Liverpool Echo - Born Again Blog

Mathieu Flamini and the Bosman rule

2008-05-16T16:15:27Z

I've been doing the Alpha course again recently, and a recent post-meeting discussion centred around the relevance of the ten commandments and the Bible today.
Which, a couple of days later, got me thinking about Mathieu Flamini and the Bosman rule.
Strange leap, you may think, but stick with me. If, however, you are thinking 'Who is Mathieu Flamini?' and 'What is the Bosman rule?' then you are clearly not a football fan and I hope the following explanation will sort you out.
Flamini is an Arsenal player who recently left the Gunners to join AC Milan. The Italian club did not have to pay any money for him because his contract at Arsenal had ended and he was therefore, under the Bosman rule, entitled to join whichever club he wanted without Arsenal receiving a penny.
It is called the Bosman rule because in the early 1990s, a Belgian footballer called Jean-Marc Bosman won a case allowing him to leave his club and sign for another because his contract had expired. Before that, footballers had to persuade their current club to sell them to another before they were allowed to move on. The clubs were in control.
The Bosman rule sounds like a good thing. The clubs don't get to be too greedy, the players get to behave just like normal people and leave their place of employ if they so wish. Everybody's happy.
Except they're not. Flamini is now being paid a huge sum of money each week by AC Milan, a sum they can afford to pay simply because they didn't have to pay out to buy him. Arsenal could not match that wage, which doubtless influenced the midfielder's decision to move to Italy.
Players now routinely run down their contracts in order to join another club on much bigger wages than they would get if their new employers had to pay out to buy them. The whole system has been abused.
It struck me that it is just like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. We were given a perfect world which we wrecked. The Bosman rule was a good one which, again, has been used and abused and, arguably, wrecked.
The Bible is still relevant because all the same mistakes are still being made today.

Forgiveness

2008-05-09T16:41:57Z

There are many reasons why God is better than your boss. But one of them is forgiveness.
Make a mistake at work - whether it's a little one or a massive great whopper - and your boss will admonish you for it, may forgive you for it, but that mistake will still sit there in the back of his or her mind.
They will be raised at inopportune moments and used to taunt - possibly light-heartedly, possibly not.
God's not like that. Do something to upset Him - whether it's invoking His name in vain or committing murder - and He will forgive you. All you need do is ask.
In fact, the only thing that will continue to upset Him is if you don't accept that forgiveness, and continue to blame yourself for committing whatever sin it was.
Once you have said sorry, then that is it. You are free. Pity we can't say the same about everybody else.

Xabi Alonso

2008-03-12T12:16:00Z

Liverpool beat Inter Milan 1-0 at the San Siro last night to reach the quarter-finals of the Champions League, but without the help of midfielder Xabi Alonso, who stayed on Merseyside to be present at the birth of his first child.

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Astonishingly, Alonso received some criticism for this. I could say more, but the Echo's women's editor Susan Lee put it perfectly in yesterday's paper.

For those of you who missed the piece, here it is, in full.

‘WELL done, Xabi!

He has kicked into touch, once and for all, that famous Bill Shankly assertion that football is more important than life and death.

With his decision to choose home life over professional glory, the Liverpool player has struck a blow for working dads everywhere.

Die-hard reds fans might be less than impressed with him staying home to watch the birth of his first child, rather than play Inter Milan.

But mothers across Merseyside - and, I suspect, quite a few fathers, too - will respect and admire the player for his commitment to what really matters in life.

It can't have been an easy decision.

I'm sure the pressure will have been on from both his manager Rafa Benitez, who has his eyes on Championship glory, and from his team mates, who understandably want to win tonight.

He may even get flak from some less-than-impressed supporters. After all, Xabi is paid more than handsomely to wear that red shirt; in a club where only 100% commitment will do, there will be disappointment and perhaps even anger.

But I think he's made the right choice - and I bet his heavily pregnant partner Nagore does, too.

Every woman wants her man by her side when she is going through labour. She needs love and support, not to mention a strong hand to grip, through what may be a long and painful process.

He needs to be a physical presence in the delivery room, not a figure up on the telly screen in the labour ward.

It takes two to create a life so why shouldn't both be there when he or she arrives?

Being present at the birth of a baby is an awesome experience.

Nothing, not even the roar of the Kop as the ball hits the net, compares to it.

There will be other major games in this player's career; other big nights at Anfield.

But he will never again have the chance to see his first child's arrival into the world.

Too often Premiership footballers come across as pampered prima donnas interested only in material wealth - the flash cars, the big houses, the designer labels.

Xabi has proved he has his priorities right and he's wise enough to see the bigger picture.

He's investing in his own future and it's one that has nothing to do with transfer deals or lucrative advertising contracts.

Ultimately he knows Shanks got it wrong: a career in football lasts a few years, but a family is forever.'

Mouse in the House

2008-02-19T20:34:00Z

So it's Friday night, I'm clearing up in the kitchen when suddenly I spot it, scuttling under the fridge as fast as its little legs will carry it.

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What it is I'm not exactly sure, but it's small and dark and it's moving. And it's under our fridge.

Do I tell Mrs G? I decide yes. I can't try to catch it - whatever ‘it' is - without her noticing, and if she sees it she'll freak out big style.

However, after some debate and looking under the fridge, we decide that it must have been a large spider or somesuch. Too much food and non-nibbled woodwork under the fridge for it to be a mouse or, much much worse, a rat.

That is until we're settling down with our dinner in front of the box when I see it run from under one sofa to under the other. I inform wife. Result? She immediately jumps onto the arm of said sofa and does not get down for half an hour.

The following morning we put down humane traps and try to catch what we have decided is a mouse and go out for the day. We return in the evening, discover that the traps were placed completely the wrong way around and that the chocolate and peanut butter inside the traps has been eaten. I feel like an idiot, a feeling compounded by spotting the little rodent in the lounge yet again.

We put down the traps again and go to bed. I'm struggling, feeling stupid and for some reason utterly petrified. It's not helped that I've spotted something at the back of the sofa which I've managed to convince myself is a rat dropping, not a piece of mouse poo. From being able to reassure Mrs G that everything will be okay, I'm suddenly the one needing reassurance. Only problem is, nothing Julie can say to me can help.

I lie in bed and start to pray. I feel like I've never needed God as much as I need him now. I don't know why I'm so scared, but I am.

Does he help? Of course he does. I feel all wrapped up and calmed and I finally get to sleep.

The following day, we have caught it. It is a tiny, tiny field mouse and the scare has passed. We go to church, and the visiting preacher talks about how trials increase our faith. I know exactly what he means.

How reading Bob Dylan's autobiography made me think of God (again)

2008-02-01T10:02:00Z

I've just started reading Bob Dylan's Chronicles.

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The highly acclaimed first volume of Dylan's autobiography, it reads like a dream and makes you desperate to seek out not only Dylan's own records, but those of the folk pioneers who inspired him.

As good a prose writer as he is a lyricist, Dylan brings these ancient American troubadours and their music alive in a way all good writers should but so rarely do.

Being a keen reader of books on all kinds of music - I've even read about heavy metal in http://www.amazon.co.uk/Hell-Bent-Leather-Confessions-Addict/dp/000716176X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1201860322&sr=1-3">Seb Hunter's excellent ‘Hell Bent for Leather' - this is not the first time this has happened to me.

The problem is, there's so much good music out there the difficulty is knowing what to buy and where to start - on top of the obvious problem of finding the money to do the buying with and the time to spend listening.

Eventually, unless you have too much time and money on your hands for your own good, you decide that it is too much like hard work and go back to the records you do have.

I got the same feeling when I first wanted to become a Christian, and I strongly believe that for every one who makes it, like me, there are many more out there who don't.

They decide that so much of their life would have to change if they gave it to God that they can't face it, and so they give up, going back to the good old bad old ways.

It need not be like that. Yes, my life has undergone a lot of changes since becoming a Christian, but they happened gradually and all when God decided I was ready for them. It can be the same for everybody.

To give your life to God, to ensure you are going to heaven and not to hell, the first thing you have to do is declare that He is the one true God, and mean it. The rest will come after.

I know that there are millions of people out there who are a million miles from giving their lives to God, but by even reading this blog you are declaring an interest in Him.

If the huge changes are what's putting you off, don't let them. You won't regret it.

And while you're at it, read Chronicles. It's fabulous stuff.

Boxes

2008-01-25T07:00:00Z

My wife's very keen on boxes. Not the cardboard type, the metaphorical type.

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When a particular subject is worrying you unduly, she suggests, it's time to think of it being put in a box, sticking a lid on it, and passing that box to God, not to be worried about again. Worrying, let's not forget, is unbiblical, suggesting that God isn't capable of sorting pretty much any mess we can get ourselves into.

Mrs G, another worrier, spent a long time putting different worries into boxes and was a lot happier for it.

For the past two weeks, though, I've been making a liar out of myself and my New Year promises to keep happy, remind myself of the blessings I've been given and look on the positive side. I've been worrying about far too much - lack of money, my Granny's decling health, work - and as a consequence have been a right old moody miseryguts half the time, and not much fun the other.

I know all these things I've been worrying about are important, and that I need to be aware of them, but to God they are easily sorted and part of a carefully designed plan. I know this in my heart - I just need to act like I do too.

Perhaps it's time to start using those boxes again.

You've got to praise God in the highest!

2008-01-15T20:57:00Z

If the last few weeks have taught me anything, it's that praising God is a fantastic thing.

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I'd never quite understood the exhortations of various Church leaders, teachers and friends about the importance of praising God every day, every hour - every minute if possible.

I'd always thought that a few ‘thank you Lord's at the end of the day - or at Church on Sunday - would suffice, that God in His infinite wisdom would know how grateful I was to Him.

What I've come to realise in the past few weeks, though, is that praising the Lord - who created me, my entire family and assembled my life with the precision of a Harley Street surgeon - is one of the most wonderful things in the universe.

Praising Him is biblically righteous, pleases Him no end and is also one of the most uplifting experiences you can treat yourself to.

Feeling happy? Praise God for whatever has made you happy. Feeling sad? Praise God for being capable of making you feel better. Feeling anything at all? Praise God for your senses. Whatever you're feeling, praise God.

Post-Christmas Blues?

2008-01-09T09:58:00Z

December is such a month of celebration in the Greenhalgh household that it's little wonder January always seems to bring the traditional post-Christmas blues.

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Jesus, my son Benjy, my mother-in-law Shirley and I all celebrate our birthdays in the last month of the year so I think we've got more reason than most to feel a bit downhearted when January comes.

There's always wife Julie's birthday to look forward to in February and daughter Elizabeth's in March, but it seems such a long time away.

This year, though, I'm not having it. I will not be dispirited and I will not wear a face like a wet Wednesday afternoon.

I don't tend to go for new year resolutions, but I am determined to follow the advice of many an old grandmother (though not my own) and start counting my blessings.

Many a non-Christian argues against the existence of God because of the bad things which happen to them and the world in general, ignoring the wondrous miracles which happen every day, and we are all guilty of looking at the downside of life from time to time.

Not me, though. Not any more.

I am determined to stop worrying about money, bemoaning my half-hour walk to the railway station each morning in the cold and wet, and getting frustrated at the state of our house, especially our bathroom.

Instead I will thank God for the fact that this July our wonderful family is about to become a family of five. I will thank God that we have enough money to have our own house. And I will thank God that I have a job to walk to the station for. And I will start smiling more...

Christmas

2007-11-19T07:03:00Z

A colleague of mine spent his recent Six in the City column in the Echo talking about Christmas. So far, so good.

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I couldn't help but chuckle, however, when the third paragraph began with the observation that ‘In my view, the whole religious side of the festival died out with church attendance - never mind the Rubik's Cube or Commodore 64.'

EH? The religious ‘side' to a festival which is a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ? Is that like the muslim side to Ramadan? Or the Jewish side to Yom Kippur?

The more worrying thing about my esteemed colleague's observation is that it is doubtless a view shared by millions around the world. Nick was just having the courage to express a viewpoint which many others believe but don't put into words.

Even Christians themselves can forget the real reason we are all gearing up for a present fest on the 25th. We're not perfect.

The fact of the matter is that Christmas is about celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ. Anything else is just window dressing.

Mancunian miracles

2007-08-22T19:39:00Z

In my experience, there aren't many perks to being a journalist.

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Love my job though I do - I have never wanted to be anything else - I don't do it for the pay, which is almost universally woefully low compared to what almost any regional journalist could be earning in public relations or any other white collar professional job. I don't do it for the hours (working days generally start at 6.30-7am or finish at midnight) and I certainly don't do it for the glamour (the only members of the sports desk who get to watch Liverpool or Everton play every week are our correspondents, and as they will tell you, it's not the walk in the park it might seem.)

But, now and again, the odd perk comes up and boy, does God use them to his advantage. And praise be for that!

Recently, my wife and I had to cancel a planned two-day break in the lakes due to lack of funds. But, miraculously, the break was replaced by my first travel assignment, to Manchester - the city where we met. It was wondrous. And, better still, we met an inspirational couple named Xmas (I kid you not) and Melissa, a husband and wife who had moved to England from Zimbabwe seven years ago and were walking, talking evidence of how God blesses you when you step out in faith.

I could write pages and pages about the amazing way we met Xmas and Melissa and the miracle that saved Xmas' life when he had all but been given the last rites while in intensive care. I could but I want to keep this entry (relatively) brief, and should you want to hear more privately, send a comment to this story, mark it not for publication and I'll reply to you personally.

But what for me was most miraculous about our visit to Manchester was the fact that Xmas and Melissa recommended - and then bought for us - a book called ‘The Purpose-Driven Life', which my wife and I are not only currently reading but having our lives apparently changed by.

God truly, truly is the most amazing being. Hallelujah!

Comments

2007-08-22T19:11:00Z

I love getting feedback to my blogs, but the sad fact of the matter is that I very rarely receive any.

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Generally, as soon as I do receive a comment - negative or positive - I post it on the site immediately.

So it was very frustrating for me to discover that during my recent two weeks off, not only had one anonymous reader posted a spiky riposte to an (admittedly old) entry, but that they had been annoyed enough by my not having posted it up to send a follow-up. You can read both comments, and my reply to them, here.

Please be assured that all comments, positive or negative, are not only welcome but joyously received.

Liverpool's red light district

2007-07-15T19:09:00Z

I made my first visit to Liverpool's red light district last Friday night.

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I was daft enough to type that first sentence in my office and leave the screen open in the middle of the afternoon before popping to the canteen, but I can confirm it had nothing to do with any of the potential reasons one of my particularly helpful colleagues suggested.

It was my first night as part of Heaven's Kitchen, a fortnightly enterprise run by my church, which sees sandwiches, hot drinks, crisps and squash handed out to anybody and everybody who happens to pass by our stand.

I've been asked umpteen times in the last week ‘what was it like?' and to be truthful I don't know how to answer that question. I was scared before going, never having been to a red light district before, but I had no reason to be. Whether that had anything to do with it being a quiet night, or God putting my mind at rest, I don't know, but the ladies and gentlemen we spent time talking to were just normal, extremely friendly people who were in the positions they were in not through choice but through a combination of circumstance and misfortune.

I hope I'm not patronising them when I say that it certainly felt as if I was doing God's work in an extremely real way, doing something that needed to be done for no other reason than that. I will certainly be doing it again.

We're going to Padstow!

2007-07-05T20:24:00Z

Looking for some evidence as to why it's good to be a Christian? Here's some.

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A few weeks ago, my wife and I were despairing at the fact that we would not be able to have a family holiday this year due to an extreme lack of cash.

Racking our brains, we tried persuading parents to come on holiday with us to help share the cost - and the fun, of course! - but to no avail. We had left our holiday planning too late, it seemed.

After bemoaning the fact that despite us both being fully qualified professionals we could not fund a week in Padstow during the school holidays, we let the matter rest. We didn't even ask for prayer for financial help, electing instead to keep our fiscal problems to ourselves this time.

Then, one day, we returned home from picking our son up from school to find an innocuous little envelope sitting in the hallway, containing enough money to enable us to go on that holiday after all.

We found a cottage in Padstow small enough for us to be able to afford it, and which miraculously was available in the one week I could get off from work during the holidays, and booked it.

This is why it is good to be a Christian. Not that God gives you money, but that He truly does answer your prayers.

Turning the tables

2007-07-03T09:17:00Z

A colleague of mine chastised me yesterday about updating my blog.

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Admittedly, I had goaded the poor chap about his chances of completing an upcoming charity bike ride, after being carried down the Liver building during an attempted climb of same. I'm not sure, but I may have referred to his having been wearing a Superman t-shirt while doing it. I'm feeling slightly guilty about it now. Sorry mate.

I'm also feeling very bad about not having written anything here since early last month, so have vowed to complete at least three entries by the end of the week.

Here goes.

I've been in journalism for 10 years now and have conducted plenty of interviews, but last week I got my first taste of what it feels like to be the one answering the questions rather than asking them.

I've done TV and radio shows talking about football clubs, but when journalism website holdthefrontpage.co.uk rang up last Thursday it was me they wanted to talk about. More specifically, this blog.

The woman was nice enough, and the questions straightforward enough to answer, so the fear only really set in when the call ended and I realised I had absolutely no control over how they presented me in their piece. Asking for copy approval would be laughable given the unwritten journalistic law that it is an absolute no-no and the amount of times I have refused it to concerned mums and dads over their offspring.

You can find out why I had no need to worry by clicking here and reading the interview, but ultimately I should have known that in the first place.

My wife Julie and I have been working really hard lately on giving everything to God, and unburdening ourselves of the worries and concerns that can weigh us down every day.

Sounds easy enough, but try not getting concerned about an overdraft that seems to be getting bigger each month, or whether Julie should sell her business and try to get back into teaching or not.

We've been doing well, but one or two issues have raised their heads lately that are only serving to challenge us even more.

They say that whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and Julie and I like to think that these ongoing battles are simply God's way of preparing us for some great plans He has for us later in life.

See you in a day or two...

Hip hop hurray

2007-02-15T17:46:00Z

This week, to paraphrase the Fast Show, I have been mainly trying to buy some decent hip hop CDs with my left over Christmas and birthday money.

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All well and good - but not so easy when you're a born again Christian, and find it hard to cope with the industrial strength language which peppers your average rap album.

I never used to have this problem, but then again I never used to be a Christian. And if Kanye West - come on, you must have heard of him, he's the one who had a phalanx of gold-painted dancers on stage with him at the Brits last year - hadn't released two ground-breaking hip hop albums which brought white, middle class, fast-approaching middle age family men (with children) back to a music we hadn't paid much attention to since our teens, it really wouldn't have been a problem.

But he did. And I was. And, more importantly, by now I have not only come back to hip hop, I have come back proper to God, something else I had steered well clear of thank you since my teens. When coming back to him, one of the many things I discovered was that he said swearing was wrong. So I am trying not to do it anymore, and quite honestly it's pretty much the hardest hurdle I have had to leap since becoming born again. What's more, when you've got two children who you really don't want to grow up talking like a Bronx pimp it's not the best idea in the world to buy albums so full of profanity there's barely room for anything else.

It's not just hip hop either. Two of the other albums I wanted so badly it almost hurt were Lily Allen's Alright, Still and Amy Winehouse's Back to Black. Alright, Still was duly purchased and played for the first time in the car stereo with said children in back seat. One line into the opening song - summer number one smash Smile, one of the songs which had so inspired my devotion - wife Julie and I discovered that the version we had heard on the radio was, in fact, the clean version. This one contained word not fit to, erm, print on a family website. Almost every song was the same. Magic music. Sharp observations. Filthy lyrics. I'm told the same can be said for Ms Winehouse's again, apparently fantastic album so I've steered clear.

To paraphrase once more - this time Mark Radcliffe's criminally forgotten Radio 1 show - NO NEED! Did Elvis feel that Heartbreak Hotel was not quite perfect enough, no, that what it really needed was to begin ‘Well since my f@*!in' baby left me…' No. Did the Beatles ever release a single, album and film called ‘S#%&!'? They did not.

Need I continue? (hope not, because quite frankly I'm running out of symbols to replace my letters).

Fact is, even if I weren't a Christian and didn't find industrial strength swearing incredibly offensive, surely any artist - singer, rapper or otherwise - can see that producing albums full of four-letter words is a sure-fire way of reducing your potential audience. Isn't that obvious?

I'd love to know what anybody thought (and if anybody's got any suggestions for any hip-hop albums which I might possibly be able to listen to, then so much the better…)