How Not to Be Old...

As I've mentioned before, I'm planning on making a return to playing proper competitive pool next year and I'm keeping my hand in by playing interleague pool for my local league. This essentially means the best players from a local league form a team and play against a representative team of the best players for other local leagues. 

This involves us playing at the national finals in Great Yarmouth a couple of times every year, where a few thousand players gather at a caravan park and compete over a weekend. I've been playing in these events for about 25 years and it was good to be back again. Our team did pretty well, but one of the highlights of the weekend was an altercation with an old woman who's infamous for her foul mouth and bullying behaviour. 

Playing in a packed room, she came over to our team to demand we move and make extra space for her side. This was impossible and, when a polite explanation of this failed, we either opted to ignore her or argue with her. She eventually left us alone, but she's essentially a bitter woman who seems to get her kicks from spouting bile and insulting anyone she can insult. You get the impression that there's not a lot of joy in her life. 

About an hour later, I was stood in the queue for the on-site chip shop when I heard the tap-tap of her cane behind me. She then spent the next 10 minutes complaining about the length of the queue and how she feared there may not be one of her favourite pies left. 

She tried to engage me in conversation about this, but I decided not to engage. I suspected she only one comment away from criticising the beleaguered server in the chip shop for being from Poland and coming over here and stealing chip shop jobs from local people. And I wasn't going to be racist out of politeness.

I eventually order, then the woman in question eventually gets to the front of the queue.
'That took bloody long enough!' 
'How can I help you, madam?' 
'You got any mince beef and onion pies?' 
'Sorry. We've sold out!' 
'I fucking knew it. What you got left?' 
'Chicken and mushroom...'
'Don't want that muck!'
'Cornish pastie?' 
'You can stick your Cornish pastie up your arse...' 
'We have chips left.'
'I'll better fucking have them then.'

Rude, cantankerous and full of anger... with no good reason that I could see. That's probably not how to grow old.

How to Be Old...

I recently turned 47 and, with work rapidly becoming a constant source of anxiety, I've made a real commitment to train whenever I can to assuage the worst excesses of work-related stress. Sadly, my hapkido class schedule has recently changed, which means I'm struggling to make regular classes at that, so I'm throwing myself into my BJJ training.

BJJ is ridiculously hard and, after four and a bit years, it hasn't really got an awful lot easier. The only way to learn how to eventually win is to constantly lose and to figure out how not to lose quite so badly the next time.

It's also by some considerable way the most physically demanding thing I've ever done, and I genuinely understand why wrestling training is considered one of the most brutal things anyone can do. It's very tough. It's designed to make people quit.

But I'm hanging in there and sometimes that's the real wisdom that age and doing another martial art for a long time brings. You know how to hang on in and ride the difficult times, whether it's work or training or anything else. 

Because bad times do pass. It's a just matter of getting through them.

Brian Fallon...

New wave punksters Gaslight Anthem remain a firm favorite at Brooks Towers. The Missus fell in love with them when they released their second album, The 59 Sound, and we’ve seen them several times. Their musical output is impressive and their front man, Brian Fallon, is a great singer and lyricist. As a live act, I’ve seen few better bands than the New Jersey outfit.

This year, however, Fallon is taking a break from Gaslight Anthem and recording under his own name, and he recently released the album. Painkillers. If Gaslight Anthem are Green Day meets Bruce Springsteen, then Painkillers is Gaslight Anthem meets Hank Williams.

It’s a remarkably assured solo debut and it explores a familiar Fallon lyrical landscape, with songs about love and loss, and romance tinged with nostalgia. It’s much more haunting and tender than Fallon in Gaslight Anthem mode and the country-tinged Honey Magnolia is a truly heartbreaking lament.

It’s a beautiful album.

Back on the Baize...

I'm returning to competitive pool next year. I've missed playing and it's been too frustrating to play a little bit and keep my hand in by playing interleague and not perform well enough. 

So I'm 'negotiating' getting a table at home and sorting out a return to playing county next year. The goal of going back to county is obviously to get back into the A Team and secure another trial for the England team. I'm looking forward to it. 

So I'm starting to factor in one regular session every week to get some form and consistency back. It will be a long road, but one I'm looking forward to travelling again.

Snooker: The Players Championship...

ITV4 is rapidly becoming one of the most regularly watched channels at Brooks Towers. It features several darts tournaments and it also televises three or four snooker events throughout the year, too. 

My favourite bit about the ITV4 snooker coverage is that Clive Everton, the voice of the game and by some considerable degree its most knowledgeable journalist, is in the commentary box. 

Everton worked for the BBC for decades, until he was criminally marginalised then dumped when he was at the height of his powers. Rumours at the time suggested this was a political move because Everton was a vocal critic of the WPSBA.

With Everton gone, the BBC elevated the moronic pairing of John Virgo and Willie Thorne, perhaps the worst 'experts' to ever pass comment or judgement on any professional sportsmen, as its key voices. It was like replacing Shergar with two Blackpool donkeys and expecting either of the donkeys to secure a win at the Derby.

It's great to hear Everton back on TV. It was poor of the BBC to 'lose' its most authoritative voice on one of its flagship sports and replace him with 'colour' commentators.