Post- it Modernism

Well, I spent most of the day saying "No" to people. We have a big software change going live next week and it was all going surprisingly well. Too well to be true, it turned out. People were not doing their usual "can't we just change everything" thing. Until this week. So, today,I have been going around saying "No. No, we can't just change that." It's very empowering. Sometimes I strike a theatrical stance with my arms crossed in a "they shalt not pass" way. And sometimes I shake my head, sadly, indicating both that, yes, I would like nothing more than to accede to your ideas and also that I am ever so slightly disappointed that you should even be asking.

Well, fun as it is to write about work, my bulging email folder of fan email tells me that what the public really wants is football. Long, detailed analyses of football matches, to be precise. So, today was the eagerly awaited quarter final of the University's 6 a Side competition. As you all know, the single secret of success in the six a side competition is possession. And passing. The two, single secrets of success in the six a side competition are possession, passing and a fanatical devotion to the Catholic Church. Our team's game has long been built around a fluid, passing game and we have humbled teams with better players than us but who do not play the passing game. We have one flair player. A player of supreme skill and ability. But a player who deems the passing game to be beneath him. This causes friction. And today, after we had conceded a goal to put us only 3-1 ahead, the manager (men want to be him, women want something else etc etc) reminded the team of the basics - calm down, let them chase the game, let the ball do the work, etc etc. The cliches flowed. From the kick off, Mr Flair tried to take the ball round three defenders and immediately lost the ball to the three defenders. The three defenders and their two outfield compadres then ran the ball up to our goal and scored. One of our side berated Herr Flair (who is not German, by the way) and, in return, Monsieur Flair (he isn't French either) pointed out that it shouldn't matter if he lost the ball so long as the defence were capable of doing their job. He then walked off.

I now have ruffled feathers to smooth ahead of the semi-final. If I had wanted to be an infant school teacher...