The joy of being Italian - even just briefly

I thought to myself that this weekend I was going to post something different, something other than boys playing sport - but sadly it was not to be.  At around lunch time I'd been successfully badgered into taking Aiden and Ev down to the marina so that they could kick a ball around.  When we got there, we found a whole lot of marquee type things and big party on the go.  The goal on the far side of the field was not being used, so I said to the guys OK, you can kick around here, but if the people who have booked the place ask us not to, we are going to be super-gracious and not moan or argue and whatnot.  About 40 minutes in, a smartly dressed guy in cool sunnies came over to talk to us, so we though OK, time to go.  Instead of chasing us off, in an Italian accent he instead said, "do the boys want to play in a football match?  They were a bit taken aback - probably because they had seen some much larger boys playing in the goal on the other side of the field, next to where the party was happening ... but before they could say no, I said "yes, how cool, for sure".  OK said the Italian dude, be at the tent on the other side at 2pm, we have kits, and the game will start shortly after, 30 minutes each way.  So at 2 off they went to the other side of the pitch - much activity - and then disappeared off to the change rooms.  They emerged a few minutes later kitted out in adult size Udinese strip.  It was all very formal - the teams lined up at the side of the field and then ran on, to applause from the very fashionably dressed Italians enjoying their lunch.  It was just delightful.  Before kickoff, they lined up on the field for the official team photo, and then the game got under way.

The pre-game team photo; I was half expecting an anthem to be sung.  Ev was not playing his usual keeper position, and was the smallest guy on the field...

...but played with absolute determination, and his usual brand of no-fear, hypercompetitive thuggery.  Thundering in above

...and putting in another killer tackle.

Having initially been appropriately cautious with him, it soon roughed up a whole lot because it became very clear that he was not giving an inch; here clattering into a much bigger dude for another messy, but ball first and therefore legal tackle.

Aiden played right wing and had an absolute ball, showed some pace, fancy footwork, and some deft passing and crossing.  One of his team's goals came from a beautifully floated in corner from him.

 In the end Udinese went down 4 goals to 2 to Genoa, but the beautiful formality of the start had an end to it as well, so there was a cup and a plate and medals for the teams.  Very cool.  Aiden was very impressed, and said afterwards in the car, "it really must be cool to be Italian; I think if you had to choose a country to be born in it would have to be Italy."  Have to say it was hard not to agree - the people were very cool, and the afternoon was just beautiful and a real treat.  How fantastic an outcome for a trip down to the marina to kick a ball around.  Hong Kong can be so otherworldly and cool.

Rugby Sunday

Having watched Ev play soccer on Saturday (Ange went to watch Aiden play), it was time for a switch, so I did Aiden's rugby tournament, and Ange went to watch Ev (as luck would have it, two different places at the same time).  The Sai Kung Stingrays seem to be on the up and up - both their teams won all four games (they play four 40 minute matches each over the course) and neither had a try scored against them.  Ev is in a super-delighted mood, because he scored, and got to play his preferred position of lock (Bakkies Botha being his still hero).  In Aiden's case, the most satisfying game was watching them defend close to their line for a big chunk of the game, eventually to break through and score three quick tries in the last 10; a classic soak and punish.  Aiden played well, he's a real team guy, and has the right skill-set for his flyhalf position; he's got a good long accurate pass, on both sides... (love their prop Kev, hard to miss on the left in the pic below - who is at least twice the size of the next largest guy on the field)

Tackles and defends his channel well...

And can step, straighten, and attack the line well too

When it was all over I gave three of his mates a lift home back to the village, which means tearing into the house, wolfing down a hot-dog, and then immediately heading down to the Marina at CWB to spend the afternoon playing soccer, now they are home - filthy, smiling, and onto the x-box for a bit of FIFA; this is why homework is now voluntarily done (largely well) on Friday night ... so it doesn't get in the way of the weekend's sporting orgy. 

Family photos

There is something unsettling about seeing yourself at nearing fifty; my oath, how did we get so old? And of course it was all whizzing by whilst you were worrying about stuff.  A better way to look at it is, wow unbelievable that I made it this far (bad judgement a plenty, motorcycles, near misses on bicycles and in the sea), and if I make it to sixty I'll be thinking how young we all were.  Of course the cat had to be included.

Ev keeps goal for the U11 team

Ev was asked to play for the Under 11 team this week - he plays for the Under 10s usually, so it was a bit of a step up - you can see from the relative size of the others that there is a lot in a year at this point.  His team were playing the Brazilian SS team - and in the end beat them 8-1; a pretty solid thrashing, in which he was tested only a handful of times.  The goal that went in was from a shot that he parried, and then a kid in the box scored off the rebound.

It can be lonely stuff being number 1 (no doubt a JZ line) - and when you are brought into play there is a lot of pressure.  Strange position to choose in many ways, but Ev is completely passionate about it.

Free kick outside the box, a well struck ball over the defenders, but he had it covered.  You can see the size difference that one year brings when you are in the Under 9s playing up a year.

Evan goes to camp

As far as the school calendar goes, few things seem to generate as much excitement as going to the school camp: two nights away from home, camping on Lantau, in a tent, with your mates, no parents around, and with surfing on the activity menu.  Bring. It. On.

Ready to go - kit-bag, sleeping bag, and no doubt for a short while orange beanie (if that even makes it onto the bus I will be most surprised.  I certainly don't expect to be seeing it again.

Not much shorter than Ange at this stage (though plenty to go as it were.  Great mirth last night at the dinner table as Ange destroyed Aiden in an arm-wrestle; a little reminder to the lads about who is actually boss).

Rest my case on the beanie; already gone and only just waving good-bye.

Bike porn

Sometimes, other words just don't fit; Sabliere's 1990s time trial bike.

The mighty, the wonderful, the forever excellent and rightfully looked up to Harrow International School

I'm afraid it's more football photos.  Ev did not have a game (but did have a party at Luca's house).

Aiden on the other hand, played at the truly wonderful (yes, the forever excellent and rightfully looked up to) Harrow International School; wonderful because having paid all that money for the name, they waste no time in assuming their rightful place at the top of the social pile (as it happens, looking very much down on all that goes on far below).

Leaders in largess, followers in manners

So for example, here at Harrow, we like to make our less well heeled guests stand outside the gate and wait, unneccessarily (in the road, the entire other side of which is a building site). Never mind that they were told to arrive at 9am (and did so) for a 9.30 kickoff - because ... WE THE MIGHTY HARROW INTERNATIONAL SCHOOL are only opening the gate at 9.25am.

Yes indeed, ladies and gentlemen, as is proper, the proletariat should learn their place by being kept waiting until they are called.

To make the point, we ensure that there are people standing right at the gate, inside, telling the proletariat that they can only come in at 9.25, so they actually get the full message. (look, there we are in the white shirt in the centre of the picture).  Otherwise they might just think that we were, oh I don't know ... running late or some such, and not get the point!  So yes, unfortunately, that is what you must do with the proletariat - you must remind them at every given opportunity of the differences between them and us.

We also have the very best words to go with the name ... Leadership for a better world ... and ensure these are visible for people to see.  Of course the better world is really our better past - you know the one where we sat on our horses right at the back and sent the cheeky unwashed devils off over the top; that better world.

Not the sort of reception that you want after getting up early and driving an hour to get there.  Just because I can, I will be giving the headmaster a little call to tell him how much I admire their whole approach to cohabitation with the other people of Hong Kong.  It's important that he gets congratulated, so that he does not soften into some kind of pinko, or falter further down the road.  I only wish the fees (at today's rates R571 299.44 per year) weren't so high, because then I might be able to send Aiden and Evan off there.  Alas, alas.

Good eyes, looking up, seeing the space...

... power and pace, fit, fast, running hard...

Aiden's team won 1-0.  It should have been more, but all credit to the opposition keeper who was excellent.

The Darkness in Paris

I called Jacques to offer my condolences for the travails his home city Paris experienced over the weekend.  He sent me this comment from the letter pages of the New York Times, which I thought were lovely and likely quite true:

France embodies everything religious zealots everywhere hate: enjoyment of life here on earth in a myriad little ways: a fragrant cup of coffee and buttery croissant in the morning, beautiful women in short dresses smiling freely on the street, the smell of warm bread, a bottle of wine shared with friends, a dab of perfume, children playing in the Luxembourg Gardens, the right not to believe in any god, not to worry about calories, to flirt and smoke and enjoy sex outside of marriage, to take vacations, to read any book you want, to go to school for free, to play, to laugh, to argue, to make fun of prelates and politicians alike, to leave worrying about the afterlife to the dead.

No country does life on earth better than the French.

Paris, we love you. We cry for you. You are mourning tonight, and we with you. We know you will laugh again, and sing again, and make love, and heal, because loving life is your essence. The forces of darkness will ebb. They will lose. They always do. 

Aiden loving football

It's debatable who likes it more - they both are heeltemal soccerbefok - Aiden is simply loving it completely.  This past Saturday his APSS played against a Japanese team and beat them soundly.

Through-ball from Gary, Aiden powers into the box (and goes on to score, below).  Plays centre midfield; seems to have a good understanding of how the game flows, is coached well and frequently (as part of this team, he now plays or practices three days a week) runs and plays into space really well, can dribble, but thankfully gets that it is absolutely a game of passing.

Goal - I was terribly impressed - he's further out than the zoom makes him appear - and this had a whole lot of curve on it and was motoring, keeper (who was more mobile than he appears - started off going the wrong side of the swerve - so didn't stand a chance).

Ange was saying how he is getting much fitter because he plays so much (along with rugby and swimming) - and it shows on the field.

in the past he would not have taken on a 50/50 ball with much conviction, now he gets the value of hard work, the big push and stretch, and will compete and win balls that others would have assumed were theirs.  Love the little look of determination on his face above.