The Leisure Review: La Flamme Rouge

La Flamme Rouge edition 4; dateline 9 May 2014

The World Cup in the Square Mile
Anyone uncertain about the intelligence of our colleagues and saviours in the financial institutions of the City of London will not be tremendously reassured by the latest offer that popped into our inbox. An enterprising events company is offering the girls and boys of the merchant banks, brokers and investment houses the opportunity to join them at the Honourable Artillery Company gardens for a spot of dinner and watch the World Cup matches on the telly. Given that all the matches of the World Cup are freely available on terrestrial television and that London is not short of venues that offer a drink, comestibles and a guarantee that they will turn their set on at the appropriate time, you might think that the asking price of £139 plus VAT to watch England play Uruguay a bit steep. However, just in case you might be a genuine football fanatic still wavering over whether to stump up the cash for this event, the offer is illustrated with a picture of Kerry Dixon in his mid-1980s Chelsea pomp. If that doesn’t seal it there is also a similarly dated picture of Arsenal’s Nigel Winterburn grimacing at the prospect of keeping up with Paul Merson after the final whistle.

What’s in – or under – a name, wonders IOC
It seems that there is disquiet within the IOC as Rio de Janiero shows every sign of being well behind anything approaching a sensible timeline for the delivery of the 2016 Olympics. IOC vice-president John Coates has been uncharacteristically honest in observing that they are in the midst of the “worst ever” preparations for an Olympics. Those looking for omens or even opportunities for some dark humour need look no further than the venue in which the first athletics events are scheduled to take place in a little over 24 months. Given that the Estadio Olimpico Joao Havelange has been named after the man who as president of Fifa and long-term member of the IOC did as much as anybody to establish the culture of expenditure, entitlement and corruption that has come to define the world’s biggest sports bodies, it is perhaps fitting that the roof has already fallen in, literally in the case of the stadium bearing his name and metaphorically in the case of attempts to impose the Olympic Games and the World Cup on the residents of his home city.

File under ‘not required on voyage’
Damien Hirst has signed a deal with Penguin to write his autobiography in which, according to Penguin, the artist will address with “utter candour” all aspects of his life. True to form, Hirst has already arranged for someone to do much of the heavy lifting, in this case author James Fox, who worked with Keith Richards on the Stone’s memoir, Life. Fox said that the book will be “a fascinating story, as told with Hirst’s witty style and northern edge”. We can’t wait and we will file it carefully next to the work of Penguin’s other great modern cultural behemoth, Morrissey, who is also celebrated in some circles for his wit and northerness. But not here.

In good shape for something
We need to talk about Michael. The highly decorated Olympian, Michael Phelps, is apparently back in training and thinking about a return to the competitive environment in which he has delivered 22 medal-winning performances. Now 28, he has completed the six-month period required by the US Anti-doping Agency to qualify for competition and is, according to his coach, back in “good shape”. Here at La Flamme Rouge, our only question is what enables a properly functioning adult to spend hour after hour, day after day, month after month staring at the tiles of a pool floor when there are so many other aspects of life – being outdoors, for example – to explore. We will be encouraging our colleagues in the field of pool water treatment to explore the possibility of modern water treatment materials being highly addictive. It’s the only explanation we can come up with under the circumstances.

Off the record and on the bus
Farewell then, David Moyes, whose 11-month reign at Old Trafford was brought to an ignominious close by some off-the-record briefing and 12 hours of no-commenting, no doubt accompanied by that look which involves a widening of the eyes and the slight inclination of the head to indicate an unstated but widely understood reality. The staff at La Flamme Rouge cannot claim to be football experts but it seems that only the hardest of hearts would not feel a little sorry for Moyes, who is generally regarded as a decent man but always looked to be just on the edge of being out of his depth. Less sympathy might be found for the playing squad that seem to have withdrawn their goodwill from the outset (how else to explain the contrast in performance from one season to the next from the same group of players?) and Alex Ferguson, who decided that he was the best person to decide his successor and that the best place to take the acclaim for his continuing wisdom was the directors’ box on match days. Above all we are reminded that Premier League football is about generating revenue and delivering profits for owners. For all the ongoing guff about “the United way” and how the rarefied sanctity of Old Trafford dictates a different way of doing things, Moyes’s fate was sealed when the possibility of Champions (sic) League football and its accompanying riches were a mathematical impossibility. Having dominated English and European football before spending more than two decades in the wilderness of the also-rans, Liverpool FC is an excellent example of why hubris is so often central to a captivating dramatic narrative.

Wine? Yes please. Bitter? Yes I am.
During his years at Manchester United Alex Ferguson, the red-faced tyrannical titan of Old Trafford’s glory days, worked hard to impose a brand new tradition of wine-based tribute on visiting managers. His efforts bore fruit and there was much talk in the post-match coverage of who had brought what and whether His Ferginess’s taste buds had been appropriately tickled. Even Jose Mourinho eventually succumbed and was persuaded to drop into the inner sanctum to deliver the desired dosage. We can only hope that the Special One’s own tradition was based upon stopping the team bus outside a Salford cornershop and investing no more than £4.99 in his offering as news emerges that Christie’s is about to sell 5,000 bottles from the Ferguson cellar. Estimates include mention of £3 million and Ferguson is perhaps fortunate that the international wine market dictates that the auction will take place in Hong Kong.

On the button and leading from the front
Elsewhere in the sports coaching firmament, followers of the comings and goings, pointings and shoutings in and around the England cricket team were obliged to take a moment to welcome a new coach in the shape of the old coach, Peter Moores. Many of those who were questioning the wisdom of the appointment of Moores were basing their unease on the statistics of his previous time in the job, which, we have to agree, are not all that flattering. However, here at LFR we think the doubters’ unease has been misplaced. Rather than looking at his record, they should be looking at his suit. Pictured shortly after his appointment, Moores seems to be wearing a charcoal-grey, three-button two-piece suit cut high on the chest with wide lapels. The broad stripe of the cloth has a high shine which gives the feel of nicely understated hi-vis workwear but the stand-out feature has to be the covered buttons. With four at the cuff for display, to our untutored but highly critical fashion eye, this says New Romantic dandyism for the man who spends almost all his waking hours in a tracksuit. However, Moores does gain points for having his jacket fastened and fastened with only the middle button. We may make a gentleman out of him yet.

A short Good Friday on the hook
Still on Planet Football, it seems that the Uefa financial fair play rules that have struck fear into the accountants and investors that are the beating heart of our beloved game will not have quite the bite that many had been anticipating. Uefa president Michel Platini, with whom the whole campaign against “financial doping” began, has confirmed that no clubs will be excluded from European competition for failing the tests. While some of the biggest, most financially plumped clubs have been waiting in trepidation, Monsieur P has reassured them that not only will they be let off the hook but that the hook in question seems to be made of a very flexible substance. “If you are expecting blood and tears you will be disappointed,” Platini told the press.
STOP PRESS: No blood but tears perhaps as nine clubs are facing fines under the FFP system, including Manchester City and Paris St Germain, both of which could be looking at £50 million fines and restrictions on squad sizes in the Champions (sic) League.

Readerships on the table
Although a long-standing friend of the Leisure Review and star of the searching interview feature in this issue, it seems that Sallie Barker almost fell out with the editor when talk turned to readership. In response to further arrests in connection with allegations of spot-fixing in football, the Sport and Recreation Association issued a press release that called on government “to act quickly on some of the extra measures sport needs to protect itself” and quoted Sallie in her role as SRA head of services and interim CEO. When the release was picked up by the Times of India Ms Barker was able to claim, with some justification, that her views were being read by three million readers. Bluster as he might, the editor of TLR was not able to match this figure and immediately began an extended sulk that shows no sign of ending.

Minister relaxed in the face of someone else losing their job
In Kew the news (qv the TLR news page) is not good as they contemplate a £5 million hole in the budget and a loss of a swathe of staff. Defra cutting its contribution to the world-class research centre by £1.5 million hasn’t helped but environment minister Owen Paterson remains relaxed about the impact of such cuts. Given that he is a noted climate change sceptic, he has no need of an internationally venerated scientific establishment that plays a leading role in the study of such things.

West End lessons
In hindsight the idea of a musical based on the X Factor seems an unlikely success, even with the comedic surety of Harry Hill at the helm, and launching it just when the modern-day Opportunity Knocks franchise had almost ground to a halt must have had the backers sweating even as it was preparing for opening night. I Can’t Sing, which has closed after only six weeks, is thought to have cost its backers something in the region of £6 million and reports of the musical’s demise note that the London Palladium was already offering heavily discounted tickets in an effort to persuade punters through the doors. That these heavily discounted seats were still costing £20 teaches a hard lesson about how much it costs to stage theatre in the West End and how easy it is for a potential audience to keep its money in its pocket.

Oil and light: the fate of Tate
La Flamme Rouge likes to keep the late Nick Reeves in its heart by, among other things, keeping up to speed with the work of Liberate Tate, a network of activists that is determined to persuade the Tate to do away with its oil company funding. Mr Reeves was a big supporter of freeing art from the grip of unethical and environmentally questionable resources and would have been keen to see us report that the campaign continues. Currently the Tate’s lawyers are appealing against a decision that required it to make public the discussion held by the Tate’s own ethics committee regarding the question of BP sponsorship. We will watch the skies as the debate continues.

The DCMS recruitment process: “Next!”
We could not sign off this edition of La Flamme Rouge without tipping our hat to Maria Miller, who resigned as secretary of state for culture when the effort of defending her decision to claim her expenses for several homes in various parts of the country nearer and farther from her place of work; or something. Once again the DCMS has served as a hurdle – perhaps more like a steeplechase barrier – in the path of a political career. The Leisure Review article questioning her understanding of and commitment to culture was timely but will have swayed few in positions of influence (the editor is confident that no one in the DCMS has ever heard of the Leisure Review never mind read it). Sajid Javed was swiftly appointed to replace Ms Miller and then embarked on – or perhaps more accurately was escorted through – a crash course on culture that focused heavily on the venues in the immediate vicinity of his new desk. Whether or not the culture secretary needs to have a detailed cultural knowledge is an interesting moot point that raises more issues relevant to the process of government than to the question of artistic empathy but with Mr Javed’s background in banking and his status as one of Georgie Osborne’s protégés, we are confident that the department is in safe hands. What could possibly go wrong?

Mrs Smith