I’ve often wondered what it is that makes otherwise prolific bloggers suddenly dry up the way I have over the last week or so. It isn’t that I haven’t been thinking things or that things havenen’t been happening to me. Nor have I become less opinionated — I started a post about grammar schools that I haven’t quite got round to finishing. I reckon there could be a psychology thesis in it, not selective education, but the absence of posts I mean.
I put it down to a vague feeling of depression caused by reading too much. I’ve been captivated by The Damned United by David Peace, an eerie evocation of Brian Clough’s 44 days in charge at Leeds, interwoven with his spell at Derby. I think I’ve become to empathise with Cloughie, something I never thought I’d say.
The subtext is that he only feels alive when he is at work. The problem being that Elland Road is the very last place he wants to be, something I think I might very well say. I remember that team of Bremner, Lorrimer, Madeley et al and how they killed the game for a generation through their niggling digs and fouls, diving and intimidation of the ref, and what can only be described as the professionalism of football.
For sure it still goes on on, my own beloved ManU being less than innocent on that score, but at least there is also flair in the modern game, that and an ambition to play beautiful game as it was meant to be, at least for some teams.
I’m about two thirds of the way through this compelling account of an odd period in the Cloughie story so I should be finished by the weekend when perhaps the blogging gloom will have lifted.