Miscalculation

The 22nd FIFA World Cup gets underway in Qatar tomorrow, with more of a whimper than a bang. It was a poor decision to hold it there in the first place, a hot, arid country with little footballing pedigree and a population less than that of Greater Manchester. The only thing the Qataris could bring to the table was an obscene amount of oil money, some of which went (allegedly) to buy off the FIFA officials.

They only had one serviceable football stadium and have built the other seven arenas from scratch especially for the tournament, a process itself tainted with reports of the appalling and frequently dangerous conditions that thousands of migrant workers had to endure in their construction - intense heat, long hours, sub-standard accommodation, negligible health and safety protocols. At least forty workers died on site and many hundreds more were injured and rendered unable to continue. The Qataris refuse to release exact figures.

The intensely hot climate of Qatar means that for the first time the World Cup is being played in November/ December (average local temperature 75F) instead of June/July (average 95F), causing a hiatus in the domestic leagues of the majority of the 32 finalists and meaning that most of the participating squads have only had a week to acclimatise and adjust themselves to the location and the upcoming schedule of games. Even so, Qatar is experiencing a heatwave right now (90F), so it's  just as well the decision was taken to build air-conditioned stadia.

Then there are issues arising from holding the premier world footballing event in a strict Muslim country that has zero tolerance of drunkenness or the consuming of alcohol in public, that expects women to be decorous, modestly attired and deferential, and where homosexuality is illegal. Just two days before the event begins, Qatar has reneged on its agreement with FIFA and sponsors Budweiser to allow the sale of alcohol at the world cup stadia. It hardly promises to be 'party central' for the next four weeks! Understandably, many football fans have opted not to travel to region for the tournament because they object to the human rights record of the host nation and/or the dubious circumstances in which the finals were granted to Qatar (although FIFA had promised that the event would take place in the Middle East by 2030).  

'Sick exhibit #1'

Reports this week, from sports journalists who've covered many football tournaments, speak of the surreal feeling they are getting from this one, the almost complete lack of anticipation or excitement in the country at large, the paucity of fans, the absence of the buzzing atmosphere that normally accompanies a football World Cup. 

Even Sepp Blatter now admits FIFA's miscalculation and concedes that awarding the tournament to Qatar was a mistake. The inference a decade ago was that he and other FIFA officials had benefitted financially from the extraordinary decision to favour Qatar over other more obvious candidates. How the Swiss high-roller managed to escape a criminal conviction still defies belief - though he was eventually ousted from the organisation and has been banned from attending the upcoming tournament. Here's a link to my 2015 blog A Red Card For Corruption, tearing a strip off FIFA and its officials, and including 'The Attenuated Love Song of J. Sepp Blatter'. Please (re-)read it, (especially if you like T.S. Eliot). It's still topical.

Despite the tainted nature of the extravaganza, I hope that the England team does well. I shall probably watch their games on television. though I know many who will not, and I will also be rooting quietly for Morocco, a proper footballing nation, whose much more deserving bid to host the World Cup was voted down by FIFA.

'Sick exhibit #2'

Changing tack but staying on the theme of  miscalculation , I've spent some time researching a phenomenon that's been on the increase ever since lockdown. Lots more people are turning to the Internet to self-diagnose symptoms of illness. Maybe that's not surprising, given how long it takes to get an appointment with a GP, and given just how much information is readily available on 'healthcare' websites. 

However, there are inherent dangers in this approach. Most people search hoping for the best but fearing the worst. They seek to set their minds at rest about whatever symptom(s) they are exhibiting, but more often than not they end up convincing themselves they've got some quite serious affliction - there's lots of horrible options out there - just because they lack the medical expertise to be discerning. It's even got a name: impending doom syndrome. The websites always come with disclaimers, but those who become convinced by what they read online that they have a serious disease are then less likely to trust a qualified doctor if/when they see one, are more likely to attempt to self-medicate with inappropriate remedies or, in some tragic cases, are driven to suicide because they are overly pessimistic about the odds of surviving whatever affliction they think they have.

It's a miscalculation for individuals to put so much reliance on self-diagnosis by webpage, and it's a miscalculation for the government to deliberately under-invest in proper (accessible, resourced) GP services in the belief that it is a true cost saving. It ends up costing the NHS way more in the long term. 

A lot of the anecdotal evidence of self-diagnoses gone wrong would be funny if it didn't have such distressing consequences. We lay people are just too fallible, in some cases too stupid, and often are a danger to ourselves. I decided not to quote examples from my research, as they can be upsetting. But then I relented to share just one:

"A female patient was admitted to hospital suffering from pernicious anaemia and requiring blood transfusions. She had some months earlier been diagnosed with a condition that meant she couldn't make enough red blood cells. The physician prescribed a daily vitamin B12 injection (B12 is required by the body to make haemoglobin) and had given the patient her first month's supply. When that ran out, instead of going back to the doctor to get repeats, she headed to her local pharmacy instead, bulk bought vitamin B6 tablets and proceeded to take two B6 per day thinking it would have the same effect as a B12 jab. Of course it didn't, hence her hospitalisation. "

To round out the blog, a cautionary but reasonably light-hearted new poem all about the dangers of...

Fitting Your Symptoms To A Known Disease

First dizzy spells, then spots before the eyes,

that feeling of going weak at the knees,

loss of appetite, palpitations, throbbing head,

intermittent tingling in fingers and toes,

brain stem becoming numb - you falling sick

and the urge to self-diagnose, go online

to scroll through a list of afflictions is strong.

Of course you succumb, but get a shock

to find you might have any one of nine grave

medical conditions, all terminal at best.

As you read you feel a tightening in the chest.

MS, Parkinson's, early-onset dementia, 

MND or some malignant tumour in the brain. 

Blind or incontinent, wheelchair bound 

or going steadily round the bend, can you still

hope to command the affections of one

for whom your poor heart is heavy with love?

Thanks for reading, S ;-)

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A Red Card For Corruption

This week's theme is 'Calling A Halt'. Well, there is so much to take exception to - and to want to put a stop to - that your Saturday Blogger could keep typing righteously all through the week-end and beyond. Bankers' bonuses, child abuse, ethnic cleansing, grooming, gun and knife crime, human trafficking and religious fanaticism would be pretty much at the top of a lengthy list, but I decided a few weeks ago that I was going to use this topic to tackle the issue of corruption in the upper echelons of football's governing body and show a red card to FIFA.

Thanks to the FBI (I never thought I would write those words) and the Swiss police, the task of exposing the cynical corruption and greed that is rife within FIFA is already underway. Warrants have been issued, some arrests have been made and no one in the organisation that runs world football should rest easy at night or feel that they are beyond the law. I hope the investigation will be extensive and rigorous and I hope that FIFA will not be entrusted with putting its own discredited house in order. World governments need to align on this issue and invoke the offices of the UN and the International Courts to enforce changes in the constitution, governance and accountability of FIFA and we, the people (and football fans of every hue), need to hold our governments to that task.

I am very pleased that FIFA president Sepp Blatter has stepped down days after he was re-elected. I like the aphorism that states: You don't sweep a staircase clean by starting at the bottom. As head of that self-evidently corrupt organisation, Blatter needed to take responsibility for allowing such immorality in the ranks - a clear sending off offence. It remains to be seen whether he is implicated in anything illegal in addition.

My poem this week is an attempt to open a window into the psyche of Sepp Blatter.  I've written it as an affectionate pastiche of T S Eliot's 'The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock' (from Prufrock  and Other Observations, published 1917). You don't have to be familiar with the original to enjoy my Blattering of Eliot's poem, but I think it will resonate more if you are...

The Attenuated Love Song of J. ‘Sepp’ Blatter

Senza tema d’infamia… 

Let us go then, you and I,

Leave this half-completed stadium

Spread out against the sky,

To purr in limousines

Down dusty half-deserted streets,

The muttering retreats

Of poor exploited workers from Natal,

Arriving in a sweep

Before a luxury five-star hotel

With air-con and an ocean view.

  

Our insidious intent?

Oh, do not ask “What’s in it for us?”

Let us go and make our visit.

  

In the penthouse, women come and go

Offering fellatio.

  

Now is the time to wonder

“Do I dare?”

Time to turn back,

With famous bald spot in the middle of my hair,

My necktie rich and modest,

Conscience clear.

  

But no.

Here’s no great matter. I am J. ‘Sepp’ Blatter,

Meticulous, urbane, most powerful of men,

Shaper and broker of a global game,
I am peerless and immune from blame.

This is my universe. I have the vision.

I have the right to officiate

And I have the right to recreate.

Do not disturb!

  

Negotiate my fee discreetly

And satisfaction will be guaranteed,

A cast-iron decision immune from revision.

Then there will be time

For all the works and pay-days,

Time for you and time for me.

This and so much more -

Wealth and power and glory for us all.

  

Behind the scenes, detectives come and go

Compiling their portfolio.

  

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker.

I believe my minions start to bicker,

I know the voices lying with a dying fall

In the sunsets and the dooryards;

I have heard reporters snicker

And I’ve bitten off the matter with a smile.

  

However, when I am penned and wriggling

In the hall of justice

Then how should I begin

To defend my days and ways?

Rebut those who presume to accuse?

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse,

Should I have the strength to ride the crisis?

  

And will it have been worth it, after all,

To have squeezed the universe into a football,

To be brought in upon a silver platter

To be auctioned to the highest bidder?

  

I am J. ‘Sepp’ Blatter. I grow old.

I shall wear the bottoms of my prison trousers rolled.

I may hear the klaxons and the vuvuzelas singing

Each to each in the favelas

And the football anthems ringing out of reach

But I do not think that they will sing for me.

 

Thanks very much for reading. I'd encourage you to check out Eliot's  original. It's a brilliant poem and you'll find it in most collections of his best writings.

Have a great week, Steve ;-)

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