Just for One Day

The saying goes that you should never meet your heroes - you don't want to be disappointed.  Not that Bradley Wiggins is a "hero" of mine, in the full on sense, but I have greatly admired him - strong, disciplined, seems to not treat cycling as the be all and end all, AND he trained in South London's Herne Hill (not that far from where I grew up).

Still, sometimes you shouldn't know too much about what your heroes think.

According to an interview reported in The Guardian, Wiggins described his poor descent after a crash in the Giro D'Italia as descending "like a bit of a girl really after the crash ... Not to disrespect girls, I have one at home."

The part that of that statement that I find almost gloriously ludicrous is the "not to disrespect girls, I have one at home." Okay, the first part is awful, and sexist, regardless - he explicitly links a poor, timid, physically weak and lacking performance to being like a girl.  Not a boy - not a young, callow, weaker male, but a female. Then, beautifully, he says that's not disrespecting girls - ha! Of course not - how could one possibly find it disrespectful?

The next bit is my favourite, however. He then somehow tries to ameliorate his sexism with a take on the classic "some of my best friends are black/gay/women" shtick - it's okay that he said it, because he has a daughter. So he, and that statement, clearly couldn't be sexist - Q.E.D.  Duh.  If you don't get that, clearly you are ignoring the fact that he and his wife bore a daughter.

Actually, in some ways I think it's worse that he has a daughter and said it - his poor daughter. How awful to know that you have a father who associates weak and losing performances with being a girl - like her. Oh, I'm sure he'd argue, not her - because she's different, I'm sure. But he lives with her, supposedly loves her, and yet thinks this.

Yes, he'd had a big disappointment in the race. We have an awful lot of exposure to athletes, and that includes times when they're severely disappointed, angry, and frustrated. I personally loathe the inside-the-locker-room thing that they do, particularly with U.S. sports - I don't want to invade what is an intensely private sphere. We don't go into a classroom to interview a teacher after she finds out that her students didn't pass an exam; we don't go into a partner's office after she loses a legal case. We should grant athletes some privacy, some space to be disappointed, angry, and frustrated.

Nonetheless, those spontaneous, off the cuff remarks can reveal a lot about someone's prejudices - be they on the basis of gender, race, sexuality, or anything else. And Wiggins, here, revealed that he thinks girls are weak. And then used his little girl to somehow, supposedly, defuse that.

Just awful.

Reclaimed - If Only for a Short While

The 2012 Olympics are over, and I am bereft.  I managed to be home for the final full day of competition, and screamed with joy as Samantha Murray got a silver in the Modern Pentathlon, and marvelled at the poise and beauty of Anthony Joshua, as well as his unbelievable size, in winning the Super Heavyweight.  I even watched some of the handball final, and tried to spot a friend of mine at the basketball (failed!).  I was amused and confused and entranced by the closing ceremony.

It's hard to put into words what it has felt like over the past few weeks to watch it all unfold at home and not be part of it.  I'd planned to be here the whole time, and then I got that pesky thing called a job, and had to change those plans.  It was... upsetting, despite having an amazing summer and learning a lot. 

But trailing my giant suitcase from Leicester Square to Charing Cross yesterday, I felt something strange - happiness at seeing people with Union Flags draped over them.  Usually, if someone wears one of those, it brings up all sorts of repulsive associations: the BNP, the National Front, and visions of racist chants and vile behaviour.  So to have the display of the flag have a positive meaning was an extraordinary thing.  To have patriotism be genuinely that - a patriotic fervour in our nation - that of Mo Farah, Jessica Ennis, Greg Rutherford, Anthony Joshua, Louis Smith, Tom Daley, Chris Hoy, Nicola Adams, Bradley Wiggings, Kathy Grainger, Clare Balding - and not a synonym for for racism;; for Britishness meaning something other than just whiteness; this was a wonderful thing.  A weight lifted from our national consciousness.  It was truly liberating.  It'll be interesting to see how long it lasts...

Additionally, from a spectator's point of view, it was a glorious relief from the monotony of certain sporting events.  To really, genuinely, not give a flying monkey about the start of the footie season, or the PGA Championships (although nice work, of course, Mr. McIlroy), was a startlingly welcome experience.  I don't want football back, almost; at most, I want to enjoy the rest of the cricket season (although the England team is doing its best to ruin that, it seems).  I want something other than football, basketball, American Football, with their massive emphasis on money making to the detriment of all else, including health of their athletes.  Here were thousands of athletes who make little to no money from their sport, and do it just for the chance of competing to win; here were thousands of volunteers, making the Olympics work simply for the joy of doing that service.  It makes the "major" sports seem rather vulgar in comparison.

Having said that, no doubt I'll be back to screaming and yelling at Spurs in a couple of weeks, and for interceptions a few weeks later when the NFL starts up.  But, for now, not caring about it seems rather grand.

Fatalistic

Last night, TOH and I actually managed a date. Despite my best attempts to ruin it by taking the wrong train, and then waiting 20 minutes on the platform for a train back the other way. We've not been in the same city for more than about 12 hours since before the Kefalonia trip, and despite various work and social obligations this weekend, we decided to make the most of it. So a movie and dinner, the traditional American date.

The dinner was pretty awesome - the place where we had our wedding party which, conveniently is just round the corner, and I love.

The movie was glorious but not exactly romance-inducing. We watched Senna. I'd heard Mark Kermode rave about it, which is always a recommendation. Additionally, despite my general lack of interest in Formula 1, I loved Senna - dashing, handsome, and charming in a world of Nigel Mansells. So we watched it; and - let's it get it out there without spoilers - it was emotionally wrenching. Wrenching. But brilliant. What an extraordinary man.

But probably not the best of date movies, although I suppose if you want your date vulnerable and sobbing on your shoulder, as I was, then it is definitely worth $14.

A Change Will Do You Good

It's not really felt like much of a summer other than the sweltering weather. I didn't manage to do a lot of my favourite summer things, but it's too late - Autumn is clearly here. Indeed, the weather has notably changed and jackets and jumpers are now required when you're out of the sun. Today was one of those truly autumnal days - drizzle, a slight chill in the air but no coat required. We played a stonking game of football (I'm going to have a couple of stellar bruises) and then retreated to the warmth of a pub to watch the first full day of the NFL. I'm now pottering with a bit of work, and then will have a nice time watching the NFL, have a hot bath while listening to Radio 4, and then a nice Basque casserole that TOH makes for supper with a glass of wine and falling asleep on the sofa. No wonder it's TOH's favourite season.

GET IN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Spurs qualified tonight for the Champions League proper. Draw is tomorrow. Honestly, I'm not sure if they've just turned the air conditioning up in my office, but I've got chills just thinking about it. Less than two years ago, bottom of the Premier League.* I'm not always a fan but right now, Harry, I salute you.


* Sorry for linking to the Daily Fail, but it's the only one that mentioned it directly. Stickler for citations, me.

Things Have Changed

It's the start of the football season, league only, but it's started at home. It's always such an exciting time, with Dr. TOH absolutely blindingly optimistic, me far more pessimistic, but it's an open book. Anything might happen - although I usually know that nothing good really will end up happening to Spurs - the Champions League qualification really was a shock - but Carlisle, Wednesday, something good really might happen.

But listening to 606 today, I was really quite heartened by something. I don't normally listen, but after the cricket was over early for bad light, I wasn't quite ready to stop the sports fest. And I noticed a couple of things: 1) it is completely normal for women to do the sports round up, which certainly wasn't true 10 years ago; and 2) the host and the guest, a footballer, as well as a caller, were quite happy to discuss the beauty of David Ginola (it is remarkable, obviously) and how he would "bowl over" a person in his presence. It's just... so different. The normalcy with which these straight men discussed Ginola's gorgeousness and his charisma, and it's not being outre, it's not being controversial, it's just normal. For all the moaning about the changing nature of football, this was a discussion that I think they couldn't have had so normally even ten years ago. Same with Danny Baker's admission of his swooning at the beauty of Dimitar Berbatov, which spawned a massive, weekslong discussion on his show of the other men that male fans had a thing for. It's great. Really, truly, great. I may be doing them a disservice, and it's really not based on any sort of evidence (other than it not happening in any of the matches I've watched so far with them), but I honestly can't imagine a lot of male American sports fans that I know discussing NFL players similarly. Which is a shame, because there's a lot of nice things to look at in that sport.

Operation Anti-Knee Knack: An Update

As I have mentioned, I got knee knack after a match of football that prevented me playing footie anymore. Well, I've slowly but surely been recuperating and getting myself stronger and fit again, and yesterday I made a significant piece of progress: I played. Slowly, rustily, with terrible touch and little efficacy (either at the back or upfront) but I really enjoyed it. My knee was tight and painful afterward, it's not that happy today, but I'm making headway to even think about it. And I had similar pain and problems immediately after running outside for the first time a mere month or so ago. It's getting there. Slowly, surely, it's going to happen. And if I have to continue with discomfort and stretching and icing for the rest of my playing career - and yes, I shudder to use that word about my playing - then it's worth it just for the exhilaration, the adrenaline, and the sheer fun. Although I think I'd prefer it in temperatures slightly lower than yesterday, please.

Squashed

I really am in a place I never, in a million years, dreamt I would be. I'm sitting in an office on Park Avenue, as an attorney. That's weird enough as it is. But tonight, Matthew, I really am going to be an attorney: I'm going to play squash. With a friend that works for a financial company. I may even join the squash ladder at the health club of which I will, hopefully, soon be a member.

Who on earth am I? I just can't work out if America has untapped all this previously unexplored... corporate-ness, or if it really has created it in vitro, taking my essence and doing something with it that naturally I should not be able to do. I do know that I would be utterly unrecognisable to my eighteen-year-old self. Everyone says things like that, but I really feel coming here veered me off onto a course over which I feel I have little control. Things just keep happening. It's all very Once in a Lifetime. But that's not to say I don't like it. I'm just constantly surprised by where it's all led.

Tigrish

Yesterday was my Tigers debut for the season.

Today I am having trouble walking. Thighs, knees, they twinge and ache. One of the strangest things, that I have become accustomed to, is how much my ribs and sides kill me after a match. Yesterday we got battered around, and it struck me just how small our team is. We're incredibly physically mismatched with many of the teams we play, but the one yesterday is huge - twice the height and width. They weren't out of shape by any means - just bigger than us. And we put up a fantastic fight, played brilliantly in the first half, and then they scored three excellent goals in order to beat us. So it could have been worse.

However, what really made me happy was we have invigorated our old Tigers spirit of new people - and when I say new, I mean new to football. We've all improved so much, but particularly the many women who really hadn't played football much or at all before. My favourite moment yesterday was when a friend tackled two players and then went past them - and this is a friend who before last week had never played before, yet the move was an amazing piece of individual skill that I'd not manage to pull off, particularly against such tough opposition. As a team, we've got better and better and got good results, so it's wonderful to be reminded of the spirit of Tigers and not get ahead of ourselves - it's about fun, improvement and friendship. And when we win, that's even better, obviously. I'm so happy she enjoys it and gets to share in the joy of sport - because when it's good, it really is good.

Swing, Batta, Swing

Yesterday was my first attendance at the ball of base. It was Shea Stadium's last opening day - CitiField is next door and already looking pretty good, and much better than old Shea - I'd not thought about it much before, but it really does seem shabby in comparison.

But then the Mets.... sigh. Let's hope they do something worthy of filling such a stadium (WITH SHAKE SHACK!). Yesterday was not a good start, really - very little hitting, getting on base or hustling at bat; and the bullpen looks disastrous. So disappointing. I've seen them win twice or thrice, at most, live, in the four years I've been going. I'm clearly bad luck. So Friday doesn't bode well for them mets, either.

Still, there's something about being outside all day, beer, yelling, cheering, and hundreds of peanuts - even if it is an outrageous $8 for fricking budweiser. And going for an awesome, very highly rated bacon cheeseburger on the way home... Next time - pollo mesoaméricano...

A Sporting Chance

It's been fairly clear, I think, that I am a huge fan of sport. I'll watch almost any sport on tv. One of my biggest horrors was the emergence of Tiger Woods and the realisation that I actually quite liked watching golf; another set of hours lost to that every year. My no-nos consist of NASCAR and motorsports in general; darts, snooker, fine, and I have not yet been tested on ten-pin bowling. I'm hoping no.

What I haven't really talked about are the negative aspects. I have the tendency to be dismissive of women's dislike of sport, I know, in part because I don't really understand it. One, I think that a lot of the dialogue is dismissive of men - to treat it as a silly hobby, pastime, and trivial, is to dismiss a great deal of men. Whether that's in reaction to women being excluded or otherwise, I don't know; what I do think is that it's not positive or healthy for relationships and understanding between the sexes. Two, I was good at sport, loved it, and I went to an all-girls' school, so the pressures of running my newly-developed body in front of boys didn't happen. Plus, I know that schools didn't talk to us about the need for DECENT sports bras that might protect you.

I think one of the things I like about sport is its giving me an excuse to be combative, and I don't mean in the usual sense of competition. Every time I meet new people, particularly men, I have to "prove myself." There are assumptions made, presumptions spoken, and prejudices revealed about women and sport, be it our knowledge of it, or even ability to know about it. Every time I hear the words "play like a girl," yes, I'm dismayed, disappointed, but I also know that I get to challenge a lazy assumption, even from the most educated and intelligent men.

So many men seem to think we do not belong in sport, be it playing, in front of the tv or at the game itself. It's a last bastion of hypermasculinity, heterorthodoxy. It's interesting that, in lots of ways, I thought that American crowds are more accepting of women and "others" than in the UK - because there are tons who watch their colleges in the bars, who sit at the baseball and yell along with the blokes. However, a couple of things have come to my attention this week that show that this is a veneer; underneath, there is an underbelly of loathing, hatred and fear of the other, that expresses itself through bigotry and violence.

Jill at Feministe has a wonderful (although awfully sad) piece about the brave little college kid fighting for his right to spew homophobia at a game. If you scrape the surface, as she does thoroughly and carefully here, the bloke reveals himself to be a typical rightwing victim of the liberal elites, who hates the gays, thinks they shouldn't be allowed, wants to shout offensive stuff about them BUT is somehow a victim for being suppressed. Hmm. Funny how people do NOT understand the First Amendment at all - it's that Congress - and so government actors - cannot dictate your speech for you, not that I per se can't ban it, as a private actor, in my home, or as a private college in my sports ground. You don't have an unadulterated right to say whatever the fuck you want, unfortunately for these misguided souls. I really, really cannot wait to take First Amendment next semester; I will be reporting back on what I learn. It's going to be interesting.

Anyway, then I open the NY Times sports page this morning and this greets me: yes, apparently the Jets fans are demanding that women flash their tits for them as half-time entertainment. They even boo when they don't get to see enough. And even better - women DO IT for them; of course, they're the ones who are warned about indecency laws when they expose themselves. I don't know what makes me madder - but it's all pretty good for stoking up the rage before 9 in the morning.

No Way Out

A number of somewhat unrelated things, on the surface, have come together this week to get me thinking about women in sport - yet again.

First, it's the women's world cup. England are on the verge of victory in their first match; we may make it through the group stages, having qualified for the first time in twelve years. Yet, despite this almost unprecedented success, and being the sport most women play now in the UK, and being the fastest growing sport etc. etc., women's club football is on the verge of collapse due to the complete lack of financial support (as written convincingly and excellently by someone with whom I went to college and share an allegiance to Spurs). I harp on and on about women playing sport; do we need people to watch? I think we ought to, to provide the love and dedication that leads to fans paying out, which leads to higher profile female football stars, which leads to inspiration which leads to eight-year-olds wanting to play. Yet, I am as guilty as the next person - probably worse - because I don't really watch women's football. At all. Why not? I don't know. My allegiance is to Spurs (and minorly Carlisle & Sheffield Wednesday), and the English national team, but it's not like I don't watch other matches & leagues - or I would, if stupid ESPN didn't require a subscription for me to watch La Liga. It's just not an ingrained thing for me to do - yet. I hope this world cup will change that. Ah crap, Japan just equalised. But maybe that's a positive difference: When I was a kid, women were unusual for playing football, let alone being watched for it; maybe for younger women, that will change.

Why it's important is that sport is not a career option for women in the same way as it is for men. You can make it perhaps as a golfer, or tennis player (both of which, Williams sisters aside, are predominantly middle-class sports, which is relevant to my point below about making one's way out of poverty); but to make a living as a footballer is generally the province of US-based players only, and sometimes not even for them. Basketball players earn around $50k a year; Kevin Garnett, on his contract, could pay each and every woman in the WNBA twice their currently salary from his yearly wages. No wonder each woman stays to their senior year to try and win March Madness. And NFL... there is no equivalent to that monster, college football, which earns scholarships, adoration and the big bucks. Softball doesn't lead to professional careers for very many, unlike baseball.

What's my point? I was talking to a friend from Kansas, who grew up in a sufficiently remote place that high-school football was big because they were so far from any pro team. So all that pressure is put on 17 year old boys, which honestly makes me sad for them. But then I realised that they have a way out; a shot at escaping their towns, if academic success is unlikely. It's often their way out of poverty, parochialism, and a job in McDonald's, just as football is in Britain, or boxing, bizarrely.

What do women have? Cheerleading? That is, in advance of any protestations to the contrary, NOT a sport. They are athletic, incredible dancers, in great shape, and it's acrobatic and impressive; that does not a sport make. And, essentially, they are there to worship the football players. It's a way of using your body, but I would argue it is inherently different due to its derivative nature; it's a sideshow, titillation maybe, but nothing more, despite how difficult it is and how hard they work. It would be great if women could have options in the same way. Yes, there are other sports, and there is Title IX, but how many have the glamour, the prestige and the devotion that men's college football and men's college basketball have? I'd say none. Maybe that's not fair, but I'm yet to be convinced otherwise... I think there's also a difference for women to make their ways out of towns using their body to adulate men's while titillating an audience, and men to do it for sport.

Potter and Out

So, I finished it.

I cried.

I'm still upset.

But I shall reveal NOTHING to you dear friends, unlike evil people who seem bent on ruining everything for everyone else because they are BIG FAT KILLJOYS AND MEAN. Although this is funny - and of course entirely true.

I need to re-read it - and somehow not convey the plot details to TOH before we go to Oaxaca,* where I shall read it again.

Nonetheless, if you have time to look up from the Deathly Hallows, or are trying to avoid all the spoilers on the internet,** then I suggest having a peek at these gems on a tinternet terminal near you:

• Nona Willis-Aronovitz on why modesty is not where it's at - linked from Feministe
• Caryl Rivers on why Bush is waging war on science to repress women, via Feministing
• Anna Pickard deconstructing the Oh My God video by Lily Allen & Mark Ronson - this is absolutely bloody brilliant!
• Scott Murray on faceless US golfers (do not read if you're so immensely patriotically US that you love faceless journeymen golfers with no charisma who do nothing ever again) - seriously, even if you don't like golf, this is hilarious as Murray nearly has a nervous breakdown over Sergio - plus here's the playoff as it happened but it's nowhere near as funny
• The Times on the worst fifty premiership players ever - and kudos to TOH for guessing the number one man right. TOH, you am the best, as always.
• GFY surpasses itself yet again by featuring some of my most favourite people to fug - Posh, the Cruisemeister - and combining it with references to Will Smith's awesome back-catalogue. I love these women.

*Did I mention that we're going on holiday? To this place? Did I?

This Week In Grace

Back in the good ol' US of A, where I have done my good deed for the week (low, i.e. realistic, standards) by translating for a Peruvian lady at immigration and waiting until the very end of the baggage stuff to find hers (but, seriously, how can you have NO IDEA what your suitcase looks like? She said it was black - it was dark blue) and by not shouting at the extraordinarily fat white US customs official who was extremely hostile to the spanish speaking passengers at two in the morning who maybe didn't understand everything he said...

This week in Grace's rage/humour buttons (and you have to read my rants before getting to the photos from Panamá - ha!):

This gawker piece taking apart The New Republic's defence of Ann Coulter (what's that about the indefensible...?) is fab.

Achtung! Bono and an article I couldn't agree with more. Seriously.

This NY Times editorial I'm just going to put in full because it's important, and a good way to see this for the gung ho people who say we need to see it from the perspective of the "boys" abroad (always the "boys" in Britain, at least in the US they say "troops") and the US shouldn't join the ICC...

Editorial
Rewriting the Geneva Conventions

Published: August 14, 2006
In January 2002, when the Bush administration created the camp at Guantánamo Bay for prisoners from the war in Afghanistan, President Bush said he would be “adhering to the spirit of the Geneva Convention” in handling the detainees.

Unfortunately, like many of the things the administration said about Guantánamo Bay, this was not true. The president did not intend to follow the Geneva Conventions, and in some vital respects, he still doesn’t, despite a Supreme Court ruling that the prisoners merit those protections.

To everyone’s relief, the White House is now working with Congress on one major violation of the conventions found by the court — the military tribunals Mr. Bush invented for Guantánamo Bay. But the president remains determined to have his way on the other big issue — how jailers treat prisoners.

He wants Congress to make the United States the first country to repudiate the language of the Geneva Conventions. The only discernible reason is to allow interrogators — intelligence agents and private contractors — to continue abusive practices plainly banned by the conventions and to make sure they cannot be held accountable.

The Bush administration objects to the clause in Common Article 3 of the Geneva Conventions that prohibits “outrages upon personal dignity, in particular, humiliating and degrading treatment.”

This standard has been followed for more than a half-century by almost 190 countries, including the United States. The War Crimes Act of 1996, passed by a Republican Congress, makes it a felony to violate the Geneva Conventions. But the Bush administration authorized techniques to handle and interrogate prisoners that clearly break the rules — like prolonged exposure to extreme temperatures, long periods in stress positions, strapping prisoners to metal contraptions and force-feeding them.

The rational response to the court’s decision would be to ban those practices and bring America in line with the rest of the civilized world. But that’s not how this administration works. It asked Congress to change the law — to amend the War Crimes Act to redefine the standards of Common Article 3.

The White House wants to apply an American legal principle, used to prohibit cruel and unusual punishment, that bars treatment that “shocks the conscience.” Mr. Bush wants Americans to believe that the language in Common Article 3 is too vague and makes fighting terrorism impossible.

In fact, the Geneva standard is more specific than the shocks-the-conscience standard. And a vast majority of Guantánamo inmates are not terrorists. In fact, many do not appear guilty of anything, not even fighting United States troops in Afghanistan.

The administration’s real aim is to keep on using abusive interrogation techniques at the secret prisons run by the Central Intelligence Agency. And it wants to make interrogators — and those who give their orders — immune from prosecution.

Finally, the administration wants Congress to ban the use of the Geneva Conventions as the direct or indirect basis for a legal case in American courts. This would seal off the route that a prisoner used in the case on which the Supreme Court ruled in June.

The Geneva Conventions protect Americans. If this country changes the rules, it’s changing the rules for Americans taken prisoner abroad. That is far too high a price to pay so this administration can hang on to its misbegotten policies.

I think John Regis is basically talking out of his arse in this beeb article. Darren Campbell did protest at the time of forming the team, did all he did in his power, but why should he have to give up his place running for GB - particularly as there have never been any positive drugs tests for him, as far as we know - for someone who is a known drugs cheat? I think this was a powerful way to express his contempt for the GB team and he was perfectly dignified in choosing this particular manner.

And finally, on a sweeter note, please meet My new judicial hero. We shouldn't make fun of mental illness but what I do love is that he defended it so thoroughly, very sweet. And three mystic dwarves - at least Pedro's are real.

I really, really loved Ciudad de Panamá - really thought it was amazing. I don't know why, but I took to it in a way that I just didn't with San José... will ponder on that and get back to you. Here, in the meantime, are some photoyograffs...

The Ciudad de Panamá skyline - slightly different from San José. One of those rascacielos was my hotel, one towards the left but dunno which one. Sorry!

The old town in CDP. I will be reflecting more seriously on this, because I went there twice - this was on sunny Thursday afternoon, but went back on Friday and have a slightly different perspective. However, what I can say is that it was beautiful.

An amazing building in the Plaza Simón Bolivar.

The Plaza de Independencia.

This is the lock we visited at the Panamá canal - which is an incredible construction, although I think it'd be even more impressive if you traversed the journey... Something for next time.

Que llore

Today is not a good day. While this is somewhat revealing as a blog, I try to keep my very personal stuff to myself. However, I am having trouble raising a smile today. People are publishing complete crapola in the newspapers about Nicaraguans here ("there are good figures to show a million undocumented people here, 23% of the population" - really? where did you get these figures? Ah, that's right, you don't actually say where because it is RUBBISH and MADE UP and with NO OFFICIAL FIGURES TO BACK YOU UP), the Middle East may just explode and take us all out, Bush is a hypocrite and an awful human being, and I wish that if someone agreed to do something for you, they would actually do it. Or just say NO. It's not hard, as Zammo eventually taught us all.

STILL. Good things are happening to people I love, so it can't be all bad. And Bill Gates has given nearly $300m to AIDS research. David O'Leary has finally left Villa, good for my family. The US has approved implanon, which is a wonderful thing. And my favourite ex-PLO leader has done well in county cricket yet again.

Saltos y Corridas

Something which has always interested me is the complete lack of interest in sport that some women display. There is a very good article (which I found on F-Word) about women's participation in sport. I have conflicting feelings about these things... Basically because part of me can't help thinking that if women just got to play sports, rather than standing around in teeny skirts and being forced to do cross-country and not being taught about comfortable and useful sports bras, then maybe they'd love it. Competitive sports are held up to be the "bad guy" here, but I know enough women who utterly adore them (and play extremely hard) that this doesn't seem to be the complete picture. Look at the league I play in in NYC - one of many, and on average over 90 women going for it every Saturday at full tilt running after a ball. Crazy. But we do it. And while we're there, hundreds of fit young women scampering round at a ridiculous pace in the cross-country competitions that go on there.

Underlying these negative feelings, there is, as Dr Tess Kay of Loughborough University explains in her research, "a mismatch between girls' view of their bodies as passive and decorative and the use of the body as active and functional in sport". For any strategy to succeed in persuading girls into sport it has to take account of their complex and often hugely unconfident feelings about their own developing femininity.

This taps into one of the real areas of interest for me. Simulation of starvation conditions, painful surgery - be it elective caesareans or liposuction - in order to make oneself thinner. Bodily actions, physically tough, but without any positive effort - all about denial and what someone else can do to you. And yet, sport is a powerful, active thing to do. Running makes me feel stronger, happier, more powerful - with my knee knack I genuinely miss the feeling of being able to run up a large hill at the end of an hour's run. You cannot get that feeling anywhere else... Sport gives us endorphins, positive body images - not just for burning calories but a concept of the body not just as something to be valued for its thinness, its breasts, its lack of flab, but for its power, strength, reliability. That would be nice.

IN OTHER NEWS

1) Angry about this, which has weird echoes of the "Tutsi cockroaches" radio broadcasts, which may well be a strange reaction on my part, but is what I thought of. Particularly resonant as well given the hostility at the moment here towards Nicaragüenses, as Nicaragua is currently before the CIDH (Interamerican Court for Human Rights) in San José regarding the tardiness in bringing murderers of Nicas to justice.

2) Glad these women have been released, but the concept of these women being in prison or charged for this is outrageous. Until you realise that in fact adultery is still a crime in most of the US... still, for both sexes, not just women!

3) Something I already knew - swimming pools in NYC are RUBBISH. Well, to be fair, the one where I live is nice - a big, Olympic size pool, clean and warm water in the showers, plus with an outside pool, good in the current sweatfest that is the Big Apple. Compare that to the one near my school, which is cockroach central and, basically, horrible. Yet I cannot afford the $1000 it would cost to join the local Y (very charitable, that), so it's Riverside or nothing, quite frankly.

Le Bien, Le Mal

I'm sure I've used that title before, but tough. Can't think too much, as have to prepare for interview for human rights scholarship this afternoon that I am in no way going to get. So forgive me for the repetition. Plus it's the title of the MC Solaar song he does with Jazzmatazz that I love. Ooh, Prose Combat mood coming on! Favourite tunes: Obsoléte, Nouveau Western (of course).

A weekend of mixed fortunes and emotions. The mighty Crouching Tigers won their very first game, which makes me incredibly happy, tinged with a small amount of envy due to not being there. But it's wonderful, unbelievable news and I am so proud of how far everyone has come, it's amazing, particularly given that some had barely kicked a football eighteen months ago. Fabulous women, fabulous football - I miss it so, so, so very much.

Of course, Italia won. They had been the better team, more or less, up until now, but I am very very angry with Zizou for getting himself off and, more importantly, therefore allowing Trezeguet to take a penalty (although he probably would have done anyway), and also for headbutting someone (violent, bad) and looking so absolutely mindblowingly good in the photos on his return to France (see below). Or maybe that's just me. But that one with Chirac... And somehow being named best player of the tournament - he was wonderful, but the violent conduct surely mars that - Cannavaro must be wondering what on earth he had to do to win that?

I also had some fantastic sushi yesterday, ate a lot of Mexican sweets, and had a grand afternoon. However, it was marred by being made absolutely petrified by a man who was a pirata i.e. non-official taxi driver. He decided to beep us (not uncommon for taxistas here - you become able to ignore it after a while), but normally they move on when you indicate you're not interested. So we shook our heads. And instead of driving on, he slowed down, shouted things out the window at us and then stopped and got out of the car, walking towards us. Why would you deliberately terrify people like that? It was dark, 8pm on a Sunday which for Costa Rica means there is NO ONE around. We scarpered indoors, wandering around a shopping centre for a while, before realising that we weren't going to catch a taxi that way, but there were a few people around on the other side of the street (including guards with guns - useful, very useful), so went there instead, and finally got into a safe taxi. Still, home safe and sound, and only about 33 hours until I see M, so all in all, a good weekend had by all.

WARNING: Ridiculous number of posts below

I went away for the weekend and hence have a mountain of posts below, due to excessive photo-taking and so on. Sorry. This is the view from my cabina in Manuel Antonio.

Anyway, not been back long and yet still things to make me angry/take notice in the news. So here are some things that caught my attention enough to distract me from itching the MILLIONS of bites that I hadn't realised I'd got until last night in bed. Not a pretty sight.

Terrible, utterly shameless and tasteless segue, but this was also a horrible thing to see. Rape as a weapon of war is disgusting whoever commits it, but again, made worse when you have to see it in light of these "liberating" forces, freeing people from tyrants. While this man may not represent the values of the USA, it is hard to separate the actions of the forces there from the rhetoric of their President, the Commander-in-Chief. Rights or wrongs of the war there, this is beyond contempt.

This, however, is fabulous. I have been flashed, at a bus stop in Lewisham, and groped on a train, and I think her description of the powerlessness and how it makes you feel as if you are not welcome in the everyday world is extremely apt. It is horrific. However, turning round and screaming at the horrible man who touched my arse made me feel better. Humiliation IS the keyword here - how it makes you feel and what you need to dish out to take back your power. A girl I knew at school got groped while standing waiting for the last train home to depart. As she was 14 at the time, but looked considerably older, and had huge guts, she and her friends chased him through the carriages screaming "you fucking pervert, I'm still at school, I'm a child, I'm 14, what the fucking hell is wrong with you?" and suchlike. That man did not stay on the train. I hope he got fleeced by a cabbie on his way home. Fucker.

This was unsurprising, but disappointing. Le Pen is just a turd, there is not much more to it. But I loved Lilian Thuram's very dignified response, especially when you consider that his name is Lilian, which has always tickled me. Therefore, the goal on Saturday could not be more perfect - created by Zizou, scored by Henry. I know who I'm supporting from now on - Allez Les Blues!