Champion

Tiredness can kill, take a break.

More and more staff have fallen by the way side as we come to the welcome end of a long and demanding term. It is like a marathon in which the finishing line, despite its proximity, seems so distant and the legs turn to jelly refusing to carry the poor victim to the end. I’m not sure who the Paula Radcliffe of the school would be, stopping at the roadside for relief, but I imagine there would have to be a policy about it. I was asked today whether we had a policy on Red Bull for example! Red Bull and a hyperactive kid could be an amusing combination in safely controlled conditions but might not be compatible with the causes of the Second World War on a long Tuesday afternoon.

With coursework deadlines, revision and exams coming one after another, it is a tough time for the kids as well as the staff. Year 9 have done their SATs, Year 7 have completed the Optional tests, Year 10 are doing their Humanities GCSE along with PE short course and Year 11 are fully in the swing of their GCSEs. Only Year 8 have escaped thus far but their turn comes when Year 11 leave. No wonder this half term seems so long and no wonder so many staff succumb to illness and exhaustion leading to even greater pressure on those left.
Tomorrow’s non-uniform day has been postponed as it coincides with a couple of GCSE exams. Non-uniform day, being different from the usual school day, causes the students to get a little ‘high’ which might affect the conduct of the exams both in the room and outside with kids running around shouting.

Today’s main talking point though is of Liverpool and the incredible turnaround in the Champions League Final. Having wanted Manchester United to beat Arsenal (Michael Thomas 1989 is to blame for my dislike of the Gunners along with the memory of 1 – 0 following a set piece to some 6’4” man mountain) and Celtic to pip Rangers to the title in Scotland, I was convinced that Liverpool would triumph. As you will know, when it comes to logic and football you have to accept as a fan that everything you do affects the game. So you set aside things like form and team selection and say that you can’t have three games in a row where the team you want to win loses. You must not go to the toilet when your team is defending a corner. Everyone knows a subliminal message is sent to the defenders who switch off and allow the opposition to score. Your team only scores when you don’t watch. As you tune in they go back to being awful.

In 1982 Alex Higgins won the snooker World Championship because my friend John and myself watched him as much as we could. We noticed that when we weren’t watching he kept losing frames meaning we had to watch everything. The proof it worked was in the pictures of him in tears beckoning his wife and daughter forward as he collected and displayed the trophy. Without John and me, he would have been nothing. He probably doesn’t even know what a debt he owes us but we don’t begrudge him. It was enough that the person we wanted to win achieved just that, victory.

So of course by half time I knew there was something I was doing wrong because, much as I admire and follow AC Milan, they are my preferred Italian team despite my Juventus top, Liverpool were completely hopeless. Its one thing to get beaten but humiliation is another thing entirely and they were being embarrassed. The third Milan goal was superb and Kaka and Schevchenko brilliant and I decided I had to act. I stopped watching and went to prepare some work for today during half-time. I returned a few minutes after half time and watched as Riese received the ball back from a rebound, his first cross obstructed by good defending. My absence had allowed them to improve suddenly. He hit it again and lo it came to pass that Stevie G thumped a decisive header in, leading to a miracle of biblical proportions. Six minutes later they were level and all because I wanted them to win enough to make the players realise they had to do it for me. That mystical connection could do wonders for my GCSE results. I could simply wish Daniel to suddenly make a big effort to get a C not his E, and it would happen.

I didn’t go to bed for two hours after the winning penalty save, I was too pumped full of emotion. I was exhausted, how must the players have felt? Hopelessly outplayed in extra time again, they had been on top for about 20 minutes in the entire game and yet triumphed. Obviously Celtic and Man Utd failed because the miracle was of such proportion that big sacrifices had to be made in advance. So much so that Martin O’Neill has had to leave Celtic. I hope he never knows it was my fault.

The minute-by-minute coverage on the Guardian website is fantastic to read with hindsight. At half time Stevie G was headed for oblivion and vitriol because he is rubbish. Minutes later he is a god. Perhaps he is neither. The writer acknowledged his error and repented at the feet of the colossus.

The literature exam went well yesterday with lots to write about on the short stories and poems. The students seemed quite confident afterwards but as a teacher you’re never quite sure if that is a good sign or not. Time will tell. It was my final lesson with Year 11, a sad and emotional time, at least for them. Me, I’m glad to see the back of the little… Of course that is not true. They have been fantastic and we had a good couple of lessons today chatting about the way in which the press handled the case of the three sisters, all mothers by 16 and allegedly on £31000 between them each year. It was linked to the non-literary texts part of the English exam and we looked at the language used by the press. You may make what you will of: -

baby factory, confessed, admitted, blamed, bad advice, crass stupidity, state handouts, council

as if people needed persuading that this was a bad thing and that it was commonplace. Perhaps it is, I wouldn’t claim to know but I can’t believe we still try to judge the morality of the nation and the state of society by the extremes of one case. So much seems to have to go to the extremes hence Stevie G is useless, Stevie G is god. At least we can be sure he isn’t the father of the three babies. Where would he get the energy?