Canarian TV planning – an oxymoronic statement

Last night when a weather-beaten little farmer in a dry stone cottage deep in the Basque country, where no non-Basque speaker had set foot in the last 10 years, took off his beret, poured himself a generous glass of country wine and sat himself down in his ragged but comfortable armchair to enjoy a Carling Cup football match between Arsenal and Wigan on one of Spain’s main TV stations, TV2, what were we treated to here in Tenerife?

In their infinite wisdom, the people who control what we see on Canarian TV must have decided that, despite the mix of nationalities (a substantial amount of them being British) in the Canaries, a British football match wasn’t the sort of thing the good people in Tenerife and the Canary Islands wanted to see. Instead they must have decided that what the good people of the Canaries would prefer to watch a group of people sitting around talking a load of utter shite! Let me rephrase that…another programme featuring a group of people sitting around talking a load of shite, because let’s face it; we’ve already got shedloads of channels which consist of nothing else.

FFS – Is there not one of them with a brain? It’s not like I wanted to watch the Gooners, god forbid, but having British football on Spanish TV is popular with the Canarios as well and it would have made a nice change from watching people who like the sound of their own voices.

¡Podemos! Maybe this time they’re right.

I greeted the arrival of Euro2008 with the mental equivalent of a stretch and a yawn. The absence of England (well done to the alchemist Steve McClaren for his unique talent in being able to turn gold into shite) and Scotland had taken the gloss off the tournament for me, but one week in to the tournament and I’m completely hooked and enjoying every moment.

Holland have been scintillating to watch; by far the best team in the competition. They made the Italians look old and tired (which they are) and the French as easy to cut through as brie (never been ones to put up much of a resistance when under the cosh though, have they). To be fair to the French, they played a lot better than the 4-1 drubbing suggested and may still be a team to be reckoned with a bit of ‘bonne chance’. The Italians usually start slow in tournaments, but this time they haven’t even reached the starting block; arrividerci Switzerland methinks.

Spanish TV’s catchphrase for Euro2008 is “Podemas” (we can) and having watched the Spanish team destroy Russia and show grit and determination (not qualities normally associated with the Spanish national side who usually suffer from perennial stage fright at major tournaments) to beat a decent Swedish team, I reckon it’s a claim that’s not without merit. Spanish commentators are already talking about a Spain – Holland final (although I didn’t think that was actually possible), completely ignoring the other form team, Portugal of course, but that’s a given. During the Holland – Italy game, the Spanish commentators were cooing over Holland’s football when one of them asked the other if they thought the Dutch team’s performance was as good as Portugal’s a few days previous. Roughly translated, the other replied:
“There’s no comparison. Holland are playing the champions of the world, Portugal were only playing Turkey”
God forbid that they’d actually compliment their neighbours and rivals.

I haven’t seen Portugal play yet, so I don’t know if they’re as good as Holland, or Spain, but all of them have that perfect mix of youth and experience in their squads which could bring them glory in a couple of weeks time. Of course, you can’t write off the Germans; you can never write off the Germans.

Quarter Finals Forecast
Portugal v Germany; Croatia v Czech Rep; Holland v Sweden; Spain v France

Don’t Tell Me the Score!

Yesterday I couldn’t help but think of that episode of ‘Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads’ where Terry and Bob try to avoid finding out the score of a football match until they watch it on ‘Match of the Day’.

Our neighbour had invited us to go to a Peruvian restaurant that wasn’t a restaurant and I have to admit to thinking twice because I was worried that I might miss the Spain v Sweden match. I know that the idea of giving up the chance to try some Peruvian nosh to watch a football match sounds quite pathetic, but the Spanish are passionate about football, Euro 2008 is an important tournament and as I live in Spain, it’s only polite to show some support for the local lads.

As it turned out, it was an afternoon meal, so the conflict of interests wasn’t as much of an issue as it could have been.

The meal was great; a selection of Peruvian dishes served in an oversized shed, come monthly makeshift restaurant in the middle of some huertos (vegetable allotments). Being a Spanish, or in this case South American, lunch it lasted all afternoon from 14.00 to near 17.00, so by the time we were leaving the restaurant that wasn’t a restaurant, the teams were already taking to the pitch. Although we were only a ten minute drive away, I realised that we were going to miss the first few minutes of the match, but with uncharacteristic foresight I’d set the videoplayer to record the game.
When we arrived home, we decided to not watch any of it and opted instead to have a post meal siesta then watch the football, as if live, later.

Decent enough plan except for one thing; we live next to a small golf course which has a little bar. They’d obviously set up a telly for their clients to watch the football because at around 18.45 there was a loud roar from the direction of the bar.

“Ah,” said Andy. “I think we know the result.”
“You never know,” I replied. “They’ve had a golf tournament today, maybe it was that and remember they’re Canarios; they might have been cheering for Sweden.”

And at 22.30 on Saturday night as play entered injury time with the score at 1-1, I started to think that maybe the cheers had been for their own tournament. Then along came little David Villa, god bless him, to send Spain into the quarter finals.

I should have known it was going to be impossible to avoid knowing the score, even if I’d have been on the summit of Mount Teide, I would have heard the cheer when Villa slotted home.

Red, but not Square

The moment I knew we were going to win the Champion’s League final was when Ryan Giggs stepped up to take our seventh penalty. It’s clichéd, but football is a funny old game and the footballing gods always delight in providing us with ‘Roy of the Rover’ drama.
50 years after Munich, one Man Utd legend breaking the record of another, wonder boy Ronaldo’s penalty being saved and Chelsea warhorse Terry slipping. The scene was set for a hero’s swansong. And Giggsy, got bless him, didn’t let us down.

I figure that in any penalty shoot out it’s likely that one player will miss, or hit the woodwork, and the goalkeeper will make one save. And of course, Van der Sar saved his ‘save’ for the perfect moment.

Like the 1999 victory, the last few moments were a bit of a blur and a rollercoaster of emotions. I couldn’t even remember who else had taken the penalties. I’d gone from feeling defeat was inevitable, when Ronaldo’s shot was saved, to knowing for certain that we were going to win.

In truth either team would have been worthy winners. We dominated the first half-they were saved by Cech; they dominated the second-we were saved by the woodwork. It was a fitting game for a Champion’s League final and great credit to two teams who have been consistently the best in Europe, but the omens were definitely red. The pre match entertainment was red, even the Russian Army were slipping on United shirts by the end of the game.

When Van der Sar made that save and the whistle went I finally embraced that Spanish custom of kissing everyone in the bar; male, female and anything else that happened to be near. Everyone that is except a saddo Scouse bint who obviously has masochistic tendencies. In the last couple of months she’s cheered on Roma, Barcelona, Wigan and now Chelsea. I don’t know what it is with some Liverpool supporters. At every major game I’ve watched there’s been at least one cheering louder for Man Utd’s opposition than anyone else. Personally I’m not arsed how any other team does, I’m only interested in our performances, so I can only assume, by their obsessive interest in Man U, there’s some sort of closet adoration going on there. Anyway, the reaction on her face as she skulked out of the bar made an already sweet victory that little bit sweeter.

There’s only one final thing to say

“…so keep the faith and never fear, we’ll keep the Red Flag flying here…”

Manchester United – 1, Barcelona – a Big Fat Zero

YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!