its kind of blue
on the whole it cold be said to be blue
there are splodges fo white
quite well formed
so perhaps splodges isnt the right word
more dashes
occasional flicks of yellow
little bits of orange and red
and probably other bits
a tiny green thing hovers intermittently
it hurts my eyes
and the sounds at times hurt my whole head
grunting and cheering
currents of yank
dribbles of osstrayan drivel
from some sandy little butthole
somewhere out there
a story could be unfolding
but it flickers up and down
constantly
irritatingly
brain bustingly
oh there would be unsung anguish
if only i cared
© LaPresse
Steven Gerrard appeals to the Kop for a rendition of In The Air Tonight. Photograph: David Davies/PA
The true shocker about this week's nightclub fracas involving Steven Gerrard wasn't that one of England's squeakiest, cleanest footballers had become embroiled in such a mess, but that the rumble was apparently provoked by differences between the venue's music policy and the footballer's music taste. According to reports, everything kicked off when the DJ refused a request to play Gerrard's favourite record. And who can blame him, when said platter is Phil Collins's Greatest Hits? Gerrard's reputation may recover from the forthcoming court case, but surely Liverpool's finest midfielder will never live down the revelation that behind those stunning 30-yarders lurks a passion for Easy Lover.
Then again, footballers have long enjoyed dalliances with records that would have been crushed by oncoming traffic had they gone any closer to the middle of the road. In the 70s and 80s, stars would routinely answer Shoot magazine's "favourite artist?" question with the words "George Benson" without being red-carded. None other than former England captain Alan Shearer once attempted to cram an Abba reference into every interview during the 1998 World Cup. The Winner Takes It All must have been easy, but Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight) would have been a challenge to work in to a conversation with Ray Stubbs. A recent album containing Chelsea players' favourite songs should cause the entire nation to hope they never win the title. After all, who would want to see Frank Lampard hoisting a trophy to the distant strains of Lionel Ritchie's Stuck On You, or (Joe Cole's selection) Spandau Ballet's Gold?
Footballers may be irredeemably drawn to mainstream, easily available back-of-the-taxi mush because they lead very different lives from normal people. From an early age, they are plucked from schools and placed in academies where talk is of block tackles, not Bloc Party. Often living in digs, the youngsters miss out on teenage delights of booze, late nights and punk rock. When I was interviewing players for Leeds United's club magazine, it amazed me how many had never even seen a gig. Some of the players had seen Westlife - but only because singer Nicky Byrne is a former Leeds United junior goalie. Those players who do display a keen interest in music tend to have arrived late to the game, after a regular adolescence. Former Nottingham Forest hardman Stuart Pearce - who is still seen proudly pogoing at punk gigs - was an electrician before he brought uproar to the Forest dressing room with tapes of the Stranglers and the Lurkers. The prince among Manilow refuseniks is former Chelsea and Scotland midfielder Pat Nevin, a fan of the Fall and Joy Division who once professed a liking for obscure Factory Records act Crispy Ambulance and who, legend holds, once asked to be subbed in a Chelsea reserve game so he could go to see the Cocteau Twins playing at the ICA. But such players are rare mavericks, seemingly spared the genetic makeup that ensures footballing talent is accompanied by a gene that makes a player susceptible to Kenny G.
These days, when even your grandmother is remotely cool, dressing rooms still vibrate to the safer end of credible music - Oasis, U2 and the Chili Peppers. In recent years, with the increase in players' wages and the consequent adoption of bling culture, rap and R&B have become staples in football clubs as well as nightclubs. Andrew Cole was a pioneer in this respect, even naming his son Devante after the singer in the US R&B group Jodeci. Some - including Rio Ferdinand and Kevin Campbell - have even started labels, although the latter's 2 Wikid imprint was barely heard of again after requiring an injunction to stop big signing Mark Morrison recording - for another label that is.
But after the disgrace that will now surely hound Steven Gerrard, perhaps players will be more discreet about their private passions. Certainly, they should think twice about uttering the words that should strike fear into the heart of any DJ: "Geezer! Got any Phil?"
Stolen from the www.guardian.co.uk
Dave Simpson 2/1/09