Travelling tittle-tattle, tall tales and shameless name-dropping by Jon ‘Don’t Call Me’ Norman

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London, United Kingdom

Monday, 1 December 2008

Chuck the Pope?

I went to see a musical in Chelsea on Saturday called 'Steel Pier'. It was performed by the 3rd year under graduates at Mountview which is the University that Fe is studying her own MA in Musical Theatre. The standard was exceptionally high. I didn't realise it was an amateur performance until the intermission. And there was a couple of stunning performances. And a couple of dud ones.

Like most people, there's usually nothing I like better than to rip into an act, performance or opinion that I do not abide with. It's one of those things in life that enables me to feel better about myself at the expense of someone else. All dressed up in an intellectual bubble that adds to the self-loving. And I'm careful to make sure the person or persons I am referring to are far enough away not to hear.

It's like the scene in 'True Romance' when the character played by Christian Slater insists his 'date' for the evening accompany him to a diner to eat pie and dissect the film they'd just watched. For this is exactly what I wanted to do following the musical. Head to a bar on the Kings Road, bunker down with a bottle of wine and go through the likes and dislikes with Fe of what we'd just seen.

But this enjoyment was marred by something that had happened at work on the Friday. As I watched a couple of the lead characters completely fail to take centre stage I realised I couldn't help but feel sorry for them. Here were two people who'd put their heart and soul, time and effort into a performance that was stunningly underwhelming.

Before I would have wrung my hands in mock frustration at his lack of stage presence, tutted inwardly at her limited acting range, exaggerated a yawn at his lacklustre singing, and wondered aloud what the professional future holds for two actors at the end of training that seems to have got them nowhere near the finished article.

But instead I felt sad. Sad for them and sad for myself. For I know what it's like to be publicly criticised, slammed and written off as rubbish. I know how it feels to put yourself out there and have your work ridiculed. To put yourself in the public eye and be voted off. And it's not nice.

Over the past few months I've been hosting my own quiz on talkSPORT radio. It's no big deal. Just a ten minute segment on the 'H&J Show' on the station every Tuesday afternoon. Aside from this I've been sent out to conduct interviews with various sports bods. Andy Murray, Courtney Walsh, Shane Warne and the rest.

I'd never considered my work to be award winning but I thought of it as worthy of the show. It adds texture to the finished product, throws in new voices, and adds to the freshness of the show. But it appears there are those out there who disagree.

For talkSPORT has its own unofficial forum page where listeners post their views about the show.

http://forum.talkforum.org/

For the most part it's all pretty negative stuff. Nobody seems to get away with having their character or ability condemned. Regular strand titles include 'name your worst five talkSPORT presenters', 'talkMISERY' or 'Danny Arsehole' where listeners slam the presenters. It's hardly high brow stuff and ultimately it leaves you wondering why they listen to a station they all seem to hate so much.

And on Friday my colleague Laurie alerted me to a new strand titled 'Chuck the Pope?' Which went like this.

Post subject: Chuck The Pope?

Nov 28th: 16:00

KD

"The assistant producer on H&J who is given air time to do Pope Quiz and an audience with the Pope, both of which add nothing to the show. Is it because he is Hawksbee's mate?"

FatBoy MFC

"pope quiz is shit"

KD

"Yes they build it up even with it's own music and he comes in and does a silly pointless quiz in an amateurish way, why? Is he Hawksbee's mate?"

2dans

"Is he a catholic? Do bears shit in the woods?"

4-4-2

"I think 'The Pope' is Jon Norman, a producer and, sometimes, a reporter at football and cricket."

Dmcmahon

"No quality control in general. Too much gets thru as another 5 minute filler which says to me that they struggle to do 5 days a week. "

Now I'm not going to go through everything that was said, point by point, in a bid to 'prove' them wrong. They're entitled to their opinion. And considering the level of hatred on this page it's no surprise my turn came round eventually. But it did provoke feelings in me that are difficult to deal with.

After a busy week I found myself relaxing at home and every now and again my mind would turn back to the comments on the page. I tried to brush them off but couldn't shake the angst that they'd created within me.

Speaking with a couple of colleagues at talkSPORT who'd experienced a similar thing it appears my reaction wasn't unusual. It's pretty unpleasant to have people you don't know agreeing that you are shit. Especially when you're still trying to make a name for yourself in the industry. But it made me realise that it's something that I'm just going to have to get used to. As will Fe who will be entering the public domain herself. Becoming prey to professional critics not just the amateur ones!

What is noticeable though is the way some presenters actively encourage such criticism. They appear to delight it. Some people in life have the need for a reaction, negative or otherwise, and when it's missing they do whatever they can to stir things up again.

Maybe this is the only way to deal with it. You can't let such comments affect your performance. You can't let it prevent you doing what you want to do. And I guess ultimately it gets to the point where it either defeats you or strengthens you. And maybe those that react with glee whenever something negative appears are the ones who've worked through this process and got the stage where they realise it doesn't matter what anyone thinks or says just as long as what they're thinking or saying. Is about you.

Monday, 10 November 2008

Loony Toons

Last night I fell asleep dreaming of Andy Johnson. No joke. I lay there in the dark imagining him running in on goal with the ball at his feet. I re-ran the sequence over and over and again until I dropped off. Blissful sleep awaited and a long pleasant daydream kept me snug on my rain soaked way to work in the morning. Before and after these hidden moments I found myself staring dreamily at the league tables. Needless to say I had derived much happiness from Fulham's 2-1 win over Newcastle.

Fe was also pleasantly surprised. This is the text conversation we had shortly after the final whistle.

Me: Hey babe, we won!
Fe: Wow!

I love it when she's enthusiastic but couldn't help notice how shocked she was. Gives you some idea of how highly she rates Fulham. Before I had left the house I'd shown her the league table which had us in 18th place. She peered at the screen, gave a warm sigh and an exclamation that made me realise she understood the plight we once again find ourselves in.

I still don't think she can quite understand why our family persist with Fulham. Like we have a choice. Since she landed in England Fulham have been flirting with, nay, having full sexual intercourse with the relegation zone. And Fe sees through the blind hope and tells me how it is. We're not very good and are unlikely to EVER be any good. So why not drop give up now and start supporting a good team. I've noticed how she perks up a little whenever Theo Walcott appears on the screen or another one of those 'young footballers with those good tricks'.

Although I argue that it's to be admired that we stick by a team that is always going to have to battle for each and every small success she's still not impressed. Rooting for the underdog is not something to be proud of it seems. It appears I'm starting to see a cultural difference between the English and the Kiwis.

But fast forward a couple of hours as I sat there watching Fulham drop deeper and deeper against Newcastle it crossed my mind she had a point. And after our opponents scored the off-side equaliser that had been coming since the resumption of the second half they had one too. And not for the first time I questioned when I would finally decide enough was enough. It was only the presence of a pensioner to my right that convinced me my body and heart could take many more years of this.

But in the end we won. And we all walked away talking excitedly about our position in the top ten. Looking forward to the Tottenham game and agreeing their luck was bound to come to an end sooner or later.

My luck on the other hand shows no signs of taking a dip for the downturn. Friday saw me sent off on talkSPORT reporting duty once again. This time to a 'street cricket' event in West London which involved the legendary West Indian cricketer Courtney Walsh. And also Devon Malcolm. Over 600 Test wickets between them. It was class. And the highlight was without doubt the six deliveries I faced off them both. I've attached a couple of photos. I've chosen the onces that make it look like I came close to getting bat onto ball. I'd have needed a slice of luck far greater than the one Fulham got at the end of last season to have connected with a single delivery. I was hopeless. They, anything but.

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And you can hear the interview. If you so wish on by visiting this site.

http://new.talksport.net/index.asp?id=104204&c=&t=

Thursday, 6 November 2008

Not a single 20/20 appearance between them

Well I didn't get to star in an advert with Shane Warne. Which was a real pity. I ended up being on standby. Effectively I came fifth out of four. Which was as frustrating as it was illogical. But any thoughts of self-pity were wiped from my mind this week as I got to meet another true legend. Mr Ian Botham.

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And as for tomorrow? I'm off to interview the highest wicket taker in West Indian cricket history. Mr Courtney Walsh. My job is pretty cool at times.