Rant 101: Plane and simple - the story behind the picture

It's funny how many of my pictures that evoke emotion in me are actually tapping into emotion from my childhood. A previous story-behind-the-picture piece I wrote for this blog looked at my childhood love of playing tennis alongside a photograph taken more than two decades on. You can read it here.
Today, I talk about aircraft.
My wife, son and I visited the Yorkshire Air Museum today. It was my son's first visit, though Kirstie and I have visited several times before. It is a fascinating place full of history, and filled with winged technology to enthral people of all ages.

Gritty, robust, and classy - all at the same time

This picture you see on the right was taken in a huge hangar at the air museum complex, and is of an
aircraft propeller. It looks antique, some would say ancient! But that's exactly what attracted me to it. The elegance, the craft, the engraving on metal of "Scott" filled with blue, the wooden blade with their own two respective markings at either end, the metal bits stained by years of being worked on, repaired, used, and then repaired again. It was as if whatever workshop this aircraft came out of, I could smell the hard work and effort that went into making one of these. Then again, perhaps this "workshop" I speak of is not too much in the realm of fantasy.

And this is where my childhood comes in. As with many children, I too fell in love with aircrafts and the wonders of flight. I never took my first flight till the age of 16 but as a child, I had a friend from school whose family were big into aircraft. They owned several businesses, and had interests in the aircraft business as well. What that translated to for my friend was that he and his brother were huge fans of model aircraft. Not the frilly, dime-a-dozen, plastic-feel kind you get these days. His were gritty, robust, and classy all at the same time. They made a lot of noise, sometimes emitted smoke (which we all agreed was both a good and a bad thing) and when they flew my heart would leap with them. Funnily enough, I never saw their planes actually fly more than a few times. In fact, my best memories of them are just all of us sitting down and watching my friend's brother work on it, fix things little by little, add a bit of fuel here, tighten a screw there, and just focus all of his energies for that period on this model aircraft. It was like watching an artist at work.

So, in a very simple way, when I saw this propeller set at the Yorkshire Air Museum, I was - as with my tennis session - taken back to a simpler time! I must apologise as I don't actually remember what kind of aircraft this belongs to. Reason being that I was so taken in by the propeller and its looks and the memories that I forgot to have a read of the information board. 

Rant 100: Why I love tennis - the story behind the picture

I’ve often thought about doing a full blog post about the pictures that I click and share on my photography page (click here if you want to have a scroll). For one reason or another I’ve never been able to. But this being my 100th Rant, I thought I’d take the plunge.

So, to set the scene - I’d finished work at 7pm, and was torn between going to the gym or playing tennis with a friend. As it turned out my friend was not available to play. And so I ended up on my own at the tennis court.

And suddenly, I was a five-year-old again!

Tennis in the Twilight (location: Goole Tennis Centre)

Flashback to the early 90s in Jamshedpur. My father decided to enrol a four-and-a-half-year-old me in tennis lessons. Now, growing up in India, with cricket as the unofficial national sport, I was a bit bemused. In fact, I even resisted. Why would I want to play something like tennis, when I could instead be out playing cricket with my neighbourhood friends? Everybody played cricket, literally everybody. Whether it was at school, or at the local park. Still, my father persisted, and took me on his little green-yellow lambretta scooter to a local recreation centre called “United Club”. Among things like showing movies, food, swimming pool, they had two clay tennis courts.
I can remember it very clearly now, the first time I stepped on to a tennis court. My father was introducing me to the coach, but I was lost in a different world. Somehow, by some stroke of luck, I was transfixed by the court. Red clay, with pristine white lines, and with a net across the middle. It was mesmerising, it really was. And that’s part of the reason why I remember those first few steps so vividly. From then on, I was hooked on tennis.

Tennis is an individual sport, and in many ways it suited me perfectly. I’ve always had my own rebellious streak so perhaps a team sport like cricket or football was not best suited. In tennis, I work for my own win, mistakes are mine to bear, and my creativity is mine alone. I can be as crazy, or as subtle as I want. At the moment of hitting a ball, nobody can tell you how to play the stroke - you play it, and be it on your head. I loved it.

But tennis is also different. And this goes back to the fact that not a lot of people played it - at the time - in Jamshedpur. I was taught the basic strokes, but I would regularly struggle to actually play much. My coach and his colleagues Tillak Sir, Ganesh Bhaiya and others, to their immense credit, seemed to love that I loved the sport so much, and would therefore basket-feed me about 200 balls every day. But that was about it. At the start I was not good enough or old enough to play a proper match against them, though it never stopped me trying, and none of my age-group peers played tennis. I was on my own. And still I played and loved.

In fact it came to a point when even ball-feeding from the coaches stopped, given I used to be the only kid who would rock up every afternoon - couldn’t blame the coaches. But still I came, and grew to love the game even more.

One reason - because even when the coaching stopped, even when the coaches did not emerge from the clubhouse in the 40-degree heat, I continued to play. I would be dropped off by my father at around 3pm - on his way to work - I would be given a tennis ball by the coach, and I would stand at the court baseline and hit against the perimeter wall. I was playing against myself. I would play games of my own. How many shots could I do in one “rally”? How many volleys could I do standing closer to the wall? How many tap-ups could I do in a minute? The stats, as it were, eventually became irrelevant. What mattered was that I was gaining valuable experience of my own limits; I was learning a lot about the proper grip on a racket - the coach would sometimes observe and give a few pointers - I improved my agility and balance, and my movement around the court area. I am still a predominantly baseline player and rely on a strong top-spin game. Basically, those years spent banging against wall, I could do whatever the heck I wanted in that time without being troubled by parents or siblings or friends, and without being judged for it as well.

It helped me find myself at a very young age.

And so I found myself again… 24 years later, on a brisk but sunny evening in Goole, East Yorkshire, nearly 6,000 miles away from those sun-baked courts in Jamshedpur. I stretched, jogged, then started hitting the ball on my own, swung some forehands, some backhands, smashed some serves.

I learned.

Yorkshire de Tour - Part 2

Part 2: Donny’s big win

14th February, 2015: And so it happened that I was all set for another Sheffield Wednesday game after the previous week's affair (read here in my tour part 1), but owing to a tragic death on the railway line outside of Sheffield, the trains had to return to Doncaster. The news of a death had rattled us all in that train carriage – barring one very self-obsessed young-adult whose idea was to “scoop the remains up and let us through. It’s my birthday and I’ve got a dinner reservation.”

Back in the world of common sense, I alighted at Doncaster and quickly decided to make my way to the Keepmoat Stadium, where Doncaster were due to play Yeovil Town in the Sky Bet League One. The stadium is actually a fair distance from the train station, so I had to catch a bus from the interchange just outside the station. But it’s really cheap at £2 return. It’s probably more expensive to drive over I think!

The bus was fairly filled with Doncaster fans – and three Yeovil fans as well. In fact, the Yeovil lads were nicely chatting away with the Donny ones and it just goes to show football rivalries can really just be left on the pitch. It’s not all riots at 2pm before kick-off!

Keepmoat Stadium. Bit out of the way but a decent crowd

As you near the stadium, there is almost a sense that the area around it hasn’t been fully developed. Indeed, I got the feeling we were at a construction site, but for the fact that you can see the floodlights. The area is in the surroundings known as Lakeside, which also boasts a retail/shopping outlet.

But much like that day in Sheffield last time, you can again see the masses of fans walking over to watch an afternoon of football. I met a couple of fans who were happy to show me the way to the kop stand. Generally the vibe was quite friendly, and even the fanzine sellers were pretty jolly! The ticket office is located quite conveniently and the queues move very quickly. £23 it cost me to get a ticket for the kop stand, two less than that at Sheffield Wednesday.

The Keepmoat is a much more modern-looking stadium than Hillsborough, it has to be said. From the inside, the first thing that hits you is the crowd of course, but then you see the concession stands and families waiting for kick-off and it’s rather different from the old-school feel at Wednesday.

Doncaster do have a proud history going back to the 19th and 20th centuries, and they take pride in showing off the highlights on walls inside. As with most clubs in the UK, war has affected Rovers, but it always leaves them stronger, which is probably a learning for life itself.

The football pitch area, you’re hit by the colour red but it’s a very pretty sight indeed. Unlike at Hillsborough, I was closer to the goal here. And it’s a completely different experience I have to say. You get a real feel of how fast and physical the game is – more so at League One, where the skill levels may not be as high as say the Premier League. However, what you also get from this vantage point is the full might of the breeze! Cold doesn’t even begin to describe it, though there were spells of sunshine which at least made the action look a bit cheerier.

The Doncaster fans were happy. It was a comfortable 3-0 win, and Yeovil never really got into the game. Doncaster even have a big screen in one corner where replays of each goal are shown, which is quite nice I think! I also managed to fulfil my half-time pie desire, a steak one since you ask. And I also had a pint of bitter. Both were decently priced at £3.20 each.

Close to the action at the Keepmoat

In the end, as Rovers sailed to their second big win in succession – they beat Crawley 5-0 in the previous weekend – I called it a day about five minutes before the end, but only because I was freezing and I wanted to start walking about. Thankfully, there was a bus available not long after the match ended and I was quickly on my way back to the station. I did get a chance to have a post-match pint at a pub not far from the station, which was also showing the Liverpool-Crystal Palace game. Half-time there and I finally got on the train back to Goole. What could have been a waste of an afternoon, turned into a jolly one after all.

Ratings:

Matchday costs: 6/10 Tickets not perfect at £23 considering it’s League One. Stadium doesn’t sell out. Pints and pie perfect at £3.20

Stadium – 8/10. Modern stadium, plenty of facilities and good concession area.

Football – 9/10 comfortable 3-0 win. Dominating performance in both attack and defence from Doncaster.

Overall matchday experience – 7/10

Yorkshire De Tour - Part 1

Part 1: Sheffield Wednesday's nerves of steel
7th February, 2015: Having found a rare Saturday off, I decided the best use of it would be to travel down to Sheffield. Yes, it is really travelling 'down' as Sheffield lies in South Yorkshire and was once the heartland of steel in the UK. Quite a nice city to start off this Yorkshire tour then, given my Jamshedpur and TATA Steel roots. Today, Sheffield boasts a huge university, a vibrant music and theatre scene, and two historic Football League clubs. I was off to Sheffield Wednesday versus Cardiff City, two former Premier League clubs in fact. A few people from my office support Wednesday, otherwise known as the Owls.
I paid £12.30 for a return ticket from Goole to Sheffield. The Northern rail service takes you through Doncaster and into Sheffield. As soon as you exit the station you can see the Sheffield Hallam University buildings. I, of course, headed out for a pre-match pint at The Sheffield Tap, which is attached to the station, and which was insanely busy.

Pre-match entertainment is always standard!

Regardless, I then made my way to the tram stop at the station. I met several fans on the tram, and everyone seemed to recommend getting off at Hillsborough stop. The reason was revealed when I got off at the stop, to be greeted by a massive Weatherspoons pub. Clearly a pre-match favourite haunt.
A massive big-screen projection of the early kick-off, the North London derby between Tottenham and Arsenal was being played. I just about managed to make my way to the bar through the crowds, as you can see in the pitcture, and had a lovely ale to begin with.
I also met James, who told me he had been born and brought up in Sheffield, but had been living in Grimsby for the last eight years. He was there for his first match in two years.
We eventually decided to head to the stadium together, as he knew the shortcut to the Kop, which is a colloquial way of describing the stand where all the hardcore fans sit - or stand for 90 minutes! The stadium itself is just a short 10-minute walk from the pub and you can see the many hundreds of fans making their way as well. It really is a sight to behold at times, when you feel a country as a whole is making its way to football stadia at 3pm on a Saturday. For many it's a release after a week of hard work. You can understand the tribal mentality that comes with such an enterprise.

View of the Kop at Hillsborough from the outside

Almost a world apart from the likes of Old Trafford, which I've visited on a number of occasions, the Hillsborough stadium is very old-school actually. Across a barrier from the kop stand, but still within the stadium premises, you can see the crowds gathered to smoke and have a pint. This in the day of so much health and safety laws is a refreshing throw-back to simpler times! But the actual safety is never compromised, which is a far cry from the tragedy that took place at this very venue.
Anyway, I paid £25 for an adult ticket and took my place way up in the kop stand. You get a seat number assigned but nobody really checks that. I was easily able to sit in a random seat.
It was also the day Wednesday's owner Milan Mandaric was signing off and he gave a rousing speech which the crowd really appreciated.
The match was fairly exciting. The pitch wasn't very good by the looks of it, and it obviously made passing difficult. But there were a fair few chances, not least for former Southampton and Sunderland forward Kenwyne Jones scoring early on with a header.  To their credit, Wednesday were only down for a bit. Came back with a few attacks of their own. The Kop was showing plenty of support including people with drums and bugles. It can get only slightly annoying! But you appreciate the spirit shown by fans who pay upwards of £20 week-in week-out. What you perhaps shouldn't appreciate is rowdy behaviour, with one fan I saw being spoken to in no uncertain terms by the stewards, for being abusive towards another fan. In an age when so much is reported of abuse going unchecked, it's good to see some places are able to monitor and root out such behaviour.

I wanted to cap my matchday experience with a half-time pint and a pie, but sadly the sheer crowds that gather in the smoking/pint area means I'd have ended up waiting well into the second half! But the crowd again shows the passion people have for simple pleasures.All hail the Great British Pie!
There was only a smattering of away fans in the far end, as I guess it's quite a long trek up from Wales. But they had plenty to shout about of course. Thankfully, for the home support, Wednesday earned a penalty in the second half and Will Keane scored the spot kick. Keane is actually on loan at Wednesday from Manchester United, so that's certainly a good sign for us Red Devils! Despite the comeback though, Wednesday were unable to find a winning goal. But it was a draw, which keeps people relatively happy.
Again, much like 3pm, the sheer number of people making their way out onto the streets at 5pm is amazing. Unsurprisingly, there was a sizeable police presence dotted from the ground up to a few tram stops away. It is not unheard of for trouble to break out at football grounds in general, and I have to say I felt much safer seeing the police cars.
I made my way back to Sheffield Station, stopping at a pub along the way of course! And it was easy to catch one of the many trains heading back up towards Goole.
All in all, it was a very enjoyable experience and I am glad I took the plunge. Next week, hopefully, I will bring you a matchday report of another of Yorkshire's older clubs Doncaster Rovers, as we continue this off-beat Tour de Yorkshire.

Ratings-
Matchday costs - 8/10. Ticket Prices just about right considering it's the Championship, pints not too bad.
Stadium - 7/10. Old-School which is refreshing, but not enough toilets!
Football - 6/10. A draw so can't really give anything seven and above sadly. 
Overall Matchday experience - 8/10.