After this blog’s one moment of international fame, I thought I’d make a brief return to the work of your friend and mine, Ernest Hemingway.

So, to bring you up to speed on my Hemingway adventure, on the advice of this parish’s Steven Harris, I picked up the complete short stories late last year in one of those beautiful Everyman hardback volumes, using my Borders vouchers just before the place went belly-up. Then, for Christmas, as part of an array of writing-inspired gifts, my wonderful Significant Other gave me Ernest Hemingway on writing, a brilliant little book compiling many of Hemingway’s thoughts on writing and the life of the writer. So…I’ve been keeping up.

Last week I popped into one of those strange discount bookshops, that sometimes have some incredible bargains and other times have nothing but hopeless junk. This time, I got lucky. I picked up the slim The Old Man and the Sea, the story that won Hemingway a Nobel Prize for Literature.

My verdict? Well, I loved it. It is one of those stories that will stay with me a long time, hopefully forever.

And I used the word ’story’ rather than ’book’ quite deliberately.

Here we have a real tale, a fable even. Here we have an old man, a young boy, a fish and little else. Everything is honed down and necessary, like a good story should be. In its 100 or so pages there is no room for flowery prose, or padding. And while it is set in contemporary times, the 1950s, it feels like the kind of story passed from generation to generation, as old as the act of fishing itself.

The one concession to the modern-day is baseball. Oh yes, there’s another reason why I loved reading this, apart from Hemingway’s prose and its brevity (I do love a good short book to rip through). The Old Man’s mind often wanders to baseball, and in particular the great Joe DiMaggio, wondering how the Yankees’ great centre fielder would deal with the Old Man’s situation, being the son of a fisherman himself.

So, concise, timeless and it namechecks baseball. It’s as if this was written for me. Don’t you just love getting that feeling from a book?

I haven’t read a whole lot around the book yet, but it is clear that this is a book that divides opinion. There seems to have been a fair bit of criticism in terms of its symbolism, and if it veers too far from the writer’s famed realism.

I’ll just let the man himself reply:

“No good book has ever been written that has in it symbols arrived at beforehand and stuck in. … I tried to make a real old man, a real boy, a real sea and a real fish and real sharks. But if I made them good and true enough they would mean many things”.

I’ve been absolutely demolishing books lately. Not literally, of course. I mean, book-burning is kind of frowned upon, isn’t it? No, I’ve just been reading and reading and reading. I guess it is the one plus-side to a niggly, long commute. I suspect that a number of truly wonderful books for Christmas has helped too. As has finally addressing the many unread books already occupying the ever-decreasing shelf space. And, er…me buying some more.

Or maybe it is just a phase. I do always read. A lot. But the medium isn’t always the same. Sometimes I just have to read a newspaper every day. Other times I realise I get most of my news online (although it’s not the same), or find my brain rotting from reading the free newspapers handed out in London and decide enough is enough.

Other times I’m all over magazines and, for want of a better word, journals. There is some fantastic magazine design out there – Wire magazine, in particular, and the late, lamented Plan B. There’s also some genuinely great writing hiding away in your old periodicals. The New Yorker is always a wonderful, informative and luxurious read. The New York Review of Books is similarly brain-nourishing. But it’s not all about mags from the Big Apple – how about When Saturday Comes and World Soccer, for pretty much peerless football coverage? Or Private Eye, still great after all these years?

But then, after a while, I realise that as immediate and bite-sized and shiny as magazines are, it is a good book that I really crave. A book that demands to be read, to be devoured. The sort of book that leaves you with a sense of loss when it’s over, because you just can’t read it anymore, that the story of those characters (real or imagined) has now finished.

And in an age of iPhones, iPads and all that jazz, and working in a role that falls directly under the banner of, ahem, ‘new media’, it’s interesting to me that all of this ‘old media’ still brings so much joy. These print formats are still vital to me. There is nothing quite like the feel, touch, smell, experience of books, magazines and newspapers.

Don’t get me wrong, I love computers and would be lost without the internet. But nothing will replace flicking through a newspaper in a pub, or a magazine in the garden on a sunny day, or an old book, curled up indoors on a winter’s night. Long may these simple pleasures last.

Image from Jasoon via Flickr

It’s getting to be that time. Spring Training isn’t so far off, and I need to start thinking of just how I’m going to go about watching baseball in 2010. MLB.TV is the obvious option. Access to every single game, from the first pitch of the first exhibition game, to the last out in the last game of the World Series.

But what option should I choose?

The past couple of seasons I’ve gone with the bog-standard MLB.TV option, and it’s been fine for me. I’m not a heavy user of this particular drug, and if the picture gets a little grainy at times I don’t mind. With the dreadful speakers on my laptop to match I can just squint and pretend I’m watching it on a cool old portable TV in a log cabin in 1976. Seems more authentic that way. I just need to be sitting in a wifebeater sucking on a cheap beer, howling at the screen. Or something. Well, it has been known.

But then again, I’ve always been a sucker for shiny advertising and clever payment options, where is only *just that little bit more* to upgrade. So, what do I get for my extra dough? Choice of home or away broadcast. Nice, but not essential. DVR controls to pause and rewind live. Now we’re talking. That could be good for when I drift off, or miss that key play as I reach for the pretzels. Multi-game view. I’d probably use it now and again, just to get a different feel for the game. Not essential though.

Well, thanks for talking me through that, dear reader. It sounds like the basic package will be just fine. Unless I feel a little flush and light-headed when I order. Feel free to convince me otherwise.

The price? According to my online currency converter findings, it’s £62 for cheap MLB.TV, and £74 for shiny, flashy MLB.TV. See what I mean about *just that little bit more*? Hmm. Damn them and their fine pricing policy.

I think it’s a little bit more than last year, and I’m no financial whiz, but maybe the exchange rate doesn’t help. Say, if you can predict the financial future let me know when I should buy. I’m not looking to fleece the worldwide markets. I just want my baseball a little cheaper so I can spend that money on, I dunno, takeaway curry, or something nice for the flat, you know?

No witty insight or well-researched commentary today (“or ever!” the readership cry), but just some fun video footage, of baseball way back in the mists of time. Funny to spot the differences with today’s sport, and to spot the similarities – baseball is more aware of its history and heritage than most sports, after all. Enjoy!

…or so says his old team-mate Carlos Tevez, who made quite the attack on him via a radio interview for ESPN Argentina. Gary Neville had stated that Tevez wasn’t worth the money, following his move from Manchester United to Manchester City.

In Tuesday night’s Carling Cup semi-final, first leg, Tevez gestured to Neville, after scoring his first goal. Neville wittily responded by raising his middle finger. In a radio interview Tevez explained:

“My celebration was directed at Gary Neville. He acted like a complete sock-sucker [boot-licker] when he said I wasn’t worth £25m, just to suck up to the manager. I don’t know what the hell that idiot is talking about me for. I never said anything about him.”

Well, I think Tevez will have won himself a fair few new fans for sticking it to Gary Neville, not one of the most popular players in the UK. He may well have some unexpected fans in the red half of Merseyside, who have been known to call Gary Neville far worse things than a ’sock-sucker’.

While this is a case of ‘handbags at dawn’, it is good to see a little bit of proper antagonism between the two sides. It certainly sets things up for a lively return leg at Old Trafford next week.

In the meantime, let’s hope ’sock sucker’ enters common use. It’s handy as it sounds like something else that is quite a bit ruder. Just like when they dubbed a TV version of Beverly Hills Cop, so that ‘motherf***er’ became ‘melon farmer’. Great stuff.

Generally football is a fluid game, continually in motion. It does not pause for any length of time. It is also a team activity. There are, of course, moments of individual skill, but rarely do we see a one against one situation, like we might see between a batsman and bowler in cricket.

But here is the waiting. That rare, dramatic waiting. Here is that one-on-one.

A penalty has been given. Manchester City can equalise. Carlos Tevez stands passively. And waits.

His former Manchester United team-mates argue with the referee, but as always with these matters, the decision stands. Tevez’s soon-to-be-opponent, Edwin van der Sar, slowly takes a drink and deliberately wipes his gloves, anything to stall proceedings. Anything to knock Tevez’s concentration, or nerve. The referee waves a yellow card in the goalkeeper’s direction.

The referee signals – let battle commence. City’s new hero against his old colleagues. The spurned sportsman with a chance to show United what they are missing. To bring one side of the city joy, the other agony.

Van der Sar stands tall. A lot less of the target is visible. He stretches his arms out, much more a crucifix pose than an open welcome to shoot.

Tevez stands passively. He then hears the referee’s whistle.

A hop, skip, shuffle to the side. Wayne Rooney, his old striking partner, speaks, another attempt at distraction. Tevez refuses to listen. He begins his run-up, an arch towards the ball. Not too fast, but steady, determined.

And then.

THWACK.

Straight down the middle. Straight past van der Sar. Never stood a chance. Never any doubt. Emphatic.

Tevez reels away. His clenched fists reveal only controlled emotion – not release, not relief. Not yet.

One apiece. Manchester City are back in the game.

My baseball winter hasn’t been as chronicled as closely as I might have initially hoped. Apologies dear readers. I’ve been trying to keep up, but failing miserably to actually record anything. Oh, the woe of a lazy blogger, eh? Still, I’ve been reading, online and off, and as mentioned previously even had a go at scoring a game or two. If I actually get around to scanning the scoresheets I’ll finally write about that soon. But what can I say? I’ve been busy, writing silly posts about hot toddies and in real-life making my annual pantomime appearance. But that’s another story for another time.

So, baseball. That’s what you thought you’d be reading about, right? Rather than all this waffling? Still here? Wow.

One super-duper obvious way of immersing myself in baseball is the myriad sites that pervade this here internet. There’s a wealth of information, insight and commentary. But sometimes, I’d like a little less statistics and seriousness and a little more silliness. Because (and keep this under your hat), I’m a little silly. And a great way into a sport’s soul is to explore its silliness. Like with people, you learn a lot when their guard is down. When it comes to sport, and people, if there’s no fun, it ain’t worth it.

First off, there’s this great video, of Dock Ellis explaining how he pitched a no-hitter, whilst under the influence of LSD, with some wacky accompanying visuals. But remember, don’t try this at home kids! This has been all over the web, but I’ll thank BaseballGB and The Daily Something, in particular, for flagging it up, and being two of my “go to” sites this Winter.

And secondly, something rather special. Compiling statistics may be engrossing, enlightening and all those things, but essentially they can be pretty dry. And rarely silly. Until now, where the Wezen-Ball blog has combined two of my favourite things, baseball and the Peanuts cartoons, to calculate Charlie Brown’s wins, losses and other stats. Now that is my kind of statistical analysis. A real treat.

I shall continue my exploration of the absurd, the comical and the strange in baseball, and may well even keep you abreast of developments. I should be a little more reliable, right? Anyway, what silly stuff have you come across (baseball or not) recently?

Yesterday I advocated feasting, not fasting this chilly January. And I thought I’d continue on my crusade to make my readers a little more cosy by discussing the King of all hot drinks…the hot toddy.

Last week my Significant Other was feeling a little poorly, and so the kind man that I am, I offered to fix her drink to soothe her throat and fight off the cold. To make sure she was fully at ease with the concoction, I made myself one too. I’m good like that.

What a drink. So good, it’s probably worth catching a cold for. The perfect warming, calming drink when you retreat from the cold outside. And that is a key element – this is very much a drink for when you return, not for when you head out. Mainly because, if made right, you’ll be in no state of mind to venture out to brave the elements.

There are a multitude of recipes for a hot toddy, of course, but I try to keep it simple. Cinnamon and cloves are fantastic if you get it right, horrid if not. So, let’s play it safe. Here’s the quick and easy toddy recipe. In fact, calling it a recipe is a little grand. It’s just stuff to make a drink. Ready?

Ingredients:

• A big slug of bad whisky. It’s no good wasting the good stuff on this. A cheap blend will work just as well, and be a lot easier on the pocket. It’s not there to dominate the drink anyway, it’s there to make you feel all warm and contented.
• Half a lemon. Let’s keep it fresh, if only so we can kid ourselves that the drink is doing us some good. If the hot water kills the vitamin C, don’t tell me.
• A spoonful of honey. What spoon? Depends how sweet you like your drinks, but I wouldn’t recommend overdoing it.
• Hot water, freshly boiled. And then breathe in those lovely lemon and whisky fumes. That’ll right ya.

Method:

Er, stick all the ingredients in, hot water last, and give it a good stir. Drink. Repeat as necessary. Or until you fall asleep. Sleep is good if you’ve got a cold, multiplying the benefits of this drink further. Hell, it’s good to sleep anyway. I don’t buy all that “eight hours a night will kill you” bunk. It’s cold out. I want a good night’s sleep.

Anyway, give it a try. Any alternatives for a good drink on a cold night most welcome!

Just when it seemed like all the snow had passed, more was on its way, and the blanket of snow across Great Britain remained in place. Yet still, some hardy souls persevere with their New Year’s resolutions. But, apart from being prompted by a calendar, why start any resolutions now?

January is not the time for running, dieting or abstaining from alcohol. Now is the time to indulge! “But why?” I hear you cry.

December is our main feasting month of the year, of course, mainly because of Christmas. But also, the wintery climate helps. Big stodgy meals, staying inside and partaking of warming drinks is ideal behaviour for December’s weather. And with January even colder, and more wintery, why stop now?

We all overbuy provisions for Christmas. I’m sure most households are still full of Christmas food and drink purchased before the holiday, along with any consumable gifts that followed. Waste not, want not, as the old phrase goes, so let’s use it all up.

This weather is ideal for staying in and working your way through whatever treats you have to hand. And that is sure to cheer you up if you haven’t seen proper sunlight for days on end. Plus, the extra padding will keep out the cold when you do venture out!

Let’s face it. In this weather, at this time of year, nobody wants a salad or a light dinner. In these conditions a hearty meal is what’s required, and is what’s necessary, quite frankly. And if a snifter of whisky or a good red wine warms the cockles, all the better.

Plus, who is really able (or willing) to actually exercise at this time of year? Outdoor activity, bar sledging, is a no-no, and I doubt anyone is excited at the prospect of fighting their way to and from the gym. The countless lapsed or unused gym memberships are proof of that.

So, there you have it. Now is the time to finish up all those goodies, to cuddle up in the warm with a loved one and let that Christmas spirit continue (or perhaps just start rather early). There will be plenty of time for healthier eating and exercise regimes when the weather improves. And we’ll be far more likely to stick to any plans then, when the sun is shining, than now, when the elements are against us.

Cheers!

(So, what are your plans this month? Healthy or unhealthy? What food or drink do you turn to, to keep the cold away? Have you exercised? Have you managed to keep any resolutions?)

Photo from Paolo Camera via Flickr

England’s nail-biting draw with South Africa yesterday reminded me of how much poorer cricket would be as a sport if it was purely based on wins and losses. Cricket is an idiosyncratic sport, and it is hard for an outsider to to appreciate how a game can last five days, with a draw being a good result. But I think yesterday’s game showed how.

By the last day of play England had only the remotest chance of winning. If a draw wasn’t an option in cricket, the final day would have been incredibly dull and frankly pointless. Instead, it provided incredible drama and the stage for some genuine sporting heroics. This was a stoic, resolute rearguard action. There was something incredibly noble in batsmen heading to the crease knowing they cannot possibly win, but determined to not lose.

Paul Collingwood is the king of this scenario. He is the kind of batsman who has the character to bed in and bat for hour after hour, repelling whatever the opposition has to throw at him.

The oft-maligned Ian Bell accompanied him, who up to that point had never really displayed the mental toughness to match his innate ability. Yesterday, he put in a watershed innings. He was no longer the batsman who throws his wicket away with a lapse in concentration or technique. This time he would stand firm.

As hours passed, the draw looked more and more likely, but things are never that simple for England, are they? Yet again, a mini-collapse led to a dramatic final phase. England were down to their last wicket. One more out and South Africa would win.

Graeme Swann (my current cricketing Man Crush, for those keeping score) and Graham Onions somehow held out against South Africa’s fierce fast bowling. Onions faced the final over, and for the second time this series survived. Twice England’s worst batsman has been called upon to salvage the game. Twice he has answered that call successfully, bravely and calmly.

Despite only managing to follow the game over the internet (damn work!) this was still a gripping, intense finale. Waiting for a webpage to reload has never engendered such nerves. The draw was finally secured, and England live to fight another day.

I think yesterday’s game really shows how other sports that forego the draw are missing out. A draw can mean as much as a victory, as it did for England, or a defeat, as perhaps it did for South Africa, who had clearly been the better side over the five days. Fighting for the draw did not require a swashbuckling effort or a brief flash of uncommon skill. It required character, determination and patience. Sport would be poorer for lacking those qualities.

‘Sudden death’ or similar was not needed to make the game compelling. And maybe this particular narrative was more intriguing, engrossing, complex and satisfying than just a simple win and loss.

Photo by vagawi via Flickr