WEMBLEY BLUES (or Reds or Cockerels or Canaries...)
So football fans across the country are licking their respective wounds as they feel they have been unjustly treated by the teams they support, especially if you support one of the big teams with players who have to justify the huge weekly wages and adoration they receive. It is a scene that is repeated year after year (since 2005, in my case but you all already knew that). As an Arsenal supporter, I can only commiserate with the losers, whilst I look forward to my team falling at the next hurdle. It is an odd time in particular for me as I also watch Ghana make it through to the knock out stage of the African Cup of Nations. Can I just say that if I have to make a pledge to my parents as their dying wish, that it would not be as profound as the one that Asamoah Gyan made to his mother i.e. never to take a penalty kick for Ghana ever again - in case he misses. Thankfully, there were others who took their place and put away the penalty shots as required. After his recent performances, I wish his mother had told him to play in a better league to enhance his skills by playing against the best, and also to stop taking free kicks.
As I look at the comments of all the experienced football pundits (yours truly included), I can't help but wonder about what a unifying effect that football has on people all over the world. The only international language that does not require a Google translator. A good friend of mine always maintains that when life from beyond the stars arrives, all we need to give them is the FA rule book - and then try to explain why Afghanistani, Bulgarians, Brazilians, South Africans, Kuwaitis, English, Germans, Togolese have a passion for a kickabout with a leather bound case five.
I maintain that if we did not have football, there would probably be more wars than we have now, South Korea would probably have already been bombed by the North. No evidence, just gut feeling.
DAVID (a man after God's own heart)
Somebody asked me once which one male figure had influenced my life. I asked if I could have two people instead. My dad was the first person. The second was King David. I seriously believe that King David was the forbear of Jazz. In the Bible, there are many instances which show not just his skills as a lyricist (see the Psalms), an accomplished instrumentalist (1 Samuel 16:16-23; 2 Samuel 6:5), but also a free-style jazz dancer (2 Samuel 6:14, 15). The influence on generations of flawed characters who left a legacy of beautiful music.
AND FINALLY....
In August last year, I went to Ghana on a long overdue visit. I enjoyed the sights, sounds, re-established relationships, put my heart through its paces with dare-devil driving (as a passenger); but nothing had a more profound effect on me than the sound of silence. In the early hours of the morning, before my neighbour's cockerel (I will tell you about that and my love/hate relationship with cats and other pets), there was perfect silence except for the sound of insects in the distance, or the single rogue mosquito that had found its way past my full defences of nets, spray, coil and un-coordinated hand claps. And self-abuse in the form of slaps.
But the silence that occurs before daybreak made me sometimes question if I was alive. Perhaps, someday, as I am laid to rest, that will be the feeling of complete peace I will enjoy, whilst I wait for my call-up to heaven. I hope when the trumpet sounds, it will be music like David played, to soothe the soul so that I am not awakened in fright and frustration - like my alarm clock does; but rather in assurance and the knowledge that the sound of jazz I hear is the shape of things to come - forever.
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