Bad Loser, Bad Winner

Let me get one thing straight before I start ranting like a misinformed housewife. I used to like Jose Mourinho, I thought he was a breath of fresh air and when he knocked Man Utd out of the Champions League with Porto he was my new hero. However I now realise that he is an arrogant, vain, egotistic, selfish and frustrated attention seeker and it surprises me how he is so good at his job, because I can’t deny that he is. 4 major trophies in 3 years tells you that.

You may say its just sour grapes and success breeds contempt but Jose did something upon retaining the Premiership that, as a sportsperson that has won medals, deeply disappointed me and I can even say it sickened me. He threw his winner’s medal away not once but TWICE, something which I consider the biggest insult possible to your fellow competitors who would give anything to be in the winning position. It also shows disrespect to the people who have helped him and worked so hard for him, his players, backroom staff, management and supporters. Above all it was a dangerous thing to do and could have caused some ugly crowd scenes and people could have been hurt. Sometimes, Mourinho acts very irresponsibly because he thinks its cool at the time, not a great role model in an age when players are scutinised for everything they do.

He has shunned something that should be a tremendous honor to recieve, no matter how many winners medals you have, if he did not want it he should not have accepted the medal, which will now just probably make somebody a few quid on Ebay and that was not its purpose, its purpose was to honour a deserving person, to be a source of pride for years to come.

I don’t know what Mourinho is trying to prove, I know Muhammed Ali threw his Olympic medal into the Ohio river but that was because of the inner tirmoil of still being racially discriminated against despite his achievements, and he has since regretted the decision. I wonder if Jose regrets his what some might see as flamboyant decision when we looks beck on his career. If he doesn’t want the prize, he shouldn’t enter the competition and if he wants to be loved by everyone, he’s in the wrong job.


These medals are mine,
they show my time.
Part of me is in them,
it was me that had to win them.
Each one carries stories,
with countless memories.
These medals are mine,
that’s it.

It Don’t Mean a Thing

Hmmmmm…Oh the anger, another disability related outcry in the media, it doesn’t seem like a week can go by without one. This time, squeaky clean golfer Tiger Woods says he putted like a spaz at the US Master, que an explosion of right-group/messageboard-dwelling/semi-celebrity disability opinionists. Oh God they love it. I’m a pseudo opinionist too so here goes.

Tiger did putt like a spaz, I found it quite an accurate assessment and I should know after attempting to playing crazy golf last week with not much success. To be honest I think Tiger was being a bit harsh on himself, but the thing is that he was simply trying to convey his frustration at his performance to the media and public.

If he’d come out and said ‘I hate disabled people, they should all be shot at birth, should be completely socially excluded and frowned upon generally’, then firstly I’d be very suprized as it was a press conference at a golf tournament, but yes I’d probably be offended.

He didn’t say that though, he merely suggested that playing golf to the level of a person with cerebral palsy wasn’t acceptable for him, and I have no problem with that statement. I have made similar statements along the same lines many times, it’s all about expressing feelings and frustration about a certain thing, in this case a game of golf. It don’t mean a thing more.


Sometimes we see our reflection
in other people’s words.
Sometimes there’s no need for detection
of things that can’t be heard.

Prophecy etc…

Been to Portugal for a week’s training, it went quite well, although left me with some big questions that I intend to answer in the coming months. It’s not a comfortable thing for me to be unsure of what I am capable of but I guess that’s what makes me not become complacent. So the week was definately the kick I needed for the start of the season.

Interesting highlights of the week include, turning up at the Easyjet desk at Newcastle airport with my box which the girl looked at and said ‘No. We can’t take that.’, great start then, 3 hours later we got checked in. We decided not to eat at the hotel after Danny and Ray said they could’ve used the salmon as a discus. Our hire car was knicknamed DT for Death Trap and simply was not road worthy, the back door kept flying open randomly and the inside of the door came off when we shut it. We discovered the handbrake didn’t work when we parked on a hill and started rolling forward and there was quite a large hole in the back tire. We complained, they sent a mechanic.

The gym we usually go to had closed down, but we found another even better gym near the hotel. The guy was very helpfull but nearly had a heart attack everytime I did an exercise, especially when I half fell off the chin up machine, at that point he said I think it’s time to stop and I agreed. It was probably a life enhancing experience for the guy though and I hope I broadened his horisons a little, that’s always good.

I’m now aware of what self fulfilling prophecy means, and it’ll help me because I’m not going to let it happen anymore. So time to forget the past and stick to what I know. I’ll try and explain in the form of poetry.


Fulfil me, no.
Fill me, full.

Your prophecy won’t save me.
It will decieve me
and sell lies to my soul.

Your dreams won’t set me free.
They cloud my thoughts
and rain on my reality.

All I need is:
my belief,
my knowledge,
my soul
and the truth.

I am my prophecy
I am my dreams.