Dean's Blog

I was going to write about my weekend this week but had to change following the news I have just heard. The football manager Sir Bobby Robson has died.

In a time where footballers seem more intent on image and how much they earn rather than the game, Sir Bobby was one of those men who would have played and managed for nothing. He is one of the most kind, caring and successful managers of all time.

Robson will be best remembered on the international stage for leading England to the 1990 World Cup semi-final.

At club level, he cut his managerial teeth at Fulham before establishing his credentials at Ipswich where he won the FA Cup and Uefa Cup in a 13-year stay.

Spells at PSV Eindhoven, Sporting Lisbon, Porto and Barcelona followed before he managed at Newcastle.

I remember as a young teenager staying in to watch that incredible game in 1990. You had to be in this country to experience it. The streets were deserted, the pub were empty. Over thirty million people watched as England crashed out to the Germans on penalties. Even now I have still never experienced such emotion in a sporting achievement. Many men cried that day, Gazza especially. But Robson, a man who was cruelly robbed four years earlier by Maradonna's "Hand of God" goal put on a brave face and said "The lads done well". What a man.

Robson was at St James' Park for a charity match earlier this week.

An England side, featuring Alan Shearer and several members of the 1990 World Cup squad including Paul Gascoigne and Peter Shilton, beat a Germany team 3-2. Shearer scored the winner from the penalty spot.

The game was a repeat of the 1990 World Cup semi-final when England, managed by Sir Bobby, lost on penalties.

He may not have been the most successful of managers, nor the most controversial, but he certainly was the greatest and kindest man to manage the England team. Bless you Bobby; you’re an inspiration to any footballer or manager. RIP.

Standing on the shores of isolation

The horizon of future beckons me

Winds of yesterday blow against my neck

An entwining destiny

Looking over my shoulder

Yesterday’s laughter howls amongst the trees

Facing forward to my new life

Reality sends me to my knees

Regrets I have too many

Decisions never made

Blood flows on my hands so much

My skin begins to fade

I build a ship of memories

Cast it out to sea

Not caring if it sinks or breaks

A burning desire to be free

No calls or messages from the past

No answers left to hear

Just a path to follow in an unknown land

A journey fuelled by fear

I will not look back

For those burning eyes can mame

Drawing me back to yesteryear

Scorched by memorial flame

Running to the future

Maturity slows me down

For I am now tomorrows man

No longer yesterdays clown

You were my rescue beacon
Ignited the path I took
A bridge that spanned life's turbulence
The thrashing sea became my brook
Rescued me from darkness
Then showed me the way
Gone too soon to know you more
Returned to your cold stay
You were the key to my survival
Pulled me into the light
Youth drowned maturity
Kept me warm through each hysterical night
A medicinal cure that saved me
Eroded the disease inherent within
A cure for pure insanity
You silenced every sin
Forever in your debt
The path you led me to I walk this night
Memories I cannot forget
A gateway to a new world
Unlock the secrets of my heart
Though your now so far away
We will never be apart

Friday night I missed the last train home by several hours. No real reason except that I went out with some friends and ended up in a cocktail bar having a major dancing session of 90's cheesy pop. As I live right over the other side of London I realised that a taxi is going to be very expensive, in fact I was quoted £100.

So in the rain I decided to try and find a cheap hotel and bed and breakfast to get my head down for the night. After walking around Waterloo I saw a distant neon light saying "Hotel" so, drenched to the skin, I walked in. Glancing slowly at the clock I noticed that it was 2.20am.

After politely enquiring I was more than surprised to be told that they indeed had a hotel room available and that it was only £40, bargain! As I entered the room the familiar sense of the room beginning to spin was taking affect. So I tried in vain to take my jeans off I fell onto the bed and into a world of slumber.

The bright light from the hot morning sunshine shone brightly through the window straight onto my eyes. The unfamiliar surroundings of whee I was began to sink in. The first think I noticed was the large notice that politely said "VACATE THE ROOM BY 11AM". It was already 10.45 so I never really had much time. After downing two coffees I started to pack my things up and noticed that the roof was slightly leaking



I laughed as it reminded me that in 2002 I lived in a pub where the bathroom that was above my bedroom would always leak when someone had a shower (yes I did move out!). I wanted to see if it was raining so I pulled back the curtains and something made my jaw drop straight to the floor. It was this rather uninspiring view



Hardly inspiring now is it...?

But now let me take you back to the pub I lived in back in 2002. It was an Irish pub called "The Bridge House". I lived there for 6 months in a place until my new flat was ready. Full of Irish builders it was, odd, but also a nice place to live. Memories of the 2002 World Cup, the endless summer days playing pool with the students across the road, the horrific music blasted from upstairs and most of all some of the regulars who just seemed to drink so much alcohol they should be declared flammable.

Yes the pub was now the hotel I was staying in just that Friday night. But the irony is that of all the hotels in London, of all the hotel rooms.

I was back in my old bedroom...

We ignored the rules of life, decided to break the shackles tonight

Our last gasp of freedom, before we became rats devoid of light

Had to break, make a run for the place we talked in dreams

Take this promise and keep it alive, yet its tearing at the seams

I won't say it's over, I won't say that its you

I'm clinging to eternal hope, one shot to make it all so true

One way ticket to Paris, the city where love exists

Two hearts clinging to forgotten hope, sharing one eternal kiss

One way ticket to Paris, the steam rises from the train

The silence of Porte d'Clingoutant masquerades the pain

A cheap hotel in suburbs, on the horizon lights they dance

Gazing into beaten eyes, this really is last chance

Tomorrow is a new day, the sun will rise once more

Dreams still exist in our cruel unfair world, what are we fighting for?

I have just heard the line up for tomorrows Michael Jackson tribute/memorial gig. Among those taking part, Stevie Wonder, Mariah Carey I can accept but when I read that Britain's Got Talent finalist Shaheen Jafargholi was singing my stomach churned.

Let's be honest Wonder is a Mowtown Legend, Carey is the highest selling female in music history making those two worthy performers but shipping a twelve year old child half way across the world to sing at Michael Jackson's memorial just because he sang a Jackson song is farcical.

When you look at all of the performers Jackson admired and worked with many would have jumped at the chance to perform. Jesus why not just invite Peter Andre as well!

It's wrong, this circus is making a mockery of Jacksons legacy. The sooner he is buried, the sooner he can rest in peace.