The one with the Central America highlights

The one about the visiting relatives

It’s been a manic few weeks and I haven’t written a thing, not here and not on Social Media Daily. We’ve had visiting relies: Mum, my in-laws and at the moment, my sister and her boyfriend. We’ve overindulged, got drenched at the Blue Mountains and sunburnt at Palm Beach. There were a few moments I could’ve caused physical harm, but at the end of the day, when the taxi arrived and one of my beloveds jumped in en route to the airport, it was surprisingly emotional.

In other news: Our mates Gene and Donna got married in Newcastle (I overcame my fear of weddings and actually enjoyed the day), busted moves on the dance floor with Russell Brand, Paris Hilton and Tony Abbott at a friend’s housewarming dressed as Katy Perry and finally, my Masters is complete.

Epically, our trip is now less than a month away. And we’re completely unprepared. Our Spanish hasn’t evolved and we’re still sans salsa lessons and snorkelling practice. Immunisations, our Cuban visas and various internal flights are still to be organised...

The one about the champion becoming the coach

Today, a dream I didn’t know I even had, until about maybe two months ago, came true.

I’ve copped a bit of flak over the years as an obsessed Essendon supporter with a crush on former captain, Brownlow medallist and all-round golden boy, James Hird. And today, it became official; Essendon’s favourite son is returning to coach the black and red. Hird’s return marks the end of a difficult period under the now-sacked Matthew Knights, a man who over promised and, by all accounts, significantly under delivered.

But as I rejoiced, it appeared, the rest of the nation got their cynical on.

I get it. He’s a 37-year-old untried coach. A former club legend whose appointment may be viewed as a marketing / supporter ploy. And while we’re all entitled to an opinion or online rant, this hardly justifies the barrage of negative comments posted on the Herald Sun website in force. Less than two hours after the story broke, I posted the 172^nd comment. Recognising my clear bias, my issue is not with the question mark around the appointment as such, but more so the unsportsmanlike display on a mass scale.

Just because you don’t agree with the decision, doesn’t give you the right to literally hate a team, or their supporters with an intensity usually reserved for a war criminal. While passion is a staple of sport, stating that you hope the team finishes last, that he’s crap and never wins a game, that he’s undeserving or that Essendon deserves a bad coach, is nothing short of unsportsmanlike and quite frankly, embarrassing. Criticism is path for the course for high profile sports men and women, but Hird hasn’t so much as held a team meeting. The animosity that came through today was bewildering. Debating the decision and advocating a position is great, otherwise what's the point of even barracking for a team if you can't get involved in the banter? But I'm not sure why so many comments took a nasty note.

Interestingly, a lot of others asked the same in the latter comments that came through. And no, not all were Essendon supporters.

One line of commentary that caused particular exception was the angry call of dishonesty; that Hird had deceived the nation by failing to put his hand up publicly for the position. I commented on the Herald Sun website, and I ask the same question now, who tells their current boss they’re going to quit their job before they’ve lined up something else? Furthermore, few of us would have a multi-million dollar business to consider.

I want the haters to be wrong, not just because I’ve barracked for the club my entire life, but because I’d be very interested to see, come round 22 next year, what everyone will be saying.

The one about India

In just under a week, the Commonwealth’s best athletes and their uncertain entourage will arrive in India. Dirty, hectic, unapologetically raw India.

While one of the most heartbreakingly beautiful places to visit, many scoff at the thought of battling the heavily-populated streets, preferring destinations less complex. With unprecedented international scrutiny and the threat of terrorist activity looming, it seems we’re all just waiting for a fatal mistake.

The four weeks I spent in India, subsequently post the 2008 Mumbai attacks, rate as the most colourful and confronting. At the time I didn’t comprehend the danger to personal safety. Pacifying loved ones, and at times outright lying about where I was going, I hopped on a plane and hoped for the best.

When I arrived at the New Delhi airport, I had no concept of being in a capital city. While it’s difficult to summarise India without cliché or condescending undertone, the airport battleground and car park dirt road were a shock.

In a village called Shiv, 110 kilometres from the Pakistan border, electricity was sporadic, the internet unheard of and a bath came in the form of a giant bucket that doubled as the camp washing machine. At one point the roof of our hut caved in.

In a country of supposed great wealth, slums epitomise the developing nation, while bride burning and child abandonment remain common practice in rural communities, a direct parody to the glamour of Bollywood films.

Cue the Commonwealth Games and a colleague, whose daughter has made the Australian swim team, is in limbo. If she and her husband go to India, what could happen? If they don’t, what does that say to her daughter?

As a race, the Indian people are gentle; more interested in Ricky Ponting’s batting average than their own state of affairs. My curiosity over the tension Pakistan during my time there, was always returned with a cheery “Don’t worry Madam, all is safe”. Not really. I fell off a bloody camel and my tuk-tuk collided with another, twice.

Hygiene and infrastructure issues aside, there is no way on this earth that the police, or any other regulatory body, will be able to control the masses. The roads are congested beyond that of any South East Asian country. There will be none of the rigid efficiency of the Beijing Olympics.

While an attempted economic investment for a developing country, selecting India as host of the Commonwealth Games was not a wise decision. I’d like to say it was before time, I don’t actually know if there will be a time

The one about Social Media Daily

Hi All,

I've started guest blogging on Social Media Daily - my first blog "Social Media: Bringing the masses out of their shells" got a bit of talkability and received a ripper comment / analysis from my former housemate Ewan! The plan is to post something fortnightly. Let me know if there's anything you think would be woth rating a mention.

http://socialmediadaily.com.au

Cheers, Kate x

The one with my favourite Sydney photos # 1

The one about Sydney footy supporters being a bunch of haters

How one man can invoke such an open hatred is astounding.

Sitting at the SCG on Saturday night, shivering with my hot chips in one hand and coffee in the other, I was appalled by my fellow Sydney-siders and their treatment of a former ‘favourite son’. Bad sportsmanship was not just on show, it was openly celebrated.

Less than two seasons ago, Barry Hall was loved by the red and white. The man could do no wrong; he captained the side to its long-awaited 2005 grand final, finished the season as the leading goal kick eight times and tirelessly promoted the game in a League-dominated state. We all remember those Barry Hall ‘Hall’ TV ads.

But a couple of brain snaps and king hits later, he’s no longer welcomed. He was unceremoniously booted. His axing was clinical, executed to PR precision, and, disappointingly, Barry towed the line. He could’ve cracked the shits, gone to the media and refused to leave the club under the circumstances. Instead, he fronted an aggressive media pack, conceded he had ‘a problem’ and stepped down.

In the final round of 2009, Hall was honoured with one of the most emotional laps of honour to grace the SCG. At that in point in time I still thought he should have taken the ‘screw you’ mentality, but he was gracious. The fans couldn’t cheer enough.

Saturday night he was booed and jeered. The only time any level of appreciation was roused came when Hall slipped over. It’s got me thinking. His treatment is not unlike that of an employee, once heralded as the office favourite, who has hit a wall and resigned. Instead of claiming his boss a wanker and letting pride cloud his judgement, he smiles during the goodbye speeches, enduring stiff pleasantries as he is pushed out the door.

If leaving wasn’t Hall’s decision, and he acted with good grace and towed the Swans line in the face of public humiliation, why is he subject to such sheer hatred?