In the final series of The Wire incarcerated druglord Marlo Stanfield, having been made aware that his ‘employees’ had kept concealed that his reputation was being denigrated by sworn enemy Omar Little on the streets of Baltimore, angrily exclaims, “my name is my name!” Faced with having his name forever associated with the malicious rumours of gossipmongers, The Crucible’s John Proctor defiantly proclaims:
Tag Archives | Murdoch
When Dispatches Met 90 Minutes
Ah, the nineties – New Labour, Britpop and Euro ’96. Everything seemed possible, right? And in the midst of all that euphoria, there was 90 Minutes magazine. Having graduated from the innocent charms of Match but finding the grown-up seriousness of When Saturday Comes a little too highbrow, this magazine with its irreverent charm came at just the right time and inadvertently inspired me into putting together my own badly photocopied fanzine which traded under the name ‘Injury Time’. I sold three copies in the school canteen.
A Brand Apart
Dispatches From A Football Sofa kicks off the new season with a double-bill of posts over the next two days. First up, the nature of the brand. Have a great season, whoever you support.
According To Type
In his machine gun tone of delivery, Chris Rock eloquently captured the distinctions in class within America’s Afro-American population. According to him, there are black people and there are ‘niggaz’. Rock has been criticised for his willingness to confront racial tensions in his stand-up shows and although much celebrated, this particular routine could be seen as reinforcing certain cultural stereotypes. However, to say that would be to miss the diatribe’s point; that there is a distinct separation in terms of class and attitude amongst America’s black communities. It is more a case of how black people perceive themselves and how there will always be a minority that allows the media to stoke public perception.
Chelsea Dagger
Chelsea are simply awesome. Not awesome in the way a teenager were to describe the definition of ‘cool’ but awesome in the sense that their wanton goal sprees against West Brom and Wigan have left many people shaking their heads in wonder and with an impending dread for the months that will unfold. It has left no doubt that the Premier League is merely a series of mismatches between expensively acquired and technically assured Goliaths and expensively acquired but nevertheless limited Davids. Can anything further be read into Blackpool’s annihilation by Arsenal at the Emirates after their opening day jubilation, other then a sense that this is a League comprising a small elite of technocrats and artisans putting lesser mortals to the sword on a weekly basis?
Eyes Wide Shut
Before the unfolding drama of England’s second round match with Germany today, the BBC ran a puff-piece evoking the words of the giants of both countries’ literary traditions with the aim of putting the requisite fire into well-fed Sunday afternoon bellies. Rounding it off were the words of William Shakespeare imbibing visions of glory. After witnessing the events in both of today’s matches, a more appropriate truism from the Bard would be Hamlet’s: “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy”.
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In Defence Of Luis Suarez by Rachael Singh
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What’s The Point Of Scottish Football?
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Captain Caveman: The De-evolution of John Terry
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Alan Davies Is Here All Week
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Liverpool Football Club, 1892 – 2012 – An Obituary
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