When's a bribe not a bribe?

Don't you just hate it when someone has a novel idea, and then the Governmental grinches drop on it from a great height?

Last week Kim Dotcom announced he would be offering free wi-fi to the Upper Harbour electorate as part of his Dotcom political party's campaign for the 2014 General Election.

By my reckoning looking at proposed boundary changes it appears my electorate has changed from Helensville to East Coast Bays meaning an avoidance of being lumped into Upper Harbour. So there is no vested interest in the Dotcom Party's intention.

But even if there was, it appears the Dotcom Party's offering could be construed as an election bribe.

This is where there is a problem.

What actually constitutes an election bribe?

Obviously cash in the hand to vote for someone is a bit blatant, or is it?

Cast your mind back to 1975, and if anyone happening to have read this far who was born after that date doesn't know what happened then read on.

There was a certain gentleman purporting to represent the Conservative Party of the day, a bloke by the name of Rob Muldoon. He went up and down the country berating a New Zealand Superannuation Scheme that had been introduced by the Labour Government of the time which involved compulsory contributions by the working population. And it would be available for anyone over the age of 60.

Muldoon had reds under the beds, dancing Cossacks appearing in television election advertisements. He reckoned the Labour Government would buy up every industry in the country with the stash of money it would have. It was nationalisation by stealth. Apart from the fact that by statute it was impossible for the guardians of the Superannuation Fund to invest anything more than 15 percent in any one company, this went down well to a generation brought up on the worth of the McCarthy era, and I don't mean the rugby commentator Winston McCarthy.

Muldoon had them all thinking this compulsory superannuation scheme was the closest thing to communism they could imagine.

So what did he do?

Muldoon said he would do away with the New Zealand Superannuation Scheme and replace it with a National (remember that was the name of the 'Conservative' Party he led) Superannuation Scheme that no-one would have to contribute to. That's so those who supported him would remember forever where their Super came from.

It would be payable from the age of 60, and if those of that age felt like they wanted to carry on working, well they could have their salary from their employment, and Rob (that's Rob Muldoon) would pay their superannuation as well.

Of course, the generation that had fought a World War and had lived through the Depression of the 1930s were not even going to think twice about that. They became known as the 'greedies'.

It didn't matter that the scheme they voted in, because that's what they did, en masse, was the closest thing to communism it was possible to imagine. Their retirement was going to be paid for by a generation of baby boomers who were already coping with double digit inflation, and double digit mortgage interest rates.

Now if that's not a bribe I don't know what is?

And, of course, the country paid for his scheme in a huge way with more mad schemes, (remember the Sheep Retention Scheme when Muldoon paid farmers to keep their sheep that the world didn't want in the vain hope the world would recognise the fault of their ways and suddenly realise sheep meat was needed) resulting in the crisis that hit the country in 1984.

All of which leaves me feeling short-changed (deliberate pun that!).

Does it really matter if the good folk of Upper Harbour get free wi-fi or not?

Is it doing anyone any real harm?

It might create some wi-fi envy in other electorates.

But is it going to have the long-term cost that Rob Muldoon's superannuation scheme had?

Which 'bribe' has the greatest cost?

Cricket heads back to the Dark Ages

Alarm bells are quite rightly ringing around the cricket world over the changes planned to the administration of the world game, and especially the cosying up of the interests of India, Australia and England.

Historically, and fortunately cricket is a game with wonderful access to its past, there have long been issues with the administration of the game, stemming from the autocratic colonisers of the game, the Marylebone Cricket Club and, by association, the Imperial Cricket Conference.

This was the all-powerful representation of the incantations of Empire with its benevolence determining the shape of the game.

This stranglehold of imperialism was broken down in various degrees, albeit slower than the rest of humanity was moving towards a more democratic solution to life, resulting in the International Cricket Council being formed as a more representative mouthpiece of the game.

But in the last decade the flexing of monetary muscle in India has resulted in a shift away from the notion of democracy to one of more self-interest, based around the reliance on television rights money and creating imperialism of an even worse kind.

Just how much this has changed is clear from the second page of the Draft Position Paper on the suggested future.

The paper suggests the "ICC reverts to being a member-driven organization [sic]; an organisation [sic] of the members and for the members."

Pardon me, but isn't that what the ICC was supposed to be anyway?

Then it states: "As part of this process [above], the leading countries of India, England and Australia have agreed that they will provide greater leadership at and of the ICC."

Leading as in what? Performance, money, players or, more importantly, ideas?

Cricket is cyclical and form waxes and wanes – there are any number of examples of this. So too, does leadership. It doesn't always hold that the strongest are the most able when it comes to administration.

Another claim made in the draft report says: "All members, as guardians and leaders of the game of cricket, carry a significant responsibility for giving the game direction and leadership in their respective territories and for setting and sustaining a framework of support within those territories to ensure the game continues to grow and thrive for the sake of fans, stakeholders and participants."

Given the Indian reaction to the appointment of a chief executive of South African Cricket recently, a chief executive who recognised the need for the ICC to be run by an independent board, it has to be wondered how far the tentacles of this supply-driven model is likely to intrude upon sovereign nations right to control their own game.

In other words, "If you don't change what you are intending to do, we will withhold your [monetary] dispersal."

This is an inglorious grab for power. Trickle-down economics have been proven to be flawed on far greater scales than this scheme envisages.

It is also interesting in a situation where two of the three nations looking to seize control have played 10 Tests in succession between themselves in the past eight months. The players were clearly exhausted at the end of it all, especially the English, and if contact kept becoming so common, eventually the public would tire as well.

New Zealand spokesman Martin Snedden has said that the changes may not be a bad thing for New Zealand Cricket. The important words are 'may not be'. Who is to say the model as it has been given to him is the complete answer?

Given the role New Zealand played in removing the power of veto from Australia and England in the mid-1990s, it is regrettable that its effective, albeit extended to India, return will likely have New Zealand's support.

New Zealand won much credit among the other nations, including India, for that stance and it will be a shame if its role in accepting this change proves a wrong decision.

Not surprisingly, South Africa have led the charge to have the position paper struck down, labelling it as 'unconstitutional'.

This suggests a fascinating legal battle lies ahead. Solomonic wisdom would be a handy tool and given past experience it has to be wondered if that quality exists in the halls of ICC power. Oh for a Sir John Anderson now.

In effect, what Australia, England and India are saying is: "Trust us."

By agreeing to the suggested plans cricket nations would be signing away their sovereignty. That can't be in the best interests of all concerned.

Don't you just hate it when

This rambling series of observations will be an on-going feature of this blog, all driven by frustrations in the observations of everyday life. They may be political, they may be sporting, they may have to do with various aspects of the world around us. They also may have to do with my age, but what the heck.

Some starters:

 

+ Don't you just hate it when you are walking along the street and you have to avoid someone walking toward you totally absorbed in their mobile phone?

They've got no time, or awareness, of a 'Sorry', an 'Excuse me' or a 'I beg your pardon'. In fact, it wouldn't surprise if they are unfamiliar with the concept of those expressions of good neighbourliness. The antidote? Wait until a collision is imminent and then shout: 'Boo!' Chances are it will make no difference to them but you will feel a lot better. But as Arlo Guthrie once said (and I found a DVD of Alice's Restaurant at The Warehouse over Christmas – superb!) if everyone starts doing it, perhaps it will start a movement which may, sometime or another, force those who transgress to wonder at what they are doing wrong.

+ Don't you just hate it when you go to the movies and someone comes along and plonks their feet over the back of the seat in front of them?

Apart from the disgusting fact that someone's head may or may not be reclining on the said seat now, or sometime in the future, what need is there to elevate the feet so high? If that amount of elevation was absolutely necessary, the transgressor would probably be better placed under care in a hospital than attending the movies. What especially grates, and I am showing my age here, is that those of us who can remember the days when cinema seats were the last thing considered in the design of the theatre, and placed so as to ensure as many people as possible were herded into said viewing space, appreciate the advances made in viewing comfort. And while we are at it, whatever happened to those torch-wielding minders who never let you put a foot out of place at the movies when you were young and stupid? Why aren't they putting these show ponies, who would never put their feet over the back of a chair at their parents' home, in their place?

+ And while we're talking about mobile phones and movies, don't you just hate it when people can't go to the movies without leaving their mobile phones on?

Not only is there the totally rude ringing of the phone to disturb everyone else in the theatre, there is the flash of light when they, and they are always - as a result of Murphy's Law - sitting right next to you, need to send a text or to read what one of their moronic friends has sent to them. Again when you suggest to them they might like to put their phone away, the usual response is that you are something along the lines of a 'stupid old fart'.

+ Don't you just hate it when it is time to go back to work after the Kiwi holiday break of two weeks over Christmas-New Year and a goodly proportion of the population still has another one or two weeks of holidays?

It's not so much the thought of those people still being on holidays, but the fact that the motorway is much less crowded in the mornings. However, some of those heading to work obviously forget to take into account that their journey is likely to be much faster as a result of less traffic. But they, poor souls, can't imagine what it might be like to arrive at work, five or, perhaps, 10 minutes early so they decide that rather than start later from home, they will use up time on the motorway cruising along at 60-65 km/h, or the sort of slower speed they are used to during regular non-holiday commutes, allowing the traffic to bank up behind them.

+ Don't you just hate it when lanes are painted on roads and drivers view them as mere decorations?

There's all manner of variations on this theme but two that constantly leave me wanting to throw a Road Code at offenders are outlined. The first is an intersection when you are turning into a two-laned road, ie, two lanes on your side of the road, from the left. Also turning is someone on the other side of the intersection making a right-hand turn. Now the law clearly states you turn into the lane closest to you, in both instances. But how often is the person in the left-turning lane forced to avoid making their turn because the moron turning right, decides they need to get into the left-hand lane immediately? This is the same, in the second instance, at roundabouts. Now roundabouts should be the drivers' friend – they are much more useful than traffic lights, when used properly. But at the roundabout I witness most often, which is after a motorway off-ramp, again the driver turning into the left-hand lane, on a two-laned road, dare not make his turn until the driver turning right has crossed over lanes in the middle of the roundabout to get into the left lane. Time your exit right into the left lane, to deny the offender turning right his space, and wait for the abuse, whether by horn or gesticulation. In most instances it won't be long coming.

New Zealanders have always had an affection for Henry Blofeld, cricket commentator and writer, bon vivant and good bloke.

There is a public Blofeld, and a private one, and it has to be said his latest book, Squeezing the Orange, opens up much more of the private side of Blofeld's life and helps reveal who he is.

Squeezing the Orange by Henry Blofeld. Published by Harper Sports

Much more of his upbringing is described in what is advertised as a book about 'life's great adventure' with some cricket too.

The two are linked, as they always must be where Blofeld is concerned. His childhood and boarding school experiences are dealt with in the under-stated way that has become synonymous with his public image. But they are also revealing for the way in which they demonstrate the way that cricket made Blofeld the man we know today.

All manner of health problems have afflicted him at various stages of his career, the first involving an accident with a bus while riding his bike, an accident that certainly denied him the chance to see how far his cricket career might take him.

While it seemed he might be destined for a career in the City, the financial heart of Britain, he soon had other ideas and life as a cricket correspondent began, with small steps and then, by putting himself in the position to take advantage, at a much faster pace to the point where he became a figure as recognised as any of the players he was commenting about.

New Zealand in the West Indies in 1972 proved a significant step for him by opening up the chance for the commentating that has most boosted his career. He later was a regular member of the TVNZ commentary panel during some of the heady years of New Zealand cricket when Richard Hadlee and cohorts were in their prime.

And, more recently, his contact with the New Zealand audience has been maintained for those who still catch BBC commentaries through the marvels of modern technology which allow contests not previously available in New Zealand to be picked up through internet radio.

Blofeld has never been short of an opinion, as one would expect of such an attuned observer of cricket, and his book on the Packer controversy remains a must-read for anyone wanting to understand the issue and the passions it evoked. There are opinions too, in his latest effort and it provides another reminder of why cricket is such a fascinating game, not only for the action it can provide on the field, but for the qualities demonstrated in so many ways on the periphery.

As you would expect from its title, there is plenty of cricket 'juice' from Squeezing the Orange.

Rod Laver's memoir like the player, all class

Tennis has an outstanding capacity to produce memorable autobiographies from some of its great players and Rod Laver – A Memoir is no different.

Perhaps it has something to do with the nature of tennis players that they appear to have a greater degree of self-sufficiency than many other sports peoples.

Rod Laver: A memoir with Larry Writer. Published by Pan Macmillan.

They are more often familiar with defeat, therefore better able to cope with disappointments although that doesn't make losses any less frustrating.

But in recent times the autobiographies of Andre Agassi and John McEnroe have been two examples of books that have gone beyond mere blow-by-blow descriptions.

Rod Laver is from an earlier era, one that pre-dates many who would have devoured the Agassi and McEnroe books with relish.

However, his story is not reduced by comparison and in many ways it enhances their particular stories.

Laver is from a more ordered time, one where the distractions of life were not so great. Yet his story is a graphic example of how much work has to go into a career for success to be secured.

The game was amateur when he started out and until he achieved his first grand slam. These notions may mean nothing to a generation brought up on tennis tournaments worth millions of dollars for participants.

However, every time a winner's cheque is handed over the recipients should tip their hand to Laver and those of his friends who ostracised themselves from the tennis mainstream during the mid-1960s when turning professional.

There was a stigma then in accepting your skills were worth money to you in that post-colonial, amateur time when to many, generally commenting from the security of their own mansions, it was a cardinal sin to believe you were worth more than a pat on the back and a gin at the end of a hard day's work.

As they attempted to ply their trade, especially in the United States, the small band of tennis professionals had to play in some horrendous venues on some unbelievable schedules where events were played between lengthy drives in cars to small houses.

That commitment bred something hard among the band of tennis brothers and when the establishment finally woke up and realised their game was diminished without the professionals, the younger players, like Laver, were well placed to take advantage.

All of the hardships, both physical and mental, are canvassed in Laver's memoir in a book that is not just a record of why today's stars should never forget what their forebears went through but also an example of what hard work, dedication and, ultimately, supreme skill can achieve when developed to the utmost.

Laver won two grand slams, the only player to achieve the feat, one as an amateur and one as a professional. He never lost contact with tennis and is revered by those who recall his influence on the game.

His recovery from a stroke, and his story away from tennis, supplement this book making it a must read to understand why tennis occupies such a prominent place in world sport and to demonstrate what places humility, grace and sheer, unadulterated class, still have in top-flight competition.

Punchy book on boxing terms puts record straight

Bob Jones has many literary strings to his bow: novelist, newspaper columnist, political writer, business and management opinion and, of course, boxing writing.

Throughout all his works there is serious intent leavened with insight, humour and observation. But there can be few in the literary world who walk so easily through all the areas Jones manages.

 

He gets his message across in compelling style and there can be no doubt that his latest effort 'Fighting Talk – Boxing and the modern lexicon' is quite possibly the greatest example of his versatility.

It comprises a study, he would be horrified at the description of textbook, on the use of boxing terms in modern day life. In backgrounding the origins of expressions he also provides something of a history lesson of the finer points in boxing.

At the same time Jones also brings to light, firstly, the mis-use of words and expressions, and secondly the way they creep into accepted usage. Anyone who hears people talking about 'a change of tact' when users mean the more correct, and relevant, 'change of tack' will know what a frustration that can be.

Perhaps the most classic instance Jones highlights is the use of 'lightweight'. To describe someone as a 'lightweight' is generally to demonstrate their lack of gravitas or comprehension, yet the usage is sadly out of place.

As Jones says, some of the greatest boxers have been lightweights so that using the term lightweight to highlight mediocrity is 'an insult to the great featherweight and flyweight boxers who have contributed to boxing's heritage'.

Equally, Jones highlights the misuse of 'a line in the sand'. The term was a line drawn on the ground where boxers would face each other before starting a contest. Nowadays usage suggests to draw a line in the sand is an acceptable end point to events.

'Majority decision' is another oft mis-used term. As Jones points out, it is when two judges award a bout to one fighter while the third judge awarded it as a draw. This is opposed to the 'split decision' where two judges find for one contestant and the third for another.

An example of Jones providing historic perspective was in his dissection of the term 'punchdrunk'. Modern, non-boxing, usage suggests someone is punchdrunk after taking a volley of blows whether in political debate or business transactions.

But as Jones points out, the condition of punchdrunkness is medically known as dementia pugilistica and is a permanent condition. It leads to memory loss, poor balance, slurred speech and body tremors. It is the result of dehydration in weight-reducing, generally by lighter weights of boxers, but also by jockeys and is also suffered ball-heading football players. As part of his discussion on this subject he backgrounds the introduction of boxing gloves to the sport.

His study unearths other gems. Among them is the possible origin of the term 'fan'.

Jones' humour is unleashed on the devotees in sport who pause in their victory utterances to thank the top figure in their particular faith.

"A new millennium trend in boxing is for the cornermen to be ignored and instead credit given by a winning fighter to God, who apparently is a fight devotee, evidently not averse to divine intervention on behalf of his favourites. Assessed on such attributions, God is a particular fan of Latin American and black American fighters," Jones said.

All of the points discussed are backed with examples of usage from a plethora of journalistic sources from the modern age around the world

At the end of his book Jones also provides Aphorisms and Metaphors from other sports. They round out an immensely appealing book which is superbly presented by the publishers with an excellent index to speed up the possible search for terms.

As always the conclusion of a Jones book across all the areas mentioned at the outset leaves the reader disappointed that an educational, humorous and point-making treatise has ended. 'Fighting Talk' is right up there with the best of Jones' work.

Tony Greig from a different angle

Tony Greig probably didn't set out to be divisive, but he had that effect on people.

He was best known to mainstream New Zealanders as one of the commentators on Channel 9's coverage of Australian cricket which beamed into Kiwi homes from the earliest days of the post-Packer era of World Series Cricket.

Tony Greig: Love, War and Cricket – A family memoir by Joyce Greig and Mark Greig. Published by Pan Macmillan. Price $49.99

But to cricket fans he was widely regarded as a combative captain of England, and a player who aligned himself with Kerry Packer's assault on the administrative bastion of world cricket that was something of a closed shop until 1977.

As Packer's agent, Greig was involved, while captaining England, in putting the feelers out for players who wanted to get involved in the proposed 'rebel' series that Packer wanted to run on his own television station as a result of the Australian Cricket Board refusing to give up on its rights being allocated to the Australian Broadcasting Corporation.

Knowing that the cricket fraternity would never agree with his initiative, Packer launched his World Series that resulted in two years of upheaval before a British court ruling that the cricket administrators were guilty of a restraint of trade for cricketers forced the hand of the administrators.

Packer got his access to television coverage and the result has been reflected in cricket's re-birth since that time.

Greig became installed as one of the regular commentators, often upsetting the home bias of his Australian co-commentators, most notably Bill Lawry.

What is not so well known is the story of Greig's life. While this publication is, as its cover suggests, a family memoir, including the intriguing story of how his parents met and the implications of that on his mother's existing war-time marriage, it does help demonstrate what might have contributed to Greig's make-up.

Given the accounts of his Scottish father's war-time service in Bomber Command and the number of missions flown, above and beyond the call of duty, it was little wonder that Greig the younger was stung by The Times' cricket writer John Woodcock's comment at the time of the Packer controversy that it was understandable Greig should be involved because, after all, he wasn't an Englishman by birth but by adoption.

While his cricket career is covered in the story, what is more telling is the effect of his career, and the subsequent life in post-Packer days, that is the more revealing. Too often the personal cost of sport is not reflected but the role of family cannot be under-stated and both mother and son make poignant storytellers in this regard.

Tony Greig's influence in cricket was significant, and his views contained in his Cowdrey Lecture, which is run in full in the book, is a demonstration of how he felt about the game and its future.

Tony Greig – Love, War and Cricket is not your usual cricket biography but then Greig wasn't your usual cricketer.