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HERO? WHO ARE YOU KIDDING! 30-11-05
I'm going to start this post with a fucking good rant! I haven't had a good one for a few weeks so pin yer lugs back, strap in, and let's get into warp speed hyper-drive opinionated Smoggy gobshite mode!
The Illustrated Oxford dictionary states the meaning of Hero as:
"Man of superhuman strength, courage or ability, favoured by the Gods. An illustrious warrior, a man of extraordinary bravery, fortitude or soul."
Yes the noun Hero is an expansive and often over used and vastly abused term. An extremely subjective title to give someone, basically as your hero although loved by you, may not be somebody else's cup of tea and vice-versa.
In my opinion it's a title used far to often to satisfy the whims of fashion, pop culture and media hype. You've got to earn the moniker in my book by putting in the hard yards and proving your worth to your adoring public and by being quite unique and special and yes carrying out feats of extreme ability or courage thus, heroic actions.
It appears to me that everyone on TV or elsewhere is a dead set hero these days. Which, when you read the Oxford's descriptive paragraph makes you wonder why we use the term to describe any Tom, Dick or Johnny come lately who gets their tacky fifteen minutes of supposed heroic fame.
Picture yourself in downtown Suburbia. Upstairs bedroom reeking of nail varnish and cheap sheep dip perfumes. Mercedes Cocksmith and Narelle Roddingwell watch the latest edition of Top of the Pops.
Mercedes enthuses while open mouthed masticating the hell out of her Wrigleys juicy fruit; "OooH Narelle! I love that lead singer off Rhinohorn, he's totally gorgeous, I'd shag him in a heartbeat, he's my hero, dead set for ever my hero!"
Then one week later, same time same place, same bints. Mercedes exhales, with the previous nano second brain dead flicker of her last love gone after a viewing of her next stimulant "live" on Top Of The Pops it's; "OooH Narelle! I love the guitarist off Donkeydick, I'd pash him and have his sprogs, he's my one and only true hero!"
This isn't a new phenomenon, the pop industry churns out the fuckers by the truckload! Remember the Bay Shithouse Rollers? Who could forget the tartan clad nobbers?
In my pimply youth, all the teenage British girls wore tartan scarves and all manner of tartan regalia to mimic their heroes. They would have walked bare foot over broken glass just to get a whiff of the lead singer's beery flatulence. They'd scream and faint and pack out concert after concert for these useless fuckers, who basically couldn't put a coherent ditty together never mind play their instruments.
I can't even remember one of their fucking inept tunes, which proves the cotton wool earplugs worked well at the time. Thankfully, any vague recollection of their musical prowess must have been in some of those millions of brain cells I've demolished after many a wicked night on the turps.
So there ya go folks, as Harry Callaghan would attest, excessive alcohol consumption does have beneficial properties, especially if you can't remember any of the songs of those 70's teenage minge icons the Bay Shitty Rollers.
Now about the same time as these Jockanalian music stranglers were hanging their knobs doon their tartan trews, the inimitable Northern Irish imp George Best was a hero too and a real bona fide bloody hero in every sense of the term to both male and female. He still shines brightly in that vein, a star till death do us part and forever.
Point made, a true hero transcends time and we should be a shit load more careful how we misuse that noun and only apply it to those who truly deserve it so as not to devalue it completely.
When George's body gave in this week, a 24-carat solid gold, diamond encrusted hero passed on to sign up for the Devil's All stars. But I don't think Bestie will turn up for every game, especially if there is a bar near Beelzebub Stadium.
I think virtually to a man here, we all lost a hero in George Best. He had that effect on people simply because he was sublimely and uniquely skilled with a leather ball of pressurised air at his feet. His genius on the pitch playing the people's game made him a legend and a God. That was on the turf and his heroics are on the record for all to see.
The other legendary George Best and all those tales of his alcohol fuelled shenanigans were predominantly anecdotal, but the great man certainly provided the press with some neon gossip fodder and in a sense he was the first modern day football superstar playboy.
His every move reported in the papers and on TV in a style that was unique then but is common practice now. It demoralised the great man.
His cheeky down to earth nature, larrikin ways and a panache with the fairer sex especially leggy pneumatic Miss Worlds didn't help him to stay off the gossip pages. The tottering Totty of the sexual revolution loved him and in the free love swinging sixties, it was too much distraction for a red-blooded male.
The whole circus turned his attentions away from the sport that gave him that hero identity and he became a different sort of hero, a boozing, womanising, E-type Jag wielding fifth Beetle. A female magnet extraordinaire!
And he played the part heroically. But, as we've seen in the past, when it comes to football and the high life, never the two shall mix especially where alcohol or/and gambling are involved.
True genius often carries with it a fragile make-up, a compulsive nature and the yearning for attention that sometimes only the bright lights and eventually the solace of the bottle can slake.
The thing I liked about most about Bestie, he wasn't full of political correctness bullshit as he gave no apologies for his behaviour. You see he didn't think he was letting anybody down at the time. Good onya George, a fair dinkum true blue man's man. A Hero!
Another bloke presently at Bestie's real love, Manchester United, is heading for true hero status in the not too distant future. He's presently progressing along a different trail to the tortuous but very glorious one as blazed by Mr Best.
The calming Grandfather influence and arm on the shoulder of Sir Alex will see to that. It's probably true to say that Wayne Rooney is already a hero to millions. He's certainly a brilliant footballer. He took the game by the scruff of the neck and terrorised a normally adept and composed West Ham back four until they were at sixes and sevens.
The signs are there to observe, a very bright compulsive shining star, it's there in his make-up the indicators of a burgeoning genius, a square pugnacious balanced physique, sublime ball control, pace and adept vision. In time he will achieve true greatness, hero status with his feats with the ball in the arenas of the world game.
It's frightening to think that he's currently such a complete footballer. At an age where most haven't even broken through into the reserves, he's an established England regular, a hardened international pro, adding consistency to his repertoire.
What will he become in terms of comparative world status as long as he doesn't self-destruct? Is the fragile side of his personality destructive and invasive enough to cause him to fall off the track to becoming the world's greatest star?
I think I'll just enjoy it while I can because the boy is superb in full flight as witnessed by the amazing goals he's plundered against my Beloved Boro last season.
As one star burns out and fades to grey in the heavens, another burns brightly to take it's place in the sky. Such is the order of our great game.
Enough said.
ErimusRed.
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