Lets study some of the more extreme actions of South America’s most infamous loco’s and check out their rap sheets. How about beginning with the player whom best encapsulated the crazy South American stereotype, even earning the nickname “el Loco” due to his extracurricular (and sometimes curricular) activities. Rene Higuita was born in 1966 in Medellin, Colombia and through his undoubted talent as a goalkeeper progressed into the national team for whom he ended up winning 68 caps over a decade. El Loco Higuita is perhaps best remembered by UK-based sporting fans for his incredible save from a tame Jamie Redknapp cross-cum-shot in a 1995 friendly between Columbia and England at Wembley. Expected to be nothing other than a simple catch for the eccentric keeper turned into one of the greatest sporting moments, Higuita launching his body forward before clearing the ball with the soles of his feet, calling the incredibly picturesque yet professionally risky move “the Scorpion kick”. Cue this writer and many other school children taking to the playing fields all across the country and winding themselves countless times trying to re-enact the pointless clearance. Higuita had infact become famous five years earlier when during the 1990 World Cup he inexplicably began dithering and dribbling on the ball way out of his usual remit, being dispossessed by the eternally young Roger Milla whom proceeded to score in the unguarded net and eliminate Higuita’s Columbia from the competition. Emanating from a nation probably best known for its drug barons and production of Cocaine, why a professional footballer of international repute felt the need to get involved is not evident to normal people but to someone of a Loco temperament it may seem normal. The result? Imprisoned for profiteering from a kidnapping and missing the 1994 World Cup as a result. That’s correct, Higuita acted as a go-between for infamous barons Pablo Escobar and Carlos Molina and his ill-gotten gains of $64,000 landed him in jail. After being released from his seven month sentence, the cult hero stated in an interview “the best moments of my life are the ones I spent in jail. In jail I found a different kind of loyalty – from the so-called delinquent, the so-called narco-trafficker, the so-called terrorist. I learned to know his heart, and it is a noble heart”. El Loco indeed.

Faustino Asprilla
 
Whilst having one madman in your team may seem bad enough, then you must feel some sympathy for the carthorses that made up Columbia’s talented 90’s generation for they were also lumbered with another madman in the cart wheeling dynamo that was Faustino Asprilla. Notable to British fans as the man who, unfairly and incorrectly it must be said, was considered the catalyst for Newcastle’s implosion in the 1997 title race ‘Tino nevertheless left Tyneside awash with memories of historic European nights. This was never best demonstrated by his one-man show against the mighty Barcelona in the Champions’ League group stage when leaping like a salmon his hat-trick put the sword to the Catalan giants with aplomb. The Colombian’s silky skills were often overshadowed by his off the pitch temperament, which goes some way to highlighting just how mad  “The Octopus” and one time FIFA top 6 player in the world nominee actually was. As Parma’s star striker, he was expected to lead the line in the 1993 European Cup Winners Cup final but was forced to sit it out through an injury that no doubt would have been avoided if he was a little bit less, well, mad. Involved in a routine car accident with a bus driver in Columbia when he attempted to exit his vehicle to take up his issue with the offending driver his opposite number slammed the door shut on him, forcing Tino to kick at the windows. The result was perhaps inevitable, his foot went through the sturdy glass and he was out of a major European final. After moving to Newcastle he was being wined and dined in the stadium before settling down to watch his new teammates with a glass of wine still barely down his throat…within an hour the Toon’s newest star was on the pitch scoring. It wasn’t a lengthy stay on Tyneside and before long the man who wore his shirt outside his shorts and his socks round his ankles like a naughty schoolboy was back at Parma before winding down his career with as a journeyman on his native Continent. In 2008 the mercurial Colombian was arrested after becoming so enraged at a standard checkpoint in his native country he began firing at the security forces with a machine gun, peppering the area with bullets as though in a Scarface movie. The Octopus became allegedly enraged when his friends were refused entry into a farm at the check point and thus began the shooting, 29 bullets being fired from the firearm although no one was hurt. Not the first time Tino landed in hot water for use of an illegal weapon, at the height of his powers in 1995 the international superstar almost found himself imprisoned for firing his gun outside a nightclub. Another infamous story, which he dispels himself as nothing more than a training ground prank, was when he turned up to training whilst playing in Chile with a firearm and threatened to shoot the players if they didn’t run. What he claims was a joke was still reported by a watching journalist and adds yet another outlandish incident in a lifetime of unstable behaviour from the El Pulpo.
 
Jose Luis Chilavert
 
When it comes to crazy goalkeepers, after one has thought of Rene Higuita and his hair, thoughts quickly turn to the goal scoring menace between the posts for Velez Sarsfield and Paraguay; Jose Luis Chilavert. Noted for a brawl with the aforementioned Tino Asprilla in 1997 when they came to blows during a World Cup qualifier, whilst Higuita was more of a crazed persuasion Chilavert was certainly more temperamental, a typical Latin hothead. He also nearly came to blows with fellow South American legend Roberto Carlos after a qualifier between Paraguay and Brazil when he was sent off and banned for spitting at the famous left back, although he alleged that he did so as he was the victim of racial abuse from the Brazilian. The crazy Chilavert then went further into the realms of the ridiculous by exploding the myth of South American unity by claiming that his action of spitting on the Brazilian was justified as the match was a war and referenced the claiming of Paraguayan land by the Brazilians in the 19th Century War of the Triple Alliance. After leaving Velez at the beginning of the millennium Chilavert temporarily played in France for Strasbourg and in 2005 it was because of this short spell he received a suspended Six month prison sentence by French authorities for falsifying documents in an attempt to claim undue compensation from RC Strasbourg. It is perhaps fitting that the last we have heard of Chilavert was with an outburst of his combustible temper in an airport when he was caught on CCTV confronting and trying to fight his agent over a monetary dispute in a way more befitting an episode of The Sopranos than a lauded ex-international star. An lauded he certainly was. In amidst the off-the-field outbursts and the explosive free-kicks not only was Chilavert the first recognised Goalkeeper to score a hat trick in a top level game but was voted the IFFHS World Goalkeeper of the Year an unprecedented three times in 1995, 1997 and 1998 as well as his strong showing at the 2002 World Cup.
 
Carlos Roa
 
Another goalkeeper with a suspect mental capacity but of a more innocent nature was England’s tormentor from the 1998 World Cup Carlos Roa, a top quality goalkeeper who at the peak of his powers abruptly retired and removed himself from public life in accordance with his devout Seventh –Day Adventist Church beliefs that the world was due to end on the cusp of the new millennium. Probably the most bizarre retirement reason the game has ever seen from an international sportsman, “The Lettuce” eventually accepted the inevitability that the world had indeed not ended and returned to his old club Mallorca to begin a gradual decline through the Spanish leagues, his undoubted talent having been irreparably tarnished by inactivity.
 
Armando Paredes
 
Another player whom has seemingly vanished of late but with completely different outlook to life is the Ecuadorian fireball that is Armando Paredes. Unlike his exalted company on this list, Paredes is much lesser talent whom has only earned 2 caps for his country but arguably would be a lot more if he wasn’t…well, loco. As missing training sessions and having an overactive social life being minor to him, Paredes came to prominence when he was substituted by his manager at Emelec and proceeded to not only throw his shirt to the floor in anger and disgust but to launch a tirade of death threats towards his boss. As well as attacking photographers Paredes also found himself arrested in 2009 for attacking his former partner, her mother and the maid after breaking into their house in an intoxicated manner. Before being arrested by the police officers he had insulted, he also managed to scrape through a scuffle with his ex-partner’s relatives before innocently proclaiming he had “only wanted to relax with his daughter” when quizzed on the incident. After being dismissed from yet another club in 2010 for refusing to give blood for a standard test (something to hide perhaps?) Paredes has yet to resurface, although it is surely only a matter of time before his path of destruction comes back to the fore.
 
Edmundo
 
When you have earned the epithet “The Animal”, it would take a very brave man to encounter ex Brazilian World Cup runner up Edmundo without even a hint of trepidation. Once described as having a “lion-like temper” by an ex Chairman and receiving seven red cards in one year, Edmundo has a pretty impressive, or unimpressive as it may be, rap sheet of immaturity, assault, going awol, alcohol and even death. Again as seems to be the norm, Edmundo had incredible talent and was often lauded as one of the world’s best strikers but with the incredible handicap of being, well, himself. In what would turn out to be a vintage year of misdemeanours, 1995 began with a bang when during the South American quarter final against Argentinean team Velez Sarsfield he responded to a tough challenge from an opposition player by slapping him square on the face, earning a punch back for his trouble. The result would be an all out brawl between both teams and coaching staffs as belligerents on all sides aimed kung-fu kicks and punches at each other. That same year he was also temporarily detained in jail in the Ecuadorian city of Guayaquil after lashing out at a TV Cameraman after missing a penalty in a Copa Libertadores match before being pardoned when the Brazilian Foreign Ministry stepped in. Incredibly this would be a tame incident compared to what happened in December that year when an inebriated and intoxicated Edmundo crashed his speeding pickup truck into another car, killing the three passengers whilst he himself would only receive 10 stitches. After he was found guilty of drink driving and manslaughter incredibly he wasn’t jailed outright, but rather was essentially given a free pass due to his profession and at the time of sentencing would only spend a few nights imprisoned. Finally in 2011, after spending some time on the run, the ex Brazilian star was arrested and commanded to serve the four years jail time he had originally been sentenced to. The final incident for which the Animal is perhaps best remembered was the occasion in 1999 when for his son’s birthday party he hired an entire circus for his back garden and proceeded to fuel  a chimpanzee with beer and whisky, earning the ire from animals rights groups and the police. With a name like “The Animal”, Edmundo was never going to be a quiet shrinking violet.

 Garrincha
 
To some Garrincha was even greater than Pele. The disabled child with the bend legs whom grew up to win two World Cups possessed the kind of talent which genuine football men always appreciated even if general acclaim from an ignorant public was never as forthcoming as it was with his great teammate Pele. By all accounts, on the pitch Garrincha was a dream, floating past players with ease using his unequalled dribbling skills. As well as being a two time World Cup winner, the 1962 edition’s player of the tournament and scoring an incredible 232 goals in 581 games for Botafogo, Garrincha was honoured when the home dressing room of the Maracana was named after him whilst the away dressing took the name of Pele. As great as his on pitch career was, just like George Best it is the off field tragedy that propels him from mere sportsman to flawed icon. Just like his father, Garrincha developed a lethal liking for the taste of alcohol from a young age and would continue to be addicted to the juice for the rest of his life. His wayward drinking didn’t seem to affect his social life, for Garrincha also married young and fathered 8 daughters with his wife before controversially leaving her for a famous Brazilian samba singer. By his death he was believed to have fathered at least 14 children although rumours have been known to put this number at 30 plus. By the late 1960’s Garrincha was a full blown alcoholic and despite never legally learning to drive regularly found himself behind the wheel in an intoxicated state, having got into numerous crashes including running over his father once. The lowest point of his life no doubt came in 1969 when he drove into a lorry in a car wreck that caused the death of his mother-in-law. Garrincha continued to deteriorate before finally succumbing to cirrhosis of the liver in 1983, passing away at the young age of 49. Strikingly, it was only 20 years after his peak atop the world game of football.
 
Diego Maradona
 
No article on extrovert and crazy South American footballers is complete without the King himself, El Diego. The rap sheet of the greatest of all times is so littered with controversy it’s impossible to know where to begin. Gun crime. Assault. Rants. Weight Gain. Dictators. Drugs. Maradona has seen and done it all, both on and off the pitch.  Let’s begin with his cocaine addiction. Allegedly becoming hooked in 1982 whilst playing for Catalan giants Barcelona and carrying the habit throughout the next two decades, he has been suspended from the sport on two separate occasions for his addiction. There was the time he was given a 15 month ban whilst at Napoli in the early 90’s before incurring another ban during his decline in 1997. In between this came arguably his most infamous suspension when he was tested and found positive for ephedrine during the 1994 World Cup, being sent home in disgrace from a tournament he had temporarily lit up with a wide-eyed celebration more becoming of a madman than a sportsman. Further proof that he hadn’t learnt his lesson and continued to use the white powder came in 2000 when he was busted by Uruguayan police with the drug still in his system and further in 2004 when the obese 20-stone legend suffered a heart attack allegedly brought on by a cocaine overdose. Maradona had retired in 1997 on his 37th Birthday and immediately descended into a coke-addled mess, his weight ballooning to unrecognizable levels before he began to overcome his cocaine addiction in 2005 together with a stomach stapling operation to control his weight.

Aside from his unrivalled on-pitch skills that led him to becoming the world’s most expensive player (twice) in the early 1980’s he first came to prominence away from his football skills for an incredible on-field brawl in the 1984 Spanish Cup final when chaos broke out between his Barcelona team and those of their rivals Athletic Bilbao after the match. Although by no means the only player whom erupted, Maradona was infamous spotted launching a series of karate kicks at anything that moved, his acrobatic attacks catching their targets on more than one occasion. It doesn’t need to be highlighted that this was also the period that the unhappy Argentine began experimenting with cocaina. After moving to Naples after Barcelona, El Diez reached the peak of his powers on the pitch but also began cavorting with the shadier elements of Neapolitan society off the pitch, namely the Mafioso-like Camorra. An investigation by the authorities into links with the Camorra’s drugs and prostitution rackets were only abandoned shortly before his 1991 failed test and his nocturnal activities around Naples were not innocent to say the least. A recent story emanating from the mouth of an incarcerated Mafia don was that the Camorra had even melted down his 1986 World Cup Golden Ball trophy in another example of the incredible community that Maradona immersed himself in. It was also whilst in Naples that one of El Diego’s many extramarital affairs resulted in the birth of a lovechild dubbed Diego Maradona Jnr in 1986. Maradona had always denied parentage of the child even though Italian Courts had ruled contrary in 1993 after the icon refused to undergo DNA tests. He is even on record as stating “my legitimate kids are Dalma and Giannina. The rest are a product of my money and my mistakes”. Although still not playing an active part in his son’s life to the present day (who now goes by the name Diego Sinagra and is a beach soccer player in his native Italy) he did meet the boy for the first time in 2003 when the youngster tricked his way onto an Italian golf course and confronted his absentee dad. His time in Italy would also have another consequence that he continues to fight to the present day, two decades after he ceased to work and live in the country. Italian authorities recently reported in March 2009 that the ex-Napoli hero owed the Italian government €37m in taxes and that so far he had only repaid €42,000, two luxury watches and a pair of earrings that were seized when he made a short visit to a clinic.
 
Always a target for the press for stories such as these and the fact that Diego himself would never shy away from a barbed comment on a wide range of topics, he took it a step further prior to the 1994 World Cup tournament when he confronted journalists camped by his property by firing an air-rifle at them, some of them reporting injuries to the police after being struck. Additionally in 2000, again irate at what he felt was an unnecessary intrusion into his life by the paparazzi, he attacked one such chancer by punching the photographer and then breaking his car window. Referring to his infamous “Hand of God” goal at the height of his athletic prowess, Diego commented in typical self-absolving style “if, in 1986, I said the goal against the English came from the ‘Hand of God’. Today I announce this broken glass comes from the ‘Hand of Reason’.” Maradona was again involved in a dubious incident with a member of the press on the day the then-Argentina manager announced his anticipated 23-man squad for the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. Making his way to the venue to make the announcement, the short-fused Diego seemingly hit a cameraman with his car and rather than apologizing or at least feigning concern as most decent people would, he immediately began launching a vicious verbal assault at the stricken man culminating in the epic retort “what an asshole you are! How can you put your leg there where it can get run over, man?!”. This outburst itself had only come a short while after his infamous and sordid rant during a press conference in the immediate aftermath of a climatic qualifying campaign where the normally resolute Argentines had struggled. Only mere minutes from being eliminated from the qualification spots for the World Cup, Maradona’s Argentina incredibly clinched a victory in their penultimate game against all odds and the dramatic reprieve sent the extrovert Diego into a crazed and wild spring town the touchline which culminated in a theatric “Klinsmann”-type dive on the waterlogged pitch. Clinching another victory to sneak into the World Cup a few days later Diego then shocked journalists and football bureaucrats the globe around by shouting at the press “to all you who did not believe in us, and I apologize to the women in here, you can suck it and keep sucking it”. Cue a fine and a ban from FIFA. Under threat from the game’s administrators and warned about his conduct at the game’s showpiece event, Maradona seemingly forgot this during another press conference after his team had satisfactorily defeated South Korea in their second group match. Theatrically hugging and kissing his players when celebrating on the touchline, when questioned about this Maradona replied in his customary manner; “Well I still prefer women. I am dating Veronica who is blond and 31-years-old. No I have not gone limp wristed”. Not his first reference to homosexuality, he issued a barbing retort to his constant nemesis Pele in 2009 after his Brazilian rival for the “greatest ever” title admonished him as a bad role model. Maradona outrageously and cheekily stated “what do you want me to say? He debuted with a lad”.

 
However, my personal favourite moment of the most outrageously outspoken but incredibly talented footballer of all time is his constant admonishing of the United States government in a way almost all other sports stars wouldn’t dare do. Maradona doesn’t care and feels passionately about many issues which always leads to fantastic outbursts, including nonchalantly referring to George Bush as a “murderer” to wearing a “Stop Bush Nazi” t-shirt with a Swastika on depicting the ex US president. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Diego Maradona, the greatest and craziest of them

Even the 90’s had characters at the top of the game who became loved, from the Gallic arrogance of Eric Cantona to the heart-on-the-sleeve man on the street attitude of Ian Wright. Today the players make too much money and have too much advisers around them to issue anything other than standard cliches more befitting of robots than the greatest sportsmen of their era’s. Where has the wit, arrogance and most importantly fun gone? PR has taken over. The perfect example of such image-awareness is the many instances of football autobiographies that tend to be released at the peak of a popular player’s career, for instance throughout the last decade serving England players including but not limited to Beckham, both Coles, Crouch, Rooney, Rio, Gerrard and Lampard. All were watered down books that offered nothing apart from an unimaginative biography of each player’s career void of any personal views or even input, concocted by a friendly journalist and a army of club lawyers.

But then we come to Mario. Where to begin? How a man has courted so much controversy so young is beyond me but in my opinion he is brilliant. Stupid, but brilliant. With undoubted talent as a youngster he probably first became known to fans in this country not for his promise but for first getting racially abused by as Italy’s first real black star and then for the increasing stories of his petulant behaviour under everyone’s favourite egomaniac Jose Mourinho. A match made in hell and a working relationship rockier than the Himalayas. Breaking point was reached towards the end of the 2010 season when first Mario committed the cardinal sin amongst football fans of praising their rivals. Not content with admitting he was a boyhood AC Milan fan, the enigmatic Inter striker was then shown on a popular Italian tv show parading around in a Milan top complete with his name and number on the back with a cheeky grin on his face. Only a month later he was booed off the field and threatened with physical harm by a group of fans after flinging his Inter shirt to the ground in disgust as he exited the field after the club’s Champions League semi-final victory over Barcelona. In perhaps the most unsurprising event that summer, Mario was shipped of to Manchester City in a £24m deal in a move that has been worth it with comedic value alone.

August 2010 – It was only a week after his debut when the Balotelli circus crashed into the consciousness of his new home when driving to training his destroyed his £120,000 Audi R8 in a collision with a BMW. Having only just been shipped over from Milan, the car was left a complete write-off and astonished witnesses mentioned that the striker was lucky to be alive. Despite the severity of the crash, the striker turned up to training later that morning as though nothing had happened. Questioned by police who discovered him to be carrying £5,000 whilst passing through Manchester’s less desirable areas, his nonchalant reply as to the reason to be carrying such obscene and suspicious amounts of cash was “because I am rich”.

October 2010 – Detained by police, questioned and then sent on his way after he and his 17 year old brother were caught driving through the gates and into the yard of a woman’s prison in Italy in what was obviously a major breach of security. After being recognised by guards the excuse he gave was that he was “curious”.

December 2010 – Comically caught by the Sky camera’s turning up to a game vs Everton with a gigantic glove-like hat on his head before picking up the European Golden Boy Trophy later in the month. When questioned on prospective challengers and past winners, he egotistically blurted out “Who else would have won it other than me? There is only one who is a bit stronger than me – Messi. All of the others are way behind me”. When asked about English wonderkid Jack Wilshere he replied ““What’s he called? Wil …? No, I have not heard of him yet, but next time I play against Arsenal I will have to pay attention. Maybe I could show him the Golden Boy and remind him that I won it”

March 2011 – Shortly after half time in a European tie vs Dynamo Kiev Mario complained of swelling on his face and was immediately subsituted, claimed he was allergic to the grass. Although bringing derision from fans about how it is possible for a footballer to be allergic to the very surface he plays on, manager Roberto Mancini apparently confirmed he was allergic to certain types of grass.

March 2011 – A week later Mario becomes an internet viral celebrity after appearing to take minutes to put on a bib, a seemingly simple thing even toddlers can manage. after After becoming increasingly confused it took a member of the backroom staff to help Mario put it on. He then takes it off as he wants a blue one…which he again seems unable to put on forcing the backroom staff member again to help him out. Eventually Balotelli throws away the bib in a mixture of anger and bemusement. Balotelli then went out and inexplicably got sent off for a karate kick on Dynamo’s Goran Popov as Man City went out of Europe. Later that night he was allegedly caught on camera getting out of his car and confronting a group of Kiev fans whom were shouting abuse towards him. Fearless. or Stupidity.

March 2011 – Balotelli is fined £100,000 after being caught throwing darts at members of Man City’s Youth team from a first floor window at the club’s Carrington training base, failing to see the danger in such a stunt. His excuse was that he was apparently “bored”.

April 2011 – After winning the battle of Manchester in the Wembley FA Cup semi final and announcing City’s arrival at the top of English football, Balotelli is caught kissing his badge and winking provocatively towards United’s Rio Ferdinand who subsequently had to be kept away from the Italian. A mass brawl erupted after the game which resulted in Balotelli being shepherded away from the Manchester United players. He was criticised as an “embarrassment” by Sky Pundit Gary Neville but no doubt won the approval of the many Anti-United fans for his cheeky arrogance.

April 2011 – Ejected from the Rude Lap Dancing Bar in Liverpool after allegedly breaking the “no touching” rule Balotelli was seen stood toe-to-toe with five bouncers in a seemingly suicidal gesture of cockiness before being escorted away, not before one of the bouncers caused damage to his Maserati. The same month another story emerges that the striker regularly abandons the £100k Maserati outside Manchester restaurants and has run up around £10k in parking tickets as well as having the supercar impounded 27 times.

April 2011 – After a night out at Manchester’s 235 casino with Blackburn Rovers’ Christopher Samba, Mario won £25k and when outside gave £1k to a homeless man, something he apparently regularly does, confusing his bad boy reputation but nevertheless enhancing his overall bewildering attitude.

July 2011 – Received criticism from across the sport when he was substituted after only half an hour in the first half of a friendly against LA Galaxy after getting into a clear goal scoring opportunity and instead of scoring he showboated by attempting to backheel the ball into the net. Lambasted for being disrespectful from all sides he walked away from his angry manager Roberto Mancini who proceeded to follow him down the touchline whilst admonishing the striker for the absurdity of his backheel.

August 2011 – In an interview claims that whilst he has no problem with his team-mates he hates Manchester as a city, alienating him from a large section of his own fanbase. Admits he wants to move back to his home town of Brescia and perhaps even Milan.

October 2011 – Police and fire engines are called mere hours before the Manchester derby after Mario is forced to escape from his own house after fireworks were set of in the bathroom causing a fire. Police were called to control Balotelli after he reportedly ran back inside the burning property to retrieve cash and seemed reluctant to stay outside.

October 2011 – Incredibly, a few days after the fireworks incident Mario then becomes the face of Manchester’s firework safety campaign in the greatest act of irony. He is quoted as saying “It is important children should not mess with fireworks. They can be very dangerous if they are not used in the right way. People should follow the firework code”. Yes Mario…they should. Such as not setting them off out of their bathroom window.

Dec 2011 – In another act of on-field arrogance, scores nonchalantly with his shoulder vs Norwich again drawing criticism for disrespect.

Jan 2012 – Surprised college students at Xaverian College in Manchester by pulling up outside in his Bentley and walking into the premesis to use the toilet. After attending to nature, began talking to the students in the canteen before walking into the staffroom to talk to the bewildered members of staff. He was observed as walking around the school “like he owned the place” before leaving the starstruck pupils behind.

Whilst this lists his most prominent and famous incidents to date, as explored earlier there will be without doubt much more to come from a man who doesnt seem to be able to help himself. Common sense is not something that can be expected from a man whom, when seeing prostitute Jenny Thompson in a Manchester restaurant he began chanting “Rooney, Rooney, Rooney” at her in reference to her famous affair. Mario Balotelli is a very good footballer but he is a fantastic personality and I for one hope he stays on these shores for the remainder of his career. Pure theatre. As the chant goes…

“Ohhhh Balotelli, is a striker, he’s good at darts!
An allergy to grass but when he play’s he’s fucking class!
He drives around Moss Side with a wallet full of cash!!
Ooooooh Balotelli!”

That was the dream. Gary Speed is going to the World Cup with us, the Welsh fans sang. Gary Speed would be leading us to the cliched date with destiny as his Barmy Army looked to take their own Valley’s carnival to Rio. Thousands of fans flocking from God’s Country with our leader in front of us as we took on the very best the World had to throw at us. Was it a mere pipe dream with little chance of coming true? Probably. Yet the fact we were able to wistfully daydream about such things only 10 matches into Gary’s Welsh managerial career is evident of the impact his short reign had on the fans. We Believed. We Dreamed. Now we’re broken-hearted and in a nightmare.

Much has been written in the last 48 hours about Gary Speed, both about his personal character and his footballing ability. I struggle to recall another human being whom has received such unrepentant grief upon their passing. This is without doubt a prime example of not realising what you had until its gone, for Gary Speed’s death has unleashed a torrent of tears from everyone of us linked to his career, be it as fan or player. I’ve been in a daze since I received the text Sunday morning whilst in the pub before the Swansea vs Aston Villa game. “This isn’t true” I shouted and immediately went to twitter where these days seems to be the ultimate platform of breaking news. There it was. Wales Manager Gary Speed, dead at 42. How? Why? When? Then the eyes started watering and I had to stop reading momentarily. An Aston Villa fan got dragged out of the pub by police apparently and I never saw it. Dazed. Confused. Is it possible for a stranger to have this affect on me? I didn’t think it was. I’m not one for sentiment for those that know me.

I’ve had people I consider to be heroes pass away before, its a part of the growing up process it seems. Michael Jackson. Nate Dogg. Aaliyah. Yet whilst I respected such people and would express grief at their deaths, its different with Gary Speed. He doesn’t seem like a celebrity at all but rather just your local football coach, friend, even family member. One word being used to describe him is how “normal” he was in respect to the overpaid, spoilt footballers of the modern generation whom are not in touch with the local man. Any man that makes a football reporter break down and cry live on air like Bryn Law did must have been a special man. Any man that makes that colossus of a human in Big Bad John Hartson cry his eyes out in public over his friend must have been a special man.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this blog. Dan Walker of Football Focus began his tribute article on the BBC Website by mentioning that it was just a stream of his consciousness. I can relate. Everyone knows of Speed’s solid and under appreciated career for Leeds, Everton, Newcastle, Bolton and Sheffield United. When a play has no ego and doesn’t put himself in the spotlight, it is easy to overlook just how great they were. Paul Scholes is another who has traditionally been overlooked in favour of more showy and PR-savvy players of a more mediocre talent.

I will end by saying I have three overriding memories of Gary Speed and his impact in my life. Again, due to the very nature of Speed and his character he was definitely taken for granted and as such it is sad his talent is only really being expose upon his passing. As a boyhood Newcastle fan it was Shearer or Asprilla I would get on the back of the tops but like all football teams the star is nothing without the true talent pulling the strings behind them. Think Claude Makelele at Real Madrid or the aforementioned Scholes. I remember loving Gary Speed because he was Welsh and I felt with him being at the Toon we had something in common. I remember the poster I had on my bed room wall, an A5 one which had Speed in all his pomp and glory in the infamous Black and White stripes with a Welsh flag in the bottom corner. I loved that Poster. The Welshman at Newcastle. Perhaps I thought I could one day emulate him, I don’t know.

From around 2000 to 2004 this was the period where I really began to support the Welsh team. And what a team we had, key word being TEAM and not individual star players. John Hartson, Paul Jones, Robbie Savage, Mark Delaney, Craig Bellamy and running the show our captain and leader Gary Speed. Solid professionals who got the job done. And get the job done we did. I was there when we beat Germany. I was there when we beat Italy. I was there when we drew to Argentina. We consistently destroyed your Azerbaijan’s, Kazakhstan’s and Belarus’s. What a halycon period. 72,000 fans for every home game, pride, passion, perseverance. Did Gary Speed miss friendlies, consider himself above playing against minnows in favour of a week off to go shopping? No. Some display patriotism with tattoo’s and photo opportunities, some put their all on the line out on the pitch.

Finally, not content with merely leading us on the pitch the man became our mentor, leader, inspiration on the sidelines. Gary Speed, Manager of Wales. It was perfect. It was ideal. It was natural. Again I’m not going to go into specific details about the game as its not important. What I will say is I was at the Wales vs England game in February this year in his second game in charge and we were shocking. A hangover from the previous regime. I was also present at Gary’s last two games of his career and indeed life. His 9th and 10th games in charge. We were fantastic. We played incredible football. We scored, we passed, we ran, we tackled, we entertained. This wasn’t Wales surely? But it was. Red Dragon on the chest and “Gary Speed’s Barmy Army” emanating from our throats in the stands. Without being a Welsh football fan and understanding how ridiculous we have been in general since god know’s when I am not a good enough writer to explain the optimism we were feeling about the future. Bale, Ramsey, Allen, Bellamy, Collison, Blake, Williams, Matthews, Taylor, Vokes. We had the right man to lead them, both professionally and personally.

I’m thankful that I got to grow up a fan of Newcastle who regularly watched and admired Gary Speed. He was present on my 13th birthday when my father took me and my friend to watch Newcastle play Blackburn. I was in awe at that game, the famous Newcastle and I was here to watch them! Given, Speed, Shearer, Barnes. Amazingly my first ever game I went to watch was as a 10 year old when we went to Highbury to watch Arsenal play Leeds. Gary Speed was also present in that game. How coincidental.

Now its gone. Maybe the dream will be kept alive in his honour but at the moment, its gone. Shattered. I don’t know what to say. I’m sad for his wife. I’m sad for his sons. I’m sad for his dad. I’m sad for his friends, team-mates, players, family, supporters. I’m sad for Gary Speed. I’m sad. Finally, another footballing hero of mine, Sir Bobby Robson, has finally found his captain in heaven.

 Y Ddraig Coch

When discussing flags of Wales, one must start with the most recognisable and famous banner the country possesses, “Y Ddraig Coch”. To many people, including the average Welshman, this is the only flag the nation has and many will be surprised to learn just how recent official recognition of a seemingly ageless flag was. Accepted as an official flag by the British Government only in 1959, the flag consists of a passant Red Dragon on a Green and White background, often considered a field. Although only just over 60years old, the flag and its significance has been felt by the Welsh people for centuries. The Red Dragon itself was thought to have been brought to these lands by the Romans but it’s first clear connection to Wales came with its involvement in the mysterious Welsh prophecies. Allegedly the Wizard Myrddin (commonly known as Merlin) told a story of an underground duel between a White Dragon and a Red one, the white beast representing the invading Saxon warriors whom were attempting to suppress the native Welsh people. Merlin allegedly prophesised that the White Dragon would dominate at first but would eventually succumb as the Red Dragon and thus the Welsh people would rise up and vanquish their enemy. This link between Merlin and the Red Dragon was further lend credence if not actual historical fact by the association of the Red Dragon as a flag symbol with the mythical Arthur, King of the Britons. What is not shrouded in historical cynicism is that the banner was definitely used by the Gwynedd King, Cadwaladr, whom has a reputation as one of the greatest Welsh leaders of the era.

With the symbol confirmed as a representation of the Welsh people it became further entrenched in the consciousness of a people when first Owain Glyndwr raised the so-called “Red Dragon of Cadwaladr” during his revolt against English rule and then his distant kinsman Henry Tudor won the English throne at the Battle of Bosworth in 1485. Henry was a Welshman whom invaded England via a Welsh-landing from France and had almost uncontested support from his people in his quest to conquer the English throne and end the dynastic Wars of the Roses. Henry had combined his Tudor livery colours of Green and White with the Red Dragon of Arthur, Merlin, Cadwaladr and Owain Glyndwr to create an iconic image and it was this banner which was carried triumphantly into St Paul’s Cathedral on Henry’s march through London. Even so, it remained half a millennia longer before the flag received official patronage from the British Government amidst pressure from Welsh nationalist groups. In 1959 one of the world’s most loved flags came into official existence and has since then been seen in possibly every part of the world as patriotic Welshmen always ensure they pack their flag with their luggage on their travels, never a group of people to pass up the opportunity to show off “Y Ddraig Coch”. Whether it is Rugby, Music or Politics, the Welsh flag is without doubt the most potent symbol of Welshness and national pride and is often viewed in every place possible. A visit to any shop in the country will unleash a torrent of products enshrined in the Red Dragon, from food goods to magnets and from teddy bears to clothes. For a nation so small, Y Ddraig Coch is a flag of enormous appeal and affection and held in high esteem by Welshman and outsider alike. As the only officially recognised flag to be flown from Governmental buildings within the country, it is without doubt the most widely seen flag representing the people of Wales.

 The Flag of Saint David

England has the flag of St George whilst Scotland is proudly represented by the saltire of St Andrew, both of which are immediately recognisable around the globe as representative of the countries which use them. Together with the more obscure cross of St Patrick which represents Ireland the three flags make up the iconic yet controversial Union Jack flag. Therefore one could reasonably expect the national flag of Wales to be of the respective national saint, David, in keeping with local consistency. Yet the St David’s cross is a banner that has suffered from a lack of familiarity with those whom inhabit the country of David, let alone recognisable to those further afield. Aesthetically the flag constitutes a simple yet effective design of a yellow/gold cross on a black background, enabling it to stand out and be more effective than the dull-by-comparison St George’s cross. The flag itself has cropped up in a few public places in recent times as Welsh nationalism and national pride grows with each passing generation, eager to stamp their own identity on a crumbling British union. The flag has played a prominent part in marches and parades celebrating St David’s day every 1^st March and was even featured temporarily as part of the club badge of Cardiff City Football Club in an overt display of their Welshness in an English-dominated scene. The St David’s cross was also used as the basis for two recent Rugby shirts that has probably increased awareness of the flag more than any other concerted campaign ever could. In 2008 the WRU released a Golden away jersey for the national Rugby team that featured the Flag imprinted on each arm together with a press release explaining how the shirt was inspired from the flag of St David. The other instance where the flag was used in sport was when Rugby League’s first Welsh franchise Crusaders RLFC used the entire flag as the basis for its first kit to again overtly display their heritage in a previously-English environment.

 For a flag  that is now arguably unrivalled as Wales’ second (unofficial) flag, the history is sketchy at best. The fledgling Church in Wales, of which the diocese of St David’s is an integral part, disestablished itself from the larger Church of England in 1920 and it seems that the flag was consequently flown atop Anglican churches in Wales to display their affiliation. Throughout the diocese’s under control of the Church of England the St George’s cross was readily flown above the constituent churches and around 1939 it seems that a flag was created from the historic St David armorial arms of a yellow cross on a black background…but reversed. Whilst the usage of the black cross on a yellow background as a flag seems to be solely used from 1939 to 1954 atop Church in Wales, the colours of yellow and black have always traditionally been linked with the Saint as highlighted by the aforementioned Armorial arms which still represent the diocese in the area. St David was devout Christian whom lived well and taught the new ways of Christianity to the pagan tribes of Wales from his monastery on the banks of the modern city which takes his name. As a famous and well-loved figure from Welsh history, indeed the only patron saint of the nation, the flag has in itself also taken on connotations of Welsh nationalism as briefly explored earlier and its visibility continues to grow throughout Wales.

 The Church of Wales flag

Similar in meaning and source if not in design to the banner of St David, the Church of Wales flag is the official emblem in usage in Wales to differentiate the organisation from their neighbourly Church of England. Stylistically the flag consists of a Gold Celtic cross nestled on a blue cross and a white background. The flag was inaugurated in 1954 and was created to specifically replace the reversed St David’s flag mentioned above to represent the Church of Wales within their remit. Unlike the previous two this flag is arguably unknown amongst the vast majority of Welsh natives, especially in these days of low Church attendance. Theologically, the Church in Wales is part of  the Anglican communion in Wales although in sharp contrast to its larger and dominating neighbour the Church of England it has retained an admirable disestablished stance since 1920. With a strong tradition of non-Conformist Christianity throughout Wales there was always a sense of Conflict towards the Church of England itself from the Welsh whom in particular felt marginalised and oppressed by Church policies.  The Welsh church act of 1914 was thus passed amid controversy and the Church in Wales was legally separated from the Church of England which it remains to this day, the Welsh church being disestablished from the state whilst the Church of England remains inextricably linked. Today this flag is often found atop of Church in Wales properties although even then it competes with the local diocese flags, again resulting in lower recognition of a dazzling banner.

 Glyndwr/Aberffraw Flag

Owain Glyndwr. Patriot. Hero. Freedom Fighter. Welshman. Every native Cymro is aware of the name Owain Glyndwr as he was the romantic hero who stood up in the face of oppression and took the fight back to the English whom had conquered and subdued the nation of Wales a century prior. Glyndwr had raised a rebellion in 1400 and within four years had crowned himself Prince of Wales and the inheritor of the defunct Welsh royal family. The royal kingdom’s of Wales prior to being rendered extinct under the might of the English crown had been a fractured bunch, varying Kingdoms rising to power for an intermittent period before being replaced or usurped by another. What helped Glyndwr win the loyalty of his men and to validate his claim to the throne was that he was descended from three of the main royal families and was thus the apparent personification of a true Welsh prince. The flag today widely known as the Glyndwr banner was in fact derived from the hereditary flag of the previous princes of Wales although Glyndwr’s version had one clear and aggressive difference. The flag of the native princes from the powerful Gwynedd-based House of Aberfraw consisted of four passant lions on a quartered red and gold background. One prominent user of the flag was Llewelyn the Great whom in 1216 was lauded as the Prince of Wales after gaining acceptance and homage from his rival rulers. The flag in itself had been utilised by the kinsmen of Llewelyn’s from at least the 11^th century and was in all probability considered an official flag of Welsh royalty. The importance of this flag is such that after Edward I of England conquered the nation in 1282 and  instilled his own eldest Caernarfon-born son as the Prince of Wales it was this flag that became the de-facto representative banner of these foreign Princes of Wales. Since 1911 this flag has again been utilised by the foreign Princes of Wales as their Coat of Arms before they succeed to the Crown of England. Prince Charles in the 1960’s began to use the Aberfraw banner with his heraldic coronet placed directly onto the middle of the flag as his representative banner and in 2008 the flag itself holds a prominent role in the official Royal Badge of Wales.

 Perhaps because of its usurpation by the Royal Family of England as their own symbol of claim on the Welsh Kingdom, it is the aforementioned version of Glyndwr’s banner that has subsequently become a potent symbol of Welsh nationalism amidst Independence-related insignia. As mentioned above the Glyndwr flag has one major difference to the Aberfraw flag and that is that as opposed to being passant, the four lions are on their hind feet in an aggressive rampant pose. Although the real reasons for this are no longer evident, many experts in Heraldry point out that as per Glyndwr’s triple ancestry the rampant lions are evident in the respective arms of both his mother and father’s princely ancestors and combined with the colours and style of the Aberfraw flag create an ultimate Welsh flag. As a result of Glyndwr’s patronage of this flag in the last two decades it has increased in usage across the nation by proponents of a free Wales and can be seen in a myriad of places, arguably now the second most popular flag of the country and growing. Most Welsh sporting events will have a smattering of Glyndwr flags amongst the fans whilst such organisations as the Urdd Eisteddfod and Town Halls have been known to fly the flag particular around 16^th September, a date put forward by Welsh nationalists as a candidate for Glyndwr day. As political symbol’s go, the message behind the Glyndwr banner is a clear one. An independent Wales.

 Golden Dragon

Whilst the above flag of Glyndwr’s has become widespread in modern times, it was the Golden Dragon that Glyndwr famously raised in his battles against the English armies. Near Caernarfon on 2^nd November 1401 Glyndwr’s forces were positioned on Tut Hill when Glyndwr raised up the legendary Golden Dragon flag in defiance of English rule, best encapsulated by the domineering fortified Castle which lay before them. The Flag itself was essentially as its name suggests, a Golden Dragon in a rampant pose which in Welsh was referred to as Baner Y Ddraig Aur. Although obscure by today’s standards and only known by fervent nationalists with an active interest in history, this would have been considered Glyndwr’s premier flag at the start of his rebellion and certainly carried a plethora of overt symbolism. A previous Prince of Gwynedd whom Glyndwr was seeking to replicate in his actions was Owain Gwynedd whom was associated by Welsh bards with Golden Dragons and although a reputable link by Glyndwr it was from a different kind of Leader that Glyndwr was seeking to really exploit. Since the turn on the 11^th Century the legends of the Ancient Briton King Arthur were never far from Heraldic poetry within Wales as the bards prophesised about a new leader to take up Arthur’s mantle and banish the invaders from the lands of the Britons. In the intervening period the Britons had become identified as the Welsh whilst the Saxon’s and Normans were gradually melting into an English race. The Welsh people often fantasised about the Mabdarogan or Son of Prophecy who would fulfil the bards predictions and free the people. It was no surprise for Glyndwr, scion of three Royal Families, to find himself cast in this role and much like his later distant kinsman Henry Tudor embraced this development by encouraging the link. The Golden Dragon was the standard that was linked to the ancient Briton warrior Uther Pendragon whom would be better remembered in history as the father of Arthur. In the early Welsh language the translation of Dragon was (and in fact still is) “Draig”, and this was a word that was considered to mean a Warrior. With the epithet “Pen” meaning Chief or Great often added to Ddraig to suggest a great or chiefly Warrior the status of Uther Pendragon is in little doubt. Thus a banner that displayed both Glyndwr’s heritage, prophecy and hopes found itself immortalised in the guise of a Golden Dragon.

 Welsh Republican Tricolour

A flag in which not only is its design but also its intended meaning illustrated in the accepted name of the flag, the Welsh Republican Tricolour is a minor flag that has caught on with a subsector Welsh Nationalists whom wish to display their antipathy towards the English Monarchy through Republican motives. With legitimate native Princes extinct with the downfall of Llewelyn the Last in 1282 and Glyndwr’s mysterious disappearance at the start of the 15^th century, Wales herself doesn’t have a realistic pretender to a Welsh throne and therein lies the dilemma for modern nationalists. Should the nation gain independence the new, forward-thinking entity it will become will surely not revert to a form of State-ship that has long been considered outdated. Welsh republicanism therefore has a credible basis from which it has slowly began to grow and has been further emboldened by ancient Celtic ties to Ireland where of course Republicanism has been a core concept throughout the 20^th century. Based on the Irish and French designs, the Welsh tricolour is a simple design using the already-established national colours of Green, Red and White and sometimes appears with a Socialist/Communist star on the white section to display further political motives. The star has also been stated to denote a memorandum to all those patriots that have died for Wales. The flag itself was used by the Welsh Republican Movement that seceded from the mainstream Plaid Cymru in 1949 in an internal dispute over policy. The Republicans believe that more should have been done with regards to Socialism within the nation as opposed to rural affairs and the Welsh language and aimed to become a major party. Although fervent in its ideals the party failed to catch the support of the general public and faded from national consciousness in the 1960’s although the flag they conceived continues to be occasionally spotted, in particular in the new modern world of the Internet and in that arena of nationalism, the sporting event.

 Yr Eryr Wen

The “Eryr Wen” flag was a flag that first came to prominence in the 1960’s with the rise of violent nationalism in Wales through the advent of the Free Wales Army. Translating as the White Eagle, the dramatic flag consists of a stylised and simple design purporting to the be the White Eagle on a ominous black background. The flag’s connotations were subtle and therein lay the attractiveness of the flag. The black background was used to put the full focus on the white eagle design which was said to carry two meanings. The aforementioned Owain Gwynedd, as well as being linked to Golden Dragon’s by the bards, was attributed a coat of arms that consisted of three eagles whom were displayed with their wings spread wide on a green background. Owain I of Wales is considered by historians and nationalists alike as one of the greatest Welsh princes and his wars with the English King Henry II are still fondly remembered by Wales’ patriots and no doubt the corrupting of his coat of arms into a modern white stylised design was a way for the members of the Free Wales Army to display their objectives. The FWA were created by Julian Cayo-Evans in 1963 and were created to raise awareness of the fight for Welsh republicanism, their lust for self-promotion gaining them much publicity in an era of Celtic reawakening. The flag began to be prominently displayed by the followers of the FWA and was used and is still used by those of a Nationalist mentality to display their political viewpoint and is instantly recognisable to other comrade’s of a similar outlook. Whilst the FWA themselves were rendered extinct with a plethora of arrests and convictions in the late 60’s the flag is still seen by other individuals purporting to be taking up the mantle of Welsh resistance to Colonial British rule and as well as flags can be seen on badges and graffiti occasionally in rural Wales.

Many times people often ask me to clarify myself on certain statements I utter, whether the claims are made in person or through the modern medium of Social Media. Whilst the majority of people tend to be laid back in most aspects of life, merely sitting on the fence is not something that is built into my being. I passionately believe in a myriad of campaigns or causes and find it hard to turn my head nonchalantly away without a care in the world. Having an opinion matters, even an opinion that some might consider outdated, offensive, controversial or ridiculous. It is such people that create talking points and stop the world from being merely a uniformed mass of conformist robots.

 For those that know me, the issue that often crops up is my firm stance on the rejection of “being British”. I live in a state that collectively titles itself the “United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland”. This is a legal fact, documented by the residual powers of the island. I possess a British passport in an overt expression of enforced-Britishness on the holder, once again a legal fact. I was born on 14^th November 1985 and since I took my first breath in Morriston Hospital in Swansea I have been TOLD I am British by documents if not verbally. Am I allowed to reject this? Do I have a case at all? Without creating a fuss and offending the easily offended… it seems not. Yet I do reject this. People can bleat all they want about how I am British because the state say so, the simple fact is that a person has the power to self-identify as they wish. We are born free human beings, free of the shackles of slavery and oppression from others. I am Welsh. Call me anti-British or anti-English all you want, the view I take is I’m pro-Wales. I love visiting London and I enjoy the company of English friends. I love Scottish history and learning about Robert the Bruce for example, but I’m not British or English or Scottish. Wales is my concern since, in case you haven’t realised by now, I am Welsh. This is my self-identification and opinions of others are irrelevant. Yet I hear you ask, what is so wrong with being British and why aren’t you content to be considered a Great Briton like so many others before you? Where to start?

 What is it to be British? Who are the modern day British? Anyone with a decent grasp of history knows that the native peoples of large sections of these islands, the Britons, were the modern day Welsh and even spoke a Brythonic language that was the forerunner of Welsh. These “Welsh-Britons” inhabited modern day Wales, most of England and the Scottish lowlands before constant conquests by invading forces pushed the Britons back to a small western section of the island. Therefore surely this historical account is accreditation enough that I should be proud to be British, the forerunner of Wales and her people? Well, no. Let’s look at what Britain means in its current guise for the word has been usurped. The etymology of the word is that Great Britain constitutes the historic and different nations of Wales, England and Scotland in a cumulative and combined political alliance. The creation of this “Britain” occurred when the independent Kingdom of England (and its conquered and thus annexed colony of Wales) entered a union with the equally independent Kingdom of Scotland, in practice with the ascension of the Stuart dynasty to the English crown in the early 17^th century and officially with the Union of the Crown’s a century later. This was further complicated by the inclusion of Ireland and then Northern Ireland in the official usage although the term Britain and British still refers to the mainland itself. England and Scotland thus ceased to exist and independent, self ruling nations and became the Goliath “Great Britain” in an era where collective Imperialism meant power. Wales of course had lost her self determination in 1282 after it was battered into submission by its larger and stronger neighbour. Due to this political manoeuvring and rebranding the English, Scottish and Welsh thus became “British”. So with that quick history lesson done, it instantly shows my first reservation about being lumbered with the concept of Britishness regarding self-identity. Britain came into official existence in 1707 whilst the Welsh nation both as a people and as a country predated the manufactured statehood of Britain by at least a millennia. I have traced my family tree on my mother’s side as far back as reasonably possible and have gotten back to the very time the British union was created. The Griffith’s family of Talley were farmers and it is absurd to think that one day they woke up and ceased to be Welsh and suddenly became British with a sudden pride and affiliation not only to their kin in Wales but also to strangers 500miles away across a land they had never ventured. Welsh is what I identify with, this is my roots, this is my country and this is my nationality regardless of what anyone wishes to state to the contrary. Why would I want to be British (which also includes the Scottish and English whom are different peoples with similar-yet-distant characteristics) when my people and the people I identify with are from Swansea, Llandovery, and Aberystwyth and not London, Aberdeen or Newcastle. Where does one stop…are we all now European only due to bureaucratic insistence from Brussels? It should be noted that the union was met with vicious derision from both Scottish and English peoples and was initially a hostile merger amongst vociferous opposition. Hardly the will of the people.

 Of course a major feeling of anti-Britishness has festered within myself due to a feeling of my Welsh compatriots being ostracised and sidelined by the ruling establishment in London. How can I be expected to be proud and patriotic towards “British” events in parts of the state that don’t concern me whilst ignoring what I personally feel are vicious acts of oppression against the very people from whom I am descended and live amongst? How can I throw my weight behind an institution that has gleefully raped my small, helpless country of its natural resources, leaving behind mass unemployment, crumbling communities and broken hearts once they had satisfied their capitalist needs. We all know the true price of Coal and the hundreds of men whom perished whilst filling the coffers of the self-styled British Government. What about the lesser known plundering of Welsh water, sinking communities in order to create reservoirs to supply English cities with drinking water with no thought to the destruction caused to rural lives? Cofiwch Dryweryn. Remember Tryweryn. How about the attempted destruction of the Welsh language and Culture by the biggest proponents of the “British” way of the life, the Victorians. At the height of the British Empire in all its pomp and glory the usage of Welsh was frowned upon and embarrassing for a world power attempting to force English on its colonies around the globe. This was perhaps best illustrated by the implementation of the “Welsh Not”, a device used in schools to eradicate and discourage the speaking of Welsh under the threat of physical harm from teachers. The Welsh people are not even represented on the Union Flag, the official banner for which purports to represent the so-called British people of this island. Am I supposed to gleefully wave a rag which symbolism notwithstanding, has no representation of me on it? A rag that was the symbol of oppression, imperialism and slavery for centuries and a rag which is currently the darling of the far-right movement? I think not.

 How about the repugnant way in which the all-encompassing idea of Britishness is constantly forced upon the people that are unlucky enough to come under its ridiculous guise? When the very idea of a British identity was being crafted in the 18^th Century it superimposed itself over the existing identities that had been cultivated on this island for hundreds of years previously. It says something about the resilience of the individual cultures of the English, Scots and Welsh that they are still visible amongst the overpowering enforcement of Britishness on the people. Renowned Welsh politician Gwynfor Evans once state “Britishness is a political synonym for Englishness which extends English culture over the Scots, Welsh and the Irish” and I have to agree. Whilst Scottish people then may have felt endearment to the term British due to allowing them an even keel in a wider context and some Welsh feeling affection for a term that is derived from the historic name of the Welsh people, to the majority of the English people both past and present “British” and “English” are interchangeable and this no doubt alienates vast swathes of the alliance. Once again, why do I wish to be inextricably linked with a people whom do not represent me both in outlook, attitude or ethnicity (the Welsh side naturally). I am not English. Why do I want to claim to be, or Scottish for that matter? A Scottish victory in anything is not a Welsh victory simple because of the term “British”. Equally, why should a Welsh victory be shared with others whom have no affiliation whatsoever to the victor simple because of this all-encompassing term “British”. When I watch the Olympics I do not support the British Olympic team. I feel no affiliation to them whatsoever. I will on individual Welsh athletes in a similar way I will on individual Welsh players in the British and Irish Lions rugby team but I do not feel any sense of affection for the brand they are forced to represent for no other eligible option. I refer to an earlier point, I do not celebrate a Spanish World Cup victory simply because they are fellow European union members and we are all European citizens. The same logic applies. This imposition of a manufactured state has parallels with other similar creations in recent history however much proud British citizens may protest. The Soviet Union was a nation that was created out of the spoils of World War I whereby ethnic Ukrainians, Moldovans, Kazakh’s and Estonians to name but a few were forced into an alliance whereby their own national identities were ignored in favour of the new super nation. Their passports and state papers may have announced them to be Soviet, but the people themselves would self identify as Ukrainian or whatever the case may be. The Soviet Union fell and traditional national pride and identity resumed. This will happen to Great Britain sooner rather than later as 300 years of enforced Britishness has still not led to the individual affections being diluted and replaced.

 What about reputation on a global scale? The British as a state are amongst one of the most despised states in the World, their actions both historically and presently building up a strong feeling of anti-British sentiment. Why? Foreign Policy. The British Empire may have unleashed the age of industrialisation on an unsuspecting world and in the process evolving Human’s capacities beyond all expectations but the way they conquered countries to use up their resources remains a sore issue. South Africa, United States, India, Pakistan, Uganda, Ireland etc are just a number of countries that had their issues with colonisation by a British force. Many of the world’s current conflict zones are a direct consequence of British involvement. Palestine and Kashmir spring to mind. The modern age also has brought with it British armed force in a myriad of nations such as Afghanistan, Iraq and Libya. The reasons they are there is irrelevant, the fact they are however creates an anti-British sentiment that endures across the world and is even directly responsible for bringing terror to the streets of this country in revenge attacks. The IRA brought their campaign to the British mainland during their operational years but tellingly never attacked Wales. We were not the target, England was. However, does a fundamentalist based halfway around the world understand the nuances of the separate nations within the British union? Why should Wales be potentially bloodied for the actions of a London-centric government? I do not want my name linked to the string of offences, even war crimes some might say, committed across the world in the last three centuries and possibly for many more to come. How anyone can be proud of a country that merely acts as a stooge of the United States is beyond me and this is another reason for a distinct lack of affection to being “British”. If Britain’s foreign policy is something to be ashamed of then I don’t possess the vocabulary to adequately capture the actions of the United States. What I do know is that the “Special Relationship” lowers Britain’s standing even more. Some view Britain as a country full of Hugh Grant-bumbling fools whom enjoy tea, prudish morality and waving Union Jack’s at the Proms and Royal Weddings. Others view Britain as a dominating war machine eating up the cultures of others in an attempt to impose its own agenda and ways on the world. Both are simplified stereotypes that belie the true picture but even so, I will be Welsh not British until the day I die and for this I make no apologies.

To our Warriors in Red,

 As individual men whom have grown up in various towns and villages throughout our pleasant nation, each and every one of you will be aware of how the powerful yet graceful, simple but strategic game of rugby features highly in our collective psyche. We are a proud yet small nation for whom the chance to support our nation in the national sport is a rare chance for us to compete on an even keel with larger opposition, most of whom tend to be more dominating and imposing in matters of culture and economy. Rugby is Wales’ outlet to impose OUR culture and style on others as opposed to having theirs forced on us.

 A story jumps to mind from a documentary I saw on the BBC post-2008 Grand Slam where it was mentioned that in order to entice Warren to take over the reins of the hottest job in Welsh sport he was flown over the Valley’s and couldn’t believe the plethora of rugby pitches that littered the Valley floor. Mile after Mile, Pitch after Pitch. Even from another similar Rugby nation in New Zealand, the sight was an incredible one for Mr Gatland. Maybe Warren could confirm this, but even if the story transpires to be mere media invention the point behind the tale remains relevant… South Wales in particular is a Rugby Kingdom. Let the RFU of Twickenham preach whatever they must in their public school accents, us Son’s of Wales know where the true home of Rugby is.

 We have a good reputation in the standing of the world game for our illustrious history yet genuine success has always eluded us. We follow up individual spurts of domestic success with capitulation the year after. If there was a World Cup in the 1970’s then Wales may have a title to their name but alas, there wasn’t and therefore we don’t.  World Cups have tended to come and go in a blur of underachievement and controversy. The promise is always clear, the actual practice lacking. When the inevitably embarrassing and heart wrenching defeats come during the World Cup’s, unlike the English whom seemingly enjoy unleashing their anger and rage in a myriad of directions we Welsh fans just skulk away and deal with our pain in a way we deal with Family deaths. We sink into ourselves, our eyes fill with tear, our stomach begins to churn and our hearts yearn for success.

 But that was then. And this is now. For all those whom have grown disillusioned with constant underachieving during Rugby World Cups we have been suddenly and some might say surprisingly blessed with an abundance of success in the guise of you, the 2011 Welsh rugby World Cup squad. We watched as you departed to New Zealand with the usual fanfare to face a group made up of certain teams for whom many of us felt weighed down with the pressure of history. Yet you accepted the challenge and met it head on, a brave and almost successful battle against the reigning World Champions before dispatching decades of painful memories swiftly with victories of Fiji and Samoa. You moved onto the Quarter Finals and won, comprehensively and comfortably, against an Irish side many felt would dispatch us with the advantage of Experience. The Semi final loomed on us, an epic date with destiny versus France that had our country on edge for the longest week in our lives. Longer even than the 2005 wait for the Grand Slam decider vs Ireland. How must you have managed during that week? There was no outrageous partying; there was no scandalous behaviour in public; there was no arguments or brawls between squad members and there was no other negative actions. You were all business. You treated your adoring support with respect and humility and have given us belief in ourselves and belief in you. In an age of escalating disassociation between the public and sporting superstars you have remained by our side. Rather than arrogantly dismiss the incredible levels of support back home in the run up to the Semi Final you acknowledged with a degree of incredulity how closely you were being followed. You took to the press conferences and your twitter’s to thank us personally. Small things such as the tip of your hat to the fans means everything to us.  You stared down the French with the support of 2.9 million people and in difficult circumstances gave it your all. You didnt dwell on the controversial decision, you didnt shy away. You took it in your stride and did all you could to carry us over the finish line but alas, it was not meant to be.

 We will welcome you home as heroes. This is what you are. Through all the heartbreak, lows and downfalls the Welsh public have suffered in our  lives supporting you from the terraces we have never been as optimistic or proud as we are now. You have performed with incredible talent and style, impressing all whom have viewed us. To do so in a way that extols youthful exuberance with the touch of humility is incredible and capable of moving even the toughest of old school, cauliflower-eared props from bygone eras. To honorary Welshmen Warren Gatland and Shaun Edwards, the part you have played in the rebranding of Welsh rugby as not only talented but more importantly winners cannot be understated. Your position in the pantheon of Welsh sporting heroes was safe with the incredible 2008 Grand Slam campaign however with the creation of such a promising young collective you have ensure a rapturous applause whenever you should return to the confines of the Millennium Stadium.

 Whilst I cautiously instil a word of warning not to revert to old and undo all the good work as previous generations have in recent years by losing focus off the pitch, nothing I or others have seen during this competition suggests this will be the case. You have been a credit to your country both professionally and personally and a credit to yourselves. You are not merely a rugby team but the personification of the  Nation itself and have made every Welshman once again happy to stand up in the face of the world and say “I’m Welsh”.

 Yours Sincerely

 The Welsh Public.

Choirs, Rugby and Mines. The weekday Miners whom played rugby on Saturday’s and sang in Church on Sundays. The traditional stereotypical  and nostalgic view of Wales, a Wales that many may hanker for yet not necessarily a happy Wales. Mining was and is one of the most dangerous professions around and many a Miner has perished deep underground in the process of putting a mere meal on the family table. The arduous task that Miners faced has been unfortunately thrust back into national consciousness long after we thought those days were finished with the sudden and sad demise of the four Swansea Valley Miners in September 2011.

Garry Jenkins, Phillip Hill, David Powell and Charles Breslin were all tragically killed in the Gleision Colliery near Pontardawe in an event that has caused the South Welsh community to reflect on their own personal connections to such a traumatic history in the industry. It is believed that the four became trapped after the mine they were in was breached with water and blocking their route out. With it being 2011 and me myself being the 2nd Generation not involved in the mining industry on a mass scale, many were not expecting to find themselves embroiled in such a hopeless scenario where we all willed our local miners to survive against bleak odds. The waiting, the crying, the hoping, the praying, the denial and the grieving. This is something that happened to our Grandparents and Great-grandparents, not us we all thought collectively. Indeed, the only personal involvement I have is a school trip to the dreary and scary Big Pit museum when I was a child. With that in mind, it has compelled me once and for all to go beyond the mere “family of Miners” description to actually find out what life really was like for these men and what exactly their jobs entailed. After all, its a family history, The dangers; the laughs; the environment, the pain.

Mining first became prevalent during the 18th century with the advent of the Industrial Revolution and with advances in the production of machinery, the coalfields of South Wales began to have its coal extracted. This would only escalate as the rail network continued to be expanded, allowing the coal to be exported to all reaches of the British Empire and becoming an invaluable source of income to the rich. It was not known as the Black Gold for nothing and was responsible in part for making the 3rd Marquis of Bute the 3rd Richest Man in the Victorian World, with his base of Cardiff becoming the largest coal exporting port in the world. By 1920 there were 271,000 Welsh men working underground for rather meagre wages and in terrible conditions. Coal production and profit was the only concern of the mine owners as opposed to the hazardous conditions of those whom toiled away to create the wealth of the few at the top of society. If a miner died, there was a constant supply of others ready to take their place. Nearly every town and even village had its own underground colliery in the South Wales valleys and the mines were the obvious and in many cases only way to feed the family. By the Miners Strike of 1984 the industry was on its last legs and was all but finished, only a few Collieries remaining open such as the aforementioned tragic Gleision Colliery which was a small drift mine as opposed to the deep mines of earlier years.

Disaster wise, between 1851 and 1920 there were over 3,000 deaths down the mines over 48 individual events including the infamous 1913 explosion at the Senghenydd Colliery that claimed 439 lives and thus became the worst mining accident in British history. Equally, 45 men died at the Six Bells, Abertillery Colliery in 1960 and five years later 31 men died at the Cambrian Colliery. Perhaps the most famous and heart-wrenching disaster was the Aberfan incident on 21st October 1966. In actions that would ultimately prove catastrophic in its consequences, for 50 years prior to the disaster the deposits of mining debris from the Merthyr Vale Colliery were piled up on the side of the nearby Mynydd Merthyr. Ominously this mountain is directly above the small village of Aberfan which rests at the foot of its eastern face. Despite repeated warnings to the National Coal Board of the risks posed by such an artificial heap so close to a settlement being dismissed out of arrogant ignorance, the inevitable was destined to happen. Just after 9am on the Friday morning, moments after returning to their classes fresh from assembly, the waste tip slide down the mountainside and ploughed through a farm cottage before directly hitting Pantglas Junior School. 20 houses in the village were also engulfed by the slide and once the desperate rescue mission was finished it was discovered that 144 people had died in total, 116 of them Pantglas Schoolchildren.

All of these tragic deaths however neglect just how many men passed away not down the mine but because of the mine. Many men whom clawed away below the depths of the surface would suffer major respiratory problems in later life amongst other health issues, the working conditions appalling at best for generations of men. In recent years the consequences of decades working underground has become headline news with various respiratory failings of ill ex-miners becoming increasingly apparent. The coal dust in the tight and enclosed underground spaces has in many cases led to disabilitating conditions and even early death, including conditions such as Pneumoconiosis, Emphysema and Bronchitis. Knowing this, it makes me amazed how men like my grandfather Randall Davies and my great grandfather and namesake David Robert Edwards lived lives that included earning the proverbial bread and butter this way. This also meant that my own mother and auntie’s grew up in an environment where their father was putting his life literally on the line every day to feed them whilst my grandmother experienced the double-edged sword of being the daughter and husband of miners. Their story should be heard, just like every working man who experience such hellish moments.

Up until the conversation with my grandfather to get some insight into his life as a miner my involvement with his former industry as I explored earlier involved a childhood visit to the Big Pit. I vaguely remember two years ago driving in the vicinity of the Colliery-turned-museum and mentioned visiting it to my Grandfather who abruptly retorted “why would I want to visit that for, I spend half my bastard life down the mine!“. Sitting down with my grandfather to discuss his working life, what became evident that despite the bleak and difficult task he faced daily he looks back on that dangerous era with fondness of the camaraderie he shared with fellow miners. Indeed, most of the stories I will be unable to air on such a public forum due to the nature of life as a group of men’s men in the workplace.

Randall Davies left school at 14 years old and with times hard was expected to find gainful employment immediately to help support both himself and his family in the days before things such as benefits became prevalent. After initially wanting to become a fireman but losing interest after 6months, in June 1953 Randall entered the Collier industry by enrolling at the Caeduke Training Centre near Gorseinon. For 16 weeks he alternated between the training centre and Pontardawe Tec where he learned the industry before graduating to his first job at Y Daren drift mine near Trebanos. Around this time 30 men worked on the surface and underground where Randall worked a further 120 men were employed. Staying at the mine for 2 years Randall eventually left to the nearby small Cwmglyd mine by his childhood home of Ynysmeudwy. It was here that Randall recounted a story that brought him to almost tears of joy in remembering an occasion where he and other youthful workmates attempted to break an on-site record. He said “the record of drams being brought up from underground was 8, 8 was considered safe. I was 17 years old and went for 9. The drams ofcourse rolled away and back into the mine and pulled the place apart. Ruined it. The mine was closed for 3months because of the damage!”

With his position naturally untenable, Randall left the colliery and spent 9 months working in the Steelworks in Port Talbot before completing his 2 years National Service in the Armed Forces. After temporarily returning to the same colliery (“they forgave me because they always needed miners“) Randall then moved to London and specifically East Ham and Whitechapel in the East End whilst working for Dagenham Ford factory and the North Thames Gas Board during the height of the Kray twin’s reign. Returning home after 12months, much like other men of his ilk in South Wales there was no other realistic option other than returning down the mine. He spent 2 years working at Cwmgors Colliery and it was here he stated that he became a qualified collier although his time here was more memorable for an accident he suffered during one shift. “This guy I worked with, we used to always come across big rocks and used to throw them out of the way. One time he threw a rock towards me and it hit me on the arm and cut it deeply with a lot of blood. The usual doctor was an alcoholic and refused to come out to the house to treat me so another Doctor, Seth Jones from Brynaman, a good man, came out and stitched me up. He remained my Doctor from then on“. In 1964 Randall moved to the Wernos Colliery near Tycroes and stayed for a year until it closed in ’65. Recounting a memory he said “one time there was a fire. It happened overnight and we were the day shift. When we turned up it was decided that no one could go underground as it was too risky, except the mines rescue. The boss then decided that he wanted 20 miners to go down with the rescuers. I had a friend sitting with me at the table who said to me ‘fuck them, I’m not going it, its too dangerous, they can sack me if they want’. The boss then put everyone’s name into a hat and drew the first name out of the hat and surely enough it was my friend. Fair play to him though because he stood up and shouted to the manager ‘fuck off, I’m not going’. He never went down!”. When the Wernos closed shortly after Randall made the short transfer to the Ammanford Number 1 colliery and working here from 1965 until 1971 in secure employment. After taking a couple of years of much needed respite from the grinding work that was the life of a collier, Randall began another long stint at Cwmgwili Colliery where he worked from 1974 until 1981. With only a workforce of 379men around this time the colliery nevertheless produced high outputs of anthracite coal and would have been hard work meeting demands. Randall finally moved to his last place of work in 1981 to Abernant Colliery where rather than working underground he was employed at the Abernant Coal Preparation Plant, better known as a Washery. It was that his job was to “wash all the rocks and soil off the coal so that it could be sold. As the mine was closing they made me redundant just before the end in 1988, telling me to ‘piss off and leave before we shut the place’. They gave me a miners lamp as a retirement present and that was the end of my life on the mines“.

What did working down the mines actually entail however? With the amount of mines and collieries throughout the area ever increasing it was no surprise to note that there was a great rail transport link between the villages and it was through this method that the workers would make their way to their relative place of work. The uniform, Randall says, consisted off “big boots with thick overalls, and a helmet with a big lamp on the front. We also had another safety lamp on the belt which if it turned blue meant there was gas. If it turned blue, run like fuck! Although, it often turned blue all of the time anyway. It’s also true about the canaries, they were kept down some mines to detect gas. The tools we had were a pick and shovel, as well as the saw and hatchet. In the days before heavy machinery, my job was to stand at the coal face and using my pick and hatchet to scrape and break the coal off and then shovel it onto the conveyor belt behind me. Very physical work. The hatchet itself was always kept sharp because if the bosses noticed it wasn’t sharp you’d be in big trouble. Big trouble! Every moment of spare time underground would be spend sharpening the hatchet. What we’d have underground is our own section which was called a stint. We’d get off the underground tram and walk to the face where we’d be knackered before we’d even begin work. The typical stint would be about 12ft long and about 4ft to 8ft high so not much room to move around. We’d scrape and break the coal off using the tools and the conveyor would take it to the end of the coal face where the drams were filled up to be taken to the surface. That was it for the duration of the shift apart from when the belt stopped which signalled lunch“.

As was the norm during 20th Century South Wales and indeed before, with most men employed in the colliery it was not unusual for Randall to marry into a family of miners himself. His wife Muriel Edwards was the daughter and granddaughter of colliers and herself has recollections about men whom have long passed away. Her father David Robert Edwards was employed at the East Pit in Tairgwaith and one prominent memory of his daughter was the time he suffered an accident, unfortunately a common occurrence underground as evidenced by the appalling fatality rates. “I remember as a small girl one day a man came to the house with my father’s work clothes and left them all by the back door, where they were full of blood. A Tram had gone over his leg. He was in Morriston Hospital for a while, I think some weeks and I remember having to go visit him. After he recovered he then went to work at Abernant Colliery where he retired at 65“. David Robert, who was popularly known as Bob, was also the son of a miner and his dad John Edwards was also based at the Tairgwaith colliery, working in the Steer pit. Although only young when her grandfather was working Muriel also has a memories of John as a miner. Although their job wasn’t something that was discussed in the family home, Muriel says that “every day he used to walk from the house to the bottom of the Cefen (Cefnbrynbrain) where a train would take him to work in Tairgwaith. As he lived with us I also remember him coming home black from head to toe each day and having a bath in the tin bath that was in front of the coal fire. I was always amazed at how black the water would go and sometimes even helped wash his back. Another memory I have of my grandfather was that every friday he would get paid and would bring me and my sister Grace ice cream as a present. She would have vanilla and I would have a choc ice“.

When discussing the mines, arguably it is impossible to avoid the subject of the Miners strikes in 1984 as the episodes still remain a source of bitterness almost 30years later.
Working at Abernant Colliery at the time, Randall was in the middle of the strikes and happily recounts his involvement in the battle against Thatcher’s policies. The National Coal Board claimed that to increase profitability they had to force numerous job cuts across the nation and attempted to force miners into redundancy, something the powerful National Union of Mineworkers trade union disputed. In 1984 they savagely announced plans to cut around 20,000 jobs and would in turn ensure Wales amongst others would lose their primary source of employment. On 12 March 1984 president of the NUM Arthur Scargill announced there would be a national strike from all NUM members and the colliers subsequently downed tools and walked out.

Randall remembers the time well, something that shaped the end of his working life and no doubt accelerated the end of his life underground. “I was at Abernant when the strike happened and it was fully supported. Regardless of what those Nottingham bastards who didn’t strike claimed, there WAS a pre strike ballot and we voted the year before to give the NUM full control and decision making despite the claims to the contrary. The union voted to go on strike, so we followed with full support. Those who didn’t strike, the scabs, I won’t even look at them today. I won’t talk to them either. Even in the same village, they will always be scabs. There were many things that happened during the strike, which are funny now looking back but at the time were deadly serious. These scabs were taking the dinner off our tables. One time at the colliery a scab lorry pulled into the compound. It was brand new and still gleaming and began to stock up on coal. We couldn’t allow this to happen, as the coal leaving the colliery would weaken the strike. The driver began by saying he supported the strike and was on our side yet here he was trying to take the coal away. Before long his wagon was placed on the tracks and one of the trains rammed straight into it! There was hell of a mess on the wagon. It was destroyed. The driver was seen running up the road screaming ‘you welsh bastards!’. Another thing we used to do was ring the police unidentified every time a scab lorry turned up as they were never insured. 50yards down the road after leaving the collieries the driver would always be pulled over and arrested and it would be a small victory for us“

“Going to pickets also was a regular occurrence, showing solidarity on marches. One time we went to Port Talbot and there was a big roundabout in the centre, the middle of the roundabout full of dry grass. On this occasion the roundabout was set alight as part of the picket which didn’t please the police so they called in the fire service. The police by the way were animals, thugs in uniform. The firemen however refused to break the picket line and began arguing with the police. The fire in the meantime became so big that the smoke covered the motorway nearby and caused traffic to be halted for hours. A victory.”

One of the problems that the strikers face was the fact that as they weren’t working, money was scared and many already poor families slipped into poverty. The strike eventually failed in no small part to colliers needing to return to work to feed their children. As the housewife and with four teenage children to feed Muriel remembers the difficulty of those 12 months by describing them as “very hard and difficult to live through. The strike was for a year so during this time the club in Ystradowen used to supply food in a cardboard box which was all donated food that all the miners received. It only contained essentials like butter and sugar but this and help from my mother and neighbours was needed.”

Although those that broke the picket line, “scabs”, remain groups of people still capable of raising tempers 30 years later, Randall becomes agitated at memory of other people whom he still hates. During the strikes the NUM funded the striking miners with pay of £25 a week to keep them going. Dwindling funds after almost a year of striking again was another reason why the strike would eventually be defeated. Muriel luckily had another job in a local factory and therefore whilst her wage was by no means enough to live comfortably it was more than many other families had. As Randall states “some other men didn’t have any other income so what some of us did was donate the £25 pay to others to help them. We were all helping each other. However there were bad eggs who claimed strike pay whilst wives had jobs and they even worked elsewhere whilst supposedly striking. Bad eggs and who were as bad as the scabs“.

Randall’s last memory during our chat was a happy memory of good times gone by. Anyone whom has travelled through the Amman Valley from Ammanford to Ystradown is aware of the plethora of Miners Hall’s, each in differing states of dilapidation and usage. Randall mentions that each Friday on pay day (when they used to receive cash payment in a brown envelope from the office) part of the pay was taken by the management and put towards the Miners Hall’s. Randall himself contributed towards the building of Brynaman Miners Hall which today has been reinvented as the Cinema. Ofcourse, pay day often meant one main thing and that was the pub. “Work hard, Play hard” I mention to him and Randall simply responds with reminiscing smirk. My Dadcu…the Miner.

In memory of the four tragic Swansea Miners, if you want to donate you can do so at http://www.minersappealfund.org/

The public have always been aware that sections of the national press lack moralistic integrity and have often been found to lack empathy in their pursuit of stories. Controversial topics sell papers, regardless of the accuracy to the story. Whilst papers simply can’t concoct stories out of thin air to fill copy, descriptive usage of certain phrases such as “such and such understand that…”, “a source close to the family stated…” or “it is believed that…” often can be found to substantiate any claims. There have been innumerable instances where celebrities or public persona’s have taken legal action against the press for misinformation that could be consider libel, although somewhat ironically the court action itself tends to become newsworthy. The Sporting sections of newspapers themselves tend to be littered with un-sourced stories that become major news through the re-publication of the articles through social media and forums. Many “exclusives” tend to be mere gossip passed off as fact and this alarming comic-ness tendency of the press simply passing off ludicrously un sourced material as hard-hitting investigative journalism seems to be rising.

In the passing fortnight the media has once again crossed the line in its disgraceful reportage of a sensitive and possibly volatile event. Any media reporting which can inflame the emotions of a section of people with such intensity it can directly be the cause of further violence is irresponsible and sanctions need to be taken against the writer and broadcaster. As most Sports fans are aware, not least Welsh football fans, on Tuesday 6th September Cardiff City and Wales supporter Michael Dye was killed outside Wembley Stadium prior to the much-hyped England vs Wales Euro 2012 Qualifying Match. With the match being between two countries with an amount of historic animosity between the sets of fans the chance of trouble was always a possibility. Whilst the event in general passed without incident on a vast scale,  in circumstances still not completely understood at time of press, Mr Dye appeared to have been struck on the head before suffering a heart attack outside the Welsh turnstiles at the ground. News of the death quickly reached social media with rumours quickly escalating that first English fans were responsible for the attack before blame quickly turned to other Welsh supporters, the incident quickly bringing a plethora of comments from all sections of the public on Twitter and Facebook. The vast majority contained outbursts of anger and repulsion from both English and Welsh fans whilst a sizable minority blamed the other side for involvement, some even going so far as to rejoice in the death as seems to be the norm on Social Media these days. The key thing with all comments however were that they were mere rumours and gossip from groups of people with no real insight into the incident and whom were jumping to miscalculated conclusions.

With the alarmingly tragic scenario of a man visiting a major sporting event and never returning home to his wife and children, the incident quickly attracted national media attention whom were no doubt sensing a welcome return (story-wise) to the dark days of Football Hooliganism. There is no doubt that the Media industry loves tragic incidents such as natural disasters, death and public disorder as it allows them the opportunity to file numerous amounts of copy and related copy to keep the news ticking over for a few more days. Major events equal papers sold which equals money. Death at the football is undoubtedly a newsworthy topic evidenced by how many tabloid’s featured the story. Whilst it is difficult to demand complete privacy for the family to grieve considering the events surrounding the story it surely isn’t too much to expect the reporting to be done in such a way as to respect the family’s pain by reporting with a decorum of sensitivity. What is not acceptable is mere gossip and fabrication reported in such a way that it is surely a breach of common morality and press regulations. Mike Dye tragically died on the night of the Wales vs England game on 6th September in an apparent attack by persons unknown. Whilst personal opinions and rumours were readily broadcasted across social media the press themselves operate in a professional capacity and therefore have a responsibility to report only things that are based in solid facts, after all such an influential industry holds the power to concoct people’s opinions which in itself can have many positive or negative effects.

 The reporting of the death before the facts surrounding the case became clear was a dangerous move by the press that thankfully has been roundly condemned, yet we have yet to see if such irresponsible reporting has had any direct effect on persons whom have read and digested such lies and fabrication. After initial reports that the assailants on Mr Dye were English aggressors the finger of blame quickly transferred to fellow Welsh fans and this is where the press got involved. As a Swansea City fan aware of the dangerous and vicious nature surrounding the South Welsh derby with Cardiff City, of whom Mr Dye was a supporter, the first thought that cross my mind after being outraged that apparently a fellow Welshman could murder another at an event where we should be extolling the virtues of actually BEING Welsh was one of dismay that this could yet be another disturbing addition to the scrapbook of Cardiff-Swansea violence. At the time it was broadcast on Social Media however there was absolutely NO clear evidence it was a) Welsh attackers, b) English attackers or c) which Club they supported. For certain media outlets to go to the presses alleging that the murder was committed by Swansea City fans was an outrageous act of irresponsibility and could have (and perhaps still could) result in ‘revenge’ acts from disgruntled and misinformed Cardiff City fans. There have been constant acts of violence and revenge attacks throughout the history of the Welsh derby and although things have gotten relatively better in recent memory the stigma of one club’s fans murdering another is not something that needs to be added. The following are a selection of quotes that appeared in the press AFTER it was announced by the Metropolitan Police that they were not looking at Swansea/Cardiff as a motive, all unsubstantiated and without merit.
 ‪

“One theory was that the flare-up involved fans of Cardiff and Swansea City, who have a history of hostile rivalry. Six men arrested in the Wales fans’ end of the stadium were quizzed yesterday by murder case detectives before being bailed pending further inquiries”
 
“Tributes on a Facebook site set up for Mr Dye included one reading: “Can’t believe Swansea/Cardiff football rivalry has ended in a man’s death! WALES were playing. Fans should be on the same side.“  (The Sun, John Coles, 8th Sept)
 
“A father-of-three died after being attacked by fellow Welsh soccer supporters when Wales played England at Wembley last night. Cardiff City fan Mike Dye, 44, was caught up in a fight with fans of arch-rivals Swansea City before the big game. He suffered head injuries in the fracas which triggered a fatal heart attack – and he died in hospital later. Six men were arrested – none of them England fans – and are helping police with their inquiries today. Police believe the bitter rivalry between Swansea and Cardiff fans may have led to council official Mr Dye’s death” (Daily Mail, Emily Allen, 8th Sept)
 
“A FOOTBALL fan battered to death before England’s clash with Wales had links with a notorious hooligan firm. Cardiff City fan Mike
Dye was left to die after a bloody punch-up with supporters of arch-enemies Swansea.
The dad-of-three suffered head injuries in the assault, which triggered a heart attack. He died later in hospital” (Daily Star, Paul Robins, 8th Sept)

 ”A FANATICAL Cardiff City supporter killed at the England-Wales match was in a fight with Swansea City fans, murder cops believe” (Richard Smith, Daily Mirror, 8th Sept)

After such sensationalised media attention in the national press, which was read by millions of people with no deep or personal knowledge of the rivalry or event, Cardiff City Football Club felt the need to release a statement contradicting the stories from the journalists whom were essentially lying to their readers in an attempt to draft a “juicy’ story. Cardiff stated they “were disappointed to read articles in three national tabloid newspapers this week whereby we feel insensitive and unfounded connections were drawn from the tragic events at Wembley Stadium on September 6th 2011“. They continued that “it is our opinion that The Daily Mirror, The Sun and the Daily Mail have acted insensitively towards the memory of Mike Dye at a time when his family are still in the early stages of mourning their loss. It is also our view that the tabloid attempts to draw TENUOUS connections of possible clashes between Cardiff City and Swansea City supporters at the Wales vs England match come without any direct evidence or basis for doing so, using this as a means to cite ‘Rivalry fury“. The club ended the statement by announcing they would be banning the culprits from the ground as well as reporting them to the Press Complaints Commission in a move no doubt supported by Swansea and Cardiff fans.

To hope that the media change their modus operandi and simply stick to reporting un-sensationalised facts is unreasonable. The industry is too powerful to give even the slightest consideration to people’s feelings and whilst recent censures and court action may ensure drastic lengths such as phone-hacking will seemingly be consigned to history, their method of using gossip and social media rumours to create stories appears to be here to stay regardless of the consequences. To all Swansea and Cardiff fans reading this I personally will be boycotting the above newspapers due to their reporting and hopefully if enough of us do so, although the dent in the companies’ profits may be negligible or minor it will be a display of our unhappiness at how the Media constantly bully their way towards influencing opinions and thoughts of the general public. The death of a man in itself is a tragic event that doesn’t need the stirring of the media to make it into an explosive event that its not. The newspapers quoted above and the respective journalists need to apologise to the fans of Swansea City and Cardiff City for the way they have slandered their reputations and essentially accused them of involvement in a murder, more so since the persons arrested on suspicion of committing the crime are from Worcestershire with no obvious link to either club. As expected however, it appears they will merely refuse to accept any blame for their disrespectful and volatile behaviour. RIP Mike Dye and commendations to Cardiff and Swansea football club and the respective club’s fans for the sensitivity and respect that has surrounded a disastrous and tragic passing of a passionate football and family man.

It is frowned upon to call the British Army anything other than heroes in this country and understandably so. We might preach freedom and liberty in a similar way to the Americans, but this country is also victim to falling under the spell of political propaganda whilst sweeping its own despicable acts under the carpet. It would be folly to consider the entire Army evil, I know soldiers and they are just normal men making a living. What needs to be looked at however is the way orders are passed down and what is the intentions of those at the top of the politically charged hierarchy. Whilst some people tend to consider the entire existence of the British Army as a weapon of murder in itself for apparently systematically wiping out civilians through its actions throughout warzones around the world, it is the individual and seemingly spontaneous acts that concern me, especially when an act is brought to my attention mere miles from my home.

Possibly due to the independent status of the Republic of Ireland and also the advantage they have gained in the past politically by adopting an anti-British rhetoric, numerous incidents of British Army murder are now relatively well-known although they are either ignored in this country or suffer from many apologists who tend speak out in defence of the actions as necessary in combating Irish Republicanism or other causes. One such incident took place on 30th January 1972 in Derry, Northern Ireland whereby 26 unarmed Civil Rights protesters and innocent bystanders were shot by the British Army, 14 men dying from their injuries. The recent Saville Inquiry investigation has given some form of satisfaction to families of the those brutally shot dead whereupon the verdict announced that the killings were “unjustified and unjustifiable”, leading to Prime Minsiter David Cameron offering an apology on behalf of the United Kingdom for her Army’s actions. Although the most famous Bloody Sunday, another incident that occurred on 21st November 1920 also became known as Bloody Sunday. Taking place during the vicious and violent Irish War of Independence and on the back of the shootings of British intelligence agents involved in the war, the British Army and Security forces entered Croke Park where Dublin were playing Tipperary in a Gaelic football match proceeded to shoot into the crowd of innocent bystanders. 12 people were shot dead, including two boys of 10 and 11, and two more were trampled to death in the subsequent panic. An inquiry was held immediately and the opinion of the Major General in charge of the area was that “the firing on the crowd was carried out without orders, was indiscriminate and unjustifiable”. Naturally this ruling was suppressed and hidden by the British Government for 80 years to hide the atrocities that had been committed in their name. A more recent atrocity carried out by a serving British Army personnel was the convicted war criminal Corporal Donald Payne. Payne was only convicted of Inhumane treatment of prisoners after lack of evidence meant he could not be convicted of manslaughter. Payne was part of a group of soldiers under whose command a 26 year old Iraqi hotel employee died with 93 injuries about his person from an “interrogation”. The judge in charge of the court martial believed there had been undoubted covering up by the Army that restricted him from imposing a much tougher sentence to fit the crime committed. After the trial, a video was released allegedly showing Corporal Payne undertaking abuse and banned torture techniques on other Iraqi prisoners, as others have also been alleged to do.

Whilst these are infamous and thankfully rare events, one event that has escaped prominent media attention is in the midst of its 100 year anniversary. The Llanelli Railway Riots of 1911 was an effect that resulted in the callous murder of two innocent young men by the British Army, although the incident has been seemingly buried to such an extent that the majority of people within the town it occurred have never heard of the incident. Beginning on 17th August 1911 and in an act of national strike solidarity, 500 railway workers began a strike similar to many that were taking place across the country in the aim of securing better wages than the pitiful renumeration they were currently receiving. Regularly forced to work for 60-72 hours a week in return for pittance, the nation’s railway workers were up in arms and reading to take action. With Llanelli then considered the tin capital of the world and nicknamed “Tinopolis”, the ranks of the strikers were quickly swelled with up to 5,000 other workers throughout the town including the tinplate workers, gas workers and dockers. With two crossings either side of Llanelli train station, both were barricaded by workers ensuring nothing passed through the vital commercial link to West Wales and Ireland.

With the line blocked for the entire of Friday, Winston Churchill ordered troops to enter the area and to disperse the pickets. Continuous small battles were launched by the pickets to regain control of the crossings after they were inevitably regained by the might of the military. Saturday morning saw a train allowed to pass by the authorities who by now controlled the crossing but it was pursued by protesters who commandeered and stopped the Fishguard-bound vehicle. Most of the protesters and bystanders were positioned on high terraces either side of the railway track, most actually standing in their own back gardens. After the incident with the train, the authorities ordered magistrate Henry Wilkins to the track and whom proceeded to read the “Riot Act”, which included the lines “our Sovreign Lord the King chargeth and commandeth all persons, being assembled, immediately to disperse themselves and peaceably depart to their habitations or to their lawful businesses”. The act was designed and implemented as a warning for a group of 12 or more “unlawfully assembled” men to disperse or face tough punishment. With many unable to disperse due to already being at their place of residence, the 60 seconds were counted out meticulously on a small waistcoat watch before the disgraceful murderous shots were fired.

Two men were murdered. One was John ‘Jac’ John and another was Leonard Worsell. Jac John was a 21 year old whom played rugby for Oriental Stars and was considered something of a local sporting star. He was watching the event unfolding from his garden wall with some friends when a bullet hit a man in the throat. The next bullet fired hit Jac in his lung and was a fatal shot. The unfortunate irony is that Jac had a relatively well paid job as a tinplate worker and the strike didn’t affect him personally, he was merely present out of a well-intentioned act of solidarity for his struggle fellow man. This would cost him his life, a shocking outcome for a promising young man described as “one of the most popular young men in the town”. The second man unlawfully and brutally shot dead by the British Army, Worcester Regiment was the even younger Leonard Worsell. Perhaps even more tragically Londoner Leonard was not even present as a protester and had no qualms about showing solidarity for his fellow townsmen. A lodger at Number 6 High Street, Leonard was murdered whilst he was bare-chested without shoes or socks in the middle of Shaving. Merely popping outside his house during his morning ritual to see what the commotion was about, Leonard was hit in his heart with a bullet and dropped to the floor. The crowd fled amidst cries of “murderers”.

Although the deaths caused widescale rioting to erupt out of grief and anger, the funerals of both men attracted an unprecedented 30,000 people who lined the streets of the town, solidifying the area’s staunch socialist and Labour sentiments after the murder of its two Martyrs. What makes the entire matter even more tragic is that by the time the two men were needlessly and criminally murdered, the nationwide strike had been repealed with Churchill himself declaring “they have beaten us”. A few days later an army deserter from the Worcester Regiment was found 90 miles from the town and was identified as Harold Spiers. He claimed that as one of the soldiers at the crossing, he was instructed but refused to shoot on innocent and unarmed people, backing up the claim by the protesters that the perpetrators were indeed murderers. Many in the town itself remain unaware of the atrocity that took place in quiet Llanelli town a century ago, a conspiracy many consider to claim “it never happened” by the British government and the collaborating local Chapels who had much influence in those days, alleging “shame”. There is nothing shameful in being innocently murdered by the state and in a similar way to how the British Government apologised for the 1972 Bloody Sunday incident, the people of Wales, Llanelli and most importantly the families of those involved should be given a personal and heartfelt apology for an incident that should not be forgotten.

The petition that has been circulated reads “To the House of Commons; the petition of the residents and friends of Llanelli declares that; the shooting by the military of two men during the railway strike of 1911 was an unnecessary and unjustifiable act of violence. The petitioners therefore request that the House of Commons urge HM Government to issue and apology for the killing of John ‘Jac’ John , tinplate worker and Leonard Worsell, labourer“.

To sign this petition click here.

In pursuit of my hobby the looks I get from dishevelled and sweaty couples struggling with the castle’s demands as I push past them are sometimes bewildering. Despite the fact I’ve barely come 20 miles and they’ve sometimes travelled thousands, I tend to be the person totally out of place best displayed by my lack of cliched tourist baseball cap, packed lunch and various guide books. Yes indeed, Castles appear to be the sole domain of geeks, pensioners and amazed foreigners lost on the historic trail from London.

Curiously I don’t remember having a particular fixation on castles as a child. You do sometimes see children running around dressed up as Knights, with toy swords defending their imaginary kingdoms, but I can’t say that I ever did. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and then Football were the dominating creative outlets throughout my childhood, both of which just reinforces the randomness of this adult obsession of mine. This was evident not many weeks ago on a night out where I grew excited at some ancient ruins in a city centre, captivated by the way this behemoth of a previous time was now absorbed by the modern buildings around it. It did strike me that this is a castle I had previously spent almost two decades aware of, yet totally ignored. Now I can just stop amongst the hectic throng of the inner city crowds and just concentrate fixatedly on the one-time impressive structure. This is no longer an isolated incident, it happens regularly. Every reasonable journey I now take involves Google maps and Wikipedia, pinpointing whether exactly there is a castle worth visiting in the vicinity. If there is one thing working in my favour it is that every night I lay my head to rest in a nation acclaimed as the ‘land of castles’. Wales is readily acknowledged as having more castles per square mile than anywhere else in Europe, a permanent memorial to its turbulent and storied past. The majority of castles that now stand in ruins along the rugged and mountainous terrain of Wales are an acknowledgment of its oppression by its larger neighbour in England, most of them being English creations in the bloody and eventually succesful attempt to bring the Welsh people under their control. Symbols of power, the looming structures were built in many historically strategic points and were the bastions of strength that represented the English Crown in an unruly and hostile area.

Having become initially entranced with this turbulent history of our fascinating nation, researching and enjoying tales of Welsh rebellions and Princes it was natural that the sites of so many of these stories would come to the forefront of this obsession. With a burgeoning feeling of pride in the country, the logical step was to take advantage of the plethora of local history sites during my prolonged absence from work. Everyone in the region where I live is aware of Carreg Cennen Castle but this amazing ancient structure remains almost unloved and lonely within its community, especially amongst the ignorant adolescents. This generation fails to take interest in the architectural wonder that sits almost perilously on a crag cliff high above the fields and hills of rural Carmarthenshire. Sitting on remains on the edge of the deep and dramatic cliff face is a moment of immense serenity, the kind people in the cities pay outlandish fees to receive from their masseuse. Apart from the gale of the wind and the occasional sound of local wildlife, the quiet is intact. If wildlife-inclined, there is also a vast array of various animals that can be sighted, from the high soaring Kite’s or the wild Rabbits that loiter perilously close to the edge of the abyss. Even the breathless walk up to the Castle brings the inevitable contact with rural Welsh sheep, one having to almost chase back the dozens of fluffy ewe’s that block your access to the rubble. The base of the outer walls still stands, entrenched into the limstone precipice onto which it was constructed, and although barely standing a few feet high in many places it does allow one to mentally picture where the castle actually began and ended. Whilst the castle itself (view notwithstanding) is very much the typical norm, one popular part of Carreg Cennen is the dungeon, a sloping descent into darkness made notable for the fact that as one descends into the cliff the small lookholes in the cliff-face again allow magnificent and as yet unrivalled views across the Brecon Beacons. Naturally built with defence and not scenery in mind, the castle stood up to a siege from Owain Glyndwr and his rebellious forces in July 1403, extolling the virtues of building such a structure high above any risk from attack. With the sounds of bowmen, cavalry charges and dying screams long gone, if there is a place to get away from the troubles of the world, to relax with ones thoughts, then on top of a cliff looking out over the Brecon Beacons is up there with the very best National Geographic can offer.

With my local castle undoubtedly being my favourite, there are numerous others I have come across on my travels that deserve some column space. Barely a matter of miles across the Carmarthenshire landscape also lies another castle which whilst not having the scenery of Carreg Cennen does possess a standing of greater historic importance to the region. Dinefwr Castle is situated in the grounds of the National Trust-run Dinefwr park which lies on the edge of Llandeilo town centre and rises above the Towy valley. Noted as the seat of the Principality of Dehubarth, Dinefwr Castle was basically the Medieval equivalent of Buckingham Palace for the Kingdom in which it was situated. Amongst those giants of Welsh history whom came into possession of the esteemed Dinefwr Castle included Hywel Dda, Rhodri the Great, Rhys ap Gryffudd as well as both Llewelyn the Great and Llewelyn the Last. Similar to its sister castle at Carreg Cennen, Dinefwr was yet another castle that was unsuccessfully beseiged by Owain Glyndwr during his attempt to free English rule from Wales. The castle itself is reached by yet another tiring walk to the top although a pleasant one and the castle itself is still in decent shape, the main attraction being the spiral staircase to the top of the keep that allows extensive views of the valley floor that is spread out below the castle. Whilst less to see and do than at Carreg Cennen, Dinefwr is a melancholy place where Kings and Princes used to roam and is therefore worth a visit any time.

North-East Wales can be considered the ‘goldmine’ of Welsh castles, the magnificently massive Conwy Castle and Caernarfon Castle considered national treasures and two infamous tourist destinations. In their shadow somewhat is Harlech Castle, forever immortalised in the military march “Men of Harlech”. Similar to Carreg Cennen, Harlech is also based atop a gigantic cliff albeit a cliff that is not only at the foot of Snowdonia but on the edge of the Irish sea, a strategic position that has played a vital part in the castle’s history. As soon as you step into the town of Harlech the castle dominates the skyline, rising unimaginably high above the street in a way that must have been terrifying for a mediavel people unaccustomed to skyscrapers and their ilk. Build by Edward I as part of his conquest of Wales, the castle was one that was actually captured by Owain Glyndwr who held it between 1404 and 1409. Later still, during the War of the Roses between the vying Royal Houses of Lancaster and York the castle came under siege for Seven Years, the longest such siege in British histor and which thus formed the inspirational basis for the ‘Men of Harlech’ song that has remained in the consciousness of the Welsh to the present day. Perhaps the greatest attribute that Harlech Castle posseses is the impressive and complete gatehouse that greets the visitor, an hulking mass of brick that allows yourself to be transported back to a bygone era as you climb the steps into the castle. A mythological castle in the true heart of Wales.

Travelling further across the green and sloping lands of this small nation, signs for castles are a regular occurrence. Despite the many dozens to choose from and regardless of when they were built, each structure offers a unique and individual history, adding to the poignancy as you explore the remains of what used to be living quarters, prisons and kitchens to whole generations of families. One of the redeeming features for many visitors is the scenes you usually find in Hollywood epics – the castle siege. Every castle has its war history, particularly during the decade of Welsh rebellion at the cusp of the 15^th century, led by the aforementioned national patriot Owain Glyndwr. During this period castles were lost and recaptured, and thousands were killed in the process. Indeed these castles are long lost graveyards to the fallen men given the unenviable teak of breeching the mammoth and imposing stone walls in the face of fierce attack. Aside from the symbolism of what these castles stand for, the brutal subjection of the peasants to a higher ruling class, they also offer the chance for childish adventure, a playground of epic proportions for child and adult alike. From discovering the ancient weapons of Caerphilly to climbing the skyscraper-like towers in Harlech, there is nothing like discovering passageways and views for the first time. Yes, a random hobby. But one I truly love.

Castles Visited

• Caerphilly Castle
• Cardiff Castle
• St Fagan’s Castle
• Carreg Cennen Castle
• Carmarthen Castle
• Dinefwr Castle
• Dryslwyn Castle
• Kidwelly Castle
• Laugharne Castle
• Llandovery Castle
• Llansteffan Castle
• Harlech Castle
• Raglan Castle
• Carew Castle
• Haverfordwest Castle
• Pembroke Castle
• Picton Castle
• Tenby Castle
• Brecon Castle
• Oxwich Castle
• Weobley Castle
• Oystermouth Castle
• Pennard Castle
• Swansea Castle
• Manorbier Castle
• Llawhaden Castle
• Narbeth Castle