I think i have discovered why various Wolves managers have failed over the last few years.It's got nothing at all to do with footballing ability but all to do with lack of pun based headlines generated by their names.Yes we had Stale Solbakken but that was limited.ie " Wolves go Stale" Frankly the others were'nt even trying to help our beleaguered sports hack find that snappy headline that would pull the punters in...
But now Wolves have a new manager----Surely the most repeated sentence over the last eighteen months---And joy upon joy his name is Kenny Jackett,thereby providing journalists and sub-editors alike with a chance of magnificent wordplay that will surely lead to a Pulitzer prize one day.
It won't be easy though,his name may well lead to an outbreak of puntastically pun heavy red top strap lines but it does'nt jump out immediately.They will have to work a bit to earn their crust.Until the day he's inevitably fired of course.The "No Jackett required" headline is already sitting there waiting to be used thereby confirming both a lack of imagination and an awful taste in music...
Let's hope that day does'nt come soon...Anything over six months would justify a loyalty bonus at the moment----However i have a good feeling about Kenny even before a ball has been kicked.he's not the big name some desired but a steady hand on the tiller which is exactly what the club needs.
Even before he met the players he met a delegation of supporters in the Wolves museum,a nice touch.Ok it was PR but much needed to begin bridging the chasm that's grown between club and fans.He also said that he will conduct a tour of the museum with any new signings to drum into them what the history & tradition of Wolves mean to those that matter.The fans...
Kenny also confirmed he knows about our youth players and that those considered good enough will be given their chance.Quite a few have got games over the last two relegation seasons but my feeling is they were only plunged into the fray due to injuries & desperation by panicking managers and not looked after the correct way.
He's also started the much needed clear out of the deadwood which has been weighing the club down these last two seasons.No doubt he's been given the remit to cut the wage bill to suit our League One status---Yes we're a League One club,not a Championship/Premiership club just visiting---For Kenny the happy fact is that the high earners are also the deadwood mostly.
Jackett has already recognised that a fair few players have been here far too long and grown lazy and bloated mentally and,in the case of some,physically.He's not been slow in identifying the problem and getting on with doing something about it...Something the last four managers we're either unable or unwilling to get to grips with.
After two years of crisis heaped upon crisis, of double relegation,of fan revolt--albeit fairly mild in the circumstances---of basically the club giving incompetence a bad name we finally appear to be heading in the right direction under KJ.It's also noticeable---Via what i have been judging on twitter & facebook---that many fans are getting their mojo back and are looking forward to the upcoming campaign.
Of course the acid test is yet to come,the actual playing of the football.At the moment i am cautiously hopeful about our chances,which is a thousand percent improvement on the last few years...
Is Kenny the man to pull us out of this malaise? Lord i hope so otherwise many Wolves fans may just Jack it in...
I'll get my coat...
Wednesday 26 June 2013
Sunday 16 June 2013
A Father's Tale for Father's Day...
It's Father's Day.On this occasion i hope you can spare me the indulgence of telling my own dad's story...
I never met my dad---this was'nt due to what many would consider the modern day malaise of the feckless dad not wanting to take responsibility of the upbringing of his offspring---sadly the truth is a bit more prosaic.My Father died five months before i was born.
So his story i will tell is all knowledge garnered over the years from my late Mum.I trust her version is accurate.
Dad was born in what was then called Czechoslovakia---Not too long after it stopped being part of The Austro-Hungarian Empire--- In a small working class town way out east overshadowed by the Western point of the Carpathian Mountains.To be honest i know very little of his early life.I'm guessing his life was no different to many other mid European's growing up at that time just after WW1.However that was all to change in 1938 when Nazi Germany decided to annex the Sudetenland to the west & north.
This left the rest of Czechoslovakia in a very perilous position and sure enough it was'nt long,about a year, till Hitler decided to overpower the rest of the country and occupy what remained...
Dad had already joined one of the resistance groups set up--There were four in all---Again details are a little hazy but i think it may have been the PU led by Prokop Drtina.The PU were subjected to wholesale arrests in late 39' at which point my old man decided discrection was the better part of valour and consequently stole a lorry and buggered off to Budapest in Hungry.
I don't think he stayed there too long as he next found himself in what is now Palestine,joining up to the British Army where by he was subsequently shipped off to Jo'Burg in South Africa then onto Canada...By this stage---1940---He'd heard of the Free Czech Air Force helping to fight the Nazi's and wanted to join up...
So eventually dad pitched up in South Wales to become a gunner in the Atlantic Coastal Command.Their job was to seek out and destroy U-Boats who were themselves trying to destroy the merchant supply line from the USA to UK.Dad was considered something of a lucky charm by his colleagues as the three times he could'nt make a sortie due to illness hardly any--If any---of the planes came back.
Being in South Wales was how he and my mum met.I asked her about how they came to be together and she said obviously all the airmen were very dashing in their uniforms along with their heroic status locally.Dad had the added bonus of speaking with a heavy Slavic accent---Very exotic in the day,now commonplace of course---plus he introduced himself by asking for a light when he clearly had a lighter with him.What a smooth operator...
They were married pretty soon after meeting---As was the way in the war,after all nobody knew when they may be parted for good---and after the war moved to Czechoslovakia but alas that did'nt work out.I remember mum telling me the saddest sight she ever saw was driving into Czechoslovakia via Dresden and seeing miles upon miles of displaced people walking the other way in Germany with all they could carry.Maybe a million people of Germanic stock being kicked out of Sudetenland.
Eventually they moved back to the UK and to my home town,where my dad died of a brain hemorrhage just before my birth...
Today this may sound like a pretty wild adventure but in the context of WW2 it was nothing of the sort,this sort of thing happened to thousands upon thousands of people worldwide...But that fact does'nt alter my view that dad was a hero.As all dads should be to their sons & daughters...
If i had one wish it would'nt to be rich,I'm used to being broke after all and being rich would probably kill me.It would'nt be for world peace either.Let's face it that's far too big a job for just one measly wish....
No,my one wish would be to meet my dad for at least one day...
Happy Father's Day Dad...
I never met my dad---this was'nt due to what many would consider the modern day malaise of the feckless dad not wanting to take responsibility of the upbringing of his offspring---sadly the truth is a bit more prosaic.My Father died five months before i was born.
So his story i will tell is all knowledge garnered over the years from my late Mum.I trust her version is accurate.
Dad was born in what was then called Czechoslovakia---Not too long after it stopped being part of The Austro-Hungarian Empire--- In a small working class town way out east overshadowed by the Western point of the Carpathian Mountains.To be honest i know very little of his early life.I'm guessing his life was no different to many other mid European's growing up at that time just after WW1.However that was all to change in 1938 when Nazi Germany decided to annex the Sudetenland to the west & north.
This left the rest of Czechoslovakia in a very perilous position and sure enough it was'nt long,about a year, till Hitler decided to overpower the rest of the country and occupy what remained...
Dad had already joined one of the resistance groups set up--There were four in all---Again details are a little hazy but i think it may have been the PU led by Prokop Drtina.The PU were subjected to wholesale arrests in late 39' at which point my old man decided discrection was the better part of valour and consequently stole a lorry and buggered off to Budapest in Hungry.
I don't think he stayed there too long as he next found himself in what is now Palestine,joining up to the British Army where by he was subsequently shipped off to Jo'Burg in South Africa then onto Canada...By this stage---1940---He'd heard of the Free Czech Air Force helping to fight the Nazi's and wanted to join up...
So eventually dad pitched up in South Wales to become a gunner in the Atlantic Coastal Command.Their job was to seek out and destroy U-Boats who were themselves trying to destroy the merchant supply line from the USA to UK.Dad was considered something of a lucky charm by his colleagues as the three times he could'nt make a sortie due to illness hardly any--If any---of the planes came back.
Being in South Wales was how he and my mum met.I asked her about how they came to be together and she said obviously all the airmen were very dashing in their uniforms along with their heroic status locally.Dad had the added bonus of speaking with a heavy Slavic accent---Very exotic in the day,now commonplace of course---plus he introduced himself by asking for a light when he clearly had a lighter with him.What a smooth operator...
They were married pretty soon after meeting---As was the way in the war,after all nobody knew when they may be parted for good---and after the war moved to Czechoslovakia but alas that did'nt work out.I remember mum telling me the saddest sight she ever saw was driving into Czechoslovakia via Dresden and seeing miles upon miles of displaced people walking the other way in Germany with all they could carry.Maybe a million people of Germanic stock being kicked out of Sudetenland.
Eventually they moved back to the UK and to my home town,where my dad died of a brain hemorrhage just before my birth...
Today this may sound like a pretty wild adventure but in the context of WW2 it was nothing of the sort,this sort of thing happened to thousands upon thousands of people worldwide...But that fact does'nt alter my view that dad was a hero.As all dads should be to their sons & daughters...
If i had one wish it would'nt to be rich,I'm used to being broke after all and being rich would probably kill me.It would'nt be for world peace either.Let's face it that's far too big a job for just one measly wish....
No,my one wish would be to meet my dad for at least one day...
Happy Father's Day Dad...
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