Run with Eric:
Life

*tumbleweed*

Look, I'm sorry. I am. I really am. But what with jobbing, blogging once or twice a week over here and moving house and indeed city, I'm struggling to find the time to visit this dusty corner of the web.

It's a shitter, really. There's so much I want to comment about in all areas of the news, but it inevitably ends up instead on my Twitter account, sandwiched between football ramblings and rants at Neighbours.

Today: the Budget. I'd love to talk about it in more detail, but I've become so innured to 140 characters that -

Sorry. Old joke. The Budget was fascinating, but more for students of politics than of economics. The main talking point, really, is Alistair Darling's decision to axe Stamp Duty on first-time home buyers spending less than £250,000 on their property. Seeing as it's currently 1% of the property value, it'll probably save them around £2,000. Good stuff. Not quite as good, obviously, for the owners of million-pound homes, who are seeing their Stamp Duty rise 5%.

That'll be 5%, please
It's a move that sees Labour move to their traditionalist roots... oh, come on, we know that's bollocks. It's an appeal to their core voters, that's all, but what did you expect in a pre-election Budget? It's interesting, though, that penalising well-off southerners in the commuter belt whose homes have ballooned in value through no fault of their own may cost Labour as many votes as they win through helping first-time homeowners - who, by the way, won't be as poor as all that, since the move affects properties worth between £125,000 and £250,000. Basically, mummy and daddy's mansion tax pays for their first step towards their own mansion. What's that song? We are all bourgeois now?

Still, this Stamp Duty move will probably end up a votewinner rather than a voteloser, which is more than you can say for David Cameron's efforts with Gay Times. If you wanted proof the only principle this man has is that he should win the election, there you go. "What's my stance on gay people again? Wait, I know this one. Turn the camera off, let me get my crib sheet... "

Cameron: direct (well, not really)
So in conclusion, I'm rubbish, Cameron's rubbish, the Budget happened and if you are reading this, thanks for sticking with me. Now I'm settled, almost unpacked and actually have the internet at home, I can start blogging on here a bit more often than once every Twilight film.

I'm back, I promise, and I'll start... oh, next week sometime.

Like most of the triathlon universe, I spent a good part of this past Saturday glued to my computer screen... watching the world's best long-distance triathletes race in Kona at the Ironman World Championships.

This race inspires me every year. Over the years, there are more memorable moments than I can list - Julie Moss's crawl across the line, Chris Legh's stumble and collapse 50 meters from the line, the Welch/Ingraham double crawl, Dick and Ricky Hoyt, the famous Jon Blais roll,... I could go on and on.

This year was full of drama once again, but this time I didn't have to wait for the edited NBC coverage to take it all in. Thanks to Universal Sports great online coverage, I was able to watch the drama of the race unfold in real-time.

Let's just say, I was hugely inspired by some of the performances this year. Chris Leito in particular put in a hugely courageous effort... riding off the front and hanging on his lead all the way until Mile 21 of the run. Let's just say I was yelling, "Come on, man, you can do it!!" at my computer screen, much to the amusement of my kids. Of course, many kudos to the winners, Craig Alexander and Chrissie Wellington. Alexander showed a champion's poise and ran a brilliant marathon to overtake Lieto and repeat as champ. And Wellington... well, she is simply on another level right now. Wow.

Also, some big-time props to Ian Mikelson, a fellow age-grouper that I had the pleasure of meeting at Wildflower this year. He uncorked a 9:09, 4th American overall. Sick. And I'd be remiss if I didn't mention my other Kona peeps... Mr. Fix and Darcy G who both rocked the course with some fantastic performances.

Well done to all and thanks for the inspiration.

Love And Theft - Bob Dylan [2001]

To release your 31st studio album is pretty impressive. To still be touring 300 days of the year aged 60 is quite an achievement too. To use those rare days off to record one of the best albums you've ever made in a 40-year career is just plain extraordinary.

And it is. It really, really is. With no exaggeration, I would genuinely place Love And Theft in a top five - even top three - list of Bob Dylan albums, with the legendary likes of The Freewheelin' and Bringing It All Back Home.

Dear God, it's a good record. Where to start? Dylan opts for Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum, a song that sets the tone and pace of the album with a rolling, rollicking delta blues rhythm. It's not the strongest song on the album, but it's great fun.

The desperate regret of Mississippi provides a superb follow-up, creating intrigue and empathy in the bars of an easygoing melody. Then Elvis takes over for Summer Days, at least if the opening guitar riff is anything to go by - except Elvis didn't reach 60 in time to sing:

Well, I'm drivin' in the flats in a Cadillac car
The girls all say, "You're a worn-out star"
My pockets are loaded and I'm spending every dime
How can you say you love someone else when you know it's me all the time?

Well, I had to go down and see a guy named Mr. Goldsmith
A nasty, dirty, double-crossin', back-stabbin' phony I didn't want to have to be dealin' with
But I did it for you
And all you gave me was a smile

With a thumping bass drum, tambourine and deathrattle groans for backing vocals, High Water is musically stunning. It transfixes you. Indeed, it's so good the whole of the Richard Gere/Billy The Kid segment of the film I'm Not There appears to have been made just so this song could be included. Then you have Dylan's typically marvellous scene-setting, of course:

They got Charles Darwin trapped out there on Highway 5
Judge says to the High Sheriff, "I want him dead or alive.
"Either one - I don't care."
High water everywhere

As for Dylan's love-it-or-hate-it singing voice, he finally seems to have found the husky old-timer's hushed whisper he's always wanted. Since the age of 21 he's done an impression of an old man with a whisky-sozzled blues croak; now he has it, it sounds damn good.

What with Love And Theft, modern classic Modern Times, the even better Together Through Life (in which his vocals hit their absolute best) and his incomparable Christmas album, this decade has turned out to be pretty fruitful for Dylan fans. Here's to another.

Spotify, you're really not impressing me at the moment - less, even, than YouTube, which has NO videos of songs from this album in their original arrangement (Dylan fucks about with them live).

Tomorrow: the album of the decade, revealed on its last day. Gasp in shock! Choke in horror! Roll your eyes in indifference!

Just noticed this on the BBC about the race for countries wanting to host the 2018 Football World Cup. I have one main concern with the proposed host nations. Who?

It's encouraging - very encouraging - that smaller nations are striving to host such a major event. Ambitious building projects bring in capital, the country improves etc. etc. Basically, hosting the World Cup energises the country in exactly the way hosting the Olympics does not.

However, it seems to be getting less about the football.

Eyebrows were raised when the USA hosted the global tournament in 1994 because their chances of passing the group stages were slim, effectively killing any local atmosphere for the more interesting knockout stages (it also didn't help when an unnamed American expert said 'soccer' was the fourth-most popular sport in the country after baseball, basketball, American football and ice hockey - add that one up). To be fair, the USA got to the last 16 - i.e. the second round - before losing only 1-0 to eventual winners Brazil, but fans the world over were still far from convinced with the country's supposed love for the sport.

Eyebrows were raised yet further, somewhere into the fringe, when the 2002 World Cup was offered to South Korea and Japan, but again a surprise was in store: joint hosts South Korea reached the semi-finals, beating Portugal, Spain and Italy on the way. Fair play - but two goals in five and a half hours of football in the knockout stages showed their lack of real talent. Sorry, but that's the way it is.

Still people remain unconvinced by smaller footballing nations hosting the World Cup and yes, I am in that category (uh, in that I'm unconvinced, not a small footballing nation).

Now we have Qatar and Indonesia wanting to host the 2018 World Cup. Neither has competed in the tournament ever before, although Indonesia technically did in 1938 when they were the classed as the Dutch East Indies. A rich footballing history there, then.

Qatar, meanwhile, has a population of only 1.3 million and will struggle to persuade players to play in a sweltering Arab desert in the middle of summer. Even the proposed underground stadium - an admittedly cool idea (pardon the pun) - will only host 11,000 fans. That's just not feasible.

(Khalifa Stadium's nice though.)

And yes, Japan, South Korea and the USA are all bidding again. God help us.

Of course it would be short-sighted to suggest only the best of the best footballing nations should host the World Cup. It is important to give these smaller teams the chance to improve their sporting prowess as well as their infrastucture (look at the Italian rugby team improving since the Six Nations). But surely one prerequisite should be that they're good at football. What's the point letting Indonesia host the tournament if they're just going to be humiliated in every match?

It is no longer about the football. It's about the money. Good for a country's infrastructure and development, yes, but not so much for fans all over the world.

Shame.

I've posted some photos from some recent rides.

Starting the climb up San Elijo Road in San Marcos, CA.

This next pic was taken while descending Champagne Road/Old 395, just east of I-15 in east San Diego County. I was going about 35 mph. Not that smart..I was trying to get the speed reading on the Garmin and the road ahead in the shot... didn't work out though.

At the base of the climb up Old Castle Road near Valley Center, CA which is inland north county San Diego.

Yesterday, I wrapped a nice 4 week training block. I only have training log data since 2005 but I am pretty sure that it is the biggest 4 weeks of training I've done since I started triathlon. That's even counting back in 1997-1998 when I did two Ironman races. I was not a big volume guy then (and am not now), so for me this is somewhat uncharted territory.

some stats:
swim - 14,650m, 4:20
bike - 523 miles, 29:01
run - 155 miles, 19:22
total time - 52:43 (13:10 avg. per week)

The good news is that I feel pretty fresh. There have been a few workouts where I feel flat and tired, but those are typically followed by sessions where things are firing on all cylinders and I feel very strong. I'm way ahead of where I was last year at this stage so I'm excited about that.

There is lots of work yet to be done, but I'm allowing myself to dream a little bit.

Ronaldo to Real, eh? And Kaka too. Not to mention Manchester City signing Gareth Barry. But did you hear about Burnley snapping up Tyrone Mears from Derby?

Watching the big-money buying antics of Real Madrid certainly provides some entertainment for the long summer football-less months, but the fun is short-lived. The real fascination comes in watching the teams without silly money scrape together their back-of-the-sofa coppers to buy Aberdeen's reserve left-back. Why? Because these teams need value for money, and there's a great game to be had, both for the clubs and for those of us watching, in predicting who can provide it; the player who not only helps the club to win matches, but at a cut-price rate.

Which is why it's most interesting at the moment to watch Burnley, Birmingham and Wolves – those teams newly promoted to the Premier League. Even though we're some 37 days (and impatiently counting) from the opening weekend, you can tell a lot from the way a club will go about its top-flight adventure by its close-season purchases.

Look at Derby two years ago, for example. With a notably weak squad, they hardly ventured beyond the High Street, with perpetual Welsh disappointment Robbie Earnshaw the only major signing. There was never any ambition. Famously, the Rams were relegated as early as March, and finished the season with a League record low of 11 points.

At the same time, Sunderland sought to reaffirm their place in the top flight with a spending spree, including Craig Gordon (£9 million), Michael Chopra (£5m) and Kenwyne Jones (£6m plus Stern John on an exchange deal). The Black Cats survived the drop.

But despite Sunderland's successful dealings that year, it's not all about spending a lot of money; it's about spending wisely. Hull went bargain basement this time last year, getting players on loan and free transfers, and enjoyed an incredible start to the season – and even if it did go a bit pear-shaped after that, they still stayed up.

So which of our new teams this year are shaping up well in the transfer market? Let's take a look at their chequebook stubs.

BURNLEY

Preparing for their first outing in the Premier League, the Clarets have been relatively quiet in the market to date. Only three players have made their way to Turf Moor so far this summer, as manager Owen Coyle chooses to keep faith with the team that won the Championship play-offs.

Burnley have, however, paid a club record transfer fee to bring Scottish striker Steven Fletcher from Hibernian for £3m.

Potential bargain: David Edgar. The 22-year-old Canadian defender was sent off on the last day of the season as Newcastle succumbed to relegation, but he received praise from Kevin Keegan and Glenn Roeder and was named man of the match in a 2-2 draw against Manchester United.

Potential turkey: Steven Fletcher. Can Fletcher live up to the pressure of being Burnley's most expensive ever signing? Hibs legend Keith Wright openly questioning whether he is ready for the best league in the world won't help his confidence.

WOLVES

Last year's second-flight champions have been very busy, signing six players. Most promisingly, they've broken the bank on Kevin Doyle, paying Reading, who bought him for just £78,000 four years ago, a reported £6m for his services – a Wolves club record. Reading team mate Marcus Hahnemann has also arrived on a free.

Potential bargain: Nenad Milijaš. Voted Most Valuable Player in the Serbian Superliga last year after 37 goals in 97 appearances for Red Star Belgrade, Milijaš has also scored twice in ten matches for Serbia. And he's a midfielder.

Potential turkey: Ronald Zubar. The former France Under-21 and Guadeloupe international incurred the wrath of Marseille fans after some costly defensive errors. Three million Euros may be too big a fee.

BIRMINGHAM

With more money to spend than their promotion buddies, Birmingham have sought to shore up their defence with some big-name Championship purchases. Roger Johnson, Cardiff player of the year for two years running, has arrived at St Andrews for £5m, joined by 22-year-old Coventry captain Scott Dann for a reported £3.5m, rising to £4m.

Potential bargain: Joe Hart. One of England's best 'keepers on a season-long loan? Yes please.

Potential turkey: Lee Bowyer. Bowyer came on a free transfer, so at least he won't be an expensive letdown, but is he still good enough to play at this level? The jury's out on that one.

Do you think, after such sports-related injuries as tennis elbow, runner's knee and PlayStation thumb making their way into medical parlance, we will soon be talking about people suffering from selectors' headache?

If so, Geoff Miller and his cohorts must have been fighting over the Paracetamol yesterday, when they met to decide upon a final 13-man squad for the first Ashes Test against Australia (here it is, by the way). They probably weren't helped by the utterly insane run chase undertaken by Peter Trego and Somerset. Even though the 13-man squad can be changed for future matches, it can't have been an easy decision.

It can't have been easy, for example, to leave Steve Harmison out of the side. He bowled superbly for the England Lions in Australia's warm-up game, hurrying the batsmen with his pace and bounce and exposing some real flaws in the famously unorthodox technique of opener Phillip Hughes, dismissing him twice for seven and eight respectively. He bowled brilliantly, just as we all knew he could, but in the effective shootout between Harmison and Durham team mate Graham Onions, who also bowled well, Onions got the nod.

Ricky Ponting spoke out against Harmison's omission, but perhaps oversold him a touch. "He bowls at over 90mph," said Ponting, "and with his height, it's a pretty handy package." The thing is, though, Harmison doesn't bowl at over 90mph - not any more. And when he's not at his best, he's at risk of looking tame.

The 13-man squad is, as Aggers has smartly noticed, a balanced one, with flexibility allowing different selections depending on the conditions. If it's overcast, Onions will take the ball alongside Broad, Flintoff and Jimmy Anderson, with Graeme Swann likely to be the lone spinner, but given Sophia Gardens' - sorry, the Swalec Stadium's - aptitude for spin, it's likely that England will field two spinners, and in the thankful absence of the not-yet-ready Adil Rashid, they will be Swann and Panesar.

The question, of course, is whether Panesar has the nouse to spin out Australia's batsmen. He hasn't developed as well as we would have hoped in the last couple of years, and still sends down stock delivery after stock delivery, like some sort of gravy salesman. Until he learns the importance of variation, he's not going to pose the sort of threat he should.

Australia have a much bigger problem. Their only specialist spinner, Nathan Hauritz, has been very out of touch, and it looks increasingly possible they won't even pick him for the Swalec Stadium Test.

This is surely unthinkable.

The pitch won't just take spin - it will positively demand it. It's no coincidence Glamorgan were fined two points for a "poor" pitch that took too much turn (which naturally didn't help the controversy over the pitch's selection for the first Test). Quite simply, Australia need a specialist spinner, and Hauritz is the only one they have. Michael Clarke and Marcus North are both good quality part-time spinners, but they won't be bowling to take wickets, and I certainly can't see them taking five-fors.

They have to pick Hauritz despite his downturn in form. That's all they can do. Australia's dearth of spinners is good news for England though, especially with the rejuvenated Swann - who, by the way, I have been backing for an international call-up for at least ten years - being the leading Test wicket taker this year. It's enough to make you think Glamorgan's spinfest was picked for reasons other than money.

Maybe not.

I had the chance to listen to Ricky Ponting's press conference yesterday and I was impressed by his combination of honesty and tact. I don't especially like the guy, but it was refreshing to hear one piece of level-headedness in particular.

There was a lot of talk in both Ponting and Strauss' conferences about 'aura', and whether Australia have lost it. Strauss said they had. The Telegraph, and probably numerous other papers as well, splashed this across six pages, most of which were dedicated to calling Strauss a silly boy and telling him to do his talking on the field. Some of these words came from Geoffrey Boycott, who should perhaps heed his own advice and shut the hell up, or at least do the tiniest bit of research before putting his uninformed views to press.

The reason I say this is because Strauss didn't come out with a prepared statement that Australia had lost their aura. He was asked whether he thought they had, and said yes. Which is true. They have. He also made it clear that this was in no way an insult to the Australian team; merely an inevitable consequence of the players being so new to Test cricket. The 'offending' statement can be seen on video here.

The point is that Strauss was only answering a question, not making a statment of his own. That's not arrogant, or foolish. It's honest. And yes, they do differ sometimes.

So where does Ponting come into this? Because he was asked four or five questions about what Strauss said, and after answering straight questions with straight answers - such as saying England didn't have an aura themselves, a statement he only made when asked that specific question - he questioned the context of Strauss' statement.

Was Strauss asked a direct question about Australia's lack of aura, he asked? Yes, he was told. Well, Ponting said, we can't take that out of context then, can we? He was just answering a question. We all have to do that. You have to be careful: the press will blow things out of proportion.

And he was right.

---

Don't forget to look for live updates from the Test match on inthenews.co.uk.

So, then, The Observer. National institution or financial dead duck? Ongoing liberal tradition or failing piece of press history? Last hope for decent Sunday newspapers or... well, you get the picture.

The problem is that many people don't. The news - or more appropriately, rumours - that Guardian-owned Sunday staple The Observer may be set to close has been greeted by cries of indignant outrage from the left and centre and cries of ugly derision from the right (i.e. almost every other newspaper).

No surprise there, perhaps, and it's good to see people coming out in force to condemn the proposed closure, oppose the Guardian Media Group's pessimistic murmurings and in some cases, call the whole thing a fascist coup. I'm one of them. I've joined a Facebook group and everything. AND I'm following 'savetheobserver' on Twitter. GMG, feel my web 2.0 wrath.

However, I feel the need to tar the rose-tinted Observer portrait with the brush of realism and bad metaphors. There's no smoke without fire, and in this case the fire is coming from an almost ritualistic burning of money from people bowing to a false idol of unerring tradition.

The Observer has not turned a profit in 16 years, ever since the Guardian bought it in 1993. Let's think about that. No profit in 16 years. And it's thought to have lost £10-£20 million every year in recent times. The Telegraph's business section has some more depressing statistics, although I must add that I don't condone the irrelevant comparison of the newspaper's losses with Guardian editor Alan Rusbridger's salary increase.

On Newsnight a former editor of The Observer, Donald Trelford, said the Sunday newspaper is being made scapegoat for The Guardian's losses. I don't agree. Once again, it hasn't made a profit in 16 years, and it's allegedly losing a million pounds a month.

Now I'm not a Godforsaken pennypincher, and I believe in political ideals ahead of profitable business, but can the GMG really afford for this to continue, and now of all times?

It's time, as ever, for a disclaimer.

I am a Guardian reader and an Observer reader. I detest almost every other newspaper from the Sun to the Mail - especially the Mail - for being irresponsible, reactionary and just a little bit racist. You may have noticed that my news links above took you to a story in the Times and the Torygraph, but only because, in spite of everything, they are at least trustworthy newspapers for getting their facts right. I just don't agree with anything they say, that's all.

So when I say we have to be realistic about The Observer, that doesn't mean I want it to die. I simply recognise that there may be no alternative.

But could it find some other way of saving money? Both The Guardian and The Observer have more staff each than the Chinese when they were building their Great Wall. If you were to walk past everyone who worked for these papers, you'd never reach the last one. There's just too many of them. The wage bill must be absolutely epic.

I don't want people working for The Big G or The Big O(we) to lose their jobs, though, partly because I know some of them. So could The Observer be smaller? It's a weekly so it's huge, naturally, but it could probably halve its page count before it had to halve its staff (uh, the number of staff, that is - I'm not suggesting it literally cuts its staff in half, despite the pleasant rhyming).

But if none of these cost-cutting measures are possible, what should the GMG do?

Shoot me for saying this but in times of dire need for a balanced world view, The Guardian must take precedence over The Observer.

The Tories are almost certain to win the next General Election (God help the delusioned sinners that vote for them), and we need The Guardian at its strongest to repel every right-wing newspaper out there. It's the guardian of liberal thinking and good journalism; it is not guardian of The Observer. And it can't afford to keep losing money.

Yes, I'm a bastard. But I do recognise The Observer's proud reputation and prouder history, which is why I think the proposal for it to become a midweek magazine is almost insulting. THAT would be the death of it. It's a 200-year-old newspaper, for goodness' sake. When World War One veterans are on their deathbed, do you cake them in gaudy make-up and call them Ruby? No. You let them die with dignity. I'd rather see The Observer close than see it become a midweek mag.

But just to make things clear, I don't want The Observer to close. If alternatives are lacking, however, we can't let blind brand loyalty get in the way of responsibility. Because if The Observer continues to print and continues to lose money, it could just bring The Guardian down with it.

And we really don't want that.

England's Test and one-day squads to tour South Africa clearly show the selectors taking everything into account. They have one eye firmly on the future, looking to develop younger players. They have one eye on the past, looking at previous tourists ready for an England recall. And they have one eye on the present, glued to this season's performances in the County Championship. We're talking three eyes here, all looking in different directions.

Which may explain why the selectors seem to have lost sight of their objectives. There's no doubting that the Test squad for this tour represents a monumental shake-up, with new players being brought in and what is perceived as chaff being ruthlessly chucked away. Oh yes, you won't see any aging Test match failures in this squad. You won't see any Ian Bells, any Paul Collingwoods, any... oh.

Yes, the under- and overachiever, the gruesome twosome, the most painful partnership you'll ever have to watch, continue to hold down Test places in spite of their increasing years and decreasing contributions. Hold on, you might say – Bell scored two 50s in the Ashes. Yes, but he's still a top-level bottler of the same ilk as Hick and Ramprakash who is terrified of taking responsibility in a batting order. Well, hold on yet further, you might add – Collingwood saved our skin in Cardiff and was one of the highest run-scorers in the recent ICC Champions Trophy. He also did nothing for the rest of the Ashes, and one-day form is no indicator of Test match ability.

Which brings me onto Luke Wright. The Sussex slogger is by far and away the most baffling, absurd and ire-inducing inclusion in the 16-man Test squad. I almost feel sorry for him, because I think the whole thing is a joke that's gone on for too long and one day he'll realise he's been played for a sap.

The simple fact of the matter is that Luke Wright is not an international cricketer, and certainly isn't anywhere near good enough to play at Test level. He can slog the ball, but no better than your average blacksmith (Ian Blackwell ahoy), and he can – apparently – bowl, although all evidence to the contrary suggests it's a miracle he makes it to the crease without falling over. But he is, to all extents and purposes, a club cricketer with big arms. National selector Geoff Miller said they don't see Wright as "a like-for-like replacement" for Andrew Flintoff. Damn right he isn't. Flintoff could play cricket.

Coming to a Test match near you

Ravi Bopara, meanwhile, has been given the boot after one poor series, in which he arguably batted in the wrong position (he's a middle-order Test batsman, not a number three). His immediate omission from both the Test and one-day squads is a travesty. Still, he's young and highly talented, so I have faith he'll bounce back.

The same, sadly, can't be said of Owais Shah, one of the great talents of late never to fill his boots. Told he had four games in the Champions Trophy to save his place, Shah duly hit 44 and 98 against the two best bowling line-ups in the world, including a matchwinning knock against South Africa. It was too late. He was always going to be dropped. He's been lied to.

He's not the only one. Steve Harmison's omission is understandable, but the selectors haven't been straight with him. They at least owe him an explanation. You're past it. You're no good away from home. Hearing you crying into your pillow about how much you miss Freddie might disturb the younger players. But instead of an excuse Geoff Miller provided a lie – that he's not been consistent this season. Harmison took 51 Championship wickets at 22 runs apiece (Liam Plunkett took 49 at 24).

Ah yes, Plunkett: the man on form. The selectors' one eye on this year's County Championship averages fittingly lacks depth perception, failing to see that Plunkett doesn't have the tactical nouse to think out a world-class batsman on a flat wicket. As for Sajid Mahmood coming back into the frame, well – we've slipped back in time. Mahmood and Plunkett last played for England in 2007, alongside Hoggard, Harmy and a plucky Chris Tremlett, not to mention Monty Panesar, then being hailed as a future world-beater (interesting to see how that turned out).

Undoubtedly, the squads could be worse. It's encouraging to see Adil Rashid picked over Panesar, and Jonathan Trott's inclusion in the one-day squad is a long overdue one, even if it does represent a cost-cutting measure whereby players stay at their parents' houses (a quarter of England's squad was born in South Africa).

But the inclusion of previous disappointments Mahmood and Plunkett suggests we've gone one step forward, but two years back in time.

Howl - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club [2005]

Where the hell did this come from?

After two albums with good singles but on the whole worthy of the description 'not bad', a pretty decent but by no means special rock band suddenly delved deep into their hearts, found their inner blues, which I don't think anyone thought existed in them, and pulled out a bloody stunner of a record. As I said: where the hell did this come from?

The title says it all. Howl is raw to the core. It's a cry of justice, injustice and misery. It's, well, a howl.

I'm born and weary but life's just begun
And I've run from the reasons and roamed to the gun
They say I'm the killer and thy will be done
And the doors won't be open when I finally become
And I've seen the battle and I've seen the war
And the life out here is the life I've been sold

It could be said there's a lack of invested feeling in observant third-person ballads such as Restless Sinner - though I don't agree; it's a brilliant song with wonderful guitar work - but that never hurt Dylan, and if it's personal emotion you want, look no further than Fault Line. With copious amounts of harmonica, that most underrated of instruments, and a refrain of "Racing with the rising tide to my father's door", it's really quite moving.

But it's not all one-paced: Shuffle Your Feet, all handclaps and bottleneck guitar, and Ain't No Easy Way, one of the few indie singles of late to feature an instrumental mouth organ chorus, raise the tempo and are both absolute stompers in their own right. They provide a perfectly judged antidote to the bittersweet laments of the rest of the album's noose-fearing gospel.

It is, quite literally given their previous guitar anthem dreams, an incredible modern blues album.

And yet no one else seems to think so. From the universally acclaimed Since I Left You yesterday to the largely deplored Howl today, it's a bit of a fall. But I don't care.

This is gem of an album. What a shame that as soon as they could, BRMC went back to their old rocky road. But at least we are left with this - Howl.

No Spotify link because Spotify doesn't have this album. It's all on YouTube, though - give it a listen.

Another two weeks have passed since my last post... dang, time is flying by. My first big race of the year, Oceanside 70.3, is this Saturday. I'm ready to have a good day... I've put a lot of work in... certainly more cycling than I've ever done along with a good amount of running. Hopefully, those miles will serve me well.

Last week I was in New York City on a business trip. I was fortunate enough to stay in midtown, only about 1/2 mile from Central Park. So, I availed myself of the opportunity to run the outer loop. It's a perfect 10K circuit, very scenic and quite rolling. It's a beautiful place to run, the juxtaposition of the hills and trees with the skyscrapers in the background is quite striking, especially in the early morning light.

Here are some pics from one of the days I was out there. That's it for now... I'll have a lot to report after this weekend.

The Daily Mail leads today with the front page headline 'THIS COUNTRY OF ANGER AND FEAR'. And whose fault is that? Could it be the most influential paper in the UK, which constantly preaches anger, fear and hate towards anything it doesn't understand? I can't tell if, with this headline, they're proudly boasting of their legacy or if they've succumbed to their own propaganda. Most likely, the latter.

It sickens me. If I had one altruistic wish, right up there with world peace and an end to global hunger would be the abolition of The Mail, The Express and their ilk. They are systematically ruining this country, and gleefully smiling at the ashes that remain.

I feel dirty.

Someone, somewhere, needs to work out the Duckworth-Lewis rule and explain it to people before using it.

The West Indies are the latest team to lose out as a result of confusion, having accepted the offer to go off for bad light, thinking they were ahead of the rate. It turned out they weren't, and England won by one run. Completely unfair on the Windies, of course, who weren't even being naïve but were operating under a different set of rules.

Another game ruined.

The bigger question for me, though, is why they went off in the first place. 27 needed to win from 22 balls? 3 wickets left? Game on. It'd have to be pitch black to call that one off in my mind. And for the sake of 3 1/2 overs, you really do think they could have played on in the supposed gloom.

Officials need to either think up a simpler alternative to the Duckworth-Lewis system or explain it to teams more clearly, and umpires really need to think about what constitutes sufficient bad light to end a day's play. A cricket match shouldn't end abruptly because it's a little murky.

Tonight, I made it to my first "track" workout in about 6 weeks. The word "track" is in quotations because our local group doesn't do our speed workouts on a track at the moment, we run on a paved bike path since the local high school track is being renovated. With some luck, it will be done by the fall and we will have a nice new oval to run around.

The workouts are on Tuesday nights, and the last several Tuesdays I've been hung up elsewhere. Either working late, or in Phoenix for work, or in Tucson... or in Orange County... seems like something keeps coming up.

Tonight's workout was 6 x 800 w/1:30 rest. I had to go back all the way to October to find out the last time I did some repeat 800's, so I thought it would be interesting to compare the two workouts and see what improvement I've made after a long winter of hard training.

October 21 - 6 x 800 w/2 min rest

2:48
2:45
2:44
2:43
2:44
2:46

average time 2:45

March 17 - 6 x 800 w/1:30 rest

2:38.5
2:37.3
2:36.5
2:39.5
2:41.2
2:36.7

average time 2:38.3

I started tonight's workout with a little fatigue in the legs as I did a hard trainer 60 min workout earlier in the day. It's hard to predict what effect that might have had, but I think it's reasonable to assume I probably would have run a second or two faster if it was the only workout of the day. Also, the rest interval was a bit shorter. My HR only came down to the low 120's between reps.

All in all, the times show a 6.7 second improvement, which is equates to 4%. It doesn't sound like much, but a 4% improvement in a half marathon is roughly 3 minutes... in other words, huge.

I'm encouraged by this. Hopefully, I can put the pieces together come April 4th.

If ever you wanted an example of a) how influential Wikipedia is now, and b) how absurd politics is becoming, look no further than here.

Utterly ridiculous.

Well, it's happened: Corpus Christi Oxford have been stripped of their University Challenge title for fielding an ileligible contestant. Much has been said of Gail Trimble's consistently astounding performances for the team (except the final, when she was a bit shit until the last 10 minutes), and how much of a letdown it must be for her, but I feel sorry for everyone involved. And yes, I do think stripping them of the title is a mistake.

For a start, naughty boy Sam Kay was a student when the tournament began, only being ineligible for the final three matches of the competition. Clearly it's unfair that the team fielded a non-student, but I don't think Corpus Christi were at any great advantage - Kay was working as a graduate trainee for PricewaterhouseCoopers, not Stephen Fry's personal biographer. Or something. He was a student when he began - that should be enough. It's just not fair for the rest of the team to lose their title because of what is essentially a technicality.

And yes, I do believe it is a technicality. Gail Trimble is 26. Mature students are positively encouraged to participate. What, then, does it matter if a contestant has ceased to be a student some way during the competition? Clearly I'm not saying anyone should be allowed to enter and we should turn a blind eye to non-students representing a university, but in such a circumstance as this, I think common sense should prevail.

Secondly, he thought he was eligble. He didn't deliberately cheat; he made a mistake that really did nobody any harm.

And most importantly of all, Manchester University - the runners-up who have now been awarded the title - didn't even want it to be this way. They are sensible enough to realise the situation for what it is. In Manchester team captain Matthew Yeo's words, the Corpus Christi side were "deserving and worthy champions". He added: "We hope any decision does not detract from what was a thrilling final won by a truly tremendous team." Well said.

An ineligible player doesn't make the whole competition a farce - giving away the title does. And this decision won't help Manchester one bit, either. A student there - 22-year-old Cori Bromfeld - told the BBC that "to win in this way does take away some of the achievement. People in the future will say that we only won because the other team cheated." Exactly - whereas now, they'll be remembered as brave finalists who lost to an incredible team (and were 70-0 up at one point). OK, so it's more likely they won't be remembered much at all, but in University Challenge circles at least, they'd have a better reputation without the title.

But it is Corpus Christi who have ultimately lost out. A shame. Maybe Gail Trimble might take up that Nuts photo opportunity after all.

(In other news, the world plunges deeper into economic armageddon. Ah well.)

Thank God for faceless men in suits: if it wasn't for organisers at the Eurovision Song Contest, Georgia could be sparking another war with Russia.

Their song for 2009, We Don't Wanna Put In - an unsubtle reference to Vladimir Putin - has been ruled unacceptable for the competition because no entries will be permitted with "lyrics, speeches, gestures of a political or similar nature". Strange, that, because I seem to remember a slightly political entry last year called Peace Will Come. The entrant? Georgia.

Clearly the worry is that given last year's events in Eastern Europe, letting Georgia slag off the Ruskis - in their own country - in one of the (tragically) biggest European soirees of the year isn't great thinking, and so the song has been forcibly withdrawn.

Probably for the best.

Not really misleading as such, but the story is a massive disappointment after the headline 'DURKAN WARNS OF 'ZOMBIE MINISTER''.

If you're married and trying to pursue this crazy sport of triathlon, you better have a supportive spouse. And that hold doubly true if you have kids.

Some things that I've learned, through trial and error mostly. A lesser woman would have changed the locks on me, but fortunately for me, my wife, Kelly, cuts me way more slack than I deserve.

Here we go:

1. Spectating at a race is nearly as tiring as actually competing in it. I've been on the other side of the ropes, as it were, on a number of occasions. As an athlete, your mind is occupied with your race, trying to get yourself prepared for a good performance. As a spectator, 50% of your mental energy is spent trying to send good vibes to your loved one, 25% is spent thinking how much you'd rather be in bed and the rest on where you can get some friggin' coffee. A coffee stand near the transition area would clean up!! Ok, so once you get the race area, you stand around, chat with other supporters a bit. And wait. And wait. And wait. And trying to figure out the exact moment when your athlete is going to flash by. How long did she think the swim would take? She started at 6:47 and 30 seconds, a 20 minute swim means she should go by at roughly 7:07 and oh crap, there she goes! Damn it, I didn't have the camera ready!

2. Spectating at a race while simultaneously watching two young kids is HARDER than racing. Seriously. The kids and I watched Kelly compete at the Danskin race at Disneyland recently. Between getting the kids packed up in a stroller while they are still completely asleep, making sure they have food and drink for the day, managing to get them both to go to the bathroom in a porta potty at the same time without disaster (can't leave one alone outside, ya know), prevent them from running out in front of speeding cyclists on the bike course, and calming them down after one of them drops a sippy cup in a lagoon. I was DYING for Kelly to finish just so I could get some help!! And that was a 2 hour race. How she does it for a 5+ hour event like a half-ironman, I honestly have no idea.

3. On a related note, no matter how exhausted you are when you cross the finish line, you better be ready to take over with the kids when you're done. Like I mentioned before, your finish line is your spouse's finish line as well. She (or he) is Finished taking care of the kids. Time to take off the race number and strap on the baby carrier. No complaining about how tired you are... get it?

4. Say goodbye to race expos. Yes, they are full of cool stuff to buy. We all have to procure those last minute items that every triathlete needs like Gu flasks, Co2 cartridges and Lacelocks. Do yourself a favor. Buy that stuff in advance. Get your race number and get out of there. Your spouse and your kids have no desire to be there... and are spending a whole day watching you tomorrow. Don't make 'em waste their day watching you pick out a new race number belt.

4. Race day is all about you, the athlete. And justifiably so, you've trained hard for your event, so come race morning, you deserve the ability to focus, prepare and enjoy your race experience. But, see #3 above. Once you're done, you're done. Save the talk about your next event for a few days down the road... the last thing your spouse wants to hear is more talk about your next heavy training block and another race.

5. So, do something fun for the family the day after, the week after, even the month after your big event. If you do Oceanside 70.3, take the kids to Legoland on Monday (Your legs will appreciate the walking). After Vineman, hit up the wineries and drink some old grape juice. After IM Hawaii, relax on the beach for a few days afterwards and let your spouse indulge in a spa day while you hang with the kids. Let the training and triathlon talk disappear for a while.

There is more to life than triathlon after all. Right?