Tears for February 6, 1958

The date is when the plane carrying the Manchester United Football Club (MUFC) team back from their European Cup match in Belgrade crashed on take-off in Munich. Your Grandad used to take me to see them play every week but I can't remember any visits before the crash. My asthma started the week after the crash. When we took off from Munich returning from the Olympics I was genuinly terrified but nothing happened! Different airport.

Eight of the players were killed and the greatest football team of the era, maybe any era, was wiped out. Next February will be 50 years and MUFC are planning some very sensitive and well-thought out commemorations.

When reading the article linked in the prevous paragraph I got to the part about, 'But another striking aspect of the commemorations is an eagerness to include City and indeed the entire city. With a derby match falling closest to the anniversary, there were initial fears that any tribute, including the traditional minute’s silence, could be disrupted by opposition supporters, but the clubs have cooperated extensively over the plans, with City planning their own tribute, which may see a black arm-band embroidered into the kits that their team wear on the day.' I started crying uncontrollably; there must be a lot of suppressed emotion in there.

Of course, the connection with Manchester City Football Club is ironic. Cousin Peter (your Grandma's sister's eldest) is a shareholder and he and brother David and kids go to every home game of the cross-town arch (and MUCH less successful) rivals! I've told them in no uncertain terms, they should resign from the family.

Maybe we should all go to next February's 'derby' match.

One Hour in Cuba

The SNZ offices are at the top of Cuba Street in Wellington. When I first moved here I had an apartment at the bottom of Cuba so I had to walk the length of it twice each day, to and from work. It’s one of the most amazing streets in the world. The sights are mind-boggling; not the architecture but the people. As the Daily Express in Britain says on its banner, ‘All human life is there.’ Well, it’s definitely on Cuba Street although some of it is questionable in its humanity. I’ve long had an idea of sitting there for a day just taking photos of all the interesting people wandering around. I did it yesterday. Not for a day but for an hour. It’s enough; at one point I wanted to change lenses but was scared I’d miss a freak.

Here's a small selection. I have about 200 in total but I need to return as two 'regulars' didn't show; Raymond the Blanket Man and the Military Lady. Raymond is a Rasta-Maori guy who wears only a blanket year-round and lives on the street. Sometimes when he's sitting on the sidewalk the blanket slips off but his nakedness doesn't phase him. I may have mentioned him before; he was arrested for marihuana possession and sentenced to about 30 days detention. Being a quick-witted soul he asked for home detention :)

The Military Lady is about 60 (old!), quite short and very stocky. She always wears full battle dress, camouflage, field-helmet, combat boots, cross-chest webbing, field-radio in a backpack, the full deal. Its always very neat and clean and she marches down Cuba on a regular basis. Not to be seen during my hour though.

I have a vision of Wellington Council sponsoring a book with these photos and, I did once see a 6'6" tranvestite fairy complete with wings and magic wand.

Bend Me

David Beckham is in town with the LA Galaxy team and Victoria Beckham is in Vancouver! What a coincidence, quite amazing really; NZ is a rugby nation (even though the World Cup was a disaster) but we have breakfast TV embedded outside his hotel and everyone, everywhere trying to catch glimpses.

LA Galaxy play the Wellington Phoenix tonight at 7.15 and, at 7.05 there’s a low-level fly-past by the NZ Air Force followed by fireworks. I have a prime viewing position so, if the photo here is spectacular you’ll know I got it right.

Later
I know, it's not spectacular is it? Planes are too small, not enough of them and they're not low enough. Ah well. And there were no firworks.

SNZ Christmas in November

We had our office Christmas day out on Thursday. Very good Lisa keeps all the arrangements secret from us so everything is a total surprise and its terrific. This year we went to Te Papa to view a film of NZ history then boarded a CAT to go off-roading up above Wellington.

We passed various things like a HUGE wind turbine which is going to power the Universe and a wild deer wandering around somewhat lost.

We stopped by the sea for a BBQ lunch and played silly cricket.






I fell over looking for a lost ball!







This was followed by a sumptuous meal at a Greek Taverna and a splendid time was had by all.

Pacific Team Fiji

So, Fiji. Terrific. I could live there and maybe I should because my skin likes the place; anyways, first things first.

SPARC eventually folded and agreed I was no threat to National security if:

a) the invitation was a personal one and not through Swimming New Zealand
b) I was ‘only’ presenting to swimming coaches
c) There was no media involvement

So, no problem then; off I went.

I was in Auckland anyway so after some meetings I went to the airport to check in with Air Pacific. Good grief! What are airports about when you’re an ordinary traveller? They’re horrendous. Air Pacific is a partner with Qantas and I’m a VIP with Qantas’ arch enemy, Air New Zealand, so I had to cue for normal check in! It’s horrible. It takes ages. You’re luggage is restricted – I had to pay $35 in overweight charges. Then there’s no lounge to go to. You have to mix with everyone else and pay for your drinks and food and magazines. How do people do this? Why do people fly?

The actual flight was very nice and the Air Pacific staff were good. I landed in Nadi (pronounced Nandi, don’t ask.) I was supposed to be met by a representative of the company of the guy who was organising the Conference. Nobody appeared. Nobody approached me. Nobody looked as if they were looking for a ‘me’. So, I hitched a ride on a hotel courtesy bus and got it to drop me off at my hotel. When I’d checked in I phoned the organiser guy and told him I was in the hotel. ‘There was definitely some one there to meet you.’ he said. ‘No problem,’ said I, 'because I’m here.'

Some time later I got a call from the girl who was at the airport to meet me; apparently I look nothing like the photograph I’d sent. Usually these people hold up a sign saying, ‘Mister Clive’, or whatever, but not this chick. Anyway she arranged to pick me up and take me to the pre-Conference cocktail reception; very civilised. I have to say I’m not surprised she missed me at the airport. I don’t think I have ever met anyone with less chat, conversation, interest, intrigue, or just, downright, plain personality. Useless; and she’s in PR! The cocktail party was excellent, every Conference should have one.

The first presentation at the Conference was ‘A History of Fiji Swimming’. Well, the title says it all; b.a.b.s. Being aware of the history of our sport is really, really important but this presentation was not destined to galvanise a sudden surge in archival delving from the coaching community of the island. The historian read from a prepared script and told us he had hundreds of photographs to supplement his talk but he didn’t show any; b.a.b.s., b.a.b.s., definitely b.a.b.s.

The other presenters were top class. Shelly Clarke, an OW swimmer from Ozzie-land was so enthusiastic I’m sure everyone wanted to immediately dive in and try a 60km river race. Cathy, the physiotherapist to the Fijian rugby team (who lasted longer than the All Blacks at the recent World Cup!) was dynamite. And Damien Pedreschi was a revelation. Damien used to coach swimming in NZ but bailed out for a corporate life a few years ago. He kept up his interest in coaching through Triathlon and has two of his charges pre-qualified for Beijing, including the silver medallist from Athens, Brendon Docherty. He has mega-developed as an insightful presenter since his non-swimming involvement.

On the Saturday night (two-day Conference) we all boarded a bus and went to a restaurant at a marina. Definitely to be recommended for all Conferences.

We gathered for the second day and people were saying, ‘I saw you on TV last night.’ What? Apparently I’d made the 6’o clock News but I hadn’t seen any cameras which struck me as media, I thought they were coaches videoing the presentations. So much for no media involvement and maybe I’d be refused re-entry to New Zealand because I was subversive.

There was a presentation on drugs and doping which rivalled the history lesson. The presenters didn’t really know their subject and quite a few of us were deliberately avoiding eye-contact in case we cracked up laughing.

There are highs and lows at all Conferences but this was one of the most enjoyable in years; total cohesiveness among the Fiji coaches – most unusual in this sport – and a sense of togetherness and let’s move forward that I haven’t witnessed in ages.

After the Conference we went to the house of a cruise-ship chef. He does 3 months at sea and 3 months at home. Big house. Huge view over Nadi bay. All the people there had been ‘at it’ since lunchtime so they were totally bladdered. Then off to one of the local coaches homes for dinner; very pleasant. Alison had been an attendee at our October School of Coaching so I guess that’s where the invitation came from. Her husband is a pilot with Air Pacific.

I’d given myself a present of Monday off so I went sailing with a couple of the other pilots from Air Pacific. I get the impression that all the pilots with Air Pacific are something to do with Fiji Swimming. Hugh built himself a catamaran in his garage so of we went in that. Excellent. Hugh and Chris were hosts to Damien and I for the day and they were both ‘working’ at the time. They were ‘on call’ so they could, theoretically, have been called to fly a plane somewhere. However, Hugh is a 747 pilot and Chris is a 767 pilot. Air Pacific has one of each and both had taken off early that morning with no hassle so their ‘on call’ day was guaranteed to be pretty hassle-free. I lost my hat and we turned the cat round so Chris could dive ain and rescue it.
We had a topsail problem (don’t know the real sailing jargon) at the beginning of the day and had to emergency change a sail during the afternoon but that’s no big deal. An awesome day.

Tuesday morning I turn up at Nadi airport expecting chaos on the scale of a Greek airport. I was not to be disappointed but I’d forgotten how chaotic real chaos really is. Check in took ages, cues forever. Then a line up for customs which was preceded by a hand-baggage check. This was scary because I was way overweight and they were sending people back to check in their overweight hand baggage. Fortunately, I must have bluffed my way because they just glanced at my shoulder bag and allowed me through – no measure of dimensions and no weighing.

Walking from the terminal to the plane I waved to Chris, he of the hat rescue, as he was doing the pre-flight check from the flight-deck and when I boarded he called me into the cabin for a chat; now that’s upmarket.