Encore

Musings from Meldreth is back by popular demand. Those random thoughts on random things (well, mostly my beloved Canucks these days) were withering like Goleta these last few days. Admittedly, no fire swept through this blog, more a lackadaisical attitude to jotting down those empty nothings surging through the cavernous black-hole I call a brain. But thanks to some well-timed flattery from my grandmother’s boyfriend, live from Carmel, it’s Musings from Meldreth.

What to write about? Hmm…let’s start with some reflections from a long day on the road. Heck, I might even throw in some revelations.

For starters, McDonald’s milkshakes contain a lot more sugar in the stateside version in comparison to its relatively suave, somewhat subtle European brother-in-law.

But hey, I guess that fits the brash American stereotype. However, the combination of staling milk and existing thirst is not a good combination when the water bottles sit empty whilst slogging through the 100-degree-plus highs of California’s inland valleys. Still, I could withstand my lactose-tainted words as Salinas was emerging from a mere speck on the horizon. All is well that ends well.

However, that doesn’t necessarily mean things started well. Our departure from the Palisades was an hour behind schedule, but that pales in comparison to what the people of Goleta and Big Sur are up against. Huge pillars of smoke ebbing from Goleta can be seen from nearby Santa Barbara whilst the mountains around Big Sur are encased by a thick, smoky, blue-tinged haze. Not fun stuff. Let’s just hope my earlier words of wisdom apply to those people. In the words of colorful hockey color commentator, Don Cherry, “God Help Ya, God Bless Ya!” Given that would I be a considered a radical atheist, those words might not carry that much weight, although the sincerity is there.

Similarly, my hands are also knotted in prayer for those aforementioned Canucks. The foundations of the team have been rocked as captain and all-time leading scoring leader Markus Naslund jumped ship and signed with Mike’s hated New York Rangers. My adoration and sympathy for a long-suffering hero will continue, but the fabled West Coast Express line of the enigmatic Burke-Crawford era has only caused problems since the decline of its heyday and now that Morrison and Naslund look to be on their way out of Vancouver, a whole-hearted changing of the guard can finally begin.

Likewise, I could do with a whole hearted sleep right about….now.

Time for a little of the ol' Fireband

Well the big splashes Mike Gillis promised to make in the free agent market have transpired into small, Alex Bolduc-shaped ripples. Marian Hossa, Nik Hagman, Kristian Huselius and Sean Avery could have, at the salaries they have signed to, fit under the salary cap. Instead, Vancouver has spent about $3 million, leaving around $17 million in cap space and not much to spend it on. Mats Sundin turned down the obscene $20 million per year offer tabled by Gillis and looks headed to retirement. Likewise, Pavol Demitra would only take a small chunk out of the cap. So here's what I propose, Mikey-boy. Pull a Kevin Lowe:

Sign Andrei Kostitsyn and Steve Bernier to offer sheets, (4 million per)
Trade Bieksa and a 1st rounder to Chicago (who currently sit over the cap) for Martin Havlat and Kyle Beach, (2 mill increase in salary.)
Sign Markus Naslund, Todd Bertuzzi and Brendan Morrison for 7 million total.

Dunno what you guys think, but being an armchair GM sure is fun.

Stand and Deliver

When former player agent, Mike Gillis was hired as Vancouver Canucks GM in the aftermath of predecessor Dave Nonis’s dismissal, he gave a frank assessment of the team, stating that talent, size and speed were all lacking on offence, also mentioning the overall reliance on perennial All-Star, Roberto Luongo.
Gillis promised that we would see an entirely different makeup come training camp. In not going off the board with Vancouver’s five entry draft selections, he bucked a trend, and may even have made a steal, drafting two highly regarded players past the first round: man-child defenseman Yann Sauve was taken in the 2nd Round whilst high-flying Norwegian center Mats Froshaug was snatched 4 rounds later.
However, it its unlikely one, let alone any, prospects will see ice-time with the big club this year, so whilst the future is bright, we live in the present. Unfortunately, Gillis was on the other side of the negotiating table from his new colleagues, so he enjoys frosty relationships with a number of counterparts. Indeed, the package Vancouver put together for talented Kings center, Mike Cammalleri was rumoured to be the best one going, but due to Gillis’s role in helping take the player to salary arbitration last summer, Kings GM Dean Lombardi sacrificed the future and sent the playmaker to Calgary in a move that saw Los Angeles wind up with a 17th overall pick, seven selections lower than the one Gillis offered.
Still, it works both ways. Mike Gillis enjoys significantly more cordial relationships with his ex-clients, and rumours abound that versatile forward Pavol Demitra is set to land in Vancouver in the next few days. The Canucks have also been heavily linked with Marian Hossa, who has reportedly expressed a desire to play along fellow Slovak, Demitra. Likewise, rumour has it that Gillis also extended a $10 million offer to future Hall of Famer Mats Sundin, widely regarded as one of the league’s finest leaders.
But this is what worries me: 36 hours after the free agency period started and Gillis has just stocked the fourth line with more plugs: renowned fighter Darcy Hordichuk and PKer, Ryan Johnson, all the while letting perfectly achievable (and reasonably cheap) targets such as Nik Hagman, Radim Vrbata and Michael Ryder slip through his fingers. Admittedly, the Canucks have signed Kyle Wellwood, a 5”10 center from Windsor, Ontario who proved his ability as a top-two centerman a few years ago whilst the aforementioned Sundin was out injured. Still, nothing radical. Man, those words look tasty.

Still Not Sure

It’s not like I lose sleep over this, but I sure would like to know what exactly I am. Sure, I know I’m a 16 year old (male) teenager with a passion for sports but also a hankering to succeed in the classroom. But let’s put it this way: I still feel like a foreigner in the UK, the USA and Holland, even if I am a citizen of each country. Even a phalanx of bureaucratic red (orange?) tape has failed to convince me that I’m not Dutch, even if can barely claim to possess a cursory knowledge of the language.
Still, I’m uncomfortable with the brash yet cushy American way of things yet also feel lost with the meek, gritty, direct (how’s that for paradoxical?) scheme of things back in Europe. As you can see, I’m just about lost for plausible reasons to this indecision. I have one theory.
See, I live in the UK, but have never gained any real appreciation for say, the Scouse or Geordies, but likewise the formulation for my interpretation of America is more or less reliant on the white upper-class avenues of Southern California. Point is, my grassroots knowledge of the UK, US and Holland is so lacking that it is nigh impossible to translate my experiences to myself. Effectively, that little section of the fatty, watery mass that constitutes my brain is like a ticket to Wimbledon’s Centre Court for today’s (yesterday by now) match up between Andy Murray and Rafael Nadal: Non-transferable, no matter what the holder does.
However, neither love nor money can help solve my identity “crisis,” to toss in an overused catchphrase. Pure, damned hard work. Speaking of which, a belated good luck to you, Andy.

Turn that frown halfway upside down!

Boy, they knew what they were talking about in the '60s. Live life to the full, in the present, etc. Never mind that the ashes from World War II were still cooling, that the Korean War had only just passed over and that the Vietnam war was in full flow, these guys did what they could to simply be happy, even if the Cold War looked like it was about to get hot.
So to even compare our existence to our tie-dying forefathers seems like a long shot. Sure, the Middle East is still on tenterhooks, but South East Asian instability is an afterthought for the international tourists lounging in Da Nang.
There is still a lot of work to be done, such as relieving the numerous crises in the Middle East, and the lovely remnant of the colonial era, impoverished Africa, but progress has been made in other areas in the last 50 years.
The funny thing is that the colonial era is, to an extent, the driving factor behind the Middle East conflict. Sure, golden oldies will go and remind us that the region is extremely volatile, but at the same time, it was our governments that established Israel, which is undeniably a huge thorn in the side of Arab peace. The effects of that map-drawing session can be seen in the Iranian revolution, which in turn sparked the Islamic fundamentalist movement.
Point is, as insatiable Jeremiah Wright's comments were about "birds coming home to roost," there is an element of truth. By dabbling in the Middle East 60 years ago, we established a climate that allowed for tension to further destabilize into anarchy.
Likewise, "colonial" Africa has yet to produce a stable, wealthy economy. The problems are so many and so complicated that I won't try to go into them, but we've seen what aid has done for the likes of Germany and Japan post WWII, but at the same time, we may just be seeing the immense consequences of AIDS.
However, as Coldplay once said, "everything's not lost." Aside from the Balkan conflict, Europe hasn't seen real war since 1945. East Asia is booming economically, which has had happy knock-on effects for central Asia and may have some antidotal qualities for Africa. Who knows.
Point is, there's a lot of bad things going on, but there is also so much resurgency that to walk around with a cloud over your head just doesn't make sense.
Advisory: this really was a musing.

Considering Freedom

Freedom is a fickle thing. Nearly impossible to define. Absolutely impossible to grasp.
Here I sit, freshly released from the confines of the classroom and I still wonder just when summer vacation starts. As I said in my last post, I'm lost between vacation mode and exam season. The two have become so intertwined that I force myself to labor away here, tapping out thoughts from an empty brain.
So used to intense academic workouts my brain has become that I feel lost when considering that I still have 11 long weeks of bliss in front of me. Don't get me wrong, I am glad to be relieved of the somewhat claustrophobic nature of Melbourn Village College, but the allure of Hills Road is a huge distraction ahead of my longest summer break ever.
Still, the hardest part of the transition is being at loose ends. Thankfully, the doldrums disappear on Saturday, with the start of my first tennis tournament in nearly a year. What an opportune moment for shoulder tendinitis to appear. But still, I did a few exercises today and the soreness is ebbing a little. Admittedly, I also didn't pick-up a racket today, but with similar precautions over the next couple of days and I should be drugged and up and good to go come Saturday.
Anyway, after the weekend tournament, its getting ready to make haste to the bright lights and sunny nights of El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles de Porciúncula, LA to you and me.
Its hard to believe that in less than a week, I'll be stepping out into the glorious, fume-laced scent of LA World Way before cruising down Lincoln Boulevard and into the hills of the Palisades. But hey, where better to find freedom in the "land of the free, the home of the brave?"

Its Finally Come!

For many weeks now - ever since the exam schedule came out back in March, I had been counting the days until June 18, the end of a hectic mixture of exams and revision. Four days have passed since that landmark, but if feels like an eternity. Indeed, I have enjoyed the company of relative freedom of the summer holidays, which have made an annoyingly unmarked arrival. Admittedly, I have had a lot going on since Wednesday, what with Prom and the After-party, and I still have to catch up on some Music Technology work, but it still feels like the academic choke-chain around my neck hasn't been loosened yet.
My guess is that the ETC Singles Open, starting in Braintree on Friday, will help to draw my thoughts away from the classroom, and shortly after that, several weeks of sun and fun in Californ-I-A will reinforce this weird concept of relaxation. Its an alarmingly harsh adjustment from the nervous tension of exam season to this doldrum-like boredom, so I am definitely glad that I will be busy more or less until I start Sixth-Form College in September, and if truth be told, a big part of the indifferent start to the Hols would be to do with being free from the classroom for around a month now. Essentially, the tye-dye contrast will only really show when I walk out onto the "hallowed lawns" of Braintree Tennis Club, and from there on out, get this: there will be something happening for 10 glorious weeks. My first unaccompanied flight, my first real sailing trip, my first real tennis tournament, etc etc. Still, I may have been released from the "jail" that is school, but it feels like I'm only on parole.

Elixir of Life

Well what was all the fuss about? Group C, the group of death, was undercut by a resurgent Holland team desperate to dispel the label of "perennial underachievers." And how.
For the past couple of years, Coach Marco van Basten has been criticized for failing to bring more experienced players into the squad. The voices have gone quiet as young guns such as Robin van Persie and Wesley Sneijder dominate whilst vets such as Clarence Seedorf and Roy Makaay were left out of the fold.
Far from the maligns of 2006, the Oranje destroyed Italy to the sweet tune of 3-0, playing a graceful counter-attacking game, outclassing their cheap Italian counterparts. Several days later, the boys came back for an encore, thumping the other half of the last World Cup Final, France, 4-1 as Sneijder notched his second goal of the tournament. The Oranje proved that the best defense is a strong offense, as Arjen Robben slammed home from a ridiculously acute angle a mere 90 seconds after former Gunner Thierry Henry converted past Edwin van der Sar.
In two games versus the World Cup finalists, the Dutch had established a goal difference of +6, so French and Italian coaches, Raymond Dommennech and Roberto Donadoni pleaded with van Basten to leave Romania flailing like their respective teams.
And he delivered, despite fielding a second-string lineup. Get this, the Dutch reserves comfortably beat Romania, a team that held both Italy and France. That is the magnitude of what Holland are capable of. 23 world class players staring you down in the tunnel must send shivers down any opposition's back. Very few teams in the world, let alone this tournament can rival that strength.
Prior to the opening game, many Dutch fans didn't give their team a chance, but my voice of reason as rung true as the Oranje progress to the quarter-finals, where they will face an unpredicatable Russian team on Saturday.
As John Motson so eloquently put it, thank the "Oranje BOOM!" Well, that plus 120,000 orange-clad fans.

Like, Totally Awesome!

We're back, baby! The days of total football are no longer a thing of the past. The Oranje destroyed the Azzuri, reigning World Cup champions to the glorious tune of 3-zip. Coming into the European Championships, Holland had maintained the best defensive record, but chose to accompany it with a paradoxically empty score card. Not anymore. van Basten's boys have at long last found the middle of the road, and did they ever ride the camber tonight.
In the 9th minute, my screams for a penalty were waived away by the referee but just under half an hour later, Ruud van Nistelrooij slotted home whilst veteran Italian Christian Panucci lay "injured," voiding the offside rule. Ruud himself stood for a moment in disbelief, but quickly was embraced by his ecstatic teammates. All chatter of a training-ground fracas was dispelled after the Dutch came together in unity. 5 minutes later, Holland was once again reaping the rewards of a youthful squad sprinkled with a handful of established veterans.
Gio van Bronckhorst cleared off the line, setting up a break that eventually saw Dirk Kuyt tee up Galactico, Wesley Sneijder for a volley not far off that of his coach, the legendary Marco van Basten. Holland continued to dominate through to the interval, with Orlando Engelaars particularly impressive despite the Italians taking a liking to kicking anything that moved, Dutchman or football. Indeed, van Nistelrooij was robbed of penalty after once more being kicked by Massimo Ambrosini.
After the break, the Italians began to ratchet up the pressure on the boys in orange, but despite some shaky defending, the Dutch managed to reassert themselves with around a quarter of an hour to go. Indeed, the turning point in the second half came when Edwin van der Sar saved magnificently off a Andrea Pirlo free-kick. His teammates quickly broke in on Gigi Buffon thanks to some wonderful passing play from Gio van Bronckhorst and Rafael van der Vaart. After Dirk Kuyt's initial attempt to lob Buffon was rebuffed, the Liverpool man crossed to van Bronckhorst who knocked the header into the goal off a helpless Italian defender.
The Dutch maintained the clean sheet after Luca Toni was unlucky to see his shot deflect of a fellow Italian, but ultimately, the Oranjes were far superior, more or less deserving the 3-0 scoreline.

Now hold on a minute...

For as long as I can remember, which admittedly on stretches back 3 Presidents , every man, or now woman that has had a shot at going for the White House has made the same grand proclamation that "The United States does not negotiate with terrorists," or something along those lines.
But "terrorists," that's a funny word. The Bush administrations have taken it to mean any Arab organization that doesn't coo with admiration when talking about the West. Sure, the Shah was nice to the US but he killed his own people. Still, that's not terrorism, no matter how scary it may be to have a ruler who wants to kill you. So now the Ahmedinejad-backed government is listed as a state sponsor of terrorists. Iran's hardline regime may be unsavory, but their domestic rule is merely an interpretation of the Koran. No motive to induce terror. Likewise, the main reasoning behind labeling Iran as a sponsor of terrorism is that it gives money and arms to Hezbollah who admittedly wreaked havoc across Lebanon in the Civil War.
However, times have changed. To describe Hezbollah as an active terrorist organization would be loose. Leader Hassan Nasrallah condemned the 9/11 attacks. Osama must be banging his head against a brick wall.
Likewise, Kim Jong Il undeniably leads an oppressive, totalitarian regime but has never committed an actual act of terrorism.
Point is, when Obama said yesterday that "The USA does not negotiate with his terrorists," he basically said nothing about rescinding his promise to engage in dialogue with "rogue" states such as Iran or North Korea. Just because they don't like us, doesn't mean they want to blow us up. I'm starting to see how the IDF got Israel into such a mess. Indeed, if we're calling Hezbollah a terrorist organization, surely the IDF are as well. After all, I'd be pretty terrified if I was sitting on Beirut Airport's runway two summers ago and massive craters started appearing all around me. But hey, food for thought.