Ashes? What Ashes?

Ashton Who? on his way to 98 runs yesterday

The fantastic summer of sport that we are enjoying this year keeps rolling on.

First we had the British Lions beating the Australians.

Then we had "Sir" Andy Murray ending Britain's 77 years of hurt by finally claiming the men's Wimbledon title in a thrilling final 10 days ago.

Chris Froome is currently leading the pack in the Tour de France.

And now we have the Ashes.

The Granddaddy of Cricket Test series.

England and Australia battling it out with the Willow and the ball.

The series has made an epic start. We had 14 wickets tumble on day 1 and the greatest total ever posted by a no. 11 batsman yesterday when Ashton Agar scored 98 in his debut Test innings.

The commentators on BBC's Test Match Special are falling over themselves to tell us what a great sporting spectacle this is.

This is a sporting battle that should be gripping the nation. The boys and girls who were rushing out every playtime with racket and ball to re-enact the heroics of Andy and Laura on the Wimbledon grass should now be doing the same and flinging yorkers and googlies at each other as they re-live the previous day's play.

It's not happening.

A quick survey of my kids' schools indicates that there are still more children playing tennis than cricket in the playground. A quiz of my children's cricketing knowledge tells me that they have no idea who Ashton Agar is and can only name one member of England's cricket team (Kevin Pieterson) - and this at a time when the England cricketers are arguably our most successful sporting outfit.

The 2005 Ashes series genuinely did grip the nation. Children did take to the parks and streets to ape their white clad heroes and for 1 glorious summer we were cricket crazy.

Why is this not happening this year?

Why are my children not in the least bit bothered?

Why can't they tell their Alastair Cooks from their Graeme Swanns?

In 2005 the Ashes was broadcast by Channel 4. Ever since it has been live and exclusive on SKY. Since 2005 Cricket has been chasing the cash of this sporting behemoth. As a result they have had millions of pounds pumped into the sport but at what cost?

Sadly this pursuit has led to Cricket disappearing from the radar for millions of English children. If I were a cricket administrator with a view that extends beyond this summer's payday I would be worried for the future of my sport. I would question whether a big payday today is worth an obscure future.

Cricket is a difficult game for schools to run. It takes a long time to play and it requires a lot of space. As a result it has disappeared from the curriculum of many state schools. It therefore becomes even more important that it gets plenty of television exposure in order to build up cricketing heroes and establish cricketing dreams among the young so that they seek opportunities to play this game which we are currently very good at.

So, Dear Administrators of Cricket - please look beyond the size of your wallets and look to the future - or your sport will die.

Speak soon
JH

PS Photograph courtesy of the Daily Telegraph

Is The Glory Worth The Pain?

Dreaming of Olympic Glory (c) BBC

I put M through torture this week.

I blame the Olympics!

One of the aims of London 2012 was to Inspire a Generation. The vision of Lycra clad superhumans winning gold for Team GB was meant to inspire the slovenly youth of the United Kingdom to get off their settees and try something new instead.

Well it certainly had that effect in our house. Particularly with the sporty spice of the family - 10 year old M.

Since the Olympic flame was extinguished she has joined a cycling club (Laura Trott), thrown herself into Netball, thrashed us all in innumerable running races and expressed a desire to join the school's Hockey club.

It is all fantastically inspiring.

But, Hockey is a game that features sticks and balls.

And sticks and balls do not get along with pearly white, perfectly formed teeth.

So, the responsible parent gets themself online or down to the local sports shop to purchase a piece of brightly coloured rubber called a gum shield.

Said parent then carefully reads the instructions before fitting said shield without a hitch, a tear or a moan.

And said sporty daughter is then ready to plough her sporting furrow to Olympic Gold.

Hah!

Well that's what it says on the box.

That's not what happens in the Dad Etc household when Dad is in charge.

This is what happens when Dad is in charge:

Dad reads the instructions carefully and heats the orange and blue plastic in boiling water until it reaches melting point at which point he rams it into his 10 year old daughter's mouth causing her to writhe and scream.

He then tells her not to worry because "this is what is supposed to happen" and squeezes her cheeks against the molten plastic with one hand whilst forcibly closing her mouth with the other and counting to 20 elephants as she squirms in agony.

Finally, she swills cold water around her mouth and tests the gum shield for fit.

Unfortunately said shield did not stay in place so Dad had to read the instructions again, dump the shield in freshly boiling water and do it all over again.

Sadly, as proved in my post, Why Mum Knows Best, Dads sometimes just get it plain wrong.

I tried twice more with this miracle of modern engineering, each time failing to make the shield stay in place, each time chastising my daughter for not biting hard enough or squirming too much.

Finally, unable to bear it any more, my wife rode in to save the day. She immediately spotted that our little M had a new tooth coming through (how did she know that?) - so was unable to close her mouth properly, scooped her onto her knee and made everything all better.

Dad meanwhile cursed his lack of feminine intuition and retreated to the shed to try to fix something inanimate.

Speak soon
JH

PS I am very delighted to announce that Dad Etc has been shortlisted for the Brilliance in Blogging Family Blogger Award run by Britmums - hence the rather flashy looking button at the top of the Blog. I am up against some very tough competition (15 mummy bloggers and me - it takes a brave man!) so would be eternally in your debt if you felt that this blog was worth a vote. You can vote by clicking on the button above or by clicking here. Thank you so much - and fingers crossed.

Being a Dad Has It's Perks

Party Ring Anyone?

Like many prestigious roles in life the role of Dad is not without it's perks. Here are my 5 mostly shallow perks of fatherhood.

Tastier than Keira?

1. Dads get to go to kids' films

Fed up with movies with plots out of a Dostoevsky novel. Squeamish about blood and gore? Rather laugh at a cute monster than lust over Keira Knightley? Get to be a Dad - because Dads get to watch kids movies and kids movies are clinically proven to be better than films with subtitles and/or a dark subplot.

2. Dads get to eat party food

There is no greater taste on earth than the flavours created by factory boffins to adorn kids party food. The brightly coloured delights that are Party Ring biscuits, Iced Gems and fruit jelly just beg to be eaten by the discerning gourmet and as a Dad at a birthday party you get to choose your own treats and eat as much as you want.
Just offer to clear up after the party guests have gone and hoover the sweet treats before anybody else gets their hands on them.

3. Dads get to watch their kids perform

Dads are men of rock. Their bottom lips are rare to wobble and their tear ducts are criminally underused. However, put a Dad on a touchline or in the audience when their kids are the stars and you see a different beast altogether.
Watch them swell with pride and choke back emotion as their progeny relives the dreams of their dim and distant past.

4. Dads get to read bedtime stories

If I ever get invited onto Desert Island Discs and am asked what luxury I would take to my desert island I know exactly what I would ask for:

• A small child (preferably one of my own)
• A book - one of the Bartholomew Bear stories, Dr Seuss or our current favourite - Pippi Longstocking.
• For the time to be fixed permanently at 7.30pm

There are few things as bonding as reading to your child just before bedtime. We started when the Dubmeister was 2 weeks old and we haven't looked back. I am lucky enough to be home before my kids go to bed most nights - and the nights when I don't get to read to at least one of them feel much emptier than those when I do.

5. Dads get to be heroes

Every man needs to be a hero and as a Dad you get to live the dream. The dads of pre-schoolers bask in the glow of toddler adulation as they wield a hammer with expertise and panache (in their children's eyes). For a precious period everything we do is wonderful. Every muscle we own is taut and every car we drive is faster than Lewis Hamilton's.
Man was made to bask in a dose of glory and the Dads of the very small get soaked in it.

from www.alotedbabe.blogspot.com

Speak soon
JH

PS More musings on being a Dad Alone here, on the changing relationship with our children here and a list of reasons why Dad Knows Best here.

How Many Clubs Is Too Many Clubs?

Well rounded or well knackered?

We are great believers in creating well rounded children. We like to think that our three should be equipped with enough strings to their bows to play a decent symphony and as a result we have signed them up for the following:

Swimming lessons, hockey club, netball club, badminton, tennis, scouts and brownies, Youth groups, church groups, cheerleading, cycling, choirs, drama, book clubs and football, piano, recorder, trumpet and clarinet lessons. Then there's gymnastics, board games club and extra maths.

The kids love it all. They love the competition of sport, the camaraderie of music and drama and the stimulation of maths and book clubs.

However, as I drive between clubs and reflect on the rich extra curricular existence of my three children I ask myself: "How many clubs is too many clubs?"

Clubs are expensive

Because it is great to be developing these children of many talents. However, it comes at a cost. We are lucky that a lot of the clubs I have mentioned above are run for free by the schools - however, the clubs that are privately run suck up chunks of our monthly budget at a time.

Clubs are time consuming

Again, other than the clubs that are run by the schools most of these enrichments are a car journey away. On Mondays we juggle netball, brownies and piano. On Thursdays we consume petrol travelling between maths, choir and church youth group. Aside from the cash impact; travelling time tends to be stressful time. Stressful time tends not to be conducive to quality family time.

Clubs feed unlikely dreams

I am sitting beside a swimming pool as I blog this evening marvelling at the progress E has made in the pool since the last time I was here. She can crawl, she can froggy leg and she can even swim on her back - smiling all of the time. And yet, will she be the next Rebecca Adlington? Will she bring home a medal of any colour from any swimming gala ever? Sadly no - so is our money being wasted? Now she can get across a swimming pool without touching the floor when the teacher isn't looking do we really need to keep coming back? Or are we just feeding our own dreams? Wouldn't E and the others benefit more from more chill out time at home or should we persist?

Clubs are unnecessary pressure

Because my concern is that the clubs question is an example of us pushing our children into an early experience of the rat race where they join clubs because that is what children do nowadays. A kick around in the park with your mates bas been replaced by scuba diving classes in the local leisure centre while mum and dad sup lattes in the on site Costa. Leisure time is organised time - are we depriving our children of the opportunity to organise their own free time?

I'd love to know what you think.

Speak soon
JH

The Weekend Picture No.19

The Signs of Spring on a Roundabout waiting for the Tour of Britain

The streets and roundabouts of Surrey have been packed this afternoon with spectators waiting for a brightly coloured glimpse of the Tour of Britain.

We took our picnic lunch to a local roundabout this afternoon to join the festival and cheer on the lycra clad cyclists as they whizzed past the end of our road.

We camped out at12.45, saw our first motorbike outriders at 1.10pm, the leading cyclists at 1.20 and the rest of the peloton at 1.23pm. Then we came home again.

We continue to have a very sporty summer.

Speak soon

JH

The Weekend Picture No.17

Mounia Gasmi, Sliver Medallist in the Club Throwing

We were there yesterday at "Super Human Saturday" in the Olympic Park, or Paralympic Park as it is known now.

We were moved by displays of extraordinary courage and determination by athletes of outstanding ability.

We saw Oscar Pistorius look imperious in qualification for the 200 meters final, Jason Smyth ease to victory in the 100m and Liu Fuliang break two world records on the way to the triple jump title.

But my favourite sight of the evening was the bundle of smiles that is Mounia Gasmi, the silver medal winning club thrower from Algeria. Her face told you everything you needed to know about the pride, joy and dedication that goes into paralympic sport.

It will remain with me forever.

In the Olympic Stadium

It was a late night!

Speak soon

JH