Cava Kenny Cordiner, the football pundit who has four swaps for Chile’s goalie
Unbelievable, Jeff. I still can’t get over the events of Wednesday night. It just goes to show that truth is stronger than friction. And no, I is not talking about the goings on in Love Island, (though you could also not never make that up). I is talking about Scotland getting dumped out of the Women’s World Cup.
A lot of people accuse Kenny of being a bit old fashioned – a relic from a bygone area. They might be right, but one thing I do not have no time for in modern sport is sexualism.
So, instead of dismissing it as a pail limitation of the real thing, I have got right into this Women’s World Cup.
I’ve watched all the matches, filled up my wall chart and I’ve even got the Panini sticker album which has been a heap of fun. Let me tell you, I’d rather be sticking in pictures of Rachel Corsie and Kim Little than Doug Rougvie and Jim Leighton! But I don’t mean that sexualistically; it’s the footballing prowess, not the appearance, of the bonnie quines that interests old Kenny.
So you see, old Kenny was determined to give this Women’s World Cup a chance, and take it just as seriously as the proper one. Which, of course, means putting a line on at the bookies.
The only issue I was having was that none of the matches had got me properly excited, like I get when the men is playing. But all that changed on Wednesday night, when I got a little bit hot in the face and red under the collar.
Scotland had to beat Argentina to have any chance of getting out of the groups, and at 3-0 up it was all going swarmingly.
But then we gave them enough rope to let them run away with the bucket.
The Argies pulled a couple of goals back, then the gaffer replaced our full-back. The new girl’s first touch was to expertly half one of the enemy in the box, but the ref never gave the penalty, and it looked like she’d got away spot free.
Now, my regulatory readers will know all about my views on the curse of VAR. Its all very well for the top flight to use technology to eliminate refereeing errors, but think about the effect on players at the grass-roofs level. With all this expensive equipment, these days, how could a player like me build a career on getting away with lamping folk?
Sure enough, the whistler got called over to watch a dozen replays of someone obviously getting halfed and then retrospeculatively gave the spot-kick.
I went from agony to entropy when the Scottish goalie pulled off an amazing double save to keep our girls’ noses in front…But then agony again when the VAR clowns got involved to order the pen retaken. Of course, the Argies put it away and then the ref ended the match before she’d let even half the stoppage time get played.
I went into this sporting event not really knowing how the experience would compare to watching the men’s game. But after seeing Scotland throw away a huge lead and suffer at the hands of an incompetent ref?
It couldn’t have been more like men’s football if they tried!
J Fergus Lamont, arts critic and author of “Crockett and Tubs – the Lord Provost ranks Mackie’s ice cream flavours. What comes 3rd will shock you! (Buzzfeed)”
With summer arriving, however briefly, one is overcome by the desire to take in the fecundity of nature and in so doing see what fresh delights await those of us of an artistic bent in Aberdeen.
Already reeling from the happy news that the Art Gallery is at last set to reopen – literally, any November now m– I stumbled upon a most unexpected cultural delight in Marischal Square: a brightly painted statue of a boy in dungarees, sitting on an upturned bucket. You won’t have heard of it, it has received little, if any publicity, but this was an example of the Oor Wullie Trail a contemporary art installation comprising 36 identical castings of the same sculpture which I understand have been erected across Scotland, each individually decorated to reflect, no doubt, the fragmented nature of our nation.
This piece is, of course, very much in the footsteps of Rodin, the great French sculptor who’s famous The Thinker was not one piece but 29 identical castings in bronze, sent forth into the world to reach as wide an audience as possible with the clear message: ‘Think!’.
“The Wullies” on the other hand, their heads thrown back in raucous laughter, evoke not contemplation, but hysteria. It is impossible to look upon them without seeing a savagely pointed comment on Brexit, austerity and the growing climate crisis; to which the only sane response is to throw back one’s head and laugh, laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Help ma Boab, I wept.
