothing and yet they have been repeatedly unchallenged and unchecked by the governing bodies. UEFA accused the clubs in question of “disrespect” in their statement yesterday. No shit Sherlock.

Bad: A goodbye to competition.

One major issue with the Super League as a concept is the fact that the founder clubs have made themselves immune to relegation, meaning the creation of a model like those in American sports. And no relegation means no consequences which means no competition. Has anyone ever watched a mid-table clash in the closing weeks of the season, where neither team has any chance of achieving anything nor the threat of demotion? It sucks. And with this concept, that could end up being nearly every other game. In fact, let’s use my own club, Chelsea, as an example. They could lose every single game they play in the Super League without any consequence whatsoever. How can that possibly be right?! Now for the argument that models like the NBA or the IPL are examples of how this can still be entertaining; they work for their respective sports because there are no clubs that are left on the outside. Football is the most watched and most played sport in the world and there are tens, if not hundreds, of clubs around Europe who should quite rightly be screaming: What about us?!

Good: It is time to throw tradition away.

The one argument that has been raised against the Super League that, for me, does not hold up is the call for traditions to be honoured. In a brilliantly impassioned speech, Gary Neville slammed his own club Manchester United as well as singling out Liverpool and Arsenal for spitting in the face of their hundred-year-old footballing heritage. I love Gary and it is people like him who should be making these decisions rather than fighting against them, but I have to disagree with him here. I’m not one for tradition. Yes, the clubs in question wouldn’t be in the position they are without the legendary contributions of figures like Herbert Chapman, Bill Shankly and Sir Matt Busby, but these men all lived and worked in a very different time. Footballers got paid in shillings and you were allowed to break an opponent’s leg without being booked. We have moved on. And like it or loathe it, the increased revenue generated by TV rights and sponsorships and an ever-growing global audience has meant that the clubs with the biggest names now have more power and influence and this has led to an uneven playing field. The Champions League is a fantastic and thrilling competition once we get to the knockout stages but with the odd exception, the same ten or so clubs will always ease through their groups, year in, year out. A failure to adapt to these changing conditions and a missed opportunity to have the biggest players and managers playing against each other more frequently is a bad thing. If the Super League was meant to replace the Premier League, this wouldn’t be a relevant argument. The fact that it is taking on the Champions League is far more understandable.

Bad: A crime against football.

And now for the part that really makes my blood boil. As referenced above, the increased globalisation and commercialisation of football has made some clubs stronger than they have ever been. Bayern Munich nearly always win the Bundesliga. Juventus, albeit about to be dethroned, won nine in a row. The three Spanish clubs have a gigantic advantage on the rest of the teams in their league. This is boring. I could understand why they might seek a change and a new challenge. But not the Premier League clubs. They are the biggest disgrace of them all. The reason we constantly declare that we have “the best league in the world” is because of its wonderful unpredictability and competitiveness. At time of writing, West Ham and Leicester occupy two of the four Champions League spots. Leicester are ten points clear of Arsenal and have just reached the FA Cup Final. If you want to look historically, Manchester United haven’t won the Prem since 2013, Arsenal not since 2004, Spurs not since fucking 1961! How dare they think that they have any right to raise themselves above their fellow sides. There is nothing that suggests they have any kind of monopoly or domination of any kind. You could even argue the gap between the best and the rest has actually narrowed if anything! The Premier League is the strongest division in Europe and I think we should have more Premier League clubs playing in the elite European competitions as they are good enough to be there, but not like this. Not without actually earning it.

I will finish with one final statement. The reason why I, and I think quite literally millions of others, love football above all other sports and even most things in life, is because in a ninety-minute game, there is always a chance that anyone can win. In sports like Basketball, the chance of scoring is so high that the better team will nearly always come through. In football, it can only take one moment. One deflection, one unexpected screamer, one piece of tactical thinking, one brilliant turn, one heroic block, one horrendous error or one piece of freakish, beautiful luck and the game can be won. Think every single FA Cup upset over the last hundred years, think of Greece or Denmark wining the European Championships against all odds, think of Leicester winning the title just five years ago! Think of the Aguero moment, where a whole fanbase went from agony to ecstasy, from bottle-jobs to champions, with one swing of a boot. That is what is at stake here. Football is the underdog’s sport. The sport where just about anything can happen. And anyone who thinks they are above all that, who thinks that they can act outside of these conditions, cannot really be a football fan at all.

Before Sunrise: So Much More Than an Experiment

I rewatched Richard Linklater’s Before Sunrise this week, planning to use it a source for a bibliography I have to write for Uni. It is a risk to return to a film you loved upon first watching it, as the enjoyment can so often be wrapped up in the individual, first-time viewing experience. Seeing it again can, on occasion, take away the magic. Thankfully, truly great films don’t suffer this indignity. And Before Sunrise is a truly great film.

The film is the first of a trilogy, which chronicles the relationship between two people who first meet on a train to Vienna and then two subsequent encounters, all nine years apart. It stars the same actors, Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy, playing the young lovers through their first meeting, reunion and after they are married and have kids. Linklater directs all three and, along with his Oscar-nominated Boyhood, he has built his reputation as the master of these ambitious and experimental movies. And therefore nearly all of the attention and analysis of the three films that make up the trilogy is centred on their unique, episodic nature. My own Uni essay is based on this very thing. And yet, this can detract from just how brilliant the films are in their own right.

The true genius of the trilogy is that if someone were to watch the films as they were released (in 1995, 2004 and 2013) then that viewer will have grown up at exactly the same rate as the two characters, Jesse and Celine. And as their own priorities and morals and values change, so do those of the characters, so that a relationship is created between viewer and film that is truly a rare and wonderful thing. But for someone that hasn’t had that honour, it is inevitable that one of the films will always produce a greater connection than the other two. And given I’m twenty-three, about the age of Jesse in Sunrise, this is the one that I love the most.

The film takes place around the streets of Vienna, as Jesse and Celine wander semi-aimlessly, more interested in each other than their surroundings, but the setting is crucial to the film’s power. It feels like we too are on a holiday, that we too have escaped for a day, into this foreign land we may never see again. It is of course, unmistakeably, a love story, yet it remains totally devoid of anything resembling cliché or cheesy Hollywood rubbish. The script is authentic and nuanced and the two leads’ chemistry is inevitably fantastic. Where it stands above similar films is in the fact that it so perfectly displays the awkwardness and blind naivety that characterises all young relationships without ever getting lost in it. Perhaps it is the fact we know of the greater, encompassing project that is behind the film, but it certainly possesses a self-aware or self-deprecating quality. You’re never annoyed by their pretentiousness as the film always manages to produce this echo of “Don’t mind them, they’re just kids.”

There is just something so wonderfully fleeting about it all. We see Jesse and Celine meet, spend one night together and then depart. And that’s all we need. The closing montage is a thing of genuine cinematic beauty, a collection of shots of all the places the couple visit. A bench on an empty backstreet, a statue in a square, the Ferris wheel where they had their first kiss, the path down by the Danube etc. All abandoned, as if they had come alive purely for the lovers to enjoy; a romantic idea that perfectly embodies how it feels when you are properly and thoroughly loved up. It may only be the first instalment of a truly momentous trilogy, but standing alone, I would argue Before Sunrise is so much more than an experiment. It is the most accurate and beautiful snapshot of young love ever put to film.

Hometown

It hits me at exactly the same moment every time. We have come off the motorway, taken the third exit and headed along the looping dual carriageway. The familiar farms and fields fly past on either side. We pass a couple of back roads that I know from the days I used to take my car and actively try and get lost amongst the muddy and sloping country lanes. But that’s the thing with hometowns, you can never get lost.

We pass the first roundabout. Garage to the right, Morrison’s in the distance. Now there are the first few rows of houses, lining up like the first wave of defence. We descend the hill, the speedometer always briefly flirting with forty before the brake eases it back down to the speed limit. I’ve run up this hill before. Drenched in sweat. Swiping the hair out of my face and then rubbing the sticky moisture that subsequently laces my palm on the front of my top. Legs burning as the final incline is reached. The movements of my body slow and forced, as if learning to run for the very first time.

And that’s when it hits me. We pass the pub at the bottom of the hill, which has actually been an Indian restaurant for the last ten or so years. It acts as the final checkpoint. Every time we pass it, it hits me that I’m actually home. A ball of tension or anxiety briefly bubbles up in my stomach. It is not overwhelming in the way that anxiety can sometimes feel and it never lasts long enough to ever seem worthy of concern. Instead, it works like the dip of a rollercoaster, a brief moment where your stomach lurches and you feel a bolt of energy shoot throughout your body, right down to the tips of your toes. And then as quick as it arrives, we turn the corner past the park gates and it departs again.

The park’s a funny place. When empty, it feels almost too grand for the town. The central bandstand looks magnificent in its ivory white tint when admired from a distance. When you’re close enough to touch it, you can see the rust of the metal poking through the painted white sheen like a parasite. The flowerbeds are similarly impressive, always decked in colour and decorated with skill and care. The circular path curves around and under the giant oak trees and leads to the children’s play area, which stands silent, the swings lightly swaying in the gentle breeze.

The park has soaked up my memories over the years. Curling in crosses for my brother to head past Dad, goalkeeping with fag in mouth between two tree trunks. Kissing under the wispier, prettier trees near the top whilst playfully gripping and pulling school uniform. Breaking up and making up on one of the many benches; crisis talks and apologies always delivered whilst facing straight ahead.

Now we pass the church on the right, with the long graveyard that extends out from its rear. The train station is straight ahead, behind an industrial park. There used to be a Blockbuster’s there, always busy on a Friday night. I remember throwing a tantrum because I wasn’t allowed to borrow X-Men 2. Now it is just another retail ghost that haunts the streets. I stood on the station bridge when I was little, pointing out trains and shaking with delight when one would pass underneath. There is also the station café where I was shaking again, lost in my own thoughts of leaving the town behind as quickly as I could.

And then we see the viaduct, standing tall and triumphant over the rest of the buildings in sight. A ruler from a different time still looming over its new subjects. Designed by Brunel, the series of arches amble along the width of the structure, the brick patching around them slowly having aged into a dull and dirty grey. Within one of Brunel’s historic arches is a pub named after him that mainly serves seventeen-year-olds with fake ID’s and single mothers looking to get over the bastard that left them. And it’s three Jagers for a fiver.

The cinema lies opposite the viaduct, a similar icon of the town’s history. It has been taken over and done up a few times, but there is still the smell of popcorn grease, sweat and decades of vomit that has ingrained itself into the walls of the place forever. It too holds many of my childhood memories, from afternoons lost in the magic of Ice Age or Finding Nemo to evenings where I hardly watched the film at all, flirting and fumbling in the darkness of the back rows.

We pass under the last arch and reach the final roundabout. This too is a centre of the town’s character, from learning to navigate its changing lanes during a driving lesson to the time I tried to overtake a lorry and nearly killed everyone in the car. We sail through much more easily on this occasion, the lights for once a series of gleaming greens. The final hill stretches out in front of us. Ahead lies my first school, the doctor’s surgery and hospital and the house of a friend I haven’t seen in years. One summer, I used to walk up there nearly every day and spend weeks doing keepy-uppies and pretend wrestling on the trampoline. Now, I doubt I’d recognise him if I were to pass him on the street.

We don’t go that far. The car cuts across the road and enters our street, the engine humming as the gears change softly. The bubble of tension in my chest is a distant memory as the serenity and security of the large, detached houses and the beautiful, well-kept front gardens surround me once more. The road eventually empties into our gravel driveway as the familiar sound of the crunch of the stones underneath the wheels rushes to my ears. The car comes to a stop. I may now be no more than a visitor to the house, but this is the one and only part of this old, crooked and comfortable little town that will always feel like home.

What will the Premier League look like in 2025?

The dreaded International Break has come upon us once more and for all football fans, we lose the magic of Premier League and Champions League being on the telly most hours of the day in favour of having to watch England play Albania and f***ing San Marino AGAIN.

In light of this break and also due to the fact I couldn’t think of a topic from the last week or two that I desperately wanted to write about, I decided to get a bit creative and look into the future. So, indulge my wild imagination for a bit and let’s jump ahead to the year 2025 where the country and world are hopefully Covid-free and we are enjoying some kind of repeat of the roaring twenties of the previous century. The Premier League will, of course, still be as strong and entertaining as ever but let’s see how the league’s giants may shape up in a few years’ time.

Disclaimer: I am focusing on the traditional “Big 6” even if that has never looked less secure or set in stone. Leicester are most definitely in the best six sides in the country at the moment (they’re arguably in the best three or four) but unfortunately I don’t see them maintaining this right the way through to 2025.

Arsenal

Coach: Mikel Arteta

Key Player: Bukayo Saka

How are they doing: Outsiders for the Title

Arsenal are, spoiler alert, the only club that I think will have the same manager in 2025 as they currently do now. Quite frankly, if they were going to sack Arteta, it would have happened already and most likely during their awful first half to this season where they were closer to relegation battlers than the elite. However, there is no doubt Arteta is part of a project at the Gunners and that he is in it for the long-term. Add to that the fact that the club’s most promising and most influential players are the ones that have come through their academy, with the best of the bunch being the hugely impressive Bukayo Saka, and Arsenal’s future would seem to be brighter than their present. If Arteta can continue clearing out some of the dead wood and add some further talent to assist their young guns, I think that he can build an exciting Arsenal side that their disheartened fans can fall back in love with again.

Chelsea

Coach: Zinedine Zidane

Key Player: Kai Havertz

How are they doing: Defending Champions

On the opposite end of the scale to Arsenal’s attempts at continuity, the challenge is not necessarily predicting the next Chelsea manager but rather guessing how many managers they will have gone through by then! As a battle-hardened Chelsea fan who is used to the never-ending managerial carousel at Stamford Bridge, there are some patterns that have emerged over Roman Abramovich’s tenure at the top of the club. Namely, the new guy is usually a complete change from the man he replaces. See replacing grumpy, authoritarian Mourinho with lovely, trusting Hiddink or swapping lifeless, hated Sarri with club icon Lampard. Therefore, after a successful few years under Thomas Tuchel, the players and board eventually tire of his high-intensity approach and instead opt to bring in the superstar-whisperer Zidane, who seeks to prove his worth outside of Madrid. With Chelsea’s investment in promising young players, it’s not a bad bet to suggest they’ll be leading the pack come 2025.

Liverpool

Coach: Steven Gerrard

Key Player: Pedro Neto

How are they doing: Battling for Top Four

Liverpool are probably the easiest side to predict as it feels the next few years of the club have already been planned and set in motion. Jurgen Klopp lasts another year or so as his fantastic side slowly disintegrates and disbands. The job of rebuilding is handed to a club legend, Steven Gerrard, after his impressive first stint in management at Rangers. The classic front three is split up with Salah heading to Spain and Firmino and Mane going past their peak. The new instalment features Diogo Jota, Raphinha, who is snapped up from Leeds, and then the best of the three, Pedro Neto, who leaves Wolves to flourish at Anfield. Gerrard has a tough job emulating Klopp’s league and European champions but still keeps the Reds in European contention.

Manchester City

Coach: Giovanni van Bronckhorst

Key Player: Erling Haaland

How are they doing: In transition

After a golden era in Manchester City’s history under the peerless Pep Guardiola, it is a different City team in 2025 as they attempt to restructure after the departure of the brilliant Catalan. After failing to entice Arteta from Arsenal and with Julian Nagelsmann taking the reigns at Bayern, City go for a left-field option and appoint ex-Dutch legend Gio van Bronckhorst. Why him? Well because he coached under Guardiola at City and has called Pep his “main managerial influence.” City opt to continue following the style of football Guardiola has implemented rather than go for a big name. And with the likes of Phil Foden and the best player in the league, Erling Haaland, in the team, they stay a massive threat.

Manchester United

Coach: Mauricio Pochettino

Key Player: Jadon Sancho

How are they doing: Title contenders

Yes, it finally happens. Poch takes over the United job about six years later than when he was first linked to it. Solskjaer’s spell ends up being promising without ever proving wholly successful and so when he departs, the United board go back to their original Plan A. Pochettino inherits a talented squad that boasts the likes of Jules Kounde, Patson Daka and most importantly, Jadon Sancho, plus current players like Greenwood and Rashford. He makes United easier on the eye and better at breaking down the smaller sides in the division which makes them the biggest threat to Chelsea’s crown as 2025 comes around in my wonderful, predicted future.

Tottenham Hotspur

Manager: Brendan Rodgers

Key Player: Ebere Eze

How are they doing: Trailing the rest

Spurs haven’t progressed a whole lot in the years leading up to 2025 in my mind. Mourinho leaves them as he leaves all the clubs he departs, in some sort of crisis, and the job of turning the fortunes around is given to Brendan Rodgers after Ledley King does a good job as caretaker. After his fantastic work at Celtic and Leicester, Rodgers more than deserves another crack at a big club and I don’t see anyone other than Spurs or Arsenal giving it to him. Harry Kane breaks all the goalscoring records at the club and remains their central point but is now in his thirties and past his blistering best so Rodgers looks around the Premier League to bolster his squad and signs the promising Eze to try and help lead Spurs back towards the top.

The Rest of the League

Of course, it’s never just about the teams at the top of the league and so here are some random shots in the dark about how the rest of the table might look. As mentioned, Leicester don’t sustain their Champions League form but they and Everton remain the best of the rest. At the other end, Crystal Palace, Burnley and Southampton unfortunately succumb to the drop after their long stints in the Premier League and are replaced with new mid-table marvels like Norwich and Brentford. Other notable stories include Wayne Rooney leading Derby County back to the big time and after years of disaster, Sunderland finally return to where they feel they belong. Newcastle, meanwhile, are still waiting for that takeover…

So, that’s how I see the Premier League shaping up come 2025. The beauty of making such outlandish predictions is seeing how they will turn out and I am certain that I will end up with some that make me feel smug and some that will just seem so ridiculous, it’ll be funny. Here’s to football remaining as entertaining as ever and to hopefully less international breaks going forward!

The Intouchables: Guaranteed to make you smile.

Let’s be fair. It’s been a shit year. We’ve all needed, at various times, a little pick-me-up and I have found just the film to provide it. The Intouchables or Untouchable, as is the release title in the UK, is one of those films that can’t fail but make you smile. It proved so popular and successful that there was even an Americanised remake, The Upside. For the love of God, don’t watch that instead. The Intouchables may not be a masterpiece of cinema in terms of innovative direction, it is just a simple story beautifully told and brilliantly acted.

The plot revolves around the aristocratic Phillipe (played by Francois Cluzet) who is a quadriplegic and requires a round-the-clock carer in his beautiful Paris home. Driss, (Omar Sly) a poor immigrant living on an estate, simply comes to the interview to get a signature so that he can continue receiving welfare benefits. Instead, Phillipe hires him and they begin to build an unconventional friendship.

A lot of the comedy of the film comes in the traditional ‘fish out of water’ narrative and the contrast between Driss and Phillipe’s upbringings and interests. However, where it really excels is in the way it deals with the disability element. There are times when Phillipe is even the butt of the joke, with Driss teasing him for some of his limitations. Yet, this is never awkward or mean-spirited and comes across instead as typical of an interaction between two able-bodied people, which is exactly how it should be.

The positive representation goes further, with Phillipe never shown to feel too sorry for himself or in any way bemoan his condition. He tricks the police, smokes marijuana and even has a romantic arc, making it one of the better, most rounded portrayals of a disabled character that I can remember on screen. And yet, the whole time you are waiting for something to go wrong. For his condition to worsen, for him to lose hope, for the sad ending that seems inevitable in this kind of film.

It never comes. Instead, the film indulges in some of the best feel-good moments I have seen in a long while. The paragliding sequence with Phillipe and a reluctant Driss taking to the skies, to the backing track of Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good”, is wonderful and if the ending shot doesn’t at least bring a happy tear to your eye, then I can’t help you. You’re a lost cause.

There are films for every occasion. Some are designed to make you think, others to make you feel, some fail to do either but instead allow you to switch off and escape. If you are after a film that will, if nothing else, brighten your day and make you smile, then I really can’t recommend The Intouchables enough.

Stoner Review

Sadly, it takes a pretty special book these days for me to feel genuinely excited about reading a novel. Luckily, John William’s Stoner is a pretty special book.

I came upon it purely by luck, browsing through WH Smith’s pretty average selection of classics (I used to work for Waterstones so I may be a tad biased) when I’d actually come in for something else. It was the title that stood out to me; it evoked memories of reading works from the drug-fuelled Beat Generation writers such as Kerouac and Burroughs. I like a bit of that. So, I thought I’d take a punt, given that I don’t read for pleasure enough and thought actually spending money on a book might inspire me to do so.

Stoner contains exactly zero mentions of recreational drugs so if you were looking for that, as I was initially, I guess you’d be disappointed. However, if you got over that quickly, you would find yourself being pulled in by a genuine masterpiece of twentieth century literature.

The plot is basic. It follows William Stoner, a poor farm boy who goes to the University of Missouri and whose discovery and subsequent love of English Literature inspires him to teach there as well. Not exactly the most thrilling synopsis ever. And in that respect, I would concede its maybe a bit of a ‘writer’s read’, if there is such a thing.

That is due to the skill of the author in carefully crafting every sentence to make the ordinary and everyday exchanges of life seem so interesting. If you’re a regular follower of this blog (I know there’s millions of you…) you’ll know that I have a particular fetish for this ability, it’s something I admire in TV shows like Gavin and Stacey and Detectorists and it’s on display in pristine prose format from the very first line of this novel. Williams describes studying, work, friendship, love, hate and even death in such a way that you will find yourself going ‘whoa’ and re-reading many a line again just because it sounds so good.

Most of the criticism on the novel is centred on an atmosphere of sadness that permeates throughout. I don’t disagree with that as such, the exchanges between Stoner and his wife are particularly brutal at times, but I wouldn’t say that it left me feeling down or depressed. Instead, I would choose to see it as a novel about celebrating small victories. It’s about making the best out of a bad situation. You find yourself cheering when Stoner, at this point an old lecturer past the point of caring, misbehaves just enough to get one over his villainous head of department. Equally, as the novel gently ticks along, you find yourself liking the man at its centre more and more. At the beginning he’s sort of one-dimensional and, if anything, a bit dull by modern standards, but by the end you appreciate that this is a thoroughly decent and kind man who deserves a break that he never properly gets.

One of the opening lines of the novel tells us that Stoner is not often remembered by his colleagues after his death. Given that the book was first published in 1965, it has certainly not suffered the same fate as it’s titular character. I can confirm that I won’t be forgetting it in a hurry either.  

The Last Train Home

Few things are as satisfying as seeing the train, your train, poke it’s head out around the corner of the platform like a tortoise emerging from it’s shell. The noise of the engine approaching, an ever so slight change in the air as wind is pushed in your direction. It is the match that lights many a drunken fire and brings the people on the platform to life.

The last train home is a social phenomenon. It is the paradigm for human behaviour, in all its diversity and wonder. The roars of delight start to echo around the old platform as groups of men; at this point closer to walking, talking cocktails of alcohol, blood and tissue than human beings, see their route home arrive. Their female counterparts join in the excitement, awkwardly limping towards the incoming train, hindered by high heels and their own haziness, making it look to any unfortunate bastards already on the train that a sort of zombie army is descending upon them. Or perhaps its a war-zone, as loyal friends battle to pull fallen comrades off benches, steps or the ground, before slinging their limp arms over their shoulders and marching them to the doors. As men jockey and hustle for the best position, in order to be closest to their vulnerable female targets. As scared and sober recruits huddle in the comfort of their units, ready to fight their way to a seat.

The crowd disperses, forming smaller mounds around each of the carriage doors, the anticipation rises, slurred monologues about the beauty of life and stories about fights with “six-foot fuckers” and “posh twats” come to a momentary halt as the unmistakable click of the doors opening is heard and the neon orange lights signal that it is time for the bedlam to move to closer quarters.

I am amongst the group gathering by Coach F, my eyes moist as a mixture of the cold and my own weary state of mind leave me with a slightly smeared view of what lies in front of me. I am alone, my only accomplices being the beat and rhythm of the music that flows from my headphones and reverberates around my head. The music has the effect of somewhat numbing the action going on around me, everything seems ever so slightly more distant, the cackled laughs of a hen party nearby pierce my ears a fraction less.

Bad choice of carriage, I think to myself. The music has an isolating effect though, meaning that when I look around and see some kind of absurd and distorted community being born, I feel at no point a part of it. Someone knocks into my back, jolting me forwards, I turn and am greeted with an apologetic hand from an intoxicated stranger, though that is where the communication ends as whatever he was trying to say I can’t hear through the music. We can’t even share a knowing glance as he fails to hold my gaze, his pupils constantly slipping downwards in his eyelids, like an oyster being gulped from its shell. I turn back to find more movement; my group are beginning to enter the train. I shyly place myself in a line, politely allowing a couple of women to go in front of me before following them onto the carriage.

A train never feels narrower than at eleven o’clock at night, as you leave the cold air behind and become engulfed in the sweaty, boozy atmosphere, crammed into the tight space between the adjoining carriages, unable to move without brushing a stranger. History flashes before me as I imagine myself embarking on a voyage, escaping my home country and its lack of resources and joining my compatriots on a journey into the unknown in the hope of a better life. The pilgrims didn’t have to deal with football chants, is my second and less poignant thought. Gradually, the conveyor belt of partygoers clicks back into life and I find myself walking into the minefield that Coach F has become.

The mines in question are the ‘avoidables’- the groups of people appearing too rowdy and troublesome, as well as any unfortunate souls who look at all as if projectile vomiting is in their near future. I settle for a seat next to a businessman with headphones in, like me, staring out the window, on the basis that if he does not look at the carnage, it is in fact not there. I am not so evasive; on the contrary, this is my sport.

You see, the thing with chaos is that it’s addictive. When there is a terrible accident reported on the news, yes our first thought goes out to those who suffered, but it is swiftly followed by the extremely natural reaction of “I wonder what I’d have done?” We hear tales of unprecedented disaster and a part of us longs to be there. Now, I do not live near areas of war or unrest, so I settle for my own personal, bitesize fix: the intoxicated insanity of the last train home.