Where there's blame

If you know me, you will be aware that I ride a bicycle.  In fact, I ride a bicycle quite a lot.  If you read my bike blog you will be aware that I will ride tens of kilometres at a time and in all conditions.  Indeed, I will, when the mood, conditions, my fitness and the aid of a good descent all work together then I ride quite quickly.  At a guess, adding up my blog rides, a bit of commuting and pootling about I have ridden well over 1000 miles this year.  I am also having a stab at riding a unicycle.  All without incident.  Until yesterday that is.  Let me paint the picture for you:

I drove Tina, my good lady wife, to work in Barnwood with my bicycle in the back of the car.  As is my wont, I cycled to my place of work just a couple of kilometres further up the road leaving the car in Barnwood.  I was scheduled to finish work earlier than Tina so decided that I would perform some necessary errands in Gloucester where, incidentally, I was pleased to see that the Animal travelling cycle display team were in Kings' Square doing there demonstration things using the ramps and quarter pipes bolted to the sides of their vans.  They didn't have any accidents either.  Despite doing some particularly stupid stuff.  Having completed my tasks, I headed back to Barnwood.  That's some 10Km completed today.  Without incident.  After saying hello to Tina I went to ride the 200 metres or so to the back of the building where I would put my bicycle in the back of the car and wait to drive home.  Weather is good.  Visibility excellent.  The road in the car park is dry.  There are no obstacles on the road.  In many ways, perfect conditions.  Except for one thing.  Deciding I was just going round the corner, I hadn't adjusted the straps on my rucksack, causing the right strap to slip down my arm pulling the handlebars sharply to the right, into my thigh and dumping me unceremoniously onto the tarmac.  Possibly my first accident in 20 years and I am travelling at no more than walking pace.  Tina dressed the wound on my leg and off we go to the accident unit.  After waiting an hour or so, in we go to see triage.  I am limping and holding my chest, having bounced off it when I landed.  There is blood oozing out of the dressing on my left leg, clearly visible through the ripped trouser leg.  Sitting down with triage and having been given pain killers, the first question the nurse asks is 'was I wearing a helmet?'.  No I wasn't, and anyway, it's my legs and chest that hurt.  My head is unscathed.

So, after being prodded by a doctor, x-rayed and seeing my daughter, Victoria, who, coincidentally, was in with a friend rather than going shopping with her mum, I am informed I have a clot in my leg, bruising and soft tissue damage on my other leg and a broken rib or two.  Take pain killers and take it easy for a bit.

Fortunately, when I got home and checked my emails I have the usual plethora of emails offering me drugs over the internet from pharmacies in Canada.  I won't be taking them up on that.

Sporting Prowess

It may have escaped your attention, but some time around now, a whole bunch of footballists are having a bit of a kick about in the sun and after four weeks they will decide who is best.  Except if the country you support doesn't win in which case be prepared for such comments as "we was robbed".  Now, I don't really follow football so as a result know absolutely nothing about it.  Except one thing.  Under no circumstances ever should the players of this sport be ever ever allowed to speak in public.   Maybe whisper it to an English speaking interpreter who can elucidate or at the very least speak English.  Allow me to demonstrate from a radio interview I heard on the radio today.  To set the scene, Johnny Sports Saunders, esteemed Radio 2 sports presenter explained that some player had been injured in an incident with one of his team mates during a routine training session, friendly fire if you will.  The ensuing comment by the injury causing player went something like this:

"So I said to him Sorry mate, there was nuffink I coud do about it and he said "It's alright mate, there was nuffink you could do about it".

It's absolute poetry I'm sure you will agree.

This blog, however, isn't here to moan or rant about the world cup, the never ending TV coverage, the pubs being turned over to World Cup venues, those bloody silly flags on people's cars, football results taking the news headlines or a million and one other irritations.  In fact, I have to thank the opening of the World Cup for such a clear drive home today.

Then, of course, at the other end of the spectrum there is the school and grass roots sport.  Remember back to your school days.  If you can.  Were you the 'jock', always chosen first or the bookish one left till last?  Or worse, if the games teacher knew you were always picked last he may elect you as one of the team captains in a kind of inclusive patronising type of way.  Now the dilemma.  Would you pick your equally bookish mates and risk humiliating defeats or the athletic kids and risk alienating yourself from your mates?  I went to a rugby orientated school and wore glasses.  The two don't go together well and my rugby career was put on hold for some ten years until I wore contact lenses and went to play for a team where the pitch was flooded for half the season and frozen solid for the other half.  I never really did get to grips with the rules either.  Many games the referee would be shouting "Number four, your off-side in the ruck" or words to that affect.  It took me about three seasons to sort this out.  The first season was just realising that I was number four and resisting the urge to respond "I am not a prisoner, I am a free man".  Still bookish.  Or at least slightly surreal.
Football was another game altogether.  I was quite a good defender or goal keeper when I was allowed to stay on the pitch but apparently kneecapping isn't in the rules.

Essentially though, I have always been better at solo sports so I don't embarrass team mates.  I was a good cross country runner at school but my real sport has always been cycling, you don't have to rely on a team unless you are proper good and know what you're doing.  Which I'm not and I don't.  In fact, some people have commented that I am half good at cycling, so I am now the proud owner of half a bike.  My good lady has bought me a unicycle as a birthday present but it has taken ages to get it delivered.  Therefore, this weekend, I shall be mostly making a tit of myself and causing injury.