Thursday 15 March 2012

Some Rugby Pictures

So today we have a bumper collection of photographs.  There are a lot to get through, so let's get cracking.



They're not in order, so this one is after I scored under the posts, my first try of the game.  As someone pointed out on facebook it's funny to see that all the supporting players are all forwards.


I have no idea what's going on with my face here.  I think that I'm moving so fast the wind is messing up my cheeks... maybe.


This is the trophy for the league we won.  We're currently competing in a cup, so this is unrelated.  We won the league a fair while ago, but we'd never seen the trophy up until now.


Alistair is the club captain who plays scrum-half.  I included this one just because it's a cool photo.


I've no idea what's going on in this photo.  It looks like I'm passing the ball rather than receiving it, and I'm definitely being tackled.  Aside from that, you can create your own caption.


This is after the second try, that guy gave me the ball from a perfect run down the wing.  Everything went right, everything happened perfectly.


Their scrum-half is about to be tackled.  More on this later.


I think the person tackling me is their number 8, so it shows the size disparity (or lack thereof) between the forwards and backs of the two teams.


This is after one of the tries.  This time the winger is with me (as should be the case, instead of forwards).


Look at that hair.


More flowing locks.


This is the after-effect of me hitting one of their players and turning over the ball.


My face just poking out from behind the ref.


This is the scrum-half being hit, the follow-up to an earlier photo.


Back to the first try; there are a few in this sequence.  For some reason the pitch opened up in front of me and I essentially walked over the line.  Anyone could have done it, I'm just glad it was me.


The second try, a twenty metre dash setup by the forward breaking the line, giving it to the winger who then passed it onto me.


Back to the first try.  (I don't know why they're all mixed up)


The referee wasn't too bad.  He sent three of our players off with yellow cards for no apparent reason, but considering the alternative is penalising a team out of the game (as happened a few weeks ago) I think it could have been worse.


Breaking out from our own line.


This is me hitting the guy and turning him over, with help from Nic - the lankiest flanker you ever did see.


The guy without the ball is the winger who setup my second.  Special mention to him for sure.


This looks like it could be during the warmup, but the lack of opposition belies my position (on my own try-line).


This is the build-up to the try.  Apparently I'm an idiot who didn't know where to be for that particular pass, so he pointed to show me where to go.  I do it too, it helps considering he can't speak English and I can't speak Japanese.


Another breakout from a kick.  Time to shift.


T.R.Y time.


The guy with the ball was the first to be sent off.  He also scored a try, so I guess it makes up for the yellow.


More buildup shots for the second try.


Running sideways, I might have got some go-forward from it so I think it's okay.  (Maybe)


Another breakout from our line.


More shots with the cup.


A strong forwards performance provided the platform, despite everything being extremely even in the first half.  (First half score: 0-0)

 That winger, again.

Imagine that's the world-cup.


Let's dance.

Emphatically ensure the ball touches the ground with downward pressure.


Tuesday 13 March 2012

The Finals

So for the past few weeks, the rugby team I've been playing with (Tokyo Gaijin) have been working their way through the ranks of a knockout competition.  It's the cup-winners cup; having secured victory in the league we played in, we were entered into this competition against the best of the area.  Tokyo is our area, so we're quite fortunate to play against some of the best around.

We also have to play against the referees, touch judges and instilled racism - but that just galvanises.  I wonder if the locals would persist if they realised that their insistence on trying to fuck us over at every turn made us stronger?  I'm fairly certain they would, hard headed by nature is a term reserved for the Japanese.

Anyway, the match we played at the weekend featured the referee from three weeks ago.  Luckily, (and here is where the mis-direction comes into play) he was a touch judge.  Seemingly relegated from the lofty position of pomp and importance, he was deserving of the trip he suffered at the hands of their full-back as someone was bundled into touch.

Of the game itself, the entire first forty minutes passed without a score.  I hadn't eaten much prior to the game (very stupidly, my own fault) and that caused me to experience highs and lows like no other game I've played.  I hit a guy one minute, only to later fall over.  I passed out right there on the pitch, like so many injections or blood samplings, the tunnel-vision closed in and I went down like a sack.  Luckily I was standing at full-back so none of the opposition saw, it would have been a hole immediately pounced upon by a competent team.

Anyway, I snuck a bite of someones banana at half time (to then be offered one moments later anyway) along with some chocolate and I was good to go.  Except for the whole being completely knackered for ten minutes, then bouncing off the walls for ten minutes, then back to being knackered again.  It was a bizarre experience.  Ups and downs like I've never felt during a match.

Ultimately I came off in the 70th (ish) minute after I banged my knee.  It hurt like hell at the time, and I was petrified that I'd redone an injury from three weeks ago.  Now I've had time to reassess however, it seems less serious than I first thought.  Ice appears to be the key, if anyone is wondering.

So the match itself.  The first forty minutes were a textbook account of defending a tryline.  We started brightly, with a clean break and some nice hands - the bane of the opposition defensive play was the quick off-load, something we generally excel at.  Despite the opportunity, we somehow managed to balls it up and this play would come to summarise the opening half.  I made a couple of breaks in the first half, and a couple in the second half, but they ultimately gained us nothing.  We would knock-on, or get pushed into touch.  Our conversion rate for tries versus clean breaks (by clean breaks I mean showing a clean pair of heels with only a couple of defenders to beat) hovers around the ten percent mark, which means we need to break ten times for a single try.  That needs to go up, we need to convert far more clinically if we're going to win next week.

From an entirely selfish perspective, it's extremely frustrating to see that last pass go to ground when you've put the team through.  It's even worse when you are the one dropping it, everyone has been there.  What it does create in a positive sense, is a will to do more.  If that one went down, I'll just have to do it again and get further this time.  I'll do it again, but ten percent faster, get ten percent further.  What might seem an initially negative reaction to the team can be positively reinforced by flipping it over - the final next week will take everyone firing on all cylinders.

We had a couple of scares in the first half, which considering the amount of time we spent on our line (we were probably staring down a barrel for about thirty minutes total) is exceptional.

The first scare came from a quick switching of attack by the opposition.  They made a break down the blind that was expertly shepherded into touch by our winger.  They also had prime ball on a dozen occasions, the backs were shut down quickly enough that the ball never made it out far enough for any real danger to arise.

The second scare came from a break and kick.  They had a winger (who was reasonably pacey) chase down a ball with three of our players surrounding him.  I assumed our players had him well marshalled, but he kicked into fifth when the ball bounced up, and the covering defence were left wondering where he went.  At this point I was running full-tilt at the corner flag, trying to ward him off.  I hit him with everything I had (except arms) and managed to push him into touch, just shy of the line.  My head was down so I couldn't see whether he grounded it.  To be fair, if he held onto the ball during the tackle I am impressed - I hit him with my best neutron bomb impression.  The referee adjudged him touch bound, the day saved despite reticence on my part (assuming someone else will do my job for me) and everyone breathes somewhat easier.

I made another big hit on someone in the first half.  I hit him with my chest, knocked him back and turned the ball over.  Normally I wouldn't condone a chest-first tackle, but on this occasion I approached the situation from a poor angle and my zeal got the better of self-preservation.  It worked out in the end, at least.

So the second half went much better.  We managed to break through a few times, and the turning point came from one such break.  We'd managed to get in behind them and had set a ruck about ten metres from their line.  We went through a couple of phases, bringing it to five metres.  Then something happened.  I have no idea what, but the ball bobbled, one of our locks went for it but saw me coming up, opting to leave it (he had his back to the opposition so was in a disadvantageous position to say the least).  I managed to catch it on the bounce (at least, I think it was bouncing when I got it) and everything opened up in front of me.  I don't know where their defence was, I don't know why I was in the line (I was playing full-back) but I just strolled over.  Anyone could have scored it, to be fair.  It was a great relief for the whole team, we'd been under the hammer and unable to convert the attacks we'd manufactured up to this point.  I think we just ended up grinding them down.

From a personal perspective, my second try came from a break down the wing by one of the forwards.  He broke the line, off-loaded in the tackle after a couple of metres gained, giving it to our winger.  He then bombed down the wing with one man to beat.  I was in support (just like the Foden try at the weekend, but of course, much cooler) and he passed it inside with perfect timing.  So many of these two on ones bomb when playing amateur rugby, because everyone panics.  You either hit the man and pass out of the tackle, or draw him and pass before the tackler.  The second option is much safer, unless you wait too long, in which case they will get an interception and will definitely score.  Also, the supporting runner often tends to overrun the carrier, meaning when/if a pass is made, it ends up being forwards.  This winger kept his cool, passed at the perfect moment, and I was in for an easy twenty metre stroll under the posts.

In all, I coughed up a few balls again, something that will ultimately bite me in the arse soon.  I made about four clean breaks in total, none of which came to anything.  I didn't miss a tackle, which is always a big objective.  In all I had an indifferent game, but one that put the team forwards, rather than backwards.  It certainly wasn't an all-encompassing performance by any individual, but as a team we eased past them in the second half to put 39 points on the board.  That points tally was founded upon the forwards work, and one of the second rows deservedly earned man of the match.

I have no qualms about saying that every game I play, I aim for a man of the match performance.  I want it every single game, and to not get it is a blow.  I'll just have to try harder next time.

The final for this competition is next week, so we'll see how preparations go.  I'm off to the gym in fifteen minutes to get some recovery weights in.

To end on a positive note, I passed the ball out of the back of my hand a few times, real cool like.  It was pro.  You had to be there.

Monday 5 March 2012

Dr. Horribles Sing-Along Blog

So the marvel of nu-media (I'm using the nu-metal nomenclature on the assumption that the 'nu,' is short for new; that might well prove to be misguided) is that it isn't very nu at all.  It's been around for at least a decade now, which in internet years means decades (the internet advances in dog years by the way).  Fortunately, this particular type of content won't go the way of Fido (do English people have generic dog names?  I can only think of Fido or Rex, both strike me as particularly american) because the internet is deeply entrenched.  It's so deeply entrenched that we no longer make jokes about internet enabled fridges, or wifi capable toilets.  Sure, they still seem frivolous, but they're commonplace enough that eccentricity isn't the only reason to have one.

I find myself wondering what the weather is like when I'm reaching for my orange juice, the same as any other human.  Who can claim not to be intrigued by the idea of news in the loo's?  That's marketing jargon, news and loo don't rhyme so I intentionally stretched your interpretation of the scenario by making loo plural.  See what I did there?

Anyway, with nu media comes a nu responsibility to advertisers and other parasitic entities - something that can never be escaped it seems, is the requirement for vast sums of money to make things.  The result is that none of your big TV shows have found the internet a viable medium for airing, well anything really.  The internet is great for movie trailers, which is a short cinematic piece designed to sell you something.  So the advertisers win without actually providing you anything.

What this lack of money does mean, aside from creating a space devoid of 'big names,' is that those who work well within tight budgets can create unrivalled masterpieces.  They can be considered masterpieces because there is no competition, TV being isolated enough that most people find the two mediums incomparable.

I've watched series like Red vs Blue or The Guild for years and years, with their shoestring budgets and lack of technical nous.  They're some of the simplest, bare bones creations anyone could ever conceive.  I think they're great.  They're stupid, pointless things I'll admit, but I derive pleasure from watching these creations that doesn't occur when I sit in front of a TV.  I honestly don't know how these kinds of nu-media (I finally took it full-circle) create such positive reactions.  Objectively, they're terrible.  Maybe I'm just rooting for the underdog, the internet and associated media still being seen as far less important than traditional broadcasting.  Who knows.

Anyway, the point of this post, as indicated by the title, is to communicate my love for Dr. Horribles Sing-Along Blog.  It's a fantastic piece of work, and in my opinion, the first to bridge the quality divide between nu-media (I'm going to continue using that term until it sticks) and olde-media.

It's a forty minute musical.  If you know me, you know I am tone-deaf, and that I cannot stand musicals, or anything where the music plays a more central role than simply 'mood building,' or 'setting.'  Before I continue, a confession, it was created by a professional, an industry specialist who has worked on feature films and television shows so I don't know whether it's a completely legitimate internet first; but damn it's good.

It's kind of like the makeup of the England rugby team.  Half the players aren't English, but they're good, and they're helping England to mediocrity as we speak, so I can root for them right?  There are no adverts within the product, it's not broadcast on any station, it's purely internet.  It's a home-team creation, so I feel comfortable in saying that it's an internet job.

To quantify how good it is, I'll compare it to my favourite TV show ever, House.  Despite the vast differences between House and Dr Horrible, for pure enjoyment, I would have to say that it would probably win my vaunted favourite show of any medium and whenever award.  If you're stuck for thirty minutes with an internet connection, watch Dr Horrible.  It really is fantastic.  Unfortunately it was essentially a one-off, meaning that the ending will remain forever.  That ending.  Damn you internet!





This post was brought to you by generic perfume brand number five.

Sunday 4 March 2012

What People Done Think

So I'm often criticising the level of English within the population (more often the population of Japan, but often of america too).  People consistently counter with a tepid argument about the English being terrible with foreign languages, something about pots and kettles.  It's a very dull counter, but one that leaves the counter-er open to a counter counter, in that English is a primary constituent of Panglish (which has two definitions as I've heard it so far) and as a result we know two languages before we even start.  Couple that with the inevitable creep of English into other languages and soon we'll be able to understand tons of extra languages, without having to lift a textbook.

Of course, this is all a precursor to the inevitable future where English is the only language spoken in the world.  A lot of people say this is a bad thing, but think about all the professorly man-hours of research into dead languages like French and German.  You could create entirely new fields of study,  presumably named not-quite-as-old-as-Latin-but-still-extinct language study.  Append romance or east-asian to that, and you'd have a title worthy of any tenured academic.

You might well ask why I raise this point now.  Well; I accidentally crushed a very kind little old lady today.  She was an English teacher, and today was her last day on the job.  She was hired as a kind of mentor, her years of experience were a method for her to earn a pittance (I may well have written about her before) while conveying some of that knowledge to the youth of today (the teacherly youth, not the rioting, out of control youth).  The problem is that things have changed since she retired.  Kids don't listen to teachers any more, so it's entirely a case of classroom management instead of teaching.  Unfortunately her ideas were simply swamped by the terrible behaviour within the class - but at least she tried and was valiant in her efforts.  I suppose she thought her ideals were somehow reaching the kids.

How I crushed her was entirely accidental.  I was talking to her about improving English within Japan, one of those airy-fairy conversation where I lay down hard and fast rules for improving English, while the teacherate (a conglomerate of uncooperative teachers) tell me the pithy reasons why they are unfeasible.  These include, but are not limited to, the 26 characters of English are difficult to learn.  This is of course opposed to the two thousand kanji (kanji being chinese characters) and 80 something alphabet letters they have to learn.  Those extra 26 are the straw, proverbially speaking.  People also tell me that the English sounds are too difficult for Japanese people to say, therefore learning the alphabet is a fruitless endeavor until they're older and can compute, as it were, the various sounds.

Of course it's already too late at this point.  By the time they're 12 or so, their brains have been solidified, accepting only the limited sounds of Japanese.  V and B are impossible to distinguish, as are R and L.  Of course I can say V, and I can say B, which means those sounds exist; just not if your skin is yellow and you eat a preponderance of fish.  The way to negate this stupidity is to teach the kids English.  It really is a simple thing, it would take about three weeks of actual study to teach them V and B, L and R.  It would take no time whatsoever to learn the alphabet, you can even teach them in primary school!  (Perish the thought).  I know that you can teach children the alphabet when they're five years old, because I learned when I was five years old.

Again, people will say something along the lines of: 'well yes that's all jolly well and good, but you're immersed in the language and it's therefore easier for you to pick it up.'

Well yes that's all jolly well and good indeed, but writing is a skill that must be learned through practice, it's not an innate ability (as spoken language seems to be to me - I find it impossible to describe how people can learn to speak a language when they're children.  I don't even think learn is the correct word, because that implies some kind of conscious effort on the part of the learner, whereas the brain magically soaks that information up.) and must therefore be trained.  How about training kids when they have the magical sponging ability?  We're not talking perfection, ten minutes spent learning fundamental pronunciation or basic writing at the age of six saves hours - and I mean literally hours, later in life.

No no, of course that would take away time from learning how Japan didn't commit atrocities in Nanjing, or how Japan didn't attack pearl harbour.

Well yes, indoctrinating pupils is an important part of any school curriculum; but think about this.  At middle school, right now, the kids are studying four periods of English a week.  Forty-five minute classes combine to make this a full three hours a week.  Three hours a week is a lot of indoctrinating.  I only found this out today.  Prior to this, I thought they studied English once a week for forty-five minutes, and then they were done with it.  In my mind, that was the only way the utter lack of improvement could be justified.  Stupid old government, not allotting enough resources... again.  Except they give ample time to learn.  How can they mess things up so badly? Seriously, I have to ask how someone can study English for three hours a week, for three years, and not even be able to understand the words 'hot,' or 'cold.'  Or be able to respond to questions such as 'how old are you?' or 'what's your name?'  I am seriously baffled.

But that naysayer will yell, 'that's all good and well actually speaking to the children, but all we do is write, mainly grammar.'

If I wrote those sentences down, the kids would mouth the words, possibly say them out loud to themselves, then look up confused without a lick of understanding.

What it basically boils down to is extremely simple.  No government, not Robert Mugabes, not Benito Mussolinis, not even Tony Blairs could be so criminally inept as to sideline three hours a week for language study, and have no perceptible improvement within a three year time frame.

It is therefore a plain and simple case of active isolationism.  It is this country trying to escape the inevitable tide of English, sweeping across the world in a homogenized wave to victory.  When the whole world speaks a mixture of mandaringlish, Japan will stand alone as the only non-speakers.  They will have even lower test scores than they do now, because they will have perfected the art of willful ignorance.  I've said that the locals took 1984 as some kind of country running pamphlet, what with doublethink being their motto, but it's absolutely true.

So how did I inadvertently crush this poor teacher?

I showed her some stats from a decade ago, showing the test results of Asian countries.

But wait, says the ever-present contra advocate, 'Japanese is entirely dissimilar to English, it's not fair to compare...'

I will hush him before he finishes, because this is a list of Asian countries.  Countries that have as much a dissociation as Japan.  More so in some countries, as they might not use so much bastardised English in their advertisements and in their everyday language.

Without further ado, let's check this old list out:



1
Singapore
1318
603
2
India
33,586
581
3
Philippines
8738
577
4
Brunei Darussalam
45
567
Bhutan
50
567
6
China, People’s Republic of
79,964
560
7
Pakistan
9,850
538
8
Sri Lanka
2,983
537
9
Malaysia
9,530
530
10
Hong Kong
22,343
523
11
Korea (ROK)
103,674
522
12
Nepal
2,153
521
13
Myanmar (Burma)
1,244
518
14
Indonesia
16,538
517
15
Afghanistan
376
516
16
Cambodia
321
514
17
Macau
1,070
512
18
Vietnam
3,251
511
19
Bangladesh
5,703
510
20
Taiwan
52,826
508
21
Laos
135
506
22
Mongolia
243
502
23
Thailand
31,403
502
24
Korea (DPR)
1,611
498
Japan
146,439
498
#EDIT#  This list has more information on the right, but for whatever reason it won't display



This chart shows the scores of people taking a TOEFL test from a decade or so ago.  I can't find anything more recent that actually has a founding in reality (I've found two more recent tests, one which puts korea last and Japan third or so, and another which puts Japan middling and china last; neither of which are therefore credible).

The reason I show this chart is because I find the outcomes credible, for the most part.  The Singaporeans I've met speak a bizarre hybrid of English and another language (I don't know which) that suggests English is a massive part of their daily lives.  Non-speakers will therefore be exposed to it regularly, and may be forced to communicate in it often.  India has massive ties with the UK, and of the thousands of languages spoken, English is prevalent.  The same theory applies as above.

As we work our way down the list we see Afghanistan at number 15.  We've all seen Bin Ladens henchmen give out speeches ad nauseum on't tele; so we all know how good their English can be.  Whether it's uniform across the entire population, I would suggest not so much nowadays.

Bangladesh and Vietnam both have reason to despise English, (thanks america) yet I presume they realise the importance of it as a language of trade and commerce.  Their limited resources are well spent on this.

Mongolia is often perceived as being one of the most rural places in the world.  It has a GDP of roughly ten billion dollars.  Sony, the Japanese corporation that sometimes runs the country, has around 85 billion dollars worth of assets.  Japan could buy Mongolia eight times over, if they sold Sony.  A third of Mongolia lives below the poverty line.  I would say it's a safe bet that any Japanese government official looking at this right now, wouldn't cringe.  They would stonewall, mumble some infantile excuse about statistics being wrong, then point me to one of their secondary school history books where they forgot to mention about the second world war or korean occupation.  Then he would probably run away.  They're very good at that, they're like ninja.

Then, the one that absolutely cracks me up.  The statistic that makes my sides hurt, and mortified the pleasant old lady sitting next to me - the DPRK.  The democratic peoples republic of korea.  That isn't the south korean bit.  That isn't the capitalistic haven of crime and debauchery. That is north korea.  That is the part of korea that no one visits because there be dragons and nuclear warheads.  That's the part of korea that hasn't seen metaphorical daylight in fifty years, the part in which millions died during a great famine, and the part in which tens of thousands continue to die because they can't produce enough food.

The last communistical haven of the dear leaders loins, North Korea, scored the same as Japan.

I had to write that several times because I kept missing the keys, I was laughing too hard.

There are absolutely no problems with English language teaching in Japan, if they keep making charts that show Japan in-line with the DPRK with regards to English ability I will carry on teaching here.

Long live our dear leader!

#EDIT#

I just received this letter from one of the third years, they're graduating so they give their teachers letters, and flowers apparently.  I'd prefer socks like last year, but I'm not complaining.

Anyway, the letter talks about (I had one of the native teachers tell me what it said in Japanese (I can't read the thousands of chinese characters)) me speaking English in an understandable way, about having fun (this is a lie) and asking me to continue teaching.  Or I missed a negation and it actually asks me to stop teaching; it's difficult to tell.  Here it is for all to see, but for far fewer to understand.

Feel free to translate it and tell me I got it all wrong, and it's actually telling me to die in a fire.